Chapter 5: Source of Sound

Chapter 5: Source of Sound

I've had sleepless nights for the past two days. It's because Han Seorim, who left after saying she'd think about it and give me an answer, hasn't contacted me yet. We definitely exchanged contact information. I even saw the signal that showed the message was sent, so there's no way I could be wrong. But why haven't I received a reply yet? Should I wait a bit longer? Or did she just decide to ignore me? My worries grew deeper, and before I knew it, I found myself repeatedly typing and deleting a message with my hand.

Ding!

A message arrived at that moment.

"Let's meet and talk."

It seemed like she had made up her mind.

The time was 2:00 in the afternoon.

"Have you eaten?"

"I obviously did."

A sharp refusal.

"Let's meet at the campus cafe."

I immediately gathered my things and left my house.

The campus cafe was quiet. It was a time when students were leaving school after finishing exams, so the place wasn't too crowded. It wasn't a bad choice since we could talk quietly.

"Here."

Han Seorim gestured to a corner table, propping her chin on her hand.

As I approached, she greeted me.

"It's been two days. You don't seem to have been doing well... and why do you have such dark circles under your eyes?"

"I've been fiddling around with the proposal."

"Sounds severe."

Han Seorim let out a dry chuckle.

"Passion is something else. I'll give you credit for that."

"Thank you for the praise."

Even as I responded, my mouth felt parched. The moment I calmed my heart, the unease followed, and I didn't feel uncomfortable maintaining this tension. Maintaining such tension was a given.

I asked straight away, "So, have you made a decision?"

"You're impatient."

"It's better to keep things simple. Aren't you busy?"

"Sure. I don't really like long-winded conversations either."

Han Seorim adjusted her posture. She crossed her legs and rested her arms on the table.

I vaguely remembered that this posture meant rejection...

"Well, I'm thinking of giving it a shot. It seems like a good experience."

Books really can't be trusted.

"Success...!"

My fist clenched involuntarily.

I barely managed to suppress the corners of my mouth from lifting.

But I couldn't stop the excitement from seeping into my tone.

"So, you've thought it through..."

"But."

Han Seorim interrupted and let out a small, wry laugh.

With a touch of anxiety.

"...Yes?"

"I do have conditions on my end. If I'm taking on the job, I'll do my best. But there's something you need to promise me."

"What is it?"

"My time is quite valuable. I'm more interested in someone with enthusiasm rather than just the hours. I guess you could call it manners, but I'm quite particular about that. If my interest wanes, you should be ready for me to quit anytime."

I froze.

While I looked into her eyes to gauge her intentions, sadly, I lacked the ability to decipher such things. However, there was one emotion I could read: sincerity.

"...That's quite an unconventional condition."

"You're not confident?"

‘Not confident?’

If I was not confident, I shouldn't have even started.

"Alright. Since it's highly unlikely that such a result would happen, there's practically no condition."

It wouldn't even reach the point of such a result.

Presenting results that you're not passionate about to receive an unenthusiastic response is something I've had enough of in my past corporate life.

I have no intention of feeling that dreadful again.

"I hope the underclassman shows skills that match their confidence."

"Sure thing."

Han Seorim extended her hand for a handshake.

As I reached for her hand, I added a word.

"Counting on you?"

It felt strangely new. She didn't hold my hand two days ago.

No, he must realize that why he is asking for help because he can't draw.

"Still, this is just too much."

She couldn't even distinguish what was being represented.

Seorim hesitated for a moment.

Normally, that's how people would react.

When faced with someone whose self-awareness of their drawing skills hasn't been properly calibrated, most people would feel guilty to give harsh criticism and, even if not, they'd quietly suffer through it, thinking, 'Yeah, he probably asked me to help him because he can't draw.'

But Seorim wasn't the type to hold back such words.

"My five-year-old cousin could probably draw better than this."

"Is your cousin artistically inclined?"

"He must be, compared to this."

"I can't really argue with that."

How shameless people can be.

As she expressed her astonishment, Cheon Yeonho continued.

"It's fine if you can't understand it through the drawings. I've added annotations."

"You had to. But it's so abstract. What on earth does 'skin the colour of frozen souls' mean?"

"I expected that level of abstraction from you."

"Did you pick the wrong person?"

"Surely not. I came to the right person."

Cheon Yeonho pulled up a chair and sat across from Seorim.

After a moment of silently looking at the file, he began to speak.

"I'll explain the general atmosphere. It's easier to draw when you have some background knowledge."

"Um, just give it a shot."

It happened in an instant.

In that moment, Cheon Yeonho's gaze seemed to fade away.

His expression was not as if he was imagining something, but rather as if he was recalling a memory from a certain point in the past. It was a vacant look.

In that moment, a strange impression formed.

"This is Hell. A place where tortured sinners suffer unimaginable pain."

His voice started to echo softly.

"There are various types of suffering. Here, we focus only on physical pain."

Seorim projected his words onto the canvas of her mind.

"The background is a massive organ. It pulsates slowly, its colour closer to dark brown than pink... Yes, the colour of lungs ravaged by cancer. That's how you should portray it."

This time, it was easy to imagine.

There was a similar scene in a comic book Seorim read when she was younger. It was about a protagonist exploring inside a giant snake's disguise.

"The space is divided into perfect cubes. To move from one space to another, you enter a hole in the room. They're shaped like sphincters."

"..."

Unpleasant, but the image was definitely captured.

There was a similar background in a classic movie.

The story of people trapped inside cubes, where the arrangement changes periodically.

"There are two kind of people in this hell. The tortured sinners and the wardens/supervisors who creatively show how to make people suffer more."

"What do those people look like?"

"The sinners mostly look like sickly patients. They can't help it. They're people who neglected their own bodies, and died from diseases they could have easily prevented. All for a moment of pleasure."

"Like alcohol or smoking?"

"Even worse, including drugs and self-harm."

"Alright, continue."

"The wardens have bluish skin as if they were written down in blue ink. Expressionless. Their eyes and mouths are stitched shut. They see nothing and say nothing. They don't even hear because their ears are pierced with nails. They only inflict torture. Mechanical. Almost like machines. They're not far from being actual machines."

It was easy to think of a classic horror movie's serial killer.

The image of a mechanical torture specialist became quite vivid.

What would be better... Yes, it would be perfect if they were leeches.

Since it's a horror genre, it would make it even scarier.

When she realized this, Seorim spoke with a slightly cringing expression.

"I'll have to draw this as scary as possible. The player should feel the need to escape from them."

With this level of understanding, she might have a knack for game development too, right?

That's what she thought, but her expectations were about to be crushed.

"What are you talking about? The warden is the main character."

"Huh?"

Seorim's expression went blank.

Cheon Yeonho added one more thing.

"It's an action game, you know? Horror action."

It still made no sense.