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In battle, a wrong judgment brings about death.

Walking down the wrong path is like stepping into a quagmire of demise, and taking a rest in an incorrect place is akin to sliding one’s neck under the guillotine. Settling in a wrong spot is like looping a rope around your neck and jumping from a high place, and relaxing one’s mind in an inappropriate area means that the Grim Reaper has approached with his scythe, right next to you.

A wrong judgment equates to death.

But the master of this building is truly gracious and merciful, even granting an opportunity to those who make incorrect judgments. He could take lives, yet he chose not to, ensuring that people could remain intact without setting explosive traps or guillotines, nor unleashing poisons that would make them bleed profusely from their seven orifices.

To keep limbs intact and breaths steady, he merely sought to subdue them gently using what he had under his command.

What compassion for the rascals who walked into his home with muddy feet!

Could it not be said that even those experiencing this would be too awed to speak?

The first to activate was the mold, cleverly disguised as a painting covering the walls.

In appropriate humidity and temperature, the mold became active.

Mold toxin.

Invisible spores cautiously began to fill the elevator, slowly poisoning those inside.

It wasn’t a strong poison. It wouldn’t paralyze someone instantly nor would it send them into a deep slumber.

The sole effect of this mold toxin was to cause disruption in the brain and central nervous system.

Of course, it wouldn’t result in any truly permanent impairment. It was simply a brief and very mild effect.

Having been directly modified by Park Jinseong, it had a more potent effect than usual mold toxins, but even so, it wouldn’t be sufficient to easily incapacitate a person.

Even a healthy adult male, unless he was exposed for a considerably long time, wouldn’t display visible abnormalities.

However, there was another arrangement by Jinseong added here.

This was the equipment they were wearing.

Among the gear provided to them by the aristocratic clan for the operation, some had been tampered with by Jinseong.

The equipment they wore was contaminated.

Drugs, molds, and parasites had been ingeniously hidden within. They lay dormant until specific conditions were met, at which point they would activate and affect the wearer.

For instance, influencing hormones to surge their courage, or creating an excessive focus to limit the variety of opinions and narrow their vision.

Deliberately increasing adrenaline levels to make them light on their feet while rendering them oblivious to subtle abnormalities in their bodies.

Upon entering certain areas of the building, waiting spirits could latch onto the equipment to infect them with curses.

And so.

Lowering immunity and provoking special reactions to certain components.

[ Huh? What is this? Something warm flowing…? ]

Contaminated equipment.

Mold toxin.

When these two met, they began to create synergy.

Tropical parasites, Leishmania, which had been hiding in the equipment, began to activate. They moved explosively, damaging the mucous membranes in the nose and causing nosebleeds, making them susceptible to infections.

The mold toxin clung to their skin, spreading venom throughout their bodies as if it didn’t matter if it was inhaled or not; their already-crippled immunity struggled to fend off the assault.

However, the drugs on the microneedles that Jinseong had installed in the equipment disrupted the immune system’s ability to properly respond to the mold toxin, reinforcing the toxin and beginning to affect specific parts of the brain.

[ Wait, wait a minute. Something feels off…? ]

They started to realize that something was amiss.

Their vision became oddly unsettling, their body balance began to feel off, and they could hardly muster strength in their muscles.

Additionally, they felt a strange warm and itchy sensation from their nose to chin.

Could this be a nosebleed!?

Some of them took off their masks to check their reflections in a mirror.

They wanted to find out suddenly why they were experiencing nosebleeds.

Unbeknownst to them, instead of removing their masks during strange occurrences, they should have been covering their faces with damp cloths or putting on masks, or even wearing gas masks if necessary to block out external air.

Why was their body acting out suddenly, and why were they bleeding?

It was highly probable that it was toxic material.

Thus, naturally, they should have been wrapping their faces tighter or wearing gas masks, activating air purification artifacts, or even holding their breath to block out the external air.

However, regrettably, some were unable to manage even these basic precautions.

And the cost of that was…

[ Huh? Huh… Huh. ]

A faster infection.

The mold toxin that penetrated through the damaged nasal membranes incapacitated them at a speed incomparable to when they wore masks. It caused functional abnormalities in the cerebellum, preventing them from acting properly like they were fully intoxicated, and triggered a potent allergic reaction upon reacting with the drugs, impairing their ability to breathe.

[ Hah, Hah. Hah. ]

In an instant, over half of the elevator team was incapacitated.

They lay on the floor, unable to catch their breaths, gasping in agony, and due to dizziness, they kept retching. Some of the more severely affected even fainted.

In stark contrast to the robust resolution they previously had to search thoroughly and rescue their companions, it was a profoundly futile end.

[ Poison! It’s poison! ]

[ Wait, poison? Where’s the manual in this situation…? ]

Those witnessing this scene fell into a panic.

Something was suddenly wrong with their bodies, and over half were sprawled on the floor, writhing in agony.

It was understandable to be bewildered.

However, regrettably, something else was prepared for bewilderment.

Sssssss.

A trap that began preparing the moment they entered the elevator.

Evil spirit.

Sssssss.

With a small sound like a broom sweeping the ground, the evil spirit began to move.

Stuck to the ceiling of the elevator, it jigged like something pressed flat and started manipulating its hair, which densely grew all over its leathery body, to infiltrate into the elevator.

Hair began to sprout from the ventilator in the elevator’s ceiling.

Sssssss.

Hair slipped into the cracks of the elevator door.

They enveloped the lighting within, turning it pitch black, wrapping the elevator in darkness.

The hair smoothly reached inside the elevator as if unwinding thread, and suddenly landing on the napes of their necks, who were already startled by the abrupt darkness.

Creeeaak.

That hair, having settled down, tied itself as stolidly as a rope, tightening around their necks.

[ Ugh, Ugh! ]

Like an executioner about to carry out a hanging, the evil spirit coiled its hair around their necks and lifted them up.

Dangling.

They flailed helplessly, trying to scratch at the hair that was choking them with sharpened nails, and attempted to insert their fingers between their necks and the hair to create even a tiny space. In the process, their nails broke and flesh was torn.

But no matter how hard they struggled, the hair did not loosen.

Instead, it tightened around their necks, as if determined never to let go.

Creeeaak.

Even when they tried to blow energy onto their fingertips in an improvised effort, it was futile.

The hair, as stiff and strong as wire, didn’t tear easily, and gradually raised them higher as it dangled them.

Crack.

Snick.

Crack-crack.

Nail sounds. Finger sounds.

The sound of nails grazing the hair. The sound of fingertips being crushed against the ends of the hair. The sound of skin slicing against wire-like strands of hair. The chilling sound of fingers being crushed against the strong force with which they wedged between their necks and the strands of hair.

They could hear sounds.

They could hear choking sounds.

It was the noise made by someone choking, the sound made just before death, longing for a mere breath of air.

The shrill cry of a human, eyes bulging out, face turning blue, desperately pleading for air.

[ Guh- ]

And thus, the last sound came from those who could no longer breathe.

– Oh dear, a child on an air chair, swinging around with their hair tied to the ceiling, oh my, the ends of my long hair got caught on the beams, coiling like a serpent around my neck, the air chair dispersing like clouds, gasping and coughing, my face red and blue, such a pretty sight as I sway, swaying like a flower blooming upside down, so lovely…

Drop.

Drop-drop.

Those who removed their masks lay rolling on the floor, unable even to regain their senses in agony.

Those whose necks were choked lay there, having lost their senses moments before death, eyes rolled back, soiled themselves, collapsing on the ground.

And in that way, the elevator became peaceful.

– Swaying, swaying, like a flower bud upside down, oh how I wish your head could blossom like a flower…

As if celebrating that peace, the evil spirit’s song echoed around the elevator.

 

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