3. How can you not remember?

Hwang Siwoon abruptly lost all words, and Shin Jiho couldn’t say anything either.
Surprisingly, the one who broke the silence was Go Pyeonghwa.

“Let’s find Room 721 in the boys’ dorm. But first, we need to get past Amon in the elevator lobby safely.”

His face, which had swiftly tidied away any trace of despair, looked spotless, as if it had never been there. Jiho stared silently at Pyeonghwa’s face. It was fascinating. The person who had opposed searching for Room 721 earlier was now the first to bring it up.

Go Pyeonghwa looked at Jiho again. Interpreting her gaze in his own way, Pyeonghwa spoke.

“We made that promise, didn’t we? Either way, there’s no exit on the 7th floor of the girls’ dorm. So we have to move. There might be another way on the 7th floor of the boys’ dorm.”

Since both the emergency stairs and windows were blocked, the only way to leave the 7th floor of the girls’ dorm was through the elevator lobby. If they passed through the elevator lobby and the co-ed lounge, they could enter the 7th floor of the boys’ dorm.

“But… how do we get through the elevator lobby? Amon’s there.”

Siwoon asked the question, but everyone fell silent.
There was simply no way to get through the elevator lobby guarded by Amon. The fire Amon spewed was far too powerful.
After a long pause, Siwoon spoke again, his voice uncertain.

“Earlier, Jiho, you said you just ran on the 8th floor, right? Maybe if we just run quickly to the lounge entrance this time too…”

“We’d die to Amon. You saw what happened earlier, didn’t you?”

Pyeonghwa cut Siwoon off sharply. Jiho, who had also considered a “just rush it” strategy, shared her analysis.

“It’s way worse than the 8th floor… Marbas attacked with his hands, but Amon breathes fire from his mouth, so his range is much longer. Also, Marbas guarded the entire hallway, but Amon only guards the elevator lobby—so it’s actually harder. And there was no door at the 8th floor stair lobby, but there’s a door to the lounge, right?”

“Yeah, there’s a door… It only opens with a card key… That’s going to cost us time too.”

Siwoon sighed. He let out a long breath and muttered,

“Why aren’t the sprinklers going off?”

“Sprinklers?”

“Isn’t it weird? The walls were scorched, right? Normally the sprinklers would’ve gone off by then… This place is really messed up… Is it actually hell? Well, yeah. Makes sense. We can’t even get out the windows. Haaaah.”

Hwang Siwoon sighed heavily, over and over.
As she listened to him, Jiho quietly pondered—then she spoke.

“Would the indoor fire hydrant work? I saw on the news once that its power is about the same as a fire truck. If it functions properly, we might be able to suppress Amon’s fire.”

“The indoor fire hydrant is in front of the lobby stairs. It’s within Amon’s range.”

Go Pyeonghwa responded immediately. He didn’t state it outright, but since it was within Amon’s range, he was basically saying it was impossible.

“Ah…”

Shin Jiho sighed in disappointment. It would’ve been perfect if the hydrant had been in the corridor of the dorm rooms. But its location was just too unfortunate.
She tapped one cheek lightly with her fingertips, calculating. Weighing the time it would take to sprint across the elevator lobby into the lounge without any plan or equipment versus the time it would take to operate the fire hydrant and suppress Amon with its hose.

From their current position, the lobby stairs were much closer than the lounge entrance. But, as they had already experienced, Amon could breathe fire all the way to the stairs without even standing up.

Open the hydrant, pull out the hose, get it running… The entire process felt annoyingly complicated.

‘We’d be roasted faster than we could pull that off. We have fire extinguishers, but they wouldn’t even make a dent.’

Jiho let out another long sigh.

She felt someone staring and looked up—Go Pyeonghwa was gazing right at her.
When Jiho met his eyes, Pyeonghwa quickly looked away.

‘Why does he keep staring at me?’

Shin Jiho was getting seriously irritated by Pyeonghwa’s gaze. His calm demeanor also rubbed her the wrong way. How could he be more composed than her, even though she was on her second round of this? Maybe it was the smartphone. Once one thing started to bother her, everything about him became annoying.

Go Pyeonghwa stared at a spot on the floor for a moment before speaking.

“If it’s the three of us, there’s one method we could try.”

“Oooh, what is it?”

Hwang Siwoon’s eyes lit up with hope. Jiho said nothing, simply watching Pyeonghwa’s face.

Pyeonghwa lifted his eyes from the floor and said,

“Amon has two distinct traits. One, he never steps off the white rug.”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

This was new information for Jiho, but Siwoon nodded without surprise.
Jiho pictured the white rug that Amon always sat on. His upper body was that of a wolf, but smaller than a real one—maybe a bit bigger than a large retriever. The snow-white rug was slightly larger than Amon himself.

‘Come to think of it, every time I saw him, he was always on that rug.’

Seeing Jiho’s expression, Siwoon added more explanation.

“Before you came, there was a huge mess on the 7th floor because of Amon, remember? I saw it then—he absolutely never steps off that rug. I started wondering if the reason he only guards the lobby is because he literally can’t leave the rug…”

“Maybe his body structure makes it hard for him to move?”

With a wolf’s upper body and a snake’s lower half, it did seem like moving around would be difficult. Hwang Siwoon shrugged.

“He moved just fine on the rug, though.”

As Jiho and Siwoon fell silent, Go Pyeonghwa brought up Amon’s second characteristic.

“The other thing is—he doesn’t breathe fire immediately.”

“Oh, right! There’s a delay, like a buffer… or warm-up time? Something like that. Just a few seconds, maybe…?”

Jiho recalled the moment she first entered the 7th floor.
Amon had opened his mouth wide the second he saw her, but the fire didn’t come out right away.
If he had breathed fire instantly, Pyeonghwa wouldn’t have had time to save her.

‘About 2 seconds? Maybe 3 at most.’

Pyeonghwa picked up where Siwoon left off.

“Exactly 3 seconds.”

His tone was full of certainty. Jiho accepted it immediately—Pyeonghwa’s timing must be precise.
If it wasn’t, not only would he have failed to save her, they both would’ve died at Amon’s hands.

“Yeah, that sounds right. But… can we really do anything in 3 seconds? Didn’t we already decide that just running past him won’t work?”

Siwoon asked, looking puzzled.
Pyeonghwa responded.

“It’s impossible to reach the door and open it in time, but it is enough time to subdue Amon.”

“Subdue? Amon?”

Hwang Siwoon practically jumped in shock. Jiho, too, stared at Pyeonghwa with wide eyes, thinking there’s no way that’s going to work.
Even under their incredulous stares, Pyeonghwa remained calm.

“We just need to stop him from opening his mouth. If the two of us rush him, we can do it. Use our body weight to slam his wolf head into the ground—he won’t be able to open his mouth.”

“Even if that works—what about after that?”

Siwoon asked, clearly skeptical. At that, Go Pyeonghwa looked straight at Jiho.

“You have to open the lounge door while we’re holding Amon down. Siwoon and I just need to keep him restrained until you get it open. As soon as the door unlocks, we’ll retreat into the lounge within three seconds. Timewise, it’s doable.”

“Time’s not the issue, it’s everything else. He might look small, but Amon’s a demon. His strength could be way beyond human.”

Jiho protested. She couldn’t help it—the image of Pyeonghwa and Siwoon being torn apart while trying to subdue Amon flashed in her mind. She had to oppose it.

Siwoon placed a hand on Jiho’s arm. When she looked at him, he shook his head.

“No, think about it—it might actually work. Pyeonghwa used to do judo.”

“He was on the team?”

Jiho’s eyes widened as she looked at Pyeonghwa. His clothes had hidden it, but she’d suspected he had an athletic build. Turns out it was judo.

Go Pyeonghwa shook his head.

“No. But I do know how to subdue someone.”

“Humble much? He’s been doing it for over 20 years,” Siwoon added with a grin.

Jiho raised an eyebrow.
“He’s 24 years old.”

“Oops, my bad, my bad. He said he started in kindergarten—so almost 20 years, right?”

Hwang Siwoon let out a hearty laugh.
Jiho sighed and crossed her arms.
Hearing that Pyeonghwa practiced judo did make him seem more reliable. But Amon’s physical strength was a complete unknown. He could turn out to be surprisingly fragile… or strong enough to move mountains.

Siwoon made a long, thoughtful noise—“Hmmmm…”—then nodded.

“I’m in. We’ve got no other options. Let’s try it, and if it looks bad, we bail within 3 seconds.”

With Siwoon on board, it became hard for Jiho to argue.
Truthfully, her role was just opening the door—she was in the safest position. Since both Go Pyeonghwa and Hwang Siwoon were willing to take the risk head-on, Jiho didn’t really have a counter.

Still, she couldn’t nod so easily. With a dark expression, arms still folded, she stood in silence.

‘It’s too dangerous. A total gamble.’

One wrong move, and it’d be the end of the line. Jiho had already seen too many people die here. In this strange place, death always felt dangerously close.

Siwoon nudged Jiho gently and gave her a grin.

“We’ll be fine. There were people who escaped from Amon earlier.”

“How did they escape?”

“They ran while Amon was breathing fire at someone else… Still, it means Amon isn’t invincible. We can do this.”

Gone was the discouraged look he’d worn after seeing the blocked window—Hwang Siwoon was full of energy again.
Seeing his optimistic smile, Jiho began to think maybe it really would be okay.
She turned her head to look at Pyeonghwa, who, once again, was already looking at her. This time, he didn’t look away—he held her gaze directly.

Go Pyeonghwa did have some suspicious sides to him, but looking only at the results, he wasn’t a bad person.
He’d saved her, and he had the ability to analyze the situation calmly and logically.
While Jiho had been carefully observing Marbas on the 8th floor, Pyeonghwa and Siwoon had likely been studying Amon here on the 7th.
When it came to judging Amon, Pyeonghwa and Siwoon might have a better grasp than Jiho did.

‘Yeah… maybe it really is okay. This could be the answer.’

Shin Jiho nodded.

“Alright, let’s give it a shot.”

Hwang Siwoon nodded with a grin.

“Okay. Let’s do it.”

It was right then—

Zzzzzzt.
A menacing static sound rang out—it was the PA system speaker.

‘No way… don’t tell me time’s already up?’

Shin Jiho’s face went pale in an instant.

『Attention, residents on the 7th floor of the girls’ dormitory. The demon Gremory is now entering the 7th floor of the girls’ dorm. Please be cautious. Thank you.』

The announcement cut off abruptly.

“Gremory? Who the hell is Gremory now?”

Hwang Siwoon muttered, but Jiho was focused on a different word.

“Caution?”

So far, Jiho had encountered two demons—Marbas and Amon. Both had been powerful, but this was the first time the announcement had used the word “caution.”
It wasn’t normal. It wasn’t right.

Go Pyeonghwa suddenly lunged at the door and braced it with his body. As he locked the doorknob, he gestured urgently to Jiho and Siwoon.

“Bring the shoe rack!”

His voice was low, barely more than a whisper—he was clearly trying not to make any noise that might draw attention.
Jiho and Siwoon understood immediately and moved without hesitation.

That’s when the screams came from outside. Female voices. One—no, two.
One of the piercing screams was cut off abruptly, and a moment later, the other vanished just as suddenly.

“This is insane. This place has completely lost it…”

Hwang Siwoon cursed under his breath.
Jiho and Siwoon lifted the fallen shoe rack and dragged it to the door. Go Pyeonghwa stepped aside from bracing the door with his body and helped them barricade it with the shoe rack.

Even with the door blocked, none of them felt even slightly reassured. They stepped back from the entrance, exchanging tense, uneasy glances.

Jiho’s insides were burning up. She had to do something—anything—but had no idea what.

Bang.
Suddenly, a loud thud echoed from the door. Before Jiho could even register what was happening—Bang—another slam, and the door burst open violently.
The shoe rack they’d used to block it collapsed absurdly easily, as if it had never stood a chance.

“……!”

Through the open doorway, a camel stepped inside, carrying a woman with flowing red hair.
She wore a faint smile on her lips, dressed in a white lace veil and a golden crown. She was so breathtakingly beautiful that Jiho, for a moment, forgot everything—forgot the danger, the fear—and nearly lost herself staring.

But this beautiful woman had, in place of ears, two large black horns. Like a human hanging earrings, her horns were adorned with layers of golden ornaments that shimmered elegantly.

‘What… what is this?’

Looking closer, Jiho saw she wore multiple necklaces, bracelets, and rings—all mismatched in design, with no sense of unity.

The woman raised her right hand ever so slightly. In it, she held a golden spear. Its tip gleamed sharp and cold.
Snapped from her trance by the chilling sight, Jiho’s mind went into overdrive.

‘Run. We have to run.’

The camel stepped forward, hooves lightly striking the floor.
The red-haired woman swung her spear. Jiho gasped, throwing her arms over her head and crouching down, trembling uncontrollably.

But the pain Jiho was bracing for never came.
Peering past her arms, she saw what had happened—and froze in horror.

“H-Hwang Siwoon…”

Hwang Siwoon’s chest had been pierced straight through by the golden spear.

Like a drowning person grasping for a straw, Jiho instinctively grabbed the nearest thing—Go Pyeonghwa. There was no thought, no plan, just raw reflex.
Like a child clutching their mother’s sleeve, she clung to him.

Siwoon, impaled on the golden spear, opened and closed his mouth as if trying to speak—but no sound came out.
Still clutching Pyeonghwa’s wrist, Jiho stood rooted in place like stone, staring only at Siwoon.

The spear’s tip was buried in his clothes, hidden from view.
It was a sight she had never imagined—a scene so surreal that it didn’t feel real at all. Like something out of a magic show. Any moment now, a magician would jump out and shout, “Surprise! It was all an illusion!”

“Snap out of it!”

Go Pyeonghwa shouted and yanked Jiho forcefully. His voice sounded distant, far away.
To Jiho, this moment was dragging on as if time itself had slowed. As if this single instant had been stretched into eternity.
She could see every detail: the blood soaking through Siwoon’s clothes, the way his face twisted in pain—every wrinkle, every twitch—burned into her eyes.

The woman yanked the spear out, and blood gushed like a fountain. Then she drove it into him again.

Jiho screamed—AaaaAAAHHHHH! A sound that was part agony, part desperate plea.
She had no grasp of her own emotions anymore, no idea why she was screaming—only that she was.

We have to run!

A beat too late, the sirens blared in Jiho’s mind.
She bolted, running blindly. She had to get as far away from the woman with the spear as possible. It didn’t matter where—anywhere was fine, as long as that woman wasn’t there.

As soon as she dashed out of Room 701, the first thing she saw was Amon, still guarding the lobby.
Lying down, he lifted his upper body the moment he saw Jiho.

Jiho screamed again and veered sharply in the opposite direction—away from the elevator lobby, toward the corridor lined with dorm rooms.

At the far end of the 7th-floor hallway, she saw the emergency stairs. Without thinking, Jiho sprinted toward them.
She didn’t even remember that the emergency stairs were locked.

“Hey, Shin Jiho!”

Someone grabbed her arm. Jiho, eyes wild with fear, turned her head.
It was Go Pyeonghwa.
She looked down at the arm he was pulling—and realized she was still gripping his wrist tightly.
She hadn’t even realized she was dragging him along, hadn’t known she’d latched onto him in terror and just ran.

This time, Pyeonghwa forcefully pulled her toward him. Room 704’s door was slightly ajar.
The two of them rushed inside. In a panic, they locked the door and barricaded it with a shoe rack.

They both knew the shoe rack was useless—they’d already seen that with their own eyes—but they had to do something.

Only then did Jiho start to come back to her senses.
She looked around Room 704. It was empty, and just like the other dorms, wrecked from the aftershocks of the earlier quake.
On top of that, it seemed the residents had been messy—empty ramen cups, snack wrappers, and other trash littered the floor.
Heavy maroon curtains blocked most of the sunlight, casting the room in a dim twilight, like dawn.
A flickering fluorescent light, half-dead, barely illuminated the room in a dull, washed-out glow.

At least… that woman wasn’t here.

Jiho slid to the floor, collapsing like her legs had been pulled out from under her.

Hhhhhh… Jiho let out a sound that she couldn’t even recognize—was it a sob, a groan? Her head, her heart, her whole body felt like it was about to burst.

The spear had pierced his chest—right through the heart.
If he was lucky, it was instant death. If unlucky, it was death by massive blood loss.

Even through the confusion, Jiho found herself wishing that Siwoon had been lucky. That at least he hadn’t writhed in pain in his final moments…

‘No… we’re already dead, right? We’re only dying now because we already died, aren’t we? Then… is Siwoon going to hell? Because he failed the test to reach Room 721 in the boys’ dorm?’

Her hands, frozen to the fingertips, trembled violently. The broom girl, Hwang Siwoon—their endings had been far too horrific. Jiho had never witnessed such hell before in her life.

Her stomach churned, nausea rising fast.
She felt like she was back beneath the collapsing ceiling—back in the crushing pain, the smothering darkness. Trapped again.

Jiho wrapped her warm right hand around her icy left, trying to calm herself. It didn’t work. Her body shook violently, her face soaked in tears.
Before she knew it, she was crying.

“Why… why the hell…!”

They shouldn’t have been wasting time looking for an escape route. They should’ve gone straight to Room 721, just like the announcement said…

Siwoon’s hopeful face as he talked about escaping—and the expression twisted in pain—they clashed in her mind so vividly it was unbearable.
‘Why did this happen to me? To us?’ The sheer injustice of it all was enough to drive Jiho mad.

She screamed, leaping up and kicking the shoe rack.
Then she collapsed again, sobbing like a wild animal, broken.

At that moment, Go Pyeonghwa pulled Jiho tightly into his arms.
He wrapped one arm around her head, holding her close, and whispered softly.
With gentle, steady motions, he stroked her hair.

“Calm down. Gremory’s still here.”

“Let her come! Let her just kill me! I’m done… I’m tired of this, I wanna give up…”

Shin Jiho screamed like it was a cry for help, like it was all she had left.
Go Pyeonghwa grabbed her face with both hands, forcing her to look into his eyes.
In the dim light, his hazel eyes gleamed like candle flames.

“Don’t ever say that. No matter what happens. What’s more important than staying alive?”

Pyeonghwa spoke like he was biting the words, grinding them into her.
Jiho was momentarily overwhelmed by the intensity in his eyes. She could feel life burning inside him—undeniable, powerful.
In this place where time had stopped, it felt like only Go Pyeonghwa’s time still flowed forward.

“Get your head on straight. Don’t look back. That’s how you survive.”

Her ragged breaths gradually steadied. The tears that had pooled in her eyes spilled over, then stopped. The flush in her face began to fade.
She could feel the slight chill in the air. The warmth of Pyeonghwa’s hands seeping into her.
The shadows of the room began to take clearer shape, emerging from the darkness.

For the first time, she felt alive.
No—not just alive. This… this is what it meant to be alive.

Zzzzt. The speaker crackled again.

『Attention, residents on the 7th floor of the girls’ dormitory. The demon Gremory is now departing from the 7th floor of the girls’ dorm. See you on another floor. Thank you.』

The speaker clicked off. The dorm fell quiet once more.

Jiho took a step back from Pyeonghwa. He lowered his hands from her face.
The distance between them returned.

Jiho had regained her composure.
This wasn’t the time to fall apart.
She thought back to the moment she died—the bitter lesson from that day was more than enough.

Gritting her teeth, she wiped away the tears and sweat from her face with the back of her hand.

‘One thing at a time. Step by step, in order.’

Jiho looked down at her empty hands.
Her badminton racket was gone.
Thinking back, she must’ve lost it when she and Go Pyeonghwa rolled on the floor together right after arriving on the 7th floor.

She scanned the room for anything that could be used as a weapon.
Empty ramen cups, a spilled convenience store lunchbox, snack wrappers, a barley tea bottle, A4 printouts of class slides, an eyeglass case, a textbook…
It was all just a mess—nothing useful.

“Shin Jiho.”

Go Pyeonghwa called her name.
His tone was… different. There was something sharp in it.
He was staring straight at her.

“I don’t have time to let things slide anymore. Speak clearly. Why did you lie about what happened on the 8th floor?”

His voice was firm, full of certainty. Jiho’s face went pale.

“…What? Lie about what?”

“Don’t play dumb. The timelines don’t add up.”

Panic surged in Jiho’s chest.
There was no way Pyeonghwa could know she’d experienced a time loop. Absolutely none.
She mentally retraced her words and actions—she hadn’t slipped. There was nothing to tip him off.
She decided to play it cool and deny everything.

“What are you talking about?”

Pyeonghwa sighed, frustration evident in his eyes.

“You did too much in too short a time. You tried to contact the outside, checked the emergency stairs, escaped from the 8th floor, figured out the change in the stair structure…
That’s impossible in the time you had. And now that I look at you, you’re clearly not in the best mental shape.”

“What?” Jiho snapped.

“You must’ve been busy panicking, worrying, hesitating. And yet you figured all that out?”

Jiho was insulted on multiple levels.
Not only was she being accused of lying, she was also being called mentally weak. She felt caught off guard, humiliated, annoyed—and, of course, angry.
But along with that came a flicker of relief.

‘At least he’s got no proof. Just suspicion.’

Now, Jiho was the one growing suspicious of him.
Why did Go Pyeonghwa keep pressing her, pushing her into a corner? She didn’t get it.
From her perspective, he was the suspicious one—because of the text on his smartphone.
Pyeonghwa had been wary of her from the moment they first met, without even having solid evidence. And then there were those strange, unreadable looks…

‘It’s time to decide.’

The tension between them had already reached a breaking point, and Hwang Siwoon—the buffer between them—was gone.
Jiho had to make a choice on how to deal with Go Pyeonghwa.

Do we split up? Keep our distance? Or should I pull him onto my side…?

“I did move quickly. Honestly, I didn’t have time to sit around thinking. Other people were on the move, so I just moved with them, that’s all.”

“Then why do you keep checking your phone? Didn’t you say it’s useless?”

Jiho nearly let out a groan.
‘I only checked it a few times—how the hell did he notice that, too?’

She switched from defense to offense.