Chương 1: S.04 Memory of the Clock 01(01)

Scene 00. PROLOGUE 00. 집장군노 (Jipjanggunno_The Executioner's Slave) — behold the bearing of the Executioner's Slave. Chun-hyang, bound tight and hoisted upon the frame, crouched small atop the rack. The Executioner's Slave scooped up an armful of flogging rods, clutched them whole, and spread them rattling before Chun-hyang's feet. The bailiffs on left and right lined up for flogging duty — hear the command, report the command.

Straight away, straight away, there is nothing to report, before the Magistrate's seat, only kill her and be done. Behold the bearing of the Executioner's Slave, selecting a flogging rod — this one picked up, supple and slow, that one picked up, crisp and taut. Casting a sidelong glance at Chun-hyang — lift those legs, lest the bones shatter. Close your eyes, do not look, even if I die, would I beat you hard — cast away your worry, cast away your dread.

Behold the bearing of the Executioner's Slave, selecting and gripping a single rod. Hoisted high and charging forth — the shape of the death-guardian at Hell's gate, iron mace shouldered, charging forth. As thunder cracks through a narrow gorge, as lightning splits across a wide plain. Retreating ten ri, then charging five ri forward, and delivering one clean blow — crack. Ai-gu, what manner of fate is this. Heo-heo, wretched girl, hear these words.

Blossoms bloom then wilt of their own accord, leaves sprout then fall away one by one, becoming windswept leaves adrift in a desolate gale, scattering green willows rustling apart, upon the clear and clearer waters of the nine-bend stream, bobbing and swaying, drifting and swaying, floating away into departure. What a wretched-tongued creature you are. Scene 01. PROLOGUE 01. FLASHBACK I-sim clattered about in silence. Weeping without sound, working diligently at the kitchen sink, preparing food.

After the long hours spent cooking, I-sim leaned against the edge of the sink for a moment and shed every last tear still waiting to fall. The quiet grief dissolved into the running faucet and washed away. On one side of a clean dish, kind handwriting spelled out instructions to reheat before eating. After leaving the note behind, I-sim picked up a thick envelope resting on the sink and tucked it deep against the chest.

The envelope had already been torn open, the letter inside read over and over again — fingerprint smudges already staining its surface. Scene 02. PROLOGUE 02. Deep in the forest. A dim wood where no sunlight reached even in late afternoon. Within a forest where an unsettling solitude mingled with fog, a single trunk stood alone. An ancient thing, iron chains draped like shackles across every limb.

Roughly four stories tall, thick enough that ten grown adults linking arms could barely circle its girth — the 시간수(Si-gan-su_The Chronostump) stood as though time itself had been lost to it. Before The Chronostump, a carefully arranged altar rested in place. Atop the altar, which resembled a wayside shrine, offerings of food sat with no telling when they had been placed. No one was present, yet from The Chronostump came a sound like ceaseless weeping — a desolate wind.

The rigid branches did not sway even in that bleak wind. No flowers bloomed upon The Chronostump. As though time itself hid within the silence, nothing moved. The sundial placed upon the altar did not move. The small water clock beside it did not move. The antique table clock did not move. None of the timepieces moved. Neither the second hands nor the wind stirred. As it had always been, the place remained frozen. No one came to visit, and no one could. The Chronostump slept alone, having lost its time. Scene 03.

Everyone wore white 소복(Sobok_White mourning garments). A stillness from which even urgency had vanished. The darkness that had settled over 본청(Bon-cheong_Headquarters) in grief appeared to have held its silence for a very long time. Footsteps followed a quiet path, but where to go — that was something never known. Aimless steps. The sound of white 운혜(Unhye_Everyday traditional shoes) shuffling along filled the empty roads of Headquarters. Having chosen to follow, there was no choice but to trust.

It was suffocating, but having chosen to believe, there was no choice but to wait. Even now, at the mere thought of it, large eyes brimmed with tears in an instant. It felt as though picking up the phone right now would still reach that voice. The voice that would scold with stern kindness, the affectionate voice that would counter even the slightest teasing with middle-aged jokes that were never funny — those voices circled endlessly through the mind. And so, forgetting was sought, if only briefly.

The self that had resolved to wait needed enough time to stop wavering. Yeon-su did not head toward Headquarters. Yeon-su's steps in White mourning garments barely averted the gaze from 단장(Dan-jang_The Oldest)'s quarters and passed by. No one stopped Yeon-su. No one denied Yeon-su the time that was needed. Chae-rim only watched Yeon-su in silence. The grief weighed on Chae-rim just the same. Whether the qualification of 내금부 부장(Nae-geum-bu bujang_Inner Guard Manager) was even deserved had become a matter of doubt.

Sleep was a luxury. Exhaustion was a luxury too. Now that even what needed protecting had vanished, Chae-rim considered breathing itself a luxury. But the final will left behind could not be ignored. The last wish — the one that named what must be protected — would not be forsaken. It was the only atonement. Beside Chae-rim, whose hollow stare held a smoldering fury, I-seon approached in White mourning garments. In the distance, Yeon-su's retreating figure moved toward the north gate.

Chae-rim, who no longer had any reason to remain hidden, bowed deeply to the approaching I-seon. Chae-rim: You have arrived. I-seon: Has the settling of matters... progressed at all. Chae-rim: Barely a month has passed. We have not yet held the memorial rites for those broken or dead. The settling of matters is far from finished. I-seon: That was not what I was asking. To Chae-rim's voice, rising in intensity, I-seon offered a quiet apology.

Chae-rim, catching the misstep too late, lowered the head again as though in self-reproach. Chae-rim: Forgive me. I did not mean it that way. I-seon shook the head gently, dismissing Chae-rim's apology. Chae-rim: Then, what were you asking about — I-seon: The list. I-seon's eyes held a hatred deeper than Chae-rim's own sense of defeat and hollow loathing turned inward. I-seon blamed the self for having committed an unforgivable act.

I-seon believed the duty entrusted by Chae-rim — the position Chae-rim had yielded in good faith — had not been fulfilled. Self-blame. Endless self-blame that nothing had been prevented in the end. The hatred in I-seon's eyes ran deeper than imagined, more wretched than it appeared. It ached and stung, and everything was in ruins. Without a word, Chae-rim drew a single 두루마리(Durumari_Decree) from the folds of the robe and passed it to I-seon. I-seon accepted the list. Chae-rim: However, Acting Secretary.

I-seon: Yes. Chae-rim: The 책사 (Chaek-sa_Strategist) asked that you wait, if only for a moment. I-seon: I am aware. I am foolish enough to ruin things. I will wait. Do not worry. Chae-rim: Acting Secretary. I-seon: Yes. Chae-rim: We now have no one to rely upon except the Acting 사무장 (Sa-mu-jang_Executive Secretary) and the Strategist, who has taken on the acting role of The Oldest.

My oldest companion has entered the 시간수 (Si-gan-su_The Chronostump), and Former The Oldest passed on the 유물 (Yumul_Relic) to the Next-in-line The Oldest before departing this world with nothing left. The whereabouts of that Next-in-line The Oldest — no one knows. I-seon could not continue. Blinded by hatred though I-seon may have been, the comfort and rebuke woven through Chae-rim's words were not beyond understanding. In silence, I-seon gazed into the deepening night. Chae-rim could not stop.

There was much to say, but what burned most was the failure — the failure to protect Former The Oldest, Jeon I-sim. After delivering that self-reproaching conviction, Chae-rim could not speak for a long while. Setting aside the blame aimed inward, Chae-rim tried once more to lay out the present situation before I-seon. Chae-rim: We do not have many left who can lead us, now that everything has crumbled as far as it can crumble.

Gyeong-seo, Na-hyun, and I still lack experience, and Yeon-su and the others are not yet old enough. The standing Executive Secretary remains at the center of all this, while the Directors and officials in key positions have each left Headquarters to pursue their own ambitions. Acting Secretary. If you speak that way, we will lose the only place we have left to lean on. We will surrender Headquarters to them. This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. Chae-rim's voice did not rise.

But the absence of a raised voice did not mean the absence of anger. It was simply deemed not the time for it. Chae-rim: The enemy still lingers within arm's reach. Not all the 사환자 (Sa-hwan-ja_Returnee) have been dealt with. The first 사절단 (Sa-jeol-dan_The Envoy's Legion) that forged those Returnees still walks 이승 (I-seung_the world of the living) in untouched form. At Chae-rim's measured insistence, I-seon nodded and bowed to Chae-rim first. I-seon: Forgive me. My thinking was short.

Receiving I-seon's courtesy without returning it was impossible. Chae-rim bowed even deeper, offering respect in kind. Chae-rim: I implore you — may both Acting officers help everyone remaining at Headquarters uphold Former The Oldest's final will to the very end. Please lead us. The duty I could not fulfill... to the very end... With that last drawn-out utterance, Chae-rim tried to release the self-reproach held deep within. Chae-rim, who had never once wavered, now began to let the long-held emotions surface.

I-seon pressed both eyes shut, suppressing the fury, and managed a faint smile — belated but offered. Reaching out an arm, I-seon gently steadied Chae-rim, who had been bowed low, as though cradling the words to a stop. I-seon: I will. Without fail. I will see to it that you can carry on. Scene 04. Deep night. A woman in her early thirties, thoroughly drunk, swayed through the lobby. The gaudy red-light district sprawled across the road ahead.

Steadying the staggering steps with effort, the woman made for the back seat of a large mid-size sedan stopped directly in front. A bellboy stationed at the entrance opened the rear door and caught the woman's stumbling steps. After checking that the passenger's feet were clear, the bellboy closed the door of the upscale vehicle and delivered a deep bow. The large car passed through streets ruled by indulgence.

Here and there, the remaining touts called out, scrambling to pull in whatever share they could, but the woman already settled deep inside the car seemed satisfied enough with the night. Sunk into the far end of the back seat, the woman held nothing but the weight of heavy drunkenness. The closed eyes did not open. Who sat in front was of no interest. The pleasant drowsiness and the spinning head were all that existed. The vehicle met the busy road and attempted a left turn at the signal.

It nearly collided with a tailgating car, but the large sedan managed to slow just enough and merged into the congested procession on the main road without incident. No horn was sounded. The car simply continued on its way. The lanes were crowded, but not impassable. Following the green lights, the car pressed forward at a crawl. Pulling off the main road, the car began to pick up speed. Before long, it was traveling a deserted road where the traffic itself had vanished entirely.

The passenger in the back seat sat with closed eyes, smacking dry lips. The expensive suit hung open and disheveled, but no attempt was made to straighten it. Sleep behind closed eyes was the only priority. The roar of a motorcycle engine cut in. A bike hugged tight against the large vehicle's flank, refusing to slow down. The car was now pulling into a parking lot along a quiet riverside road. A riverbank so deep into the night that no trace of human presence remained.

The distant glow of the city looked far enough away to seem irrelevant. When the car stopped, the bike that had been pressing close pulled ahead with deliberate display and planted itself in front. The rider killed the engine of the oversized superbike, deployed the kickstand, and stepped off. The footsteps approached without removing the helmet and studied the driver's seat of the sedan. The driver's eyes held no focus. With unhurried steps, the figure moved again, dragged the passenger from the back seat.

The well-bred woman in her early thirties, still deep in drunkenness, stumbled out. Unable even to steady the footing, unaware of being forcibly pulled, the bleary eyes drifted around the unfamiliar surroundings. Placed before the car, the woman was only just beginning to pry the eyes open when the helmeted figure shattered the woman's skull with the gun in hand. Brain matter and skull fragments sprayed in every direction.

The dashcam mounted on the car's front recorded everything, but as if indifferent, the figure draped the woman face-down across the hood and poured rounds into the head until nothing remained. Moments later, the figure shattered the driver's side window with the gun and blew away the driver's head as well. After emptying several rounds, the slide locked back. A small strip of tape was applied over the firearm, then the gun was tossed carelessly onto the hood.

The figure remounted the parked bike and sped away from the scene. Scene 05. Kwon Su-jeong carried self-blame. Clinging to the last thread of reason, Su-jeong had settled the grievance at last — but after that release, Su-jeong only clung harder and crumbled further. A vacant stare, the head tilting side to side. A repetitive motion. The tilting, unsettlingly mechanical, continued even as Su-jeong gouged at the arm with a mirror shard. The only thought in that head was Kang Ji-young. Ji-young had to die.

Only then could things get better. After collapsing helplessly before Ji-young, after killing with those very hands the mother who had raised the self — Su-jeong had been deteriorating more savagely than ever. It was supposed to get better. The conviction had been absolute. Once the grievance was settled, everything was supposed to fall back into place. But the ruin deepened. The ruin was still deepening.

Su-jeong bled 검은 물(Geomeun-mul_Black Water) from the arm and seemed to feel no pain at all, unable to rein in the sneering grin that kept surfacing. It wore the shape of a smile, but it was not a smile. It wore the sound of weeping, but it was not weeping. Both eyes stained black, Su-jeong tore at the arm as though ripping it away. No wound remained. Su-jeong, blinded by the delusion of loss, betrayal, and rage, had driven the self into becoming a true enemy of 본청(Bon-cheong_Headquarters). Su-jeong: Kang Ji-young.

Think you can stay in one piece? Huh? The only person conjured while gouging the arm was one. No one else was recalled. The 유물(Yumul_Relic), already corrupted once through Seo-a, seemed to have accepted the death Su-jeong carried and could no longer devour its host. Even if it tried, the death ruling Su-jeong was no ordinary death. It was one of the eight greatest deaths. Su-jeong remained standing in intact form, carving scars into the flesh. Only three fragments in existence could repel the eight deaths.

Nothing — no human, nor anything that had once been human — could harm Su-jeong, who carried one of the eight. Scene 06. A self that had been utterly convinced of its own sharp clarity. And so, the conviction held that this was merely a brief loss of direction. The only hope was that it would not take long. The late dawn of deep winter crept into view. In the barren ridge of a mountainside, nothing but bleak emotion and cigarette smoke.

Below the midpoint of the ridge, a small tile-roofed hanok sat in a desolate stillness. Every light extinguished, the silence so deep that no presence could be sensed at all. Had it not been winter, the sound of insects or rustling leaves — any sound at all — might have reached the ear, but this was the onset of a deepening winter. Doe Yu-seok sat perched at the ridge's midpoint and crushed the lit cigarette bare-handed.

A powder fell to the ground — impossible to tell whether it was black ash or 검은 모래(Geomeun-morae_Black Sand). An untended beard had grown in considerably. Rising from the seat in a rough and weathered state, Yu-seok threw the body off the ridge. Black Sand scattered as though dispersing, and in an instant, swallowed every trace of Yu-seok's descent. Scene 07. Su-jeong clutched a shard of mirror stained murky black, collapsed on the bed with every last drop of strength spent, and slept.

The mirror shard, still gripped tight, remained embedded in the arm. The death so desperately craved. 검은 물(Geomeun-mul_Black Water) seeping from Su-jeong's body stained the bed beneath the prone form. The firmly shut door opened. Su-jeong's eyes, face-down, snapped wide. The mirror had not been pulled out. The body had not been lifted upright. A familiar presence — so Su-jeong stayed prone for the moment and asked the entering Yu-seok. Su-jeong: Kang Ji-young.

How long it had been since any water touched those lips was anyone's guess. Water or food were no longer necessary to survive. Already dead, the bare minimum for sustaining life held no meaning. But to settle the parched voice, water was still needed. Through a voice cracked beyond repair, the question reached inside Su-jeong's family estate, and Doe Yu-seok answered. Yu-seok: Who knows. A curt reply. Without turning the head, Su-jeong sneered and lashed out at Yu-seok.

Su-jeong: If I turn around right now, you might die, you know. Arm might come flying off. Yu-seok did not respond. Su-jeong did not expect a response either. Su-jeong pressed on. Su-jeong: This was our family's 주술 (Jusul_Sorcery) to begin with. This is where it all started. You know that, right? Yu-seok: Yeah. Su-jeong: Come to think of it, what a SSibal bitch, huh? Song Hee-jin. Yu-seok: Probably. Su-jeong: Did that bitch know? That the only 유물 (Yumul_Relic) I could ever wield was this thing?

Did she engineer it that way? Knowing I couldn't kill Kang Ji-young or Lee Si-yeon or Doe Yu-seok or Song Hee-jin without it? Yu-seok: Even with that thing, none of the people you just named are going to die. Su-jeong: People? You call them people? How can you call that a person? You, of all —? To Su-jeong's unhinged tirade, Yu-seok did not answer. It was tiresome. Su-jeong: Bring Kang Ji-young. Right in front of me. Then self-blame, The Envoy's Legion, whatever — none of it matters. I can break apart.

I'll own it — the sin I committed. Kang Ji-young, the one Baek Jeong-hyeon let slip!! Bring Ji-young to me!!! Yu-seok: You do know that what we did counts as a sin against our own blood, right? Su-jeong, who had screamed as though seizing, choked on the breath and fell silent for a moment. The sneering question from Yu-seok could not be answered. Su-jeong, still gouging at the arm, barely gathered the wits and dragged the voice out at an agonizing crawl. Su-jeong: Yeah. I know. Obviously.

You think she was only a mother to your side? At the hatred woven through Su-jeong's voice, Yu-seok seemed to register some trivial flicker of emotion and let out a mocking scoff. Yu-seok: You said you'd never forgive. Su-jeong: That's exactly why I can't forgive. Because I wanted our mother — mother — to hold us until the very end. Because I wanted her to take my side, at the very least. Because the only words I ever waited for were the words that she would never embrace Kang Ji-young.

Yu-seok: Do you not even remember what you did? Su-jeong said nothing. Yu-seok: All those years you spent tearing The Oldest apart from the inside — you don't remember any of that? Su-jeong gouged savagely at the arm, conjuring Yu-seok through the mirror. But Yu-seok showed no reaction whatsoever. Not a single drop of blood fell. Su-jeong, unable to bear conjuring a Yu-seok that neither screamed nor flinched, rose from the bed and turned the ruined, broken wreck of a face to glare at Yu-seok.

Yu-seok remained perfectly intact. Su-jeong: You people made me do it. Yu-seok: We made you do what you wanted. You chose according to your own obsession. Su-jeong decided that carving Yu-seok up like this was no longer possible. Launching off the seated position, Su-jeong lunged to drive the blade into Yu-seok's throat. The blade tip froze against Yu-seok's skin, and Su-jeong strained with everything left to force it through. Yu-seok did not react.

Yu-seok caught Su-jeong's face bare-handed and flicked it aside — a gesture so dismissive it was revolting. Su-jeong crumpled back onto the bed, unable to contain the fury, and slashed the blanket to shreds with the blade. Su-jeong's wretched scream tore through the walls. When the frenzied slashing finally subsided, Su-jeong, without bothering to steady the breath, asked Yu-seok. Su-jeong: It's Song Hee-jin, isn't it. The one hiding Kang Ji-young. Yu-seok: Well, who else could it be?

Su-jeong: Song Hee-jin is keeping Kang Ji-young stashed away to feed off of, isn't she!? Gorging on Ji-young for her own greed!?! Yu-seok: If Hee-jin were as base as you, I wouldn't have gotten involved. Su-jeong: Then!! What's the point of hiding Ji-young!!! Yu-seok: To block your pathetic little tantrums, I'd imagine. Su-jeong: She said she'd kill Ji-young!! Without fail!!! Yu-seok: She meant you'd get to watch it happen — not that she'd let you be the one to do it. You agreed to that too, didn't you?

Can't even remember, I suppose. You've become too pathetic for that. Su-jeong, who had been slumped face-down, slowly dragged the body upright. Sprawled on the bed like something discarded, Su-jeong muttered as though reciting to the self. Su-jeong: I can't trust her. I just can't. Will Song Hee-jin really get rid of Kang Ji-young? Yu-seok: You're the one who kicked the table over, so who are you to trust anyone? You think Hee-jin trusts you? It's not that you can't trust. You're not even in a position to.

Hee-jin can't trust you. You know that, so you preemptively say you can't trust first — just to comfort yourself, right? Su-jeong: Then. If I want to kill Kang Ji-young — what am I supposed to do? Yu-seok: You kicked your own plate away with your own foot. If not for the mess with the police last time, Former The Oldest could have stayed a little longer. But Former The Oldest couldn't just stand by and watch your raving. So the departure came a little sooner, and the preparations were rushed a little.

At Yu-seok's measured explanation, Su-jeong briefly quelled the raging hatred and listened to the rest. Yu-seok: The day you thrashed around like a mad fish — that day, Hee-jin said to me: won't you go pay your last respects. Su-jeong: And you went? Yu-seok: Of course. The will of the mother who raised me with devotion, and my own will as a child who never lived up to the duty — I delivered both, precisely, and received the answer.

The Oldest — no, Former The Oldest, our mother — had already designated Kang Ji-young as the Next-in-line The Oldest. At Yu-seok's final words, Su-jeong's eyes wavered. Gripping that razor-edged hatred, Su-jeong turned the head like a broken machine and stared blankly at Yu-seok. Su-jeong: What did you say? Yu-seok: Didn't hear? Want me to say it again? Su-jeong: The Oldest? Yu-seok: As the final will states, Kang Ji-young already carries the 현사 (Hyeon-sa_Black Wire).

The declaration that whoever the Black Wire accepts shall be the next The Oldest means Kang Ji-young was designated as the successor. And the last words Former The Oldest spoke — the apology — Beyond Yu-seok's back, the morning light had long since overtaken the dawn. Su-jeong could not release the deranged hatred. Yu-seok's words rang like tinnitus. Where to direct the hollow rage was beyond all reckoning. And so, barely, Su-jeong listened in silence.

Yu-seok: Former The Oldest was apologizing — for the fact that all of you would be swept away far sooner than any of you ever imagined.