Chương 132: S.05 Time to Fly 10(05)

Scene 06. Lightly smoothing the skirt suit she'd dressed in, she pressed the pedal and passed the highway exit a touch faster. Clear light poured in through the window. Why she was going, why she'd come to pass through this place — consciously, she couldn't tell. She simply couldn't bring herself to ignore the voice of the elder who'd pressed the request on her so insistently. Following the road she'd visited not long ago, she drove fast. It was a narrow dirt road.

On the roadside trees, the leaves had yet to burst; only the buds straining to bloom were in full flower. As she sped down the narrow tree-lined lane, a tall, great watchtower came into view, and beneath it a gate set with a 도깨비(Dokkaebi_Goblin) face like an ornament. Beneath the Goblin's face, drawing ever nearer, stood a single familiar person. She slowly brought the car — which she'd driven hard enough to kick up dust — to a stop.

After gathering up and putting on the thick coat she'd taken off in the passenger seat, she stepped down from her car without cutting the engine. High heels settled onto the dirt ground. The one person who approached the stopped car bowed deeply first. Even after stepping down, she didn't bother to answer. She only bit down gently on her lip. To the one who hadn't accepted her bow, as if there'd never been any hurt to convey in the first place, Lee Yeon slowly raised her bowed back and merely offered a smile.

Why, did you call for me. It was an awkward, cold, and clumsiest of voices. There was no way to mistake that voice resolved on calm. To Lee Yeon, who'd passed through more than a hundred and eighty years, the coldness laid over the silence rang warmer than any voice. Lee Yeon, with a small sigh, drew something from the inner pocket of her 두루마기(Durumagi_Traditional outer coat). She held it out, but the other didn't take it. An awkward silence stretched on for a while. It was a small 두루마리(Durumari_decree).

She held out a little further the palm-sized decree bound with a black band. Carefully lifting the small, pale hand that had meant to refuse it to the last, she took the wordlessly offered decree with one hand, with difficulty. Even after taking it, she conveyed no word. And Lee Yeon, who'd handed over the decree, conveyed no word either. After offering only a smile, Lee Yeon turned and left. It was respect. Respect toward the flower who'd resolved to walk the hard road.

Standing in place, carefully tucking away the decree in her hand, she recalled for a moment her reflections on days gone by. It wasn't that there was nothing she'd meant to say. She was now simply headed for a place where she could no longer say it. A farewell was a luxury. She struggled not to keep it in her head as some sort of last moment. Even though she'd been certain that the less she prepared for parting, the crueler she could be, in the end she'd mingled happily with everyone.

Behind that time spent mingling without regret, she'd simply walked out without bringing things to a close. Many thoughts hung over her. After tending for a moment to her tangled heart, she finally opened the decree in her hand. She took the words written within deep into her eyes, without a sound. The one who tied the knot is the one to loosen it. I, being frail, can in the end do naught but leave the knots I have tied unto thee all, and so, shameless, I do but leave my will behind.

That I wish, even selfishly, to stay thy hand, is true. That I wish, even selfishly, to beg thy forgiveness, is likewise true. I am sorry. Forget not thy resentment toward me; take it for thy companion, and, I pray thee, loosen the tangled knot. That the knot a wretched old crone has tied should come undone by a few short words — that, surely, would be greed. Should the day ever come when every knot this wretched old crone has tied is loosened, then, upon my cold cairn of stones, pour out a cup of liquor gone cold.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. Should a day come when thou art suddenly overcome, seek out the precious treasure. As thou too dost know, the hidden treasure thou didst once serve so dearly shall be able to comfort thee in thy weariness. That wretched I did wound thee, I am sorry. After reading down through every word, holding many thoughts, she slowly shifted the gaze she'd let hang blankly. Watching Lee Yeon head inside, she let a smile return to her lips.

With a flat expression she let out a light breath, turned, and climbed into the car. No one watched, and no one heard. In the end, she carried onward the steps she'd resolved would leave nothing behind. Scene 07. Into Ji-young's quarters, where the serene morning light came flooding in, I-seon entered with a calm expression. No one was there, but she didn't let it show. She deemed it a thing arranged without a single gap.

Only, by her nature, she wished to know at least as much as her foolish self could sense on instinct. I-seon, in 한복(Han-bok_Traditional Korean dress), took off her 운혜(Unhye_Everyday traditional shoes) on the 댓돌(Dat-dol_Stepping stone) and climbed up onto the wooden floor. As if there were no way to miss I-seon's presence, before I-seon's voice could even come, Ji-young's voice came first from within. Ji-young: Come in.

At Ji-young's calm voice, I-seon, who'd been about to clear her throat, flatly opened the door and stepped inside. Ji-young, seated on the 보료(Bo-ryo_cushioned mat), welcomed I-seon warmly. I-seon pulled out a cushion and offered a small bow upon it. Ji-young, still seated on the cushioned mat, returned I-seon's bow. Settling into proper form, I-seon asked Ji-young first. I-seon: In the small hours, was it you, The Oldest? At the blunt, abrupt question, Ji-young didn't answer. She only smiled.

I-seon wasn't dull enough to miss what that smile meant. Ji-young: So the Martial Director didn't stop her in the end either. At Ji-young's calm question in return, I-seon began to let her shaken heart crumble. To deliver a voice not worked up, I-seon bowed her head low and couldn't get her voice out for a while. There was no way Ji-young didn't know those were the eyes of someone who'd cried all night. Her own past had been so. That was why she didn't bother to stop her. She merely waited.

That the one to aid in that waiting had become her own lot, rather than her mother, I-sim's, weighed on her alone. Ji-young merely gazed at I-seon, still. I-seon: I wanted, to tear her away and stop her. She forced down her grief. She tried to speak her grieving heart flatly, by force. I-seon: I didn't want to believe what the Master of the Eastern Province told me.

That all of this — from the Former The Oldest's passing, to all that's to follow — was nothing but a single-minded will to repay the debt owed to all those who'd saved her when she was young — being a fool, I couldn't easily take it in. Ji-young: I-seon sis. I-seon: Why, didn't she stop her. The Former The Oldest. Ji-young: It'd be the same intent as why you couldn't stop her, sis. And the same intent as why I didn't.

Because someone — someone — must have believed that no one else should have to die wronged, the way I did. Ji-young let out a small sigh. Ji-young: As you know, sis, I'm already half dead. Before I could cross all the way over the River of the Dead, the Harbinger pulled me out and pinned my life back on. Once I was half dead and half alive, it scared me. Dying. I-seon couldn't answer. It was something she'd never experienced, and never wished to. Ji-young: What's going to happen, even I can't say.

But I didn't stop her because I trusted her. I sent her off because I trusted her. At Ji-young's flat reflection, I-seon let out a small sigh with her head bowed. She didn't try to push away I-seon's silence. At the end of Ji-young's waiting, I-seon calmly began to find her voice again. I-seon: When I heard that story, it was when Seon-woo sis shut herself away here in the Sealed Sanctum. Ji-young: You hid it well, all this time. Even though you knew so early.

I-seon: Even when you went up yourself to save her, I wanted to follow and ask. Last night while we bathed together, no, even while we were being run into the ground under the blazing sun, I wanted to ask. Ji-young: But you didn't ask. I-seon: Because I trusted her. My old friend. But when it came to it, watching her go, I wanted to stop her. From going. From carrying it through. Ji-young: Why didn't you stop her? I-seon raised her head with difficulty.

I-seon's eyes, which one would've thought were all cried out, had reddened again. From the red eyes, thick tears fell in heavy drops. I-seon: Because the one who had it hardest would've been the one who took it upon herself to walk the road — Hee-jin. Ji-young merely smiled in silence. I-seon: And because the one who watched it through to the end, who sat in that seat — the mother of us all — must have suffered most of all.

With only the heaviest of heavy feelings laid on her chest, Ji-young, holding a smile, picked up the tissue box beside her and quietly slid it before I-seon's knees. I-seon yanked out a tissue roughly and blew out the snot that was about to run, hard. The tears in both eyes she wiped off carelessly on her sleeve. I-seon: I don't know all of what she said, but Seon-woo sis told me. That she tried to stop her to the very end. That she even called Seon-woo in to help tear Hee-jin away from it.

Ji-young: That day she called me to say she got indigestion from Mom's samgyetang. Ji-young and I-seon held back grumbling laughs. I-seon: She could've just listened to her elders and bent a little. That damn bitch, thinking she's all that to the bitter end. Facing I-seon's grumbling, Ji-young deepened a smile clouded with many thoughts. I-seon finally sighed and, with difficulty, gathered up her deep inner heart. Letting out a great sigh, I-seon, shedding grumbling tears, scattered a grumbling voice listlessly.

I-seon: Damn you, you SSibal. May your feet fail you before you've gone ten li.