Chương 31: S.04 Memory of the Clock 06(04) - Parousia

Scene 11. It was a morning that moved both in a clatter and in a hush. At the entrance of the aged hanok wing, guarded by an 내금부(Nae-geum-bu_Inner Guard) member, Ga-yeon and Yoo-rim—faces drawn—approached in 수화자(Suhwaja_Korean Traditional Battle boots) and 무도복(Mu-do-bok_Martial Dress). Maintenance Office Officer_02: You cannot come in. Today, there is an order that no one — no matter who — may be admitted to the Relic vault, Ga-yeon had no intent to confront or subdue.

Stopping at her step, hands empty, as she hesitated for a breath and opened her mouth to say something—Yoo-rim had already slipped around behind the two Maintenance Office Officers guarding the entrance of the Relic vault, leaving only Ga-yeon before them. With practiced ease she put the two Officers out, and then looked at Ga-yeon, who had done nothing at all. Yoo-rim: You said the same thing to me. That it's not easy to accept. Ga-yeon: Even so. Bringing down Headquarters was not the Former The Oldest's will.

Yoo-rim: We rebuild. It won't collapse. We'll convince them. That's all. Ga-yeon: Who's going to listen. Who will even listen. At Ga-yeon's rueful question, Yoo-rim could not bring herself to answer a word. With a small flick of the wrist, as if furling the whip she had been holding, it reeled lightly back into her hand. As if she had never held anything at all, Yoo-rim—now empty-handed—dug into the pocket of her martial dress and drew out a phone. Holding it quietly in her grip, Yoo-rim asked Ga-yeon.

Yoo-rim: Even now, if you can't do it, tell me. I will do whatever you decide. If you call now and say, even now, that you can't go through with it, Ye-ju won't even step inside the vault, and, of course, she won't walk out with a Derived Relic. So. Tell me. Ga-yeon: And you? Yoo-rim: I'll do it. I've decided. Ga-yeon: Then why did you ask for my opinion. At Ga-yeon's question, Yoo-rim lost her words again. A role she did not want to take—not by any measure. It was not a matter of mere reluctance.

It was a choice that crossed a line that should not be crossed, one that cast off basic human decency. And in that act—the act that cast off basic human decency—there was not even justification, let alone warrant. So-eun: The two of you. What are you doing. A chilling voice came from atop the roof of the wide Relic vault. Gwak So-eun, the Sanctum Warden's Deputy, arriving late.

At the handle of the short dagger she had drawn in a light sweep of an empty hand, a tassel thicker than a 노리개(Nori-gae_Traditional Korean pendant ornament) hung. Around So-eun, set on the rooftop, one squad of the Maintenance Office's Special Task Force stood, a sharp-edged hostility drawn about them. Yoo-rim slipped the phone she had been gripping into her pocket, wordless. Yoo-rim, after a glance at Ga-yeon, answered So-eun, who had sent her charged voice down from the rooftop. Yoo-rim: So-eun. So-eun: I asked.

The Strategist's Deputy, Lee Yoo-rim. The Office of Rites' Deputy, Nam Ga-yeon. What you were doing. The cold air that had begun from within was sweeping across the wide forecourt before the Relic vault entrance. Neither Yoo-rim nor Ga-yeon answered. They hesitated to the very end. A choice that should not be made—of that they were sure. And then, wordless, they made the choice they had sure should not be made, and did it.

Ga-yeon drove her body forward in an instant and swept her empty hand across the line of the roof tiles beyond Yoo-rim. With the wide sweep of her hand, the tiles split away in sharp shards, closing on So-eun and her Special Task Force. Already wary of the two showing hostility, So-eun and the Special Task Force had braced and prepared—they dropped from under the tiles without major injury. With a small sigh, So-eun re-gripped the daggers in both her hands. So-eun: Special Task Force of the Maintenance Office.

Hear me. Special Task Force: Yes. So-eun: Today, we. We never let live any of the unruly traitors who would defy the Former The Oldest's will. Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. So-eun's voice was not loud. The voices of the Special Task Force beside her were not loud either. A chilling hostility and a wordless pledge to carry it out—that alone filled the air. So-eun's Battle boots shifted slightly, a tilt of a prepared launch.

Yoo-rim called back the whip she had put away, and re-gripped it. To Ga-yeon, backs touching, Yoo-rim said, low. Yoo-rim: I'll buy time. You go and bring it out. So-eun did not drag out the talk. Whatever Yoo-rim's will, whatever resolve Ga-yeon had made, it did not matter. So-eun flung the dagger gripped in her hand toward Ga-yeon, who was making to slip away from the spot. When Ga-yeon batted the air lightly with her empty hand, So-eun's blade snapped aside.

So-eun paid no mind to her own blade sent through the air. She pushed her Battle boots forward at once and flung her small frame out. At what amounted to a signal—So-eun's kick off the ground—the Maintenance Office's Special Task Force rushed as one at Ga-yeon and Yoo-rim. No battle cry. No shout. Silent. Covert. Relentless. Sharp. The whip in Yoo-rim's hand whirled out, cutting wind, spun to bar a wide range.

A whip well over five meters wheeled and tried to bar So-eun's and the Special Task Force's approach, but So-eun's small frame closed in almost instantly, driving the point of a sharp dagger up to the underside of Yoo-rim's jaw. As Yoo-rim barely slipped her chin aside and dodged So-eun's killing stroke, the Special Task Force did not let the whip's blunted end slip either; they pressed the points of their blades in toward Yoo-rim and Ga-yeon. Ga-yeon's empty hand showed a scattering sword-dance again.

Nothing was visible, yet she was brushing aside the blades of the Task Force members and holding the line. As the forms of 경기검무(Gyeonggi-geom-mu_Gyeonggi Sword Dance) exchanged back and forth between them, So-eun's blade—which had soared upward—came dropping down, flitting here and there to match her handiwork.

The two daggers, linked by a thread almost too fine to see, took up the 강령 춤(Gangryeong-chum_Gangryeong Dance) of the 덜머리집(Deolmeori-jip_The Shaman House) tradition—specifically one called 용산삼개집(Yongsansamgae-jip)—against Yoo-rim, who gripped the whip and deployed the 도살풀이(Dosal-puri)—one strand of 도당굿(Dodang-gut_Village Shamanic Rite). Both carried within them the archetype of the 수건 춤(Sugeon-chum_Handkerchief Dance), yet So-eun's dance-figure was far sharper, keener, more concealed.

Against the two daggers strung with a near-invisible fine wire, the dance-figures of 짓는사위 · 뿌림사위 · 돌릴사위 · 펴는사위 and others drove So-eun's 무(Mu_Martial Art) already to the point of overwhelming Yoo-rim's 도살풀이. Carrying through the 펴고·뿌리고·감고·돌고·채는 사위 one after the other, she narrowed the space in which Yoo-rim's whip could roam. Just as Yoo-rim—harder and harder pressed—faltered her step backward, So-eun's shoulder blade was punched through by a sharp blade. Ye-ju: Your Director's here, kiddo.

You can ease off now, huh? At Ye-ju's jeer, dropped by her ear, So-eun—given up her shoulder—tried with a fresh pressure, disbelief plain on her face, to keep her dance-figure going. Ye-ju twisted the blade buried in So-eun's shoulder and broke So-eun's will. At the force with which Ye-ju pinned her from behind to drive her to her knees, the Special Task Force, facing Yoo-rim and Ga-yeon, faltered. Neither Yoo-rim nor Ga-yeon pressed the Task Force back. They did not ride the momentum to crush them.

So-eun, her face drawn tight with pain, was late in letting her knees drop down into the dirt. When the Special Task Force, as if for So-eun before Ye-ju, showed their eyes set aflame and poised to rush Ye-ju, Ye-ju gripped the kneeling So-eun's hair and said, to the Task Force that had begun to show hostility— Ye-ju: Every one of you, put the blades down. You —, So-eun: I will take this. All of you. Go. At So-eun's voice, cutting off Ye-ju's command, Ye-ju showed a sneering laugh, thick with mockery.

The Task Force's steps did not move easily. It was not that the order, delivered in a low voice, failed to reach them. So-eun: Block what needs to be blocked. Don't worry about deadweight. At So-eun's order, mixed with blood, the Task Force's Captain let out a small sigh and glared at Ye-ju as if running her through. Then, as So-eun had ordered, they pulled their feet back fast. Before the wide Relic vault, only So-eun remained. Yoo-rim and Ga-yeon and Ye-ju—every one of them was now So-eun's adversary.

Ye-ju kicked So-eun aside with her foot and yanked the blade free from the shoulder she had buried it in. She drove the blade into the wrist of the fallen So-eun and pinned it to the floor. Ye-ju: While I was away, you were doing pretty well for yourself, huh? My little Deputy lordship? Ye-ju, standing looking down at the fallen So-eun, jeered at So-eun who was bleeding red on the dirt, yet So-eun did not jeer back.

When Ye-ju gave a glance, Ga-yeon and Yoo-rim moved their weighted steps and went inside the Relic vault. Ye-ju toyed with the blade pinned through So-eun's wrist, turning it this way and that, splaying open the flesh, but So-eun did not cry out once. Ye-ju: I was really worthless to you, wasn't I? As the Director you had to serve. So-eun: Director. Ye-ju: Go on. Say it. My little Deputy lordship. So-eun: I, in all the time I have served you — I have never once looked at you that way.

At So-eun's calm voice, poured out from her fallen position, Ye-ju felt, from somewhere deep inside, a rising flood of something bitter and the sense of herself growing smaller. That was why she jeered harder and pushed back. Tried to fight it. Ye-ju's jeer drew deeper and brighter. Ye-ju: Ah, really? Then why'd you not pick up my calls, why'd you blow off every message I — So-eun: Because before you, Director, the Former The Oldest was our elder. Ye-ju: She's dead, isn't she?

So now, you listen to what I sa — So-eun: The one who drove us, at the end, to this — was you, Director. Ye-ju: Me?? When?? So-eun: In the place where you should have been, Director — you were not, So-eun's words could not go on. As Ye-ju drove the blade this way and that, tearing further into the flesh, the pain grew so severe that So-eun, bearing it, could not keep her words coming. Ye-ju's eyes were beginning to lose sense by the edge.

As if determined she would not, to the very end, hear So-eun's voice, Ye-ju let only the jeer stay across her face, and let her own voice through. Ye-ju: Shut up, you SSibal bitch. You think I don't know you all look down on me — motherless pieces of shit — for being the Director who bears a Derived Relic? You're middle-tier lineage, aren't you?? Middle-tier, bearing a Branch Relic. You believe you should have been the Director of the Maintenance Office. Right??

With no strength left to answer Ye-ju's jeer, So-eun lay on the ground, clutching her own wrist. She tried to hold out against the pain any way she could, but the flesh was opened so far that any further movement would sever it clean through. Enduring the pain was all she could do. Answering was out of reach. When Ye-ju tore the blade free, a thick vein in So-eun's wrist seemed to split, and red blood poured out of her wrist without pause. So-eun clutched her own wrist and did not lift her fallen body.

Ye-ju moved her step around to the head-end of So-eun. With the long blade, stained with So-eun's blood, in her grip, she aimed it at So-eun's long throat and left a cold jeer behind. Ye-ju: You should've picked up your damn phone on time before spouting shit like that. You SSibal bitch. Ye-ju swung her blade and drove it down hard to sever So-eun's throat. Yet So-eun's throat was untouched. In the blade that had driven down into the dirt floor, Black Sand sat embedded.

Yu-seok: A retard of a bitch — what she's supposed to do, she doesn't do; she's wallowing in the sulk of her own inadequacies instead. Ah, honestly, this SSibal retard of a woman — where the hell do you even start fixing her so she'd pass for something resembling a person.