Chương 34: S.04 Memory of the Clock 06(07) - Parousia

Scene 25_01. Jeong-in, blades sunk into her back, her shoulder, and her thigh, was barely staying on her feet, unsteady. The blade already leveled at Soo-a's throat had cut through Soo-a's skin and stopped just at the vein. The blade-tips of the Special Task Force members, their senses given up, had begun to slice into Soo-a's throat and stood at the cusp of taking Soo-a's breath. Soo-a's exhausted breath, heaving, turned to Jeong-in, who was about to let everything go. Soo-a: Don't. Don't let go. Just — run.

Jeong-in gathered the two fans in her hands, slow, as if drawing them in to close. Watching the two fans fade away with a small glint of light, Soo-a closed her eyes, slow. Yeong-min, who had been watching for a while, gave a chin-jerk of a signal to one traitor who had fallen in with him. The traitor approached Jeong-in, who had set everything down for a moment, drew a Ritual Taboo Rope from his coat, and forced Jeong-in down to her knees.

Every time he yanked out the blades, as if tearing them loose, Jeong-in flinched. Before wrapping Jeong-in in the Ritual Taboo Rope, he scattered Grey Ash and closed Jeong-in's wounds. With small bubbling and a thin plume of black smoke rising, a pain fierce enough to be unbearable struck, but Jeong-in only drew her brow tight and could do nothing else. She could not let Soo-a be killed. Jeong-in: Soo-a sis, when all this is over, make me ramyeon. With Eun-jae sis, together.

At Jeong-in's easy, worn laugh—mixed with a light note of reproach—Soo-a, blood still pouring from her throat, gave a small nod. Scene 25_02. The Special Task Force of the Martial Hall, without losses of any kind, had been pushing back the dark shadows and traitors with ease. Na-hyun, too, without a trace of fatigue, only loosened her neck this way and that, as if she had grown stiff. Na-hyun's fist-knife swept out, keen.

Batting aside a strike of killing intent that came in from behind, Na-hyun stamped flat the head of a traitor whose throat she had just severed, and turned, slow, to the rear. The whip-tip she had struck aside dropped to the ground. Na-hyun turned her back and, with sharp eyes, fixed her gaze. Ga-yeon: Stop. Before Ga-yeon's weighted voice, Yoo-rim—who had loosed the whip in Ga-yeon's place—faced Na-hyun's killing intent. Na-hyun: Ha. SSibal, really. This is fucked.

What Na-hyun's killing intent was aimed at was every one of the Headquarters' traitors, Ga-yeon and Yoo-rim among them. Looking for a moment at Chae-rim and the Inner Guard members now in the traitors' hands, bound with Ritual Taboo Ropes, Na-hyun quietly called her Special Task Force Captain, standing behind her, with a gesture. Na-hyun: I'll go. You lot, hide. As we predicted. Special Task Force Captain: But then, Deputy, you — Na-hyun: Just follow the order. While I take them on, get to the Grand Pavilion fast.

They'll be waiting. At Na-hyun's measured, low voice, the Task Force Captain gave a nod. Watching the Task Force Captain slip his step back, and just as Yoo-rim and Ga-yeon wore doubtful looks, Na-hyun, without putting away her Ritual Implement, closed on Yoo-rim and Ga-yeon in an instant. Na-hyun alone was more than enough to drive Yoo-rim and Ga-yeon into a corner. Na-hyun's closing form gave Yoo-rim not even the gap needed to swing the whip. She paid Ga-yeon's unseen Ritual Implement no mind either.

In an instant, she cut between the two of them. Deploying the 한삼춤(Hansam-chum_Long-Sleeve Dance)—part of the 호남검무(Honam-geom-mu_Honam Sword Dance)—as a 무(Mu_Martial Art), she sliced through the space between the two in an instant. Drawing on the 선손춤(Seon-son-chum_Standing Hand Dance) type among the forms of 승무(Seung-mu_Monk's Dance), she linked 입춤(Ip-chum_Base Dance), 승무(Seung-mu), 살풀이(Sal-puri_Exorcism Dance), 탈춤(Tal-chum_Mask Dance) and other dance-figures in succession.

Cajoling the fist-knives as she met them, through the dance-figures of 농검(Nong-geom_Sword Play), she showed a line close to the 앉은사위(Anjeun-sawi_Seated Figures) of the 살풀이춤(Sal-puri-chum_Exorcism Dance), blocking Yoo-rim's 살풀이춤(Sal-puri-chum) and answering Ga-yeon's 교방검무(Gyo-bang-geom-mu_Kyobang Sword Dance). Blocking the two—who had only been carrying the dance between them until now—was not the issue. The weight of the pressure that said she had to buy time sat deeper and heavier.

Of Na-hyun's intent, Ga-yeon and Yoo-rim, too, were not unaware. When she could no longer feel the presences of those who had followed her—Na-hyun, who had been meeting the two with 앉은사위, hooked the whip's tip from Yoo-rim, threw Yoo-rim off balance, and, riding the recoil, kicked off and rose to her feet. Gathering her breath for a beat as she scanned the area, Na-hyun let the Ritual Implement in her hand fade away. Na-hyun: Aigoo. And here I thought, at last, I'd get to play today.

With a small half-smile, Na-hyun grumbled, low. When Chae-rim—held captive—showed a pained, sorry look at her, Na-hyun drew her brow into a light scowl and shook her head, as if to say don't do that. A few traitors, who had been holding the Inner Guard and Chae-rim, came out and drove Na-hyun down to her knees. Having subdued Na-hyun, they wrapped Na-hyun's wrists with Ritual Taboo Ropes to seal off her Incantation/Sorcery, and forced her back to her feet. Scene 26. Ji-young raised both hands, composed.

No word of any kind was needed any longer. From Min-seok's head, held in The Weeping of Contrition's grip, threads of Black Water poured out without pause. As force settled into The Weeping of Contrition's fine-drawn hand, Min-seok's head—held like a Ritual Implement—was ground into pieces and scattered. The spray of Black Water held in his head began to swallow the whole apartment building. Without passing a single word, Ji-young carried a slow dance-figure with her two raised arms.

It was 강신무(Gang-sin-mu_Spirit-Descent Shamanic Dance). Showing 들이숙배 나숙배(Deul-i-sukbae Na-sukbae_Inward Bow, Outward Bow) in sequence, she walked, slow, the feet she had set in the corridor. Her feet—she had not put on shoes—moved forward at a slow pace. The fine threads of Black Wire, holding Black Water heavy within them, scattered, piteous, and split the threads of Black Water apart. Ji-young closed her eyes, gently. The rear of Ji-young's position was taken up by So-hui and Hee-jin, I-seon and Yeon-su.

Every time Ji-young's slow step extended, the heads of every one of the already-dead were sliced, in an instant, and dropped to the floor. Taking on the dance of a presiding shaman shouldering the 불사거리(Bulsa-geori_Buddhist Spirit Rite), Ji-young wove a 굿(Gut_Shamanic Rite) through the scattering Black Wire. Following it, every time she carried over the dance of the presiding shaman through the 제석춤(Je-seok-chum_Jeseok Dance), death scattered in every direction.

The dance of 군웅거리(Gun-ung-geori_Warrior-Spirit Rite)—a 무의식(Mu-ui-sik_Shamanic Ritual)—was being deployed. Its inner structure was 청신(Cheong-sin_Invocation of the Spirit), 영신(Yeong-sin_Welcoming of the Spirit) or 접신(Jeop-sin_Spirit-Possession), 오신(O-sin_Entertaining of the Spirit), 송신(Song-sin_Sending of the Spirit). In Ji-young's dance sat the gravitas of a shamanic officiant. If only she could have welcomed it sooner. If she could have, she was certain, the defeat that had gone before would not have sat on her.

Every time the black thread clashed, the sound of 방울(Bang-ul_Shamanic Bell/Yo-ryeong) scattered in every direction. Gyeong-seo took on the role of 터잽이(Teo-jaebi_Ground-Clearing Officiant), deployed the dance-figure of 거북춤(Geo-buk-chum_Turtle Dance), and pushed back every death with the hemp she had woven. She cast off the profane death that had tried to lunge at Ji-young. The skein of Red Thread in So-hui's hand barred yet another death crowding toward the group.

The Ritual Implements woven by Hee-jin and I-seon erased the presence of profane death as if gathering it in. Solace and rebuke, woven in the narrow apartment corridor, pushed all death back. At the sound of the 요령(Yo-ryeong_Ritual Handbell) meant to play upon what was unclean and send it off, matching the symbol of Invocation of the Spirit calling the spirit near, the current of Black Water and the force of the Harbinger within Ji-young began to sit deeper.

To the sound of the Ritual Handbell ringing through thread meeting thread, the sound of another Black Wire cutting wind set itself in concord. The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. Ji-young's dance drew a fast, clear rotation through the bilateral coordination of hand and foot. Every time a single figure of the dance came to an end, she wheeled the dance into a rotation and closed the section.

With the footing that sprang from the ground's rebound, and the heaven-ward ringing of the Bell in concord, she pushed every impurity in every direction aside; then, to close the dance, she set the strand of 현사(Hyeon-sa_Black Wire)—which had been sounding out—down onto the ground, and tied the dance off. Then the latter half of the Jeseok Dance unfolded.

The 장삼춤(Jang-sam-chum_Long-Robe Dance) formed one figure through a ritual act that cleansed the surroundings, repeated it, and opened the 장삼(Jang-sam_Long Ritual Robe) wide to call the spirit once more.

The Long-Robe Dance, depending on the character of the rhythm, sometimes drove on through swift footing, and sometimes, with definite footing, pressed the power of the earth down and pushed away what was impure, and sometimes, through the 태극사위(Tae-geuk-sawi_Taegeuk Figure) of wrapping and unwrapping the Long Ritual Robe, loosened what had been tangled.

And, following on, using the Black Wire—woven as if it were a black Long Ritual Robe set upon her—through 도무(Do-mu_Leaping Dance, "to leap upward") and 회무(Hwe-mu_Whirling Dance, "to turn in succession"), she played upon the spirit and was reaching the state of Spirit-Possession. Though it was a dance of exalted 신명(Sin-myeong_Divine Exaltation), a feeling of lament sat beneath it deeper than in any dance-figure Ji-young had ever performed.

The Weeping of Contrition, watching Ji-young's dance-figure wordless, poured out threads of Black Water drawn to the walls and tried to block Ji-young's dance-figure. Ji-young batted not a single thread of water aside. With eyes closed, she only carried solace and rebuke in her dance-figure. Ji-young's flesh—conveying solace and rebuke—was torn. She did not stop.

Without the slightest disturbance, wordless, Ji-young carried the dance and the solace through, and, after delivering all solace to the space, for the impure draw within them, began to cut every thread of The Weeping of Contrition's water. I beseech. I beseech. Even as Ji-young poured blood, she moved her step forward, one at a time. The basic-step stance of 비정비팔(Bi-jeong-bi-pal_Bijeongbipal Stance) drew out the basic footing of women's dances among the 기방계통(Gi-bang-gye-tong_Gibang Lineage).

Along the principle of 디딤새(Di-dim-sae_Stepping Figure), 돋음새(Do-dum-sae_Rising Figure), 오금새(O-geum-sae_Bending Figure), 디딤새(Stepping Figure), 뜀새(Ttuim-sae_Leaping Figure), Ji-young stepped forward, cutting through 비정모음(Bi-jeong-mo-eum_Bijeong Close), 일자모음(Il-ja-mo-eum_Straight-Line Close), 팔자모음(Pal-ja-mo-eum_V-Line Close) as she advanced. I beseech. I beseech. I beg you — rest at ease. The tail of a life soaked through with warped desire, I shall carry it on myself, Let every one of you carry on the road to peace.

I shall take up all, and bear the burden upon me, To bar Ji-young closing in, from Black Water layered thick upon thick, 그슨대(Geu-seun-dae_Towering Night Goblin) were rising up, as if pouring out. Even at the sight of straw-heap bundles dragged forth, against their will, in the grip of 아귀(A-gwi_Hungry Ghost), Ji-young did not stop her step or her solace. I beseech, I beseech. That your life may end here, and be laid to rest with gladness — I beseech. Si-yeon's blade scattered sharp threads of water.

The corpses touched by the threads of Black Water could not hold their form and were unmaking themselves. Si-yeon's dance-figure linked through 걸음발(Geo-reum-bal_Foot-Step Figure), 인사태(In-sa-tae_Greeting Form), 쌍오리(Ssang-o-ri_Double-Bob Figure). As if she would not yield her back to anyone, not ever, toward the corpses that kept coming on, she deployed 진격태(Jin-gyeok-tae_Charging Form).

The outward-turned dance-figures of 진주검무(Jin-ju-geom-mu_Jinju Sword Dance)—one strand of the 교방검무(Gyo-bang-geom-mu_Kyobang Sword Dance)—were scattered in every direction. At every moment, held within a deep and deep regret, embracing the deaths that had lost the way to go, the grief in my heart piled up like snow in deep winter; Let a warm wind melt them gently in soft flakes, and clear the way so the winter flower opens full and bright. The skein of Red Thread in So-hui's hand rippled out.

Following a verse of So-hui's 향당무(Hyang-dang-mu_Hyangdang Dance), carrying the 덧뵈기(Deot-boe-gi_Deotboegi)—the Red Thread scattered like a red Long Ritual Robe. The word Deotboegi was a rendering of the native Korean term for 나희(Na-hui_Exorcism Rite)—originally meaning to make a pestilent spirit rejoice, and later shifting to the meaning of driving a pestilent spirit away. The red and blue skeins So-hui wielded, cutting Deot down, filled the corridor full.

I beseech, I beseech again, Into the pandemonium of death and life colliding tangled, Ji-young advanced, wordless, conveying solace and release. I beseech. I beseech. Let none of your regrets remain on this side of the living; I beseech. I beseech. Following So-hui's Hyangdang Dance, I-seon and Yeon-su, when they had leaped aslant or straight and driven into the ground on the beat as though hammering the earth, either one leg or both knees bending, would halt for a beat and slice through the death crowding in.

Then, easing the hollow of the knees out and in, out and in, they shifted the head or the shoulders in place and, at the same time, lifted their arms, shook them, and scattered Black Sand and the long staff. The scope of the motion was broad, the body-carriage sturdy. The footing stamped out strong, the arm-swings forceful, the 배김사위(Bae-gim-sawi_Bae-gim Figure) full of force.

The dance-figure following So-hui's ride rode on a long, flowing current, and even in the space of revealing-not-revealing, a single twitch of the shoulder became dance. Deotbaegi was not only coarse and full of force—the delicacy of Deotbaegi opened in the leisure of applied flourish, and in the 동중정(Dong-jung-jeong_Stillness-in-Motion) of pressing through and then pausing, briefly, still. I beseech. I beseech. That my life and your deaths may remain with all, and be brought to their rightful end; I beseech.

I beseech. The black ink Hee-jin wove settled into two short sword-handles. The sword dances of the north (Kyobang Sword Dance, 궁중검무(Gung-jung-geom-mu_Court Sword Dance), 해주검무(Hae-ju-geom-mu_Haeju Sword Dance), 평양검무(Pyeong-yang-geom-mu_Pyongyang Sword Dance)) did not take up the Long-Sleeve Dance and began with Hand Dance instead. Dance-figures woven from Standing Hand Dance scattered black ink and pushed back the warped presences that had been closing in.

Moving on into 앉은칼춤(Anjeun-kal-chum_Seated Sword Dance), Hee-jin's 무(Mu_Dance) wove out the Standing Dance and closed, as if severing, the profane rite that had stopped. Wherever Hee-jin's dance-figure showed a gap, Gyeong-seo's hemp rippled and poured out a barrier woven along with the Turtle Dance. Wheeling along the curved back of the turtle, swaying, she turned aside, light, the hostility pointed at everyone gathered.

At every moment, bright and ever bright, leaving no shadow of ignorance, the weight in my heart sat like a candle in mud; let the spring wind and the fine rain melt them gently, and keep it bright as the spring flower that blooms vivid. Still, and lulled, and lonely, and heavy. It was not for the sake of winning. Because she had to guard, she had set out holding what she had failed to guard, and nothing more. Without a single shout, without a single cry, a still dance-figure scattered out as if in full bloom.

I beseech, I beseech. Of everyone, I beseech. And, with that, every one of the warpedly-woven deaths, at last, faded, without leaving a trace. Looking upon every thread of Black Water that filled the space, the group—having pushed back every death that had been closing on Ji-young—joined their hands in wordless 합장(Hap-jang_Prayer Hands). The grief that remains, the resentment that remains, the 한 (Han_Unresolved Grief). I shall take all of it upon myself, so that your two eyes may close, in peace.

Ji-young opened, slow, the eyes she had closed. With black pupils drawn upon her, she looked upon The Weeping of Contrition standing before her. She joined her hands and brought the dance to its close. The scattering Black Wire still circled Ji-young. From the drifting Black Wire, Black Water of whose one could no longer tell pooled and dripped off, in sticky beads, to the floor. The Black Wire carried a thin, moving stir. If any were to rise again, it was poised to send them back at any moment.

With only the small sound of the Ritual Handbell ringing, the Black Wire drifting between gusts of wind carried Ji-young's heavy grief deep within. Ji-young: Turn back. I ask this of you. The Weeping of Contrition, leaving behind every thread of water that had wounded Ji-young, looked at Ji-young, quiet. No death of any kind remained any longer. The Weeping of Contrition, after observing the rueful ache that sat beyond Ji-young's Prayer Hands, passed a low voice.

Soo-jeong (The Weeping of Contrition): The order shall be taken back by your hand. Ji-young: I. The life and order of all, and, the will of my mother who sought to guard it — I shall carry it on to the very end. It was Ji-young's vow—weighted with Han. Having heard Ji-young's meaning, The Weeping of Contrition had no reason, nor room, to stay any longer. The Weeping of Contrition burst Black Water beneath her feet as if weaving it and, in an instant, vanished from sight.

Every thread of Black Water that had filled the space as if to swallow it also gathered away, all at once. Even after pushing back every death and every adversary, Ji-young did not collapse. She returned the black that had drawn upon her eyes to their original state. With closed eyes, she drew a composed breath out, and, opening her eyes, slow, turned her back, and looked—wordless—at everyone who had been watching her. Everyone, save the police and Bishop, set a deep bow before Ji-young. So-hui: The 56th Dan-jang.

Kang Ji-young, The Oldest. We offer our greeting. Ji-young did not weep before them. A rising sense of regret and reluctance came up, yet it was no longer something she could turn back from. It was a road she could not go back. That the dead have no words—that alone was the natural order. That alone was everything she had to guard. Letting out a large breath, Ji-young lowered her knees, slow, before everyone who had offered a bow. Having received the bow of all, Ji-young set a deep bow before all of them.

Ji-young: The 56th Dan-jang. Kang Ji-young. I shall guard you all, to the end. I shall guard the lives of all, to the end. To the end. Ji-young was steadying her breath, trying to settle the voice that would not quite come out. She decided not to hesitate any longer. The clear voice of Ji-young, cut off for a beat, resumed, fine and bright. Ji-young: The Former The Oldest. Former Jeon I-sim, The Oldest. Her will — I shall guard it.