Chương 38: S.04 Memory of the Clock 07(04) - Parousia

Scene 03_08. The Dusk-devourer, the straw wraiths, the straw ravens — every one of them scattered around the watchtower, torn apart in strings, and burst into black water. Behind the chain of rites that had unfolded in a single breath, So-hui helped Ji-min, who was still staring, even as she was dying, at Si-yeon with disbelieving eyes.

Ji-min's muscles had already been shredded past the point of moving, so So-hui carefully cradled Ji-min and opened the fortune pouch herself, feeding Ji-min 잿가루(Jaet-garu_Grey Ash) by her own hand. As the terrible pain rolled in, Ji-min clutched So-hui's hand and coughed. There was no way she didn't know So-hui. No — there was nothing she knew. But she felt like someone almost unbearably familiar. Even through the pain, she had to ask. Ji-min: Yeon-hui sis. How … did you get here ….

So-hui smiled lightly at Ji-min holding her hand and shook her head. Si-yeon walked over slowly. The black wire that had been rippling around them, split finer than a strand of hair, drifted in soft sheets and brushed against every person's skin. Scene 03_09. The black shadow that had been pulled along by the gesture of the greatest death crashed against the beads of the black water river and broke apart, dissolving.

Ga-yeon and Yu-rim, left standing alone, watched in silence as the black wire rained its black death. After finishing off the space around Na-hyun, Chae-rim, and Seong-hyeon, the black wire that had been fluttering in every direction slowly came to a stop. Ji-yeong, who had cleared every death in an instant, split the wire finer still and scattered it out across the distance. To everyone touched by the scattered wire, Ji-yeong's clear voice traveled with it. Ji-yeong: All of you. Stop.

A voice no one had heard before — but anyone could tell. Anyone would have to. The voice the black wire carried was, without any doubt, the one they had to serve. Though every single soul in headquarters was hearing this voice for the first time, no one could fail to know. This was the new The Oldest. Scene 03_10. So-hui: Go on. She's going to need help. Si-yeon pursed her lips and nodded.

Just as she started to move with a bored pace, Ji-min — still unable to fully push the pain down — wobbled out of So-hui's arms and crawled her way in front of Si-yeon. Ji-min, who had stopped Si-yeon's step for a moment, lay flat on the ground and offered a bow to Si-yeon. Ji-min: I do not know who you are. Her voice was still clogged with blood, sunk deep. At Ji-min's bow, the Human Affairs Office task force behind her followed and offered a bow to Si-yeon too.

Si-yeon glanced at So-hui, a little caught off guard, but she tried, hesitantly, to first brush back the courtesy everyone was offering her. Si-yeon: Uh, I — uh. Well. Uh. Ji-min: But I will follow you. I am Nam Ji-min, Deputy of the Human Affairs Office, and I carry the branch of the origin — the silver 은장도 (Eun-jang-do_Korean traditional silver ornamental knife). That blade is a relic of the person I once served. By the single fact that you saved me and saved us — for that, for that alone, we will follow you.

Looking a little awkward, Si-yeon scratched hard at her own neck and met So-hui's eyes again. So-hui smiled small and nodded. Si-yeon: So, uh. Then — can we leave a few people here, and go slice up the stuff still left inside, maybe? Si-yeon's meaning — half question, half instruction — came across in a voice still hesitating on the edge. Ji-min eased her bowing body up, unsteady. With a familiar hand, she divided the task force and spoke to Si-yeon. Ji-min: Wherever — we follow. Scene 03_11.

In a single instant, the heavy murder that had cut through the yard drained away completely. Only the sound of the black water river erupting from the Inspectorate remained. No one could find their voice. It was quiet enough to raise goosebumps. Ga-yeon and Yu-rim, eyes on Ji-yeong, stood carrying many emotions and watched her.

Ji-yeong — who had brought the whole place to stillness with a single line — gave a light flick of her wrist, pulled the scattered fine wire back in, drew the still-unfamiliar Hanbok hem into place around her, and pulled Grey Ash from a sleeve-pocket to hand to Seong-hyeon. Ji-yeong walked her blue Un-hye over and approached Ga-yeon and Yu-rim, the two standing as if to block the entrance to the Inspectorate. Ji-yeong: I still have people to protect. I know you want to kill me. Just wait, a little.

Ji-yeong tried to persuade Yu-rim and Ga-yeon with a light smile. When the two didn't answer, Ji-yeong turned and faced the tightly shut Inspectorate gate. What stopped Ji-yeong's step was not an answer. It was a question. Yu-rim: And why should we? Ji-yeong stood still for a moment and looked at the shut Inspectorate gate. Ji-yeong: Because I have to break an opened gate. Ga-yeon: No one has ever done it. It can't be done. The most that's ever been done is shutting one. And now, you probably can't even do that.

You broke it. Without turning around, Ji-yeong nodded. She let out a small breath, turned her head back to them, and smiled brightly. Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. Ji-yeong: I can do it. Ji-yeong turned back toward the gate. She began to open the tightly shut gate of the Inspectorate.

With the Grey Ash Ji-yeong had handed her, Seong-hyeon treated Chae-rim, Na-hyun, and everyone else, and then readied herself to meet the straw wraiths still pressing in from every direction. Ji-yeong stepped into the Inspectorate yard, now brimming with black water. The figure of dance could no longer be sustained. Eun-jae, her skin turned blue, was alone, still bursting 인불(In-bul_Ghost Light) to keep more straw wraiths from spilling outside.

Jeong-in and Soo-a, blood in their throats, lay half-submerged in the black water. Hye-rim, barely holding her consciousness, was helping Eun-jae. Eun-jae watched Ji-yeong step inside. Ji-yeong shook out the black bracelet on her wrist, scattering wire in every direction. She wrapped the people half-drowned in the water with wire and hauled them outward, then stepped her own feet, one by one, out into the black water filling the yard. Eun-jae rushed to Ji-yeong — she had to stop her.

Going inside meant no living person could survive. Hee-jin stepped in to block Eun-jae. Hee-jin: Eun-jae. Someone is coming to help soon. In the meantime, please look after the inside. Soo-a and Jeong-in are both in danger. Eun-jae, barely reeling her blue skin back in, exhausted, could only give a small nod. After Ji-yeong went in alone, the wide gate of the Inspectorate shut itself tight once more. Scene 03_12. The gate that had been held inside the black sphere had been shattered — not a trace of it left.

From the broken fragments of the sphere, no bigger than a fist, a river of black water was pouring out. A current larger than any waterfall. Ji-yeong shook out her wrist again and scattered black wire in soft drifts across every direction. To keep the bursting monsters and shadows being forged from the black water river from scattering outside, the black wire was splitting them down the middle. The current pouring from the black sphere Ji-yeong faced surged more violently, rising up like a wave.

A reaction nothing like before. Facing it head-on, Ji-yeong shut her eyes. To block the damage that would reach everyone else, Ji-yeong took on — alone — every single shadow and monster leaking from the overflowing black water river. Eyes still closed, Ji-yeong stepped forward into the black water that had risen to her knees.

Without anchor, without expectation, standing in place of the 기자(Gi-ja_Presiding medium) and taking on the role of the 만신(Man-sin_Full shaman), Ji-yeong pulled the wire with one hand and unfolded the figure of 길대장굿(Gil-dae-jang-gut_Road-spirit Great Rite) with both. Weaving 길닦이(Gil-dak-gi_Road-sweeping dance), she consoled the River of the Dead blocking her step. A flood of resentment poured in from the river beyond the hem of her soaked robe. Why have you come, why do you bar the way.

At Ji-yeong's calm Road-sweeping dance, the black water river that had begun to sweep away rose up again with a splash and drew the attention of the shadows and monsters trying to climb up from the world of the dead. Will you be leaving, will you be going. To release the memory you carry, to gather in the longing you carry, will you return, to give back the memories you could not finish, will you return, to give back the resentment you have held, will you be going, will you be leaving.

Leave the sorrow already gone, here with me, leave the memory you hold, here with me, will you be going, will you be leaving. As the short-breathed consolation and unbinding steadied the scene in an instant, Ji-yeong gentled the brief figure she had laid down. Then — as if it had been waiting — a huge surge of water lunged at Ji-yeong. A river that gaped open like a mouth burst out beside her and dragged a deep darkness with it. Ji-yeong didn't refuse it. To break it, she had to go. She had to go in. Scene 04.

The inside of the sphere Ji-yeong had been dragged into a second time was deep water where she couldn't even draw breath. Ji-yeong swam, thrashing, trying to find some way out, but breathing came first — any thinking came after. When she had swallowed the whole of the water, Ji-yeong coughed and hacked every scrap of breath she had left back into it. And yet her mind kept sharpening. The water was black, and Ji-yeong could see nothing.

When she was finally able to steady her body, she tilted toward the bottom, and a bumpy, ridged floor touched her. She set her foot down and pulled herself upright. Her robe-hem rippled every which way in the water. It felt like she wasn't breathing at all. When Ji-yeong took one step, a clammy, crawling wrongness rose up from the lumpy shapes lying on the black-water floor. Human hair, and human heads. Though she couldn't see, Ji-yeong's instinct caught what was under her feet, and she whipped the bracelet.

Body-hair was winding around her 버선(Beo-seon_Korean traditional socks)-wrapped ankle. She hurried the bracelet again and sliced the body-hair off, and all at once the black water turned red and the copper stink of blood stung her nose. Ji-yeong retched, a dry, revolted cough tearing out of her. The water was too heavy to simply shrug off, and the stink was too raw. Every thread of body-hair on the floor drew long and rose up out of the ground. She couldn't die here.

Ji-yeong rewound the bracelet into her grip and flipped her body upside down. Tangling through scalps and skulls, she drove deeper into the water. Inverted, she breached upward and blew water out past her mouth. A black world draped on every side. Bodies that looked human lay half-sunk in the water as if planted, feet alone sprouting out above. Like radishes shoved into rows. Densely packed. Ji-yeong coughed out every last drop of the red-black water and searched for ground to stand on.

No ground in sight — only the trace-strewn remains of people who had died without crossing the gate. Ji-yeong swung the bracelet, caught it around the feet of one of the upside-down corpses, and hauled herself up with everything she had. Still listing, she wrapped her body into the mass of corpses on the floor, anchored herself, then stood tall and looked around to find out where she was. The water dripping off Ji-yeong couldn't hide her bewilderment. The corpse she was standing on writhed.

Her balance nearly broke, but with the many strands already anchoring her, she just barely held. The writhing corpses began, one after the other, to turn themselves over where they lay. Only as Ji-yeong finally lost her footing and started to drop toward the floor, the floor — which had been water — switched to a stretch of black sand, like a beach. Corpses with no upper bodies now stood upright in every direction, each one stiff and vacant, aimed at Ji-yeong.

As before, countless thoughts steeped in the living world's regret over death came pouring into her head. Ji-yeong clutched her skull and twisted, agonized, as every corpse began walking toward her. Still, Ji-yeong had no intention of stopping here. She bit down hard, split the bracelet open again, and ripped every corpse apart in strings. The corpses burst, and their black water refilled the ground.

As Ji-yeong finished tearing every death down, one familiar person walked through the ankle-high black water and came to her. Su-jeong: So you came back. Of course. Su-jeong's own appearance had collapsed into something hideous. In the realm of Contrition, where she had been trying to put herself back together, Su-jeong now moved slow toward the Ji-yeong who had broken in. Ji-yeong, breathing hard, steadied her body and faced Su-jeong. Ji-yeong: It's what I have to do.

Su-jeong swept her gaze down Ji-yeong from head to toe. Familiar colors, familiar embroidery — a Hanbok in a shape she knew. Su-jeong twisted her ghastly face into a sneer. Su-jeong: Revolting. Even worse than I thought. Ji-yeong nodded without a word. Su-jeong: Because it suits you. That's what makes you more disgusting. Looks actually fitting. That's what makes it uglier. Ji-yeong: Why did you try to bring headquarters down too. Su-jeong: I didn't. You know this already.

I was in there losing my mind trying to kill the you in front of me, nothing else. Ji-yeong: You could have broken the opened gate yourself. You. Su-jeong nodded weakly. A small sigh came out, and Su-jeong threw a resigned jeer at Ji-yeong. Su-jeong: Why bother. At this point. Mom's gone anyway. And that place — a bitch like you's about to eat it whole. No reason to leave it clean, Ji-yeong: Then, At Ji-yeong's small prodding, Su-jeong let the rest go, as if catching the first touch of regret.

She didn't want to keep talking. Maybe she was deciding she had nothing she could say. There was no way to tell what state she was in while the words didn't continue. Ji-yeong: Mom. Why did you kill her. If you hated me that much, Mom could have just — At Su-jeong's long silence, Ji-yeong didn't press further. She straightened her back just a little. Black water ran down to cover half of the ghastly broken face, easy, no resistance. Su-jeong's sigh carried black water folded into it.

Pulled away from a thought and a memory she'd rather not revisit, Su-jeong asked Ji-yeong something else. Su-jeong: You came here thinking you could break the side-door? Ji-yeong: I've broken one before. At Ji-yeong's calm voice, something surfaced in Su-jeong. She looked blank as she moved the black water leaking along the edge of her twisted mouth. Su-jeong: Ah. The market. Ji-yeong nodded, worn out, and readjusted the bracelet. Su-jeong: Ha. Must be nice. You.

Ji-yeong waited, silent, for Su-jeong to say the rest. Su-jeong slowly turned her body, showing Ji-yeong her back, and in the end left the rest of the sentence where it was. She walked the walk, pushing through the rising water, and started to go deeper in. Su-jeong carefully lifted her own twisted, shattered hand and brought her fingers to face each other. The empty black-sand beach began to bulge, swelling in spots.

Ji-yeong scanned around her, let out a small breath, and turned to check Su-jeong's back, but Su-jeong had already gone into deep, deep water — she wasn't in Ji-yeong's field of vision anymore. Ji-yeong stopped refusing the rising black water. Her body was swallowed by the black water again, but this time it felt different. The black water, now higher than her head and churning without pause, pressed her under — and a warm touch slid into her hand.

In a world of cold corpses, a warmth that was cold and tender at the same time. Ji-yeong took the hand and let her body go where that hand was leading. Ji-yeong dropped down into something far below.