Chương 40: S.04 Memory of the Clock 07(06) - Parousia

Scene 06_02. Yeon-su had already gone ahead and was standing at the front gate. The gate of a house thick with the smell of medicinal herbs. After guiding Ji-yeong's step there, Yeon-su closed the gate behind Ji-yeong once she had stepped inside. Walking a pace behind Ji-yeong, Yeon-su turned a light smile and a low bow toward the familiar woman who had been standing in the yard waiting for Ji-yeong. Receiving Ji-yeong's greeting, the woman panicked and scrambled to offer an even deeper bow in return.

Yoon-ji: Aigoo! Sis! I mean! The Oldest. That, I — Ji-yeong, who had straightened first, smiled brightly. Yoon-ji looked exactly as she always did, and Ji-yeong offered her the usual, easy comfort. In a small voice, Ji-yeong asked her first. Ji-yeong: The 수능 (Su-neung_Korean college entrance exam) — how did you do? Matching Ji-yeong's drop in volume, Yoon-ji leaned in a little closer and murmured back. Yoon-ji: Fifteenth in the country. Ji-yeong caught the score and looked at Yoon-ji, startled.

Ji-yeong: You said you wanted to go to med school — yah, they'll be falling over themselves to drag you in. At Ji-yeong's bright delight, Yoon-ji twisted her face lightly, shook her head like it was nothing. She cleared her throat, cleared the register, and offered Ji-yeong proper courtesy again. Yoon-ji: Ahem. Ah, that. Yes. So — the people injured in this cataclysm, and the one Goblin, they've all just regained consciousness in the treatment room.

We're treating those carrying the residue of the River of the Dead first. Ji-yeong nodded, still smiling, and gave off the sense she was about to head into the treatment room. Yoon-ji stepped ahead first to lead her. Crossing the yard heavy with the smell of herbs, they entered a wide corridor. Ji-yeong slipped her Un-hye off on the 댓돌(Dat-dol_Stepping stone) and followed Yoon-ji's lead down the wooden corridor, then opened the widest of the doors and stepped in.

As the quiet evening deepened, Ghost Light drifted alight from inside and outside the building, pouring out a soft, gentle glow. The ornament at the end of Ji-yeong's 곰방대(Gom-bang-dae_Long tobacco pipe) — the one with five butterflies — swayed with her step. The first person to rise was Soo-a, who had been lying near the entrance. Eun-jae was asleep right next to Soo-a's bed, snoring. Bolting up, Soo-a rushed to stir Eun-jae — Eun-jae who had been snoring with great enthusiasm.

As Soo-a tried to climb off the bed, Ji-yeong eased her small body back into a seated position. The very-much-asleep Eun-jae, mid-depth of night in her own head, didn't catch Ji-yeong's arrival and just kept snoring. Everyone else, belatedly noticing Ji-yeong's presence, started scrambling to get up too. Ji-yeong quickly swept both palms down from top to bottom, the gesture meaning stay lying down. Ji-yeong took a seat in the chair beside the bed and quietly asked Soo-a. Ji-yeong: Are you doing all right?

Soo-a: Yes. In answering so briefly, Soo-a's eyes landed on the ornament woven into Ji-yeong's long hair. Five butterfly ornaments of jade, bound to tassels and an ornamental knot, tied onto the end of the Long tobacco pipe. Having confirmed Ji-yeong's station, Soo-a asked, hesitating. Soo-a: Um, Ji-yeong: It's all right. You can address me however feels easiest. It's still awkward for me too — I only just came back to myself, really. Soo-a: Then — to the Former The Oldest, you are — what, exactly?

Ji-yeong: Her eldest daughter. Soo-a slowly lowered her gaze to the black bracelet on Ji-yeong's wrist — a bracelet she'd known well. Out of habit, Ji-yeong brushed the bracelet with her fingers, but nothing carried through from it anymore. Ji-yeong let a small, mournful smile come and looked at the bracelet herself. As if to show it clearly, she lifted the hand with the bracelet on it and rested it on the bed. Pulling her eyes from the bracelet, Soo-a looked straight at Ji-yeong again.

She dipped her head lightly and offered a quiet bow. Soo-a: Before anything else — thank you. For saving us. Ji-yeong shook her head at Soo-a's thanks. Ji-yeong: Thank you for holding on. I'm the one who's sorry for being late. Soo-a: You were not late. Thanks to you, we were able to wrap it up before it turned into something larger. Ji-yeong: Soo-a. Ji-yeong already knew her name. At Ji-yeong's voice saying her name, Soo-a was quietly putting in order a conflict she had shoved deep down and covered up.

She herself just didn't know she was doing it. Soo-a slowly pulled her gaze off Ji-yeong and lowered it again to the bracelet on Ji-yeong's wrist. Soo-a: Yes. Ji-yeong: You can ask. It's all right. Taking her eyes off the bracelet too now, Soo-a looked down at her own hands, fingers fidgeting. Soo-a: Are you truly the Key. Ji-yeong: Yes. Soo-a: Do you already carry the 전령 (Jeon-ryeong_Harbinger) within you as well. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Ji-yeong: Yes. Soo-a: Then — why would the Former The Oldest carry you all the same? When the gate of the world of the dead opens, every life in the world of the living dies. Did the Former The Oldest not know that? Ji-yeong: She knew. And she knew that no one will die. Soo-a paused there and sank into a longer thought. Soo-a: I watched my own blood sister get pushed out of the house for the sole crime of being a Candidate, and in the end, die.

It was the first cataclysm — so long ago by now that even the memory is hazy — but the last face of my sister, who truly loved me, is still here in my head. At Soo-a's quiet voice, Ji-yeong didn't answer. Soo-a: After that, I had a Goblin — one who fit the Former The Oldest so well — who coaxed me, calmed me, raised me. She came to the world of the living without being called, got caught by the 두목 (Du-mok_The Warden), got driven out — and the one who took that Goblin in and protected her was the Former The Oldest.

A lot was passing through her. Hearing the full weight of why Soo-a couldn't quite take Ji-yeong as her The Oldest, Ji-yeong couldn't simply pick the next sentence up off the ground. Soo-a paused, breathed, turned her head again, and looked at the black bracelet on Ji-yeong's wrist. A voice that had held itself back a long time finally came out. Soo-a: The Oldest. The first time she'd called her that — the hardest word to say. Soo-a had always thought she would have to say goodbye to I-sim someday.

I-sim, who had been like a mother to her, would leave the world of the living before her — that much was a vague fact anyone could arrive at. Not a guess, a reality. An order of things. But she hadn't been given any time to prepare for it, and the goodbye had come suddenly, and for Soo-a, even this one short word was heavy to force out. A word so short, delivered in a voice so steady — heavy, and almost impossible. But it had to be said. Ji-yeong answered briefly, carefully. Ji-yeong: Yes.

Soo-a: I need a definitive answer. Please tell me, yourself — with your own mouth. Soo-a lifted her eyes and looked straight into Ji-yeong's. Soo-a: Can you truly stop every karma that is to come. Ji-yeong said nothing, chewing the question over. Her answer didn't come quickly enough, so Soo-a tried to rephrase it. Soo-a: Do you truly have the certainty. Soo-a's gaze didn't waver a hair. At Soo-a's thin but absolutely upright posture — upright question and upright character — Ji-yeong smiled faintly and answered.

Ji-yeong: I believe in all of us. Of course I believe in myself — but I believe even more in Mom, who believed in me, and in everyone who chose to walk together with us. She raised me being certain we would pull this off. And I made it here with the help of all of them. All the criticism, all the accusation, all the suspicion — even the name traitor, pulled over our heads like a sheet — she carried me through all of it. She stood by me through all of it. So, I believe. Of course I have the certainty.

Soo-a blinked and looked down at her own hand. Soo-a: The road I'll step onto now, the road I'll walk following The Oldest, will be a road none have walked before. The mundane world won't even keep a memory of it. She curled her calm palm into a small fist. Soo-a breathed out once, lifted her eyes from her hand, and looked straight at Ji-yeong again. Soo-a: The Oldest. I can't say, in good faith, that I believe in every last thing I don't yet know. But — I will follow.

The Former The Oldest's will, I will keep — to the very end. Ji-yeong smiled lightly and covered Soo-a's small hand with her own. A coolness nothing like human body heat slid into Soo-a's warm hand. Ji-yeong: Thank you. For me, right now — just that will be a big strength. Ji-yeong smiled and stood up. Eun-jae, still mid-depth night in her own head, scratched at her belly and smacked her lips.

Leaving a wordless sign that said don't wake her, Ji-yeong drew a curtain across around the spot where Soo-a and Eun-jae's beds sat side by side, and rose to her feet. Scene 06_03. Rising from Soo-a's side, Ji-yeong crossed to Seong-hyeon, who was lying sprawled across her hospital bed looking at her phone. Seong-hyeon flicked the phone screen off and tried to sit up. Ji-yeong stopped her with a silent little gesture, so Seong-hyeon just pushed herself up enough to sit upright at the waist.

Seong-hyeon clearly had a lot to say. As Seong-hyeon fidgeted without quite getting started, Ji-yeong pulled the chair up, sat down first, and took Seong-hyeon's hand before anything else. Ji-yeong: Thank you. For helping. At thanks coming through first from Ji-yeong, Seong-hyeon couldn't answer for a moment. Ji-yeong: If you had just walked away, I would have had nothing to say — Seong-hyeon shook her head. This was the first time she was seeing Ji-yeong like this — composed, poised.

Looking exactly like Si-yeon, tidy and collected, Seong-hyeon froze briefly, not sure what to lead with. After a short silence, Seong-hyeon let out a small self-deflating laugh and spoke. Seong-hyeon: I'm kind of a lowlife, y'know. At Seong-hyeon's out-of-nowhere self-assessment, both of them let a small laugh through. Ji-yeong: Either way — thank you for helping. If you'd just gone, none of us would have been able to say a word to each other.

At Ji-yeong's thanks, Seong-hyeon wore a hollow little smile and looked at her. Seong-hyeon: Nah. Si-yeon sis wouldn't have let me off. Probably would've cursed me for life, too. At Seong-hyeon's laugh, Ji-yeong smiled lightly too. Seong-hyeon: Still — at least, I got to meet Si-yeon sis again. I mean. The, the real Si-yeon sis. Ji-yeong: She told me to, like, really rough you up. Seong-hyeon: I deserve to get roughed up. No — I deserve to get the shit beaten out of me.

Sis helped me how many times, and I was the one who got her killed. Sis said she was okay with it because she got to meet good people because of that — but I wasn't. I didn't think she'd actually die, didn't think she'd actually come up like this either. I'll get punished. Eventually. That's why I helped — to get a little less of it, take a little off the guilt. Ji-yeong: Has it gotten any better? Seong-hyeon: I thought it had, but, uh, now seeing you like this — in person — I'm sorry all over again. It's weird.

That, and, uh, when you first opened your eyes — that was weird too. Ji-yeong smiled brightly and offered an empty little line. Ji-yeong: Should I leave, then? Seong-hyeon didn't take the joke seriously either and shook her head, smiling wider. Ji-yeong: Rest a little longer. If you stay, even better. If you'd like, I mean. Seong-hyeon: I'm thinking about it. The truth is, my spot probably isn't this bed, it's maybe the Sealed Sanctum instead — so it's still a little scary. Ji-yeong: That won't happen.

So get treated comfortably, and when you decide, come find me. Seong-hyeon: I'm still the Executive Secretary's plant. You shouldn't trust me. At Seong-hyeon's self-ruining attempt at persuasion, Ji-yeong pursed her lips a little, thinking. After a short moment, she smiled and said to Seong-hyeon. Ji-yeong: Then — I'll trust Si-yeon. There was a lot folded into that line. Seong-hyeon, smiling, nodded. As Ji-yeong stood up to move to another bed, Seong-hyeon called her for a moment. Seong-hyeon: Be careful.

At the warning tucked into Seong-hyeon's small voice, Ji-yeong paused her step. Seong-hyeon: My sis — she's still out there, somewhere. Scene 07. A body warped past the point of warping. The time wasn't enough to finish pulling itself clean, so Su-jeong's body stayed in that ghastly shape, able only to seep black water thick and slow. The twisted river of water sloshed, trying to make flesh out of itself. An untouchable, overwhelming presence. But she wanted, no matter how, to stomp on it.

If she could just spit in the face of that sweet, beaming face — that expression — it would be worth it. A twisted hatred. That Su-jeong was now sitting on the wooden floor of what used to be her home, not a thing of it left, staring down at three presences laid out at her feet. Su-jeong: Round and round I come — and at the end, it's still just you lot. She muttered in a tired voice. Su-jeong: Seriously. I'm sick of it. By now.

As if answering the muttered voice, the three presences lying face-down on the ground began to stir and rustle. Su-jeong, as though she couldn't even stand the sight of them, leaned sideways on the wooden floor and only shut her eyes. Around the collapsed bodies of the three, black water began to well up quietly, sticky and low. Su-jeong: Be dolls, then. At least then you'll follow orders. Scene 08. He was savoring the long-missed chill of stillness.

Living alone was what he was used to — so the last several days of bustle had felt like hell. Yu-seok, smoking, glanced over at the two standing in front of him. Meeting Yu-seok's gaze, Ga-yeon and Yu-rim said nothing. Yu-seok: Get some rest. There'll be work to do before long. After a long time of silence, Yu-seok's voice carried nothing warming or encouraging in it — only a high-handed instruction. Ga-yeon shook her head without a word. Ga-yeon: We're not following anything anymore.

We just — Yu-seok lifted a thick fortune pouch in his hand and held it out toward them. Taking Yu-seok's pouch, the two of them hesitated for a moment. Yu-seok: It's Grey Ash. Still got some left, but there's no way to get more now, so ration it. Rest quietly until I call. Ga-yeon: You made Yeon-hui into that, and now even the Oldest's seat is taken by the Key. What else could you possibly be trying to pull.

Yu-seok: Now that I've granted every one of their requests, this time I thought — I'll try doing what I want. Yu-seok flicked the burnt-down stub out into the yard. Blowing a long stream of smoke, he straightened and delivered a cold line to Ga-yeon and Yu-rim. Yu-seok: Or, who knows — I might end up having you do the thing you wanted.