Chương 41: S.04 Memory of the Clock 08(01)

Scene 01_01. The sluggish afternoon sunlight lay tilted and listless, carrying a chill draft within it. Ji-young had no change of clothes and no time to change them, and the hem of her skirt and the front of her garment were stained with black water, yet the water did no harm to her. Only because the fabric had not fully dried did she feel a slight cold. Setting out, Ji-young briefly halted her step. She had stopped before the residence where the 단장(Dan-jang_The Oldest) would stay.

Receiving the deep bows of the 내금부(Nae-geum-bu_Inner Guard) officers, Ji-young returned a light acknowledgment and stood before the tightly shut front gate. She faced the brief span of arrested time wrapped in 삼베(Sambae_Hemp cloth) and 금줄(Geumjul_Ritual Taboo Rope to suppress power). Inner Guard Officer_04: As you are the chief mourner, The Oldest, you must lift it yourself. We were not permitted to lay a hand on it. The voice came out with difficulty, delivered to Ji-young as she faced the sealed door.

Ji-young had not stopped because of that. She smiled belatedly at the Inner Guard officer standing at the entrance and shook her head. It meant she was fine, but everyone inside Headquarters knew that no one could be less fine than her. Ji-young drew a small breath and carefully untied the tightly bound Hemp cloth threads and Ritual Taboo Rope. The residence, where a person had lived every day, held the time it had lost. Having lifted every lock, Ji-young pushed the tightly shut wooden gate and stepped inside.

As her steps moved past the gate, Chae-rim, who had been resting within Ji-young's shadow, revealed her own form. Chae-rim: I will wait above, The Oldest. As Chae-rim turned to leave her station, Ji-young called her back with a touch of haste, as though something had occurred to her. Ji-young: Deputy of the Inner Guard. Chae-rim: Yes, The Oldest. Ji-young: Would you happen to have, um. A spare tracksuit or something I could borrow. Scene 01_02.

Entering the residence, Ji-young paused her words and quietly surveyed her surroundings. In her hand was the new tracksuit Chae-rim had been wearing. Setting the clothes down for a moment, Ji-young looked over the room deeply with a blank expression. Chae-rim did not step inside. She had taken her place atop the roof tiles of Ji-young's residence, preparing the time Ji-young would endure alone. Bathed in the quiet winter afternoon dawn-glow, Ji-young looked around the room filled with her mother's scent.

It was the first time. The first time she stood alone and faced it. Without a word, Ji-young ran her fingers along the old furniture. The dressing table her mother had used every day sat in its place. Moving her steps, Ji-young lowered her body onto the thick cushioned mat. From the cushioned mat beneath her rose a faint, gentle scent of wood. A familiar and piercing fragrance. Ji-young bit her lip. She bit it hard enough that blood seeped through. She did not speak further. She did not cry again.

Because she did not cry, blood flowed. She bit her lip so hard her lower jaw trembled. Ji-young's hand traced the surface of the low writing table. It was a table that might have been used before her mother's time, yet her mother's scent could not help but linger upon it most thickly. And that scent, layered over by her own, would eventually remain only as a memory lodged deep within Ji-young. It did not feel like a loss. She decided it would not feel like one.

She wished to honor herself, and everyone who had trusted her. She took a tissue from beside the 보료(Bo-ryo_cushioned mat) and gently wiped the blood from her lip. The wound had already settled long before. Ji-young let out a faint sigh, leaned her body again, and opened the window beside her. The evening wind was driving in sharply. The bitter cold at year's end felt no more than coolness to Ji-young.

She calmly shifted her body, took up Chae-rim's tracksuit that she had briefly set down, and moved behind the folding screen set behind the cushioned mat. After a brief rustle, Ji-young emerged swiftly, dressed in the tracksuit Chae-rim had lent her. To Ji-young as she came out, Chae-rim from outside asked in a roundabout way. Chae-rim: Do the clothes fit, The Oldest. Ji-young stood at roughly 173 centimeters, considerably taller than women her age, with arms and legs to match.

Chae-rim's tracksuit, fitted for her more average height, could not possibly fit. The hem was short enough that Ji-young's long arms and legs showed faintly, but it seemed to pose no great trouble for movement. Ji-young laughed brightly and answered Chae-rim's question. Ji-young: Let us call it seven-eighths length and be done with it. Chae-rim: I am sorry, The Oldest. My height is a little — Ji-young: Really, now. Please do not apologize over something like that. Chae-rim: Yes. Yes.

Ji-young: Are they all in the middle of cleaning up? Chae-rim: Yes. Without a word, Ji-young stepped outside. Though it was a cold winter, she went out wearing only a thin outer garment. Ji-young: It is still the shortest-day season, yes? Chae-rim: Yes. In the secular calendar, the 26th has just passed. Ji-young, carelessly slipping on the Everyday traditional shoes she had worn in, stepped out into the yard and unfastened her bracelet.

If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it. Ji-young: Then, we are imposing on Him once more tonight. Muttering this to herself, Ji-young used the spilled Black Wire from the unfastened bracelet to trace characters into the empty air. Ghost Light in blue began to inscribe letters across the void. Chae-rim, who had positioned herself beneath the eaves, revealed her presence in full.

When the entire Ghost Light had burned through, a blue smoke burst forth with a light detonation. From within the smoke, an enormous foot thrust out and pressed down upon the wide yard. The presence was vast. Ji-young, tall as she was, could not have reached the knees of the legs that had stepped out, and the colossal bulk of the 두억시니(Doo-uk-si-ni_Dokkaebi King), letting out a strained sound, filled the yard to its corners with a booming voice. Dokkaebi King: Aigoo!! What a haul!!

The Dokkaebi King, having raised a frame as great as a house, slung a club thicker and longer than an arm over his shoulder and stretched his neck this way and that. Ji-young bent deeply at the waist and offered proper respect to the Dokkaebi King before her. Ji-young: Old friend. At Ji-young's calm voice, as though belatedly recognizing who had summoned him, he gave a startled, boisterous greeting. Dokkaebi King: Aigoo!! Look who it is!! Our little friend!

At the Dokkaebi King's playful words, Ji-young held back a smile without speaking. The King of the Between World and lord of all Dokkaebi, who could not fail to read Ji-young's state, moved his huge hand and tried, with only his fingertips, to pat Ji-young's small head. Dokkaebi King: I wanted to come running to help straight away, but our elder friend stopped me. Said to watch over you, so you could sort it out yourself.

The Dokkaebi King's words referred to Yi-sim, and Ji-young was forcing herself to hold onto her composure. Reading her intent, the King extended his thick hand, lifted Ji-young onto his palm, and set her lightly upon his shoulder. His shaggy jaw bristled. Seated upon the Dokkaebi King's shoulder, Ji-young smiled brightly. Ji-young: Old friend, old friend. I called on you because I have a favor to ask. Dokkaebi King: Just say the word. I will do anything.

Ji-young: Headquarters took quite a beating from the havoc I raised. If it is not too much trouble, would you please swing that club a little. Dokkaebi King: Of course! Of course I will! But in exchange. Ji-young: Ah. The Baekdu-class Ssireum tournament, yes. It opens at the start of the year. I will secure you tickets without fail when that time comes. Dokkaebi King: Yes! That is how it should be! Come, let us go!! Where shall I start pounding!!

The Dokkaebi King strode out with his great foot, sending resonant thuds rolling outward in every direction. Chae-rim hesitated a moment, uncertain how to follow, then slipped quickly into the shadow cast by the Dokkaebi King's enormous frame. Scene 02. Hye-rim's eyes snapped open. Her round cheeks, as if heated by the warm ondol floor, glowed pink. Eyes wide, she lifted her back—which had lain on the thick 보료(Bo-ryo_cushioned mat)—upright in a single motion.

It was a familiar residence, though one she had briefly forgotten. Hye-rim sat dazed for a moment, trying to trace back what had just happened. A dim evening glow filtered through the thick paper-paneled door. As Hye-rim strained to piece her memory together, a bickering noise carried in from outside. Jeong-seon: Come on!! Mother! Hyang-lim: Yoon Jeong-seon! You! Did I not tell you to watch YouTube or whatever it is only at the hours I set!! Hyang-lim's voice, squabbling with Jeong-seon, drew steadily closer.

Hye-rim, sitting vacantly, came to her senses with a jolt and sprang up from the cushioned mat like a coiled spring. The door flung open, and Hyang-lim—who had confiscated Jeong-seon's smartphone—met Hye-rim's unannounced, deep bow. Hye-rim: Bishop. Hyang-lim: Aigoo. Now what is this one doing. Hye-rim: I beg your pardon? Hyang-lim: I asked why you are doing that. At Hyang-lim's light rebuke, Hye-rim, still mid-bow, rose to her feet with a sheepish hesitation. Hye-rim: Ah, well. It is, um.

Why I am — Hyang-lim: Why-what. Without returning Jeong-seon's phone, Hyang-lim settled her body before the cushioned mat and shot a glance at Jeong-seon, who had trailed in sulking. Bishop: First Steward. Jeong-seon, her lip jutting out a full four inches, answered The Bishop's summons in a grumbling tone. Jeong-seon: Yes. Bishop: Fetch the Sixth Steward some water to drink. Without tucking her pouted lip back in, Jeong-seon took up the tray and pitcher from Hyang-lim's tea table and left the room.

Hye-rim, catching sight of the two of them at last, smiled broadly and faced The Bishop. Hye-rim: Teacher. Hyang-lim: Yes. Hye-rim. Hye-rim: I am relieved. It was a short sentence, but Hyang-lim could not fail to grasp its meaning. She nodded and let a deep, gentle smile rest briefly on her face. Hyang-lim: Because she is our child. Because they are our children. They will get along, and they will manage. And more than that — you have had a hard time of it, all this while in foreign parts. Hye-rim: Not at all.

Even so, given my lot, I met my husband and was living happily. At Hye-rim's composed, quiet lift of spirit, Hyang-lim smiled on and closed off the exchange of greetings. Straightening her back and sitting erect, Hyang-lim turned her question on Hye-rim, who sat demurely. Bishop: Now then. At the threshold of the afterlife where Contrition lingered — what did you see. At The Bishop's question, which had grown a touch heavier, Hye-rim answered without hesitation. Hye-rim: Obstinacy.

Bishop: What, then, came after it. Hye-rim: Nothing. At Hye-rim's firm answer, The Bishop, now more troubled, let out a small sigh. Bishop: Hm. It concealed itself, then. Hye-rim: Yes. Bishop: Does it seem it will come soon. Hye-rim: It will not be so. Bishop: Why do you think so. To answer The Bishop's question, Hye-rim offered a low, quiet voice. Hye-rim: It felt as though the whole tale had already been laid out. Because it is design, because it is plan, it felt like something holding its breath.

Bishop: The tale has been laid out, you say. With whom. Scene 03. Into Yu-seok's quiet main residence, a dim glow was beginning to pour. The soft tread of deep violet Everyday traditional shoes made small grains stir against the earth. Sensing the presence, Yu-seok stepped from his room to greet the owner of those shoes. Yu-seok: Has the cleanup begun. Hee-jin smoothed her thick 두루마기(Durumagi_Traditional outer coat) as though tidying it, tucked her bobbed hair behind her ear, and lightly smiled. Hee-jin: Of course.

The King of the Between World himself came in person, so the cleanup should be considered finished. Yu-seok: What I asked after was not the "buildings" of Headquarters. Hee-jin's steps crossed the wide yard and halted at the 댓돌(Dat-dol_Stepping stone) set before the veranda of Yu-seok's main residence. Without stepping up, Hee-jin turned her body slowly and eased herself down onto the edge of the wide veranda, built of old timber. Hee-jin: He has already revealed himself.

Which is to say, the time for watching and waiting is over. The long stretch of hiding is over as well. So, hurry. The Oldest has made her resolve. A small sigh escaped her, and a long breath drifted out into the air. Yu-seok: What of the world of the dead. Hee-jin: Contrition is still lingering in this place. They will be watching for how it all breaks apart. They will likely only move after that. As you know, they are neither absolute nor obedient.

They are heavy only with the greed to preserve their own standing. Why else would they turn their backs even on the Envoy who shaped them. Yu-seok: Do you know what comes next. Hee-jin: First, Contrition. Daring to stir things on its own — impudent, that — they will not let it pass. Whether that was Kwon Su-jeong's intent, or whether they struck an agreement, we have told them time and again that in the world of the living the rules of the world of the living must be followed, and they heard none of it.

So, the price must be paid. While Contrition breaks apart, the rest will watch in silence and wait, by arrangement, for the cleanup to finish. Hee-jin drew a long-stemmed pipe from within the thick outer coat and set it between her lips. Lighting it with the lighter in her hand, Hee-jin exhaled a long plume of white air—breath or smoke, impossible to tell. With a light smile settling on her face, Hee-jin, her gaze unfocused and pointed at the chill air, parted her lips. Hee-jin: So. Gather them.

That is what remains of your part, Executive Secretary.