Chương 48: S.04 Memory of the Clock 09(01)

Scene 00. My love is coming hither, Strand by strand the easterly wind, the unkindly rain falling drip-drop, one by one, In times of peace, in years of plenty, the news of my love drifts back and forth. A rake is born, eriwha, a true rake is born, The precious one of another house, an eight-fold rake is born. From the ridge of Jangsangot a drum-sound rises, In peaceful times, in plentiful years, only my love departs, locks of hair clasped together, a kiss exchanged.

The boat afloat on the front sea is the fishing boat, the boat moored on the back sea is the boat that bears my love away, Beneath the cherry tree a pair of butterflies flutters and plays, The bird perched on the stone bridge watches whether the one will come, The pheasant hidden in the keeping-wait watches whether the hunter will come. Asara, malara, do not, do not, do not say so, You only melt away the inmost grief of a soul, alas. A deep wood. Even in the late afternoon no sunlight reached into the dim forest.

Inside that wood, where an unpleasant stillness mingled with the mist, a single tree stood alone — an aged tree that bore iron chains around every limb of its trunk, like shackles. A single altar, looking like a 서낭당(Seo-nang-dang_Village guardian shrine), was set before it. No one was there, yet from the tree a desolate wind-sound rose continuously, like an unbroken weeping. The hardened branches did not stir even as the wind blew. The threshold of spring had long passed, yet no flower bloomed on the tree.

As though time had halted within the silence, no movement showed itself. Neither the second-hand of a clock, nor the wind, would move. As if it had always been so, that place stood frozen in stillness. None came, and none could come. The tree, having lost time alone, slept on. Within the bleak mist, along the desolate stream of wind, a warm easterly breeze, blowing in from somewhere, seemed to be mingled in. Scene 01.

Ji-young, clad in white 법복(Beop-bok_Ceremonial rite garb), was adjusting the white 고깔(Go-kkal_Conical ritual cap) upon her head. She drew tight the long 광수(Gwang-su_Wide-cuffed sleeves) that nearly reached the ground. Over the 장삼(Jang-sam_Long ceremonial robe) she had arrayed the 가사(Ga-sa_Buddhist surplice) with multicolored 대령(Dae-ryeong_Ritual sash) draped front and back, and a richly ornamented Conical ritual cap. Bands of yellow, blue, and red wound around her shoulder and waist.

With the help of I-seon and Hee-jin, Ji-young set in order every ornament of her Ceremonial rite garb, and slowly extended a foot in white 버선(Beoseon_Korean Traditional socks). Joining her palms together over the long Long ceremonial robe, she stepped through the open door. In the empty courtyard, ghost lights had been kindled. Ji-young looked upon the 인불(In-bul_Ghost Light) that lit the path she was to walk.

Walking slowly, Ji-young eased her white-stockinged foot warmly into the white 당혜(Danghye_Formal traditional shoes) set upon the 댓돌(Dat-dol_Stepping stone) below the wooden floor. Calmly she moved, without any awkwardness, and continued her steps along the path lit by the Ghost Light. With every step Ji-young took, Na-hyun, who stood behind I-seon, beat a great drum, matching the rhythm of Ji-young's gait. Around the Ghost Light, every officer of the Headquarters stood arrayed in line.

Each time they met Ji-young's stride, they bent deeply at the waist, conveying consolation and salutation to her, and then fell into the procession behind Ji-young's company. Ji-young's calm step set itself upon the middle of the great central earth-path. Former officers of the 교정관(Gyo-jeong-gwan_Office of Rites), now to be reassigned to the 지식관(Jisik-Gwan_Directorate of Knowledge), bearing small drums and drumsticks, unfolded a slow percussion and scattered a sorrowful tune into every direction.

All who wore the white Ceremonial rite garb conveyed their salutation to Ji-young and followed her in line. When the procession had filled the central path so densely as to leave no space, Ji-young turned her steps toward the southern altar and began to set the 나비춤(Na-bi-chum_Butterfly Dance) flowing. Her slow gestures heaved as if weeping, in time with the rhythm that resounded all around. Her gait was hollow, her movement frail and slow. Between the calmly clasped fingers, the long-robe cloth fluttered.

Each time the Long ceremonial robe spread upward into the sky, the drum and the small drum stilled their resonance. Each time it fell, they resumed their thunder. Ji-young carried the grief steeped in her slow steps and spread it outward, consoling the breath that had withered in pity. Her dance reached as far as the threshold of the altar set far ahead. Every dancer who had followed behind quickly came forward and surrounded the altar.

Ji-young stepped onto the straw mat set before a small offering table, and proceeded with the 도량게(Do-ryang-ge_Hymn of the Ritual Ground), 다게(Da-ge_Tea Offering Verse), 사방요신(Sa-bang-yo-sin_The Four-Direction Swaying of the Body), 정례(Jeong-rye_Prostration of Reverence), 향화게(Hyang-hwa-ge_Hymn of Incense and Flowers), 운심게(Un-sim-ge_Hymn of the Moving Heart), and 지옥고(Ji-ok-go_The Suffering of Hell) Ritual choreography.

At the end of Ji-young's long-flowing dance, she lowered the white front-fold of her robe and Wide-cuffed sleeves to the ground, and as if weeping, she settled her body slowly down upon her place. Following her courteous and reserved kneeling of the knees, she bowed her waist deeply until the triangular Conical ritual cap upon her head touched the ground. The cap of the Three-God belief, transmitted from old, sank as far as its tip touched the earth.

The lotus ornament of 처염상정(Cheo-yeom-sang-jeong_Pure though born in defilement) hung upon the cap, its tip resting upon the floor. She lifted the bowed waist. The percussion that had rung without falter and without haste fell utterly silent at the very moment Ji-young's waist rose. Her plump and moistened lips slowly stirred. The stars set into the night gleamed clearer in the cold wind.

Before the great Village guardian shrine tree, with the small altar set between, Ji-young let her clear voice drift forth in mournful sorrow. This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. I beseech, I beseech. A sinner makes confession to all those who have faded into the far distance. Ji-young's clear, ringing voice resounded faintly across the woeful night sky.

A sinner makes confession — one who, to keep her own portion held back, smothered every sorrowful life into ashes. Fluttering the long-robe cloth, she gave a strong shake to the white fabric that had hung lifeless, then joined her palms together and offered another bow. As her bow descended, the drumstick was swept wide as if reproaching with a thunderous voice. A great resonance rolled deep into the valleys. Slowly raising her bowed waist again, Ji-young, palms joined as before, recited her woeful voice onward.

This life of mine is humble, I could not lift the lives of all, Before you depart in sorrow, take with you all the recompense of this humble life of mine, And go on your unburdened way, I beseech, I beseech. Ji-young's bow continued once more. The drumstick spread its great resonance. After Ji-young had completed her two bows, she rose from her place. Keeping her knees upright, she bent her waist and conveyed a half-bow. Then, carefully lifting the hem of her skirt, she bent her right knee and stepped forward.

She continued the verse of the Butterfly Dance. I beseech, I beseech. In place of this humble life of mine, I beseech all those who have faded away. Who shall be the one to bear, in my stead, the unfulfilled dream of mine? Who shall be the one to unbind, in my stead, the unfulfilled love of mine? To bear the lingering trace of the long life I have longed for, I shall fulfill my insufficient share, To bear the long-time memory I have drawn forth, I shall fulfill my limitlessly insufficient share.

She continued the Ritual choreography of 자귀의불(Ja-gwi-ui-bul_Taking Refuge in the Buddha of the Self), 삼남태(Sam-nam-tae_The Threefold Southern Womb), 기경(Gi-gyeong_Rising of the Sutra), 삼귀의(Sam-gwi-ui_The Three Refuges), 모란찬(Mo-ran-chan_Hymn of the Peony), and 구원겁중(Gu-won-geop-jung_Within the Long-Distant Kalpas). As the dance and the choreography continued in step, the drumstick and the small drum filled every direction without rest, and the Ghost Light rose, as if drawing back the dimly stained darkness.

I beseech, I beseech. I beseech all those who have faded away in vanity. One by one the kindled Ghost Lights ascended in time with Ji-young's dance. The trace of the departing remained within the drum-sound, accusing and reproaching Ji-young who lingered in the world of the living.

If you grieve the buzzing of the bee swarm threading through the pink petals, If you grieve the water-sound of the women playing along the indigo waterside, If you grieve the heart-sound of the mate strolling through the sunset-hued mountain birds, If you grieve the foot-sound of the children rolling about in the blue snowfield, I shall hear, deep and weighty, the wail bound with grief. I beseech that the road of your departure shall not be lonely. I beseech that the road of your dwelling shall not be sorrowful.

I beseech, I beseech. Every Ritual choreography of Ji-young's, continuing until the 오공양(O-gong-yang_The Five Offerings), came to its end. The calmly clasped hands had cooled in the cold wind without her notice, faded red. Catching her short breath, Ji-young joined her palms together and bowed her waist deeply. I beseech, I beseech. I beseech all those who have departed in vanity. I beseech, I beseech. I beseech, I beseech. I beseech all those who have received this vain life. I beseech, I beseech.

With Ji-young's joined palms and deep salutation, the last Ghost Light was rising upward. Until every Ghost Light had faded, until they all hid themselves into the darkness, Ji-young did not raise her waist. The drum-sound did not continue. A deep silence followed. Only after the final Ghost Light had crossed into the deep darkness did Ji-young slowly raise her waist. As though every Requiem for the Fallen had ended, Ji-young exhaled a shallow breath and turned around.

The Headquarters' company, reduced by half, stood gazing at Ji-young in silence. Ji-young: All of this is my insufficiency. All of this is my fault. Ji-young set a deep, slow bow toward all who stood within the gathering. Every one who received Ji-young's bow bent their knees in their place and met her bow in return. Once Ji-young's single bow was finished, she gathered her slowly-risen bearing and offered a half-bow.

Ji-young: Bearing all my karma, I shall be the first to receive their reproach into my ear, and the first to stand in vigil for their reproach. Scene 02. Yeon-su was weeping without end. So-hui, holding Yeon-su in silence, was soothing her as she wept like a child without making a sound. Si-yeon and Gyeong-seo watched Yeon-su's weeping in stillness, drawing only sorrowful looks across their faces, saying nothing. The 소주(So-ju_Korean distilled spirit) had not yet been opened.

The 찌개(Jji-gae_Simmering stew), only just brought from the stove and set down on the living-room floor, sat untouched, and Yeon-su received the deep consolation So-hui passed to her without a word. She could not speak. A longing welled up so high it choked her throat. She could not speak. The guilt over every act of cruelty she had failed to stop in the end did not subside. There was no one she could blame.

Even toward I-seon, who had silently endured every childish tantrum she had thrown, only a sense of apology came over her. Yeon-su was pouring out her own dreadful helplessness and her guilt. That So-hui could not take the place of Yeon-hui's existence — Yeon-su knew that better than anyone. And so the sorrow ran deeper still. She felt more powerless, more wretched, and reproached herself further. So-hui silently embraced the searing self-reproach welling up from Yeon-su.

Even after weeping for a long while, Yeon-su could not hide her grief. When So-hui sensed that Yeon-su's tears had subsided, she gently drew apart and looked into Yeon-su's swollen eyes. So-hui: Yeon-su. Yeon-su, sniffling, barely managed to nod her head. So-hui: Yeon-hui sis will come and console you herself one day. Not far from now. Yeon-su nodded her head with greater force. Looking up with that nodding head, she gazed quietly at So-hui. Yeon-su: I'm sorry. Truly, I'm sorry.

I do know you're a different person from Yeon-hui sis, you know? I know it, and yet — I hate myself so much. So pathetic, I feel like I'll go mad. So-hui: You're not pathetic. None of you. So, it's all right. And — now you can look at me properly? At So-hui's light teasing and joke, as if at last calmed, Yeon-su, who could now finally meet So-hui's gaze properly, sniffled and let her runny nose drip down. So-hui smiled brightly, picked up the tissue beside her, and handed it to Yeon-su.

Yeon-su silently took the tissue and blew her nose with a great honking sound. Watching this, Gyeong-seo crumpled her face, and as if pinning Yeon-su down for the barely loosened mood, twisted her lips. Gyeong-seo: Eugh, drwy. So-hui: Today was supposed to be the welcome dinner for Gyeong-seo and Yeon-su, with drinks and all — did I cook the stew for nothing? Yeon-su: No. It's not like that. This is, this is my favorite stew. Stew is the best with So-ju. So-hui: Right? Yeon-su nodded like a child.

When even her sniffling began to settle, Yeon-su lifted the cold-grown bottle and twisted off the cap. While she paused for a moment to think who to pour for first, So-hui's brightly smiling face turned suddenly cold. Si-yeon, on the other hand, holding a bright-eyed madness, looked at So-hui and laughed with a needling grin. Si-yeon: Wow. Jo So-hui. Around here, you're the elder, aren't you?!