Chương 52: S.04 Memory of the Clock 09(05)

Scene 10. Chae-rim was seated in the passenger seat, set there with a slightly clouded look. Friday afternoon traffic was, beyond expectation, fairly choked. Having no particular reason to feel weary, Hee-jin, who was carrying on her drive in silence in her own car, briefly read the air about Chae-rim — Chae-rim, who had heard the whole story and now sat with a look as if she could not quite understand.

Chae-rim, seated in the passenger seat, after carrying on a deep deliberation for some time, opened her mouth and conveyed her inmost thought. Chae-rim: I, in truth. Ji-young: Yes. Chae-rim: Cannot quite see my way through. My duty, always, is to keep The Oldest's person safe. Ji-young: Of course. Thanks to that, I'm able to stretch my feet and sleep too. Chae-rim: Then why on earth. Ji-young: Because the root must be torn out. Only then will the Headquarters stand all the firmer.

Chae-rim: You believe a threat still remains. Ji-young: Of course. We are not, at this moment, facing the world of the dead. To face the world of the dead, we must first soothe and gather our own people. Because all of them have been wounded. Because they have passed through hard times. We must not lose them any further. We must not let them depart, either. Those who say they will go, I shall not hold back, but for those who say they will stay — there's no need to turn our backs on them too.

That's why I'm stepping forward. Chae-rim: The Oldest. Ji-young: Yes. Ji-young, seated in the back seat, watched out the window with a light smile. Chae-rim: Is that, then, why you placed the Guide outside. At Chae-rim's voice, Ji-young drew a brighter smile. Ji-young: You knew, did you. What kind of person So-hui is. Chae-rim: Yeon-hui was the closest friend I had. From when we were small, we bathed together and learned the dance together — a long-standing companion.

After meeting the younger sister who looks truly the very same as Yeon-hui, and meeting the one who looks truly the very same as The Oldest — I was certain. Of the two, at the very least one. I judged that she would know how to read the path. Without that, the Former The Oldest would not have made such a decision. Nor would the now The Oldest. At Chae-rim's reasoning — chillingly precise — Hee-jin, who was driving, asked with a light smile. Hee-jin: You speak as though you assume I know it all. The Captain.

To speak so as if it were nothing, even by my side — Chae-rim: Of course. You were the last Strategist of the Former The Oldest, and you are the Strategist of the now The Oldest. There is no chance such a Strategist would not know all of these matters. Rather, one might suspect you stood at the very center of every affair. Hee-jin: So. Chae-rim: To my station, I cannot easily step in. I move only to the role I am set to.

That role is — to keep The Oldest untroubled, to watch over and to keep guard upon her surroundings. Hee-jin: Of course. I am the same. Ji-young: Aigo-go. Ji-young, stretching out both arms and legs to their fullest, drew her stretch wide, and stirred up the heavied air. Ji-young: How much further. Hee-jin glanced down at the navigation. Calculating for a moment the time remaining and the degree of congestion, with a light exhalation she said — Hee-jin: Going about another ten minutes ought to do it.

Ji-young looked about her surroundings. Ji-young: Hmm, almost there, but we're still on the highway. Traffic's really jammed. Hee-jin: I, too, in truth, did not realize Friday afternoon would be choked like this. It did not seem so before. Ji-young: Has there been an accident somewhere. Ji-young, having shifted her body to the middle of the back seat, gripped both sides of the front seats and craned to peer out through the windshield at the front.

Though believing herself to be not too tired, Hee-jin, with the after-meal stretch of driving, seemed to feel a drowsiness coming on, and lowered the driver-side window. The moment the cold wind came rushing in, Hee-jin, startled, hurriedly pulled the window back up. The highway running across the city center stood like an elevated road. Whenever the trucks running fiercely on the opposite side passed by, a faint trembling could even be felt in the car.

Ji-young's color, watching the driver-side window, faintly creased. Far in the distance, Ji-young watched a fire that had taken hold at a sizable shopping mall — the very place she had been heading. Hee-jin, following Ji-young's air, turned her gaze, and only belatedly made out the violently collapsing channels of black water. Ji-young: Hah, truly. Of all places, why the hell here. After looking briefly at the road, jammed as densely as a parking lot, Ji-young lightly tapped Chae-rim's shoulder. Ji-young: Captain.

Chae-rim: Yes. Ji-young: This is an order. Please, by all means, protect the Strategist. Just as Chae-rim, with a startled look, was about to turn to glance back, with no time even to stop her, Ji-young stepped down from the car. Chae-rim moved to follow her out, but Ji-young's stride continued without hesitation, and reached as far as the passenger-side window where Chae-rim had been seated. As if asking her not to open the door, with a hand-gesture she conveyed the sign to lower the window.

Chae-rim, with startled eyes, lowered the window as Ji-young directed. Ji-young: What time is it now. Hee-jin: Precisely, three twenty-three and twelve seconds, in the afternoon, has just passed. Ji-young: Leave me a trace of ink. My phone is broken — I may not know where I am. To find where I am, you'll need a trail. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. Hee-jin: Understood.

Hee-jin, without a flustered air, fluttered her hand and laid the incantation upon the breast-fold of Ji-young's garment. Hee-jin: I shall follow shortly. Ji-young: What, are you going to fly over the jammed road? Hee-jin: Eh, well. Not, that, in fact. Ji-young, with a light smile, sent her black bracelet fluttering.

While Chae-rim hesitated a moment, Ji-young, having sent the thinly-cast Black Wire as far as a streetlamp standing on the opposite side of the highway, and stepping upon it, lifted her body lightly into the air. The Han-bok hem fluttered fiercely against the rushing wind. After confirming for a moment the place where Ji-young had vanished, Hee-jin shifted the gear of her car, set on the hazard lights, sounded the horn, and began to wedge her way through the gaps between the cars. Scene 11.

Ji-young's Everyday traditional shoes lightly skipped along the Black Wire that fluttered in every direction. Stepping upon the taut-drawn bowstring, Ji-young, in an instant traversing across the elevated road, reached as far as the outdoor parking lot near the building where the channels of black water were now bursting and pouring down. As if plucking the bowstring, the dance of stepping unhesitatingly along the thin Black Wire alighted lightly upon the rooftop of the parking tower nearby.

The ornaments bound into her long hair fluttered. Gently smoothing the swaying ornament of the five butterflies, she glanced down at her own Traditional outer coat, where Hee-jin's ink had been laid. After looking at the ink, growing fainter and fainter, Ji-young calculated the time within her head. Confident there was enough time yet, Ji-young, having confirmed the onlookers who were beginning to gather thick and fast, carefully drew her step backward.

As she fluttered her wrist as if shaking off her bracelet, Black Wire — beyond count — fluttered in every direction. Ji-young, gently smoothing the hem of her skirt, pressed her eyes shut and prepared the dance. In the broad parking lot rooftop, today, of all days, there were not many cars. The black water pouring out from the parking tower joined to the next-door complex shopping mall was, in an instant, gathering in close around Ji-young.

Ji-young, paying it no mind, drew out her closed eyes and her stance, and prepared the dance. The scattered Black Wire gathered into both of Ji-young's hands, and shaped the black 지전술(Ji-jeon-sul_Paper-Money Bound Bundle). The black tassels caught in her hand fluttered in the wind. Among the choreographies of the 지전무(Ji-jeon-mu_Paper-Money Dance) of the 향당무(Hyang-dang-mu_Local-Temple Ritual Dance), she slowly unfurled the 사자봉(Sa-ja-bong_Lion Staff) and the 쌍사자춤(Ssang-sa-ja-chum_Paired Lion Dance).

Beyond her closed eyes, she could feel the smoke of black draping down. Ji-young, fluttering the wire that was set in both her hands like a black Paper-Money Bound Bundle, shaped 괘(Gwae_Divinatory Trigram) upon the floor. The Trigrams, pointing in eight directions, were carved into the empty places by the Black Wire as if etched in intaglio, and revealed their forms. The eight directions of the 좌독기(Jwa-dok-gi_General's Banner) took up the empty spaces of the Trigrams and announced the direction of time.

She did not handle death lightly. But she wished that the lives lingering in the world of the living should not be swept up into the vain death of one whose death held grievance. If it was a matter bound up with her own kind, she ought to hesitate all the less. In step with Ji-young's dance, Black Wire fluttered in chaos. Every channel of black water that had been bearing down slowly came to a halt.

The black drops that had reached as far as just before Ji-young's nose began slowly to draw away, and every trace that had gathered close began slowly to return to its original place. Ji-young's eight Trigrams and the eight patterns of the General's Banner began to fade in the reverse order of their etching. As the patterns and Trigrams returned one by one, the black water dwindled back to its form before it had poured out.

Ji-young slowly opened the eyes she had pressed shut, and unfolded the last 터벌림(Teo-beol-lim_Ground-Sweeping Finale) of the dance. The air pushed back as if by a resonant pulse shaped a daily life as though nothing had taken place. To gather back the wire she had let scatter, she lightly shook her bracelet. After watching the form of the Black Wire that, in an instant, had drawn itself in within the black bracelet, someone slowly walked toward Ji-young.

Since when she had been on the rooftop of the parking building was not a matter of importance. Ji-young glanced back at Su-jeong, who was walking toward her, and with a needling smile turned her body toward Su-jeong. Ji-young: How wretched. In Ji-young's calm reproach, the very word Su-jeong herself had once conveyed was set. Without showing it on her face, Su-jeong let out a small sigh and nodded her head.

Every contorted form she had borne before was nowhere to be seen — the Su-jeong of her original form, with her slow stride, was drawing near to Ji-young. With a slightly pale color about her, Su-jeong, watching Ji-young, slipped her hand into the pocket of her thick coat. Ji-young: Having achieved nothing. Su-jeong: There's a thing I've prepared. As you'd already know. Ji-young: So I see. Su-jeong: You never know, after all. If my luck were good, I might be able to be rid of you directly.

So — I decided to run wild as I please. Now then. Su-jeong gave her hand a light wave, and a darkly polluted mirror, the size of a great door-panel, dropped down. The mirror, lodged into the steel-paneled side of the parking tower, in a contorted form was pouring out black water in begrudging gushes. Su-jeong: They told me — even if I use it, they'd shut their eye. Ji-young: You couldn't quite use it before, watching the air. Su-jeong: Because it was a Ritual instrument that consoled and beat back death.

It threw a fit. The moment I used it. The Derived Relics didn't show much reaction, but this one threw a fit. Even being only at the level of a Branch Relic seemed to bother it. It nearly broke. Ji-young: So why have you shown this here, now. Su-jeong gestured with her chin to Ji-young. Ji-young glanced back at the mirror, fallen behind her, and confirmed within the gushing-mucky cracks of black water. Having confirmed what was inside the mirror, Ji-young glared back at Su-jeong, her face slightly clouded over.

Her face, which had stiffened for a moment, soon turned back to a calm look, and she asked Su-jeong with a plain reproach. Ji-young: With merely this, what else could you do now. Su-jeong: I only need to be rid of you. Nothing else is needed. As long as you come to me quietly, it ends. Ji-young: I refuse. It was not the answer she had wanted. The refusal Ji-young conveyed was something Su-jeong had never even thought of, and Su-jeong stopped her words for a moment to put her head in order. Ji-young: I refuse it.

So then — your turn now. What can you do. Su-jeong's outburst slipped out with a needling tone. Su-jeong: I'll kill you. Even if I can't, by setting it to others. Ji-young: Pitiful. Ji-young, paying it no mind, turned her body. Without even glancing at the mirror Su-jeong had set down, Ji-young, ignoring both Su-jeong and the mirror, made to move from the place. As Ji-young did so, Su-jeong shaped a sharp, black mirror-shard with her own hand and gripped it.

Holding the mirror like a knife, she swung it at Ji-young. Even at the keen mirror flying like a knife, Ji-young did not stir at all. She silently surrendered her neck. Su-jeong's hand stopped, twitching, at the nape of Ji-young's neck. Ji-young: Why can't you do it. I haven't even called the Harbinger now. Su-jeong's hand, as if catching against something in friction, stood halted right beside Ji-young's neck and trembled.

With every strain of her strength she tried to sever Ji-young's neck, but in the end she could not bring herself to it. All she had managed was to bring it to Ji-young's skin and let a drop of blood touch the tip of the mirror-blade. Ji-young: Laughable. The state of you. Su-jeong: I, am not, afraid. Ji-young drew her own neck a little closer toward Su-jeong's mirror. Like the same poles of a magnet, Su-jeong's mirror was rather pushed back.

With a flat smile, drawing it as if in reproach, Ji-young pulled her neck back from where it had touched the tip of the mirror. Ji-young: Now, threats like that — they'll never work on me again. Ji-young, with an unhurried stride, turned her back. Su-jeong was, by every means, aiming for Ji-young, but, as if her whole body had stiffened, she could not move. Ji-young raised her voice toward the back. Like an after-image of a scattered voice, only the residue of Ji-young's voice trampled Su-jeong's fury underfoot.

Ji-young: Crawl back. To whichever place will still take you in. A neighborhood mongrel-bitch like you, no matter how much you scuttle about — won't be able to do a thing. At the steely needling set within Ji-young's elegant and refined voice, Su-jeong only belatedly lowered her hand. After dispelling even the black mirror she had shaped, she conveyed her voice toward Ji-young, who had turned her back. Su-jeong: I will, make you beg for your life. Kang Ji-young.

Ji-young, even hearing Su-jeong's outburst, did not turn around. Just as she had been walking, she only let it scrape past her ear like the wretched whining of a mosquito she could not even make out. After dispelling every mirror she had shaped, Su-jeong burst the black water and vanished from the place. Sensing the air of Su-jeong's vanishing, Ji-young glanced back, and turned the direction of the stride she had been walking.

Among the cars not many in number set on the rooftop, Ji-young drew near to one familiar one. At the air of Ji-young, who had drawn near with a smile held, the driver-seat door opened as if it had been waiting, and the familiar figure stepped out. Watching Ji-young's Han-bok, holding back tears in silence, Driver Lim, having stepped out of the driver's seat just as he was, gazed at Ji-young for a long while. Ji-young was straining to smile, but it was the look most painful for smiling there could be.

Drawing up before Driver Lim, Ji-young took Driver Lim's wrinkled hand. Ji-young: ajeossi. Driver Lim: The Oldest. At Driver Lim's voice — calling her by her title — Ji-young, with reddened eye-rims, holding a smile, shook her head. Steadying the feeling welling up, Ji-young softly grumbled at Driver Lim. Ji-young: Aah, no. Not by ajeossi. Not yet. Driver Lim silently raised his other hand and smoothed the ornament binding Ji-young's long hair, as if straightening it. Driver Lim: You must, now, accept it.

Ji-young, in the end, did not let her tears run. Straightening her waist upright, drawing her breath in quietly, Ji-young sniffed and lightly nodded her head. Ji-young: Bishop, has he been keeping well? Driver Lim: Yes. Every day, fighting with her daughter, she sees to my meals well too. Ji-young: That's a relief. Driver Lim: She scolded me for why you have not come to share a meal. Saying she has the confidence not to burn the meat for you, this time. Ji-young burst into a deflating laugh.

Watching the drawn appearance of Driver Lim, with both hands she gripped Driver Lim's rough hand all the tighter. Ji-young: ajeossi. Driver Lim, gripping Ji-young's hand back firmly, nodded his head. Ji-young: I. Won't you help me pick a phone. The phone ajeossi picked out for me lasted the longest. ajeossi knows the best — that without my phone, I can't sleep. By now. Driver Lim, to take the place of the voice that would not, in the end, come out, only managed a nod of his head.

Ji-young, like an excited child, hooked her arm into ajeossi's and urged the step on. Just then, in time, Hee-jin and Chae-rim arrived, and stepping out of the car in haste, bent their waists to Ji-young and Driver Lim. Hee-jin: Driver. At Hee-jin's deep courtesy, Driver Lim silently bent his waist and conveyed the courtesy in return. Ji-young, with a lifted voice, said to Hee-jin and Chae-rim — Ji-young: Both of you, head in first. I'm going to have a date with ajeossi and come in.

Chae-rim: Eh, that, well, but, that, I — For a moment, as if her thinking had stalled, Chae-rim stuttered, but Hee-jin silently bent her waist and meant to honor Ji-young's wish. Like a chattering sparrow stuck to ajeossi's side, Ji-young moved her step, and was already gone from the parking tower. Chae-rim, with a face troubled, lightly scratched her own braided hair, and Hee-jin, watching Chae-rim, drew a small smile. Hee-jin: Just go in. Just the two of us.

Chae-rim: The, The Oldest, then, alone — Hee-jin: After the first Calamity, every place at the table with all her family changed in a single morning. Letting her enjoy what is past for a moment, drawing aside to make room for her — that, I think, is the right thing. At Hee-jin's calm persuasion, Chae-rim, in the end, could not carry on her words. Watching Chae-rim, who had nodded her head, Hee-jin moved her step first toward the car, whose engine had not yet been cut.