Chương 70: S.04 Memory of the Clock 12(05)_The LAST of S.04

Scene 07_09. Above the black sandy shore where Jeong-seon, Ji-young, Si-yeon, and So-hui and Su-jeong were set in place, a metallic, revolting smell carried through. Ji-young hurriedly turned her head and surveyed the surroundings. Unlike Ji-young, Si-yeon, and Jeong-seon, who were set in place with their senses intact, So-hui and Su-jeong lay on the black sandy shore with their senses lost. Ji-young undid her bracelet and spoke first to Jeong-seon. Ji-young: Jeong-seon, thank you. Hurry and head out.

Jeong-seon: All right. Sisters, take care. To Jeong-seon's resolute request, Ji-young nodded. Jeong-seon, first of all, threw her body into the black wave as if hurling it. To the remaining Si-yeon, Ji-young followed with — Ji-young: Si-yeon, you take So-hui and head out quickly too. To Ji-young's careful, tense voice, Si-yeon abruptly asked. Si-yeon: What about you, sis?? Ji-young: Ah, come on. Quickly. You've got things you need to do. Despite Ji-young's tense voice and her chiding, Si-yeon did not move.

Rather, gripping the Ornamental dagger in her hand, she resolved to take her place alongside Ji-young. Ji-young: Ha — you're seriously fucking stubborn. Si-yeon: If anyone's leaving, it should be you, sis. Because I'm not going. To Si-yeon's resolute voice, Ji-young carried a faint smile and conveyed a small voice. Ji-young: This is, the first and last request from The Oldest. To Ji-young's clear, ringing voice, Si-yeon scoffed.

Si-yeon: What, you think I'm here to do the Oldest's favors — Ji-young: Former Strategist Kwon Su-jeong, At Ji-young's voice, Si-yeon turned her startled eyes and quickly checked on Su-jeong, who should have been lying there. Ji-young: Take these two, whole, out of this place. This is, the final request from The Oldest. Su-jeong: Understood. Si-yeon, who had been about to chide Ji-young with something, was swept away — unable to do anything — by black water that burst up, surging from beneath her feet.

Su-jeong, watching Ji-young's back for a beat, in the end could not convey a single word to Ji-young, and gathered So-hui into her arms before sending her own body, too, into the black wave. Ji-young: Aim for me. Do not aim for the others. Aiming at the living does not even accord with the proper order that defines the form and existence of the Envoy's Legion. I, will face you whenever it may be. If I lose, I will die. So, face me. I will face you. The Weeping of Putrefaction: I, we. only wish to perdure.

A presence shaped slowly in the far distance began to reveal its form, lurching as it stepped forward. Scene 07_10. Yu-seok: Well. There was no way you wouldn't come. Seon-woo: Ah, look at this. You saw me at Headquarters and you've already forgotten? Ha, seriously. How worthless does the head have to be. As Seon-woo brushed her hand as if dusting off the sand she held, it shifted into the shape of a thin, long iron skewer.

Lifting the rough-textured Grey Sand with her hand, she glared at the spot between Yu-seok's eyes. As if intending to aim with one eye precisely, she leveled the tip of the skewer at the spot between Yu-seok's eyes — far off in the distance — with a leisurely sneer. Seon-woo: I'm thinking of killing you right here. As for the crime of disobeying orders, well, I can just go take it as it comes. Seon-woo lunged.

The tip of the Grey Sand that had reached just before the spot between Yu-seok's eyes was nudged slightly upward by the obstruction of Yeon-jin's blade. Seon-woo's skewer grazed Yu-seok's cheek. Yeon-jin tried to fend off Seon-woo's craftsmanship with her blade, as if shielding Yu-seok, but the savage thrashing Seon-woo brought to bear was not even comparable to Yeon-jin's. Seon-woo: Ah-ni, you ssibal bitch. You think. all. native. soils. are. the. same?!

The skewer Seon-woo bore down with snapped Yeon-jin's blade and even pierced Yeon-jin's shoulder with ease. Just as he was, she kicked Yeon-jin's body and shoved her down to the ground, then drove the skewer in her hand into Yeon-jin's thigh — torn down on the floor — and tore out the muscle. Yeon-jin, with a scream, lay sprawled limply on the ground. Seon-woo: Yah. Your underling's getting hurt. Hurry up and do something. The underling's gonna drop dead before I can kill you.

Yu-seok, with a stiff expression, carefully summoned Black Sand. With Black Sand raised in both hands, Yu-seok shaped a short blade and stood facing Seon-woo. Seon-woo lunged in, and ignoring the blades held in each of Yu-seok's hands, drove a skewer first into Yu-seok's belly. Seon-woo: You're seriously holding out. you piece of shit. Yu-seok knocked aside Seon-woo's Grey Sand with both blades and shoved Seon-woo back with a kick.

Quickly stuffing Grey Ash from his bosom into the wound to close it, he faced Seon-woo again. Seon-woo, who had toppled to the ground, slowly rose and shaped skewers with both hands. This time, Yu-seok lunged first, not wanting to miss the opening. Seon-woo, after knocking aside Yu-seok's blade with one skewer, lightly turned her body and drove a skewer deep into the small of Yu-seok's back, fixing him to the ground.

With her now-empty hand, she summoned a dagger again and pierced Yu-seok's other shoulder, fixing Yu-seok's body to the ground. Summon and drive in, summon and drive in. Seon-woo nudged the head of Yu-seok — collapsed on the ground — with her foot. Seon-woo: Yah. Yah. Country boy. Yu-seok began to laugh, without a word. In time with the sneering Seon-woo, Yu-seok was laughing too. Seon-woo: What, anything you'd like to say? Well, "last words" is too grand, so — your last bit of bullshit, that kind of thing.

As if responding to the laughter of one nearly drained of life, Seon-woo answered with a deranged laugh of his own and shaped a skewer with her hand. Seon-woo: Guess there isn't. Just as the two had reached the point of winding down their laughter, the tip of Seon-woo's skewer flew in close to the head of Yu-seok. Yeon-jin stepped in once more and knocked the skewer aside. Seeing the skin patched here and there with Grey Ash, Seon-woo let out a sigh. Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road.

Report any occurrences. Seon-woo: Ha — this, SSIBAL bitch, seriously. Yeon-jin, with a stiff expression and a blade gripped in her hand, faced Seon-woo. Seon-woo lightly kicked Yu-seok's head with her foot and moved her step to face Yeon-jin head-on. From every direction blood was bursting forth like a torrent. It was a one-sided massacre, but no one had been killed. Seon-woo calmly tucked her blade back and took a glance around. Seon-woo: Yah. You're a merchant, right? Wanna make a deal? Yeon-jin: What kind.

Seon-woo: I'll give you a chance to take your boss and run. You wanna? Yeon-jin: What? Seon-woo: Truth is, even if it's annoying as fuck, I don't really plan on killing him. But this bastard kept getting cocky, you know? So I lost my temper for a bit, but after taking a look at your face, the request came back to me. So how's it gonna be? You wanna leave a limb behind, one of each? Or instead of limbs, you wanna leave both your necks behind? Yeon-jin did not even hesitate.

Withdrawing the blade she had been leveling, she approached Yu-seok, who had collapsed on the ground. Seon-woo, too, gathered back the Grey Sand she had shaped, and stood with his back to Yu-seok. Seon-woo: Ah, if I keep watching, I'll keep wanting to kill him, so hurry up and drag him out of here before he can spew any more bullshit. Scene 07_11. Toward the lurching presence, Ji-young — who had set her body right — carried on her voice. Ji-young: It was a curse warped from the very start.

It must be set right, so that the world of the living, the world of the dead, and the Between World as well may be safe. There will be, no longer, any room for empty gluttony. The Weeping of Putrefaction: Look at your own form. What are you, right now. Look directly at what it is you truly want. Ji-young: I, wish for everyone to die at their own appointed time, to live their own appointed lives, to love and be happy according to their own lives. That, is all.

The Weeping of Putrefaction: While wishing, all the same, to remain. Like us. Ji-young: Even if I should die, if the proper order can find its place again, then, yes. I will die. I will not spare myself. But, you cannot fail to know. The gate must be opened. It must be opened. It is only the cycle that breaks; the proper order itself will be maintained. I, will set the proper order right. That, is my debt. The debt that I have taken on. The reason for this life of mine, drawn out as it is.

It is what must be repaid. The Weeping of Putrefaction: Your existence, is one that has transgressed the proper order. One that must be erased. For one such as you, to speak of the proper order — The Weeping of Putrefaction shaped a black current with one hand. From the countless grasping hands sprouting out of its face, the same grotesque currents that the Weeping had summoned rose as well. The Weeping of Putrefaction: Is laughable. The Weeping of Putrefaction silently sent the rotted black currents flying.

Thousands of strands of black current came stretching toward Ji-young. Ji-young's bracelet flew in to block the thousands of strands of water, but it could not block them all. With her throat, her waist, the crook of her arm given over, Ji-young — no longer able to carry on her dance posture — was dragged off by the currents and rolled across the ground. Ji-young, having tumbled across the blackened sandy shore, severed the remaining strands of water and barely rose, bleeding, from where she had fallen face-down.

She knocked aside the continuing strand with her dance posture. The wounded body knit back together quickly, but the shock had not yet faded, so her now-incomplete dance posture lost its hold and crumbled beneath the continuing black current. The Weeping of Putrefaction: Call them. Why do you not call them. The thrashing of the Weeping of Putrefaction was scattered through countless strands of water. Ji-young tried to face it to the very end.

Holding her blood within her, having flesh torn off, she carried on her dance posture and raised the wires, and remained as a person to the end, facing the thousands of strands of black current alone. There was no reason or duty to face it as a human. But she thought that if she lost consciousness in this place, there would be no escaping. She thought there had to be a reason behind the provocation to "call them." To the unending bearing-down of death, Ji-young's life grew more and more distant.

To the current that bore down with a tenacity enough to leave one of her arms unusable, the tendons were torn out. The Weeping of Putrefaction did not miss Ji-young's dance posture as it broke beneath the pain. Coiling around Ji-young's ankle, it lifted her upside down and brought her toward the countless faces of life that had sprouted from its arm. Among those faces were beasts, and there were people.

With countless faces packed together so densely there was not even a gap, the grasping hands sprouting from the Weeping of Putrefaction's black water held Ji-young's ankle and her hand and slowly carried her over. As if to say "feed the faces upon Ji-young's flesh," it brought Ji-young toward the faces draped from its arm. To the torment of the faces that had begun to gnaw on Ji-young's flesh, Ji-young began to scream. The biting of the hungry-ghost mouths bore down to the point of starting to tear out her organs.

To the pain bearing down so distantly that consciousness was about to slip away, Ji-young — gripping only the will that she could not die here — moved her arm. From her twisted arm, wires shot in every direction, fiercely shoving the Weeping of Putrefaction and Ji-young apart and tearing them away from each other in an instant. Ji-young rolled limply, dropping bits of flesh to the ground. After releasing a ragged breath, Ji-young lifted her face-down body. The blood that had pattered down stopped quickly.

Ji-young's flank, with her clothes torn open and bare flesh exposed, was stained with her own blood. The hem of Ji-young's pale sky-blue hanbok was sodden and clinging. The leg and the waist of the Weeping of Putrefaction torn open by Ji-young's bracelet — beneath the black current where the face had been, black water erupted as if exploding, and shaped, in place of the leg, the countless eyeballs of somethings, and in place of the waist, the countless feet of somethings. Every person who died in your place!!

I have taken them all into me!! You!! You are the one who made it this way!! Ji-young softly closed her eyes with a faint smile. Shaking her head, she lightly knocked aside the Weeping of Putrefaction's outburst. Ji-young: Even though this is the territory of Contrition, the Weeping of Putrefaction can never imitate Contrition. Furthermore, their grievance — I know it well. That is the burden I take upon myself, my karma.

Not the shallow scheme that the Weeping of Putrefaction would try to assert against me, but my heavy karma. At the very least, the present me, in the world of the living, has no intention of reproaching myself with that karma. And. Ji-young set her stance right. Drawing her two hands forward, gathering the tip of her fingers as if seizing a single strand of wire, she slowly carried one hand back behind her. With her eyes still closed, Ji-young composed her stance.

Ji-young: If I do not sever the warped cycle, that karma will remain unfinished and reproach me belatedly. Saying that I have made yet another Key and yet another Candidate. Scene 07_12. Seon-woo, who had been sweeping through the gathering, halted every motion as if catching an ill-omened feeling and quickly surveyed her surroundings. After scrutinizing a single black dot draped in the middle of the courtyard, Seon-woo shouted urgently to those around her. Seon-woo: Move!!

The instant Seon-woo's shout went up, the small black dot that had been draped grew, exploding, and scattered black currents in every direction. An even larger current burst forth from beyond the great gate. Si-yeon, having barely arrived in time, supported by Chae-rim and I-seon, stretched out her hand and spat back black water. Worn out to the bone, Si-yeon spat out black water from her mouth as if vomiting it. Her knees buckled of their own accord, but with I-seon's help she did not collapse.

From between the colliding black currents, Su-jeong and So-hui dropped down. Around Su-jeong's neck was wound the green skein of thread shaped from So-hui's hand. Su-jeong and So-hui fell from the spilling black currents. Su-jeong, having fallen, lay collapsed for a beat in the middle of the courtyard. Conveying a small cough, Su-jeong slowly lifted her body. Su-jeong, seated with a fatigued look, slowly looked around at the people who had drawn far back, set in place as if guarding against her.

Gyeong-seo and Yeon-su were drawing So-hui out and tending to her. Su-jeong, looking at everyone gathered in the wide courtyard, began to wear a plain smile. Su-jeong, having done nothing, rose from her seat. Su-jeong, holding a sigh within her, let her voice out. Su-jeong: Let's end it. I'm a bit tired of this now. Si-yeon, with both eyes turned black, set herself in place behind Su-jeong.

Si-yeon, having draped herself there before any presence could be felt, gripped Su-jeong's arm with both hands and tore at Su-jeong's long, slender throat like a beast. The black death gushing from Su-jeong's nape spun out a halo of black light. The energy of Contrition was being divided into ever smaller fragments. Su-jeong was broken apart, beautifully and mercilessly. Scene 07_13. In Ji-young's resolute voice, sorrow was held.

The thrashing of the Weeping of Putrefaction bore down all at once, drawing forth every black current to obstruct Ji-young's dance posture again. The wooden floor heaved, and countless strands of water shot upward. Ji-young took in, with closed eyes, the black currents shooting up from every direction. She could not see. She did not even strain to see. She tried to register the fear that death was conveying. The keen, ice-cold death bore down close.

Ji-young's right foot and right arm leaned together forward into her bosom as if folding inward. As her firmly stepping foot bore the weight, the center shifted onto the other foot, and then, taking in the 지면반력(Ji-myeon-ban-ryeok_地面反力_Ground Reaction Force), it moved 연동적(Yeon-dong-jeok_連動的_in linked-and-interlocking fashion) and stirred up vitality. The flow of her upper body shifted actively, regulating the strong and gentle of the dance.

The bearing-in current of black death she let pass gently or struck back fiercely.

When in the flow of the dance the techniques of binding, releasing, and coaxing combined to form a single 동작구(Dong-jak-gu_motion-phrase), or when the transition between motion-phrase and motion-phrase took place, the 도살풀이춤(Do-sal-pul-i-chum_Sorrow-Loosing Dance) used not the smoothly continuous variation of the inhale of yang-energy and the exhale of yin-energy, but the oppositional and unbidden breath-mechanism of the binding breath.

It was a dance posture in which death and life stood opposed in a single place, or in which life and death served as roots for each other to be used as counterforce. Skirting countless deaths, taking them in, severing them, passing them by — every dance posture, unyielding to the bearing-down momentum, carried on its broken movements in unbidden form, and at the very front of the Weeping of Putrefaction's face, Ji-young, face-to-face with it, came to an abrupt halt in place. Her closed eyes had not yet opened.

Across every wound taken from every death she had skirted past, and from every wound now healed — the blood that had flowed, that was flowing, was running down across her whole body. With her eyes still closed, she briefly composed the dance she had unfurled. The Weeping of Putrefaction did not press further, holding still in place. As if time had stopped, no one moved first. The Weeping of Putrefaction, having watched Ji-young for a beat, halted in motion, and faced as it was, conveyed the rest of its intent.

The Weeping of Putrefaction: You will be, in agony. Someday, I will, without fail, plant Putrefaction within you, and that Putrefaction, will gnaw at you, from the inside. Ji-young did not carry on a word. After a brief stillness when the silent air settled heavily, black currents surged up from every direction as if bursting open, and began to tear apart every space throughout that area. The Contrition where Ji-young had been was crumbling. Scene 07_14.

The form, erasing every horrific shape and leaving only black currents behind, scattered to the surroundings like damp stone-dust. Every trace that had burst the currents open was being broken apart. The black current gushing from Su-jeong came to an abrupt halt in midair for an instant. Out of every collapse — broken apart and pouring forth — the black water spat Ji-young out onto the ground. Si-yeon, who had torn down every trace of Su-jeong, drew her black eyes back and sank haltingly to the ground.

With both eyes restored to their proper form, Si-yeon crawled hurriedly toward the fallen Ji-young. Si-yeon: Ji-young sis …!! Even though she could not steady her own body, as if her own body were not the priority right now, she strained first to wake Ji-young, who was submerged in the surface of the black water. Ji-young began to spit out the black water held in her mouth. Ji-young, coughing, scrunched up her face.

Each time she let out a cough, the metallic-smelling black water she had been holding in her mouth came spilling out. Only then did So-hui, as if relieved, spit out the rest of her own coughing and turned over onto her side. Ji-young, having coughed up a round, barely propped her body up at a crooked angle. Si-yeon, too, as if she did not have the strength to rise, stayed sitting on the courtyard and let out a listless breath. Si-yeon: Ha. SSibal. Ji-young: Seriously. This is hardcore as fuck.

To the two left in tatters, Hee-jin, I-seon, Chae-rim, along with Yeon-su and Gyeong-seo, carefully approached. Hee-jin and I-seon were the first to lower their knees and bow their waists. All the rest of the people offered a deep bow toward the three. Ji-young, wearing the dry laugh she always wore, looked at the people. Ji-young: Ah, right now, returning the bow is a little hardcore for me, so — would it be okay if I answer it later? Hee-jin: Of course. The Oldest.

Ji-young flopped the body she had barely seated back onto the ground in a sprawl. Ji-young: Aigoo, SSibal. This is seriously hardcore as fuck.