Chương 8: S.04 Memory of the Clock 02(04)

Scene 10. Su-jeong stood beside her. Ju-hee touched her own head, then began to laugh — empty, drained. Maggots crawled across her clothes. Patches of rotting flesh stained the fabric in every direction. The stench was foul. Yet the woman wearing those clothes — Bae Ju-hee — sat in the yard of Kwon Su-jeong's family estate looking perfectly intact. Ju-hee: Didn't I burn in the 인불 (In-bul_Ghost Light)? Su-jeong, her expression vacant and hollow, nodded. Ju-hee: That's strange. Why? Su-jeong: You burned, all right.

The problem is a fake burned in your place. Yoo-rim pulled you out. She stashed your corpse in my family estate and kept it preserved so it couldn't even rot. Ju-hee: Ah. Is that right. How SSibal thoughtful. Su-jeong: And I'm the one who dragged you back out. Just now. Ju-hee: Ah. That's SSibal miserable, then. Su-jeong: If you don't like it, want me to send you back? Your choice. I'll smash you apart. Again. Ju-hee shook her head, expression flat. Ju-hee: Well, it's not like going back changes anything.

All I am now is something that can't go one way or the other. Ju-hee rustled her rotting clothes and rose to her feet, slow and heavy. Ju-hee: Fine. Better than being a rock. So — what do you need me to — Su-jeong fixed one eye on Ju-hee — blackened, hollow — and stared down at the woman barely standing. Ju-hee, who had been grumbling half to herself, caught that black eye and swallowed hard. Ju-hee: Wh — what. What did you put in that — Hollow terror spilled out as tears.

An eye with no pupil left — grotesque, inhuman — looked down at Ju-hee as though she were nothing. Ju-hee could not finish her question. Yu-seok: Originally, when someone dies in front of us — that is, when we kill them — Yu-seok stepped out onto the wooden veranda of Su-jeong's estate at a lazy pace. His face wore a taunting smirk as he addressed Ju-hee, who lay crumpled in the yard not far away, unable to rise. Yu-seok: We had to finish them with the Ghost Light. So they wouldn't linger profanely, like you.

The easiest way to keep a slave like you from being made out of someone we killed was to leave no body behind in 이승 (I-seung_the world of the living). Behind Ju-hee, Lee Yoo-rim appeared — the one who had smuggled Ju-hee's corpse out in the first place. Su-jeong slowly turned her head toward the veranda where Yu-seok stood. The turn was grotesque, creaking and mechanical. Her gaze — still blank — drifted to him, and she muttered.

Yu-seok: Still, it'd be a waste for a Director-class corpse to be used up for nothing, don't you think? Su-jeong: Stop running your mouth. It's grating. Yu-seok: And if it's grating — is there anything you can actually do about it? Scene 11. A desolate road, a fair distance from 본청(Bon-cheong_Headquarters). Ye-ju stepped out of the driver's seat, closed the door behind her, and faced the two people waiting for her. Deep evening.

On a pitch-dark country road where only her car's headlights existed, there was no asphalt underfoot. Ye-ju walked along the dirt path and met the two who had been waiting. She stopped, but the two only scanned the surroundings, offering no greeting — as though she were not worth the caution. Their guard was aimed at something else entirely. Ye-ju had no intention of reprimanding them for it. Ye-ju: I'll make this quick since we don't have time. The 조정소(Jo-jeong-so_Maintenance Office) officers said nothing.

They treated her as though she were invisible — not worth the effort of vigilance. Their wariness pointed elsewhere. Ye-ju did not care. Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings. Ye-ju: Headquarters' funds are managed on our end anyway. So bring people in, quietly. Maintenance Officer 01: So you can make more sahwanja out of them, Director? Ye-ju: What? Maintenance Officer 02: We've decided not to follow the Director's orders.

We see no reason to obey people who caused the former The Oldest's death. Don't think you can lure us with cheap tricks or money. We don't want to become Returnee corpse. Ye-ju: Hah. These SSibal bitches, seriously. Maintenance Officer 01: And we understand the Director only carries a 파생품 (Pasaeng-pum_Derived Relic), not even a 사류 (Sa-ryu_Branch Relic). Since there's no real difference between you and us in that regard, we won't be following any call to revolt. So stop summoning us.

The two Maintenance Office officers left only what they had to say and rushed back to their car. They had not even cut the engine — so the car pulled away in an instant. When Ye-ju was left standing alone, she did not even have the energy to be angry. A hollow laugh escaped her. That laugh did not last. Na-hyeon: These SSibal bitches. What a sight. I really have been too patient. At Na-hyeon's voice, Ye-ju whipped around. The Maintenance officers' car was plowing off the road into a rice paddy ditch.

Officers from the jeong-mu-gwan(Jeong-mu-gwan_Martial Hall) side, led by Na-hyeon, were dragging the Maintenance officers out of the car. Na-hyeon: Look at the state of Headquarters, and these two sneak out at night to meet a traitor like this. And all they manage to spout is insubordination. Hilarious. Ye-ju: A mere Deputy dares address a Director — Na-hyeon: Is a Director with nothing but a Derived Relic even a Director? You're just some bitch who used to sweep snow off the walkways.

A pair of blades Na-hyeon had forged caught the razor-edged moonlight. Ye-ju drew her own blade and leveled it at Na-hyeon without a word. Na-hyeon: Right now, nobody leaves Headquarters. Nobody gets in. And yet you ignore that and sneak out? On the sly? Behind Na-hyeon. The Maintenance officers, pulled from the overturned car, had their throats cut — they could not even scream. The sight poured into Ye-ju's eyes. Na-hyeon: You three idiots, the Executive Secretary — that's four. Kwon Su-jeong makes five.

Anyone who takes a call from those five and sets foot outside — whether they're on your side or not, doesn't matter — The severed bodies erupted in blue flame and burst apart. From now on, she intended to leave no trace whatsoever. Na-hyeon: No one gets to live. Na-hyeon stood with her forged blades in hand, perfectly still. She knew better than anyone that Ye-ju would not dare charge. And as Ye-ju had pointed out, Na-hyeon was a Deputy — by the letter of the law, she could not stand against a Director.

Bound by that formality, Na-hyeon simply stood facing Ye-ju, taunting her. Na-hyeon: Get lost while I'm letting you. I killed them in front of your face on purpose. Don't take it personally. Ye-ju: Mark my words. You will — Na-hyeon: I'll make you a promise too. Na-hyeon cut Ye-ju's words short. She let out a breath as if the whole thing were beneath her, lifted her chin, and looked down at Ye-ju with flat contempt. Na-hyeon: Your head — I will be the one to take it. Scene 12.

Si-yeon sat alone in a small underground holding cell. The damp stink of mildew hung in the air — or so it felt. She had finished her makeup and everything, fully dressed and ready for the night shift. Si-yeon, brimming with displeasure, sat cross-legged with her arms folded, back propped against the cold wall. At the end of a long corridor, the bars of a police station holding cell swung open.

A uniformed officer gestured for Si-yeon to come out, and Si-yeon — face still packed with resentment — dragged herself to her feet. Wearing a thin leather jacket, she jammed her hands into her pockets and followed where the officer pointed. She shuffled down the long corridor in her comfortable sneakers. She climbed the stairs. Past the first-floor lobby, up the central staircase to the second floor — there she stopped, her eyes asking where she was being taken.

The officer who had fetched her waved an annoyed hand toward the sign on a shabby interrogation room. The officer's refusal to exchange a single word grated on her, but she supposed she should be grateful they had at least removed the cuffs for the walk. Hands still in pockets, she shuffled through the dim doorway into the interrogation room. She found it strange that not a single escorting officer followed her in — she was entering alone — but probing further felt like a chore. Two officers were inside.

One was a man she had never seen; the other was the female detective who had accompanied her to the station. The male officer, seated at the head of the table, gestured Si-yeon toward a chair. She dragged herself over with grumbling steps and dropped into the suspect's seat. The male officer — displeasure plain on his face — sighed, stood, and tapped Ju-hyeon lightly on the shoulder as if to say handle it, then walked out.

Left alone with Si-yeon, Ju-hyeon settled herself in the center seat and opened the thick case file before her. Ju-hyeon: Si-yeon — right now, you — She pulled a single photograph from the thick file and slid it across the table to Si-yeon, who sat with arms folded and an air of thorough indifference. Ju-hyeon: You have been named as the suspect in this person's murder. Si-yeon studied the face in the photo. It rang a vague bell, but saying so would do her no favors.

She heaved a deep sigh, rolled her eyes skyward as if she might lose her mind, and did not immediately speak. The silence stretched. Si-yeon let out an even louder sigh, voice crackling with irritation. Si-yeon: Hah — SSibal, seriously, that night I —!! Ju-hyeon drew a second photograph from the file. Si-yeon cut herself off and glanced at the new picture Ju-hyeon had placed before her. Ju-hyeon: This is you, captured on a CCTV camera in the entertainment district in the early morning hours.

The travel time from the presumed scene of the crime to this district is considerable. There is absolutely no way you could have been in both places at the same time. Si-yeon stared at her own image in the photograph. A suspicion she could not voice churned deep inside. She was certain she had been asleep at that hour. She had never set foot in such a high-end district. She had never even lingered near a place like that. But what mattered was not that. Si-yeon: Then it wasn't me. Right??

Ju-hyeon: Still — please stay a while longer. In the holding cell. Ju-hyeon slid both photographs back into the file and tried to persuade Si-yeon calmly. Si-yeon: Are you gonna cover my night's pay?? Ju-hyeon, unsure where to even begin, paused to gather her thoughts against Si-yeon's needling question. She organized the documents, then switched off the recording microphone in the interrogation room. In a slightly lowered voice, she called Si-yeon's name. Ju-hyeon: Si-yeon.

Something caught between solemnity and tenderness crossed Ju-hyeon's face. Si-yeon dropped the mocking sneer and stiffened slightly. She waited for Ju-hyeon to speak. Ju-hyeon: The phone call I made to you a while back — you remember, right. The voice-phishing call she had answered half-asleep surfaced in her mind. Only now did it hit her that the call had been real — and that the voice on the other end was no different from the one sitting right in front of her.

Si-yeon straightened the spine she had bent for maximum snark, leaned back against the chair — arms still folded — and pressed herself to the backrest. Si-yeon: Oh. That. Satisfied that Si-yeon had connected the dots, Ju-hyeon gave a light nod, gathered the organized file, and rose from her seat. Ju-hyeon: There are still things to investigate today, and procedures to finish. Please stay here for now. As Ju-hyeon moved to leave, Si-yeon lobbed a blunt remark at her back. Si-yeon: Why are you keeping me here.

The question drifted out of Si-yeon's unfocused eyes. Ju-hyeon, halfway to the door, stood still and listened. Si-yeon: What's the reason for keeping me here. Ju-hyeon: Because it's dangerous. Si-yeon: For who. Ju-hyeon: For you. And for everyone around you.