Chương 89: S.05 Time to Fly 03(03)_Modification

Scene 04_04. Hyang-rim's measured pace was as it always was — composed, unhurried. Si-yeon and Jeong-seon, following without a word, did not bother to ask why they had been summoned, and simply matched her slow steps in silence. The sunlight was sinking, little by little. The late-winter light, which had never risen high to begin with, lowered in slow degrees. Jeong-seon, without saying so, blamed the sun for its quiet descent.

Si-yeon, who could not have failed to read Jeong-seon's heart, gently took Jeong-seon's hand in hers without a word. Hyang-rim's voice, heavy and at peace, drifted out. They walked in silence, watching the back of a Hyang-rim who, today of all days, looked at ease. Hyang-rim: The fourth butterfly. Si-yeon: Yes. Hyang-rim: I am sorry. And yet — on another count, grateful as well. Si-yeon: I don't have any of that toward you, though....

At Si-yeon's slightly bashful answer, Hyang-rim brought her steps to a halt and turned, slowly, to look back. After her eyes confirmed Si-yeon's hand, holding Jeong-seon's, Hyang-rim, struck by a hot gratitude rising from somewhere deep, could not for a moment manage to speak. Hyang-rim: Because we walked all of the road we walked, you met your death, and were made to walk a road this bitter. And yet — every one of the butterflies, and Jeong-seon, has never once spoken an unkind word to us old folks.

Si-yeon: Because I was happy. It was a brief, certain, matter-of-fact answer. At Si-yeon's reply, given without a flicker of hesitation, Hyang-rim could once again find no words to follow it. Si-yeon: Mother, and the Bishop too — if you hadn't walked, I couldn't even have met my mother. Wouldn't have met the sises, either. It was an answer drawn full of conviction. Not a consolation. A plain meaning, holding only the truth of it.

At Si-yeon's somewhat clumsy formal address and her clumsy sincerity, Hyang-rim gave her a long, settled smile. Hyang-rim: The ones I-sim felt most sorry and most pained for were the two of you — Ji-young and Si-yeon. Of course, she felt for Yeon-hui and So-hui too, but the two of them, at least, did not die. Nor shall they. But Ji-young, and you — in the name of our greed, our cause, the two of you were made to cut your lives shorter than the lives the two of you ought to have lived....

Si-yeon: The sises don't regret it either, they say. Me neither. Hyang-rim: The truth is — we had no regret either. Scene 04_05. FLASHBACK Every building of the Headquarters — collapsed and burned to nothing — stood whole, as though the destruction had never been. Every shattered building had been restored, but the lives that had not been restored came forward in her mind. Toward the Du-eok-si-ni, departing in silence with a sorrowful expression, I-sim only bowed wordlessly at the waist.

Across the once-bustling Headquarters, only a deep, deep silence remained. With a final small report of an explosion drawn in along with a plume of blue smoke, every Goblin had left the place. The only one remaining was I-sim. She had not even been able to change out of her blood-soaked clothes. For a long while, she did not raise her bowed back. A young Yu-seok, his two eyes swollen red, held the newborn Yeon-su in his small frame. Brushing his eyes with the sleeve of his traditional dress, he came toward I-sim.

Only after sensing Yu-seok's presence did I-sim raise her back and come toward him. Yu-seok: The Oldest. Because of me, my mother, my father. It was the young self-reproach of a young Yu-seok. I-sim, lowering herself to her knees, wordlessly took both Yu-seok and the Yeon-su in his arms into her embrace. There were no words she could offer. Even the words 'I am sorry' would not come. But to the end, she did not weep.

She was certain that if I-sim were to break down weeping, the Yu-seok weeping before her would have nowhere left to lean. Drawing Yu-seok closer still, she stroked his small back. I-sim: This good-for-nothing aunt is going to need your help, Yu-seok. You can help me, can't you? A composed voice, with not a tremor of welling tears. Yu-seok could not answer, only nodded in the cradle of I-sim's embrace. The hot tears of the young Yu-seok soaked through to I-sim's shoulder.

I-sim, in silence, bit down on her own lip with all her strength, refusing to weep to the very end. While Du-eok-si-ni had returned with his Goblins, the people of The Black Doctrine, frightened of the Goblins, began, cautiously, to come out into the open. Blood had welled from I-sim's lips. Only then did I-sim slowly release Yu-seok, and check the Yeon-su in his arms. Yeon-su's swaddling cloth was thoroughly soaked with Seong-yeon's blood.

Looking at Yeon-su, sleeping deep in the way only a child untouched by the world can sleep, I-sim asked Yu-seok. I-sim: I think Yeon-su's swaddling needs to be changed. I don't know where the aunt is — could Yu-seok change Yeon-su's swaddling for me? At I-sim's question, Yu-seok nodded. As the sniffling Yu-seok left his place, Hyang-rim moved closer, her steps a labor.

To Hyang-rim, who had slumped to her knees before I-sim as if her legs had simply given way, I-sim hurried over, motioning her not to, and tried to lift her up. Hyang-rim: I am sorry. I-sim. It was a voice that came spilling out as if it had burst. The weeping of Hyang-rim — a sound never heard before. At that bursting voice, I-sim held back the hand that had reached out to raise Hyang-rim up. Hyang-rim: I raised U-hyeon wrongly. I refused to listen to your word, to the last, and brought this to pass.

All of it — all of it is my sin. I am sorry. I-sim only let out a small sigh, in silence. There were no words to come, no words to offer. It was not hatred. It was a knot pressed deep — directed at a road they had taken without ever realizing they were taking it. She did not resent Hyang-rim. She did not even know whom she was supposed to resent. Whether resenting was even the right thing to do, that was its own question. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

I-sim, seated face-to-face with Hyang-rim, let out a hollow laugh that would not even come — without her meaning to. Only then did the tears she had been holding back burst forth. Tears drawn out by laughter. Once the dam I-sim had been holding broke, she could do nothing. I-sim: Older sister. The honorific yields. The Bishop. Older sister. In that very stance — the hollow laughter still on her, the tears still coming — I-sim called Hyang-rim.

Hyang-rim, who had bowed her forehead to the ground, lifted her back at last, and from her kneeling pose looked at I-sim's knees. She could not meet I-sim's eyes. I-sim: From now on. I am going to walk the road. Even amid the tears edged with that hollow laughter, I-sim's voice was unyielding. I-sim: You have taken everything from me — so I can walk. Therefore — help me. Hyang-rim's head was lifting a little at a time.

After gazing for a long while at I-sim's heavy, falling tears, Hyang-rim could find no word to offer. I-sim: The road I shall walk — I will not regret it. Older sister — I hope that you too shall not regret it. If that. If only that. I-sim's voice was crumbling. The hollow laughter still drawn across her, unwilling to fade, breaking apart together with the heavy tears. I-sim: If only that, that is enough. So that I, and you, and we, do not regret — help me. Please. Scene 05_01.

FLASHBACK In a wide visiting room filled with figures sharp and upright in their military uniforms, the light of a summer afternoon came streaming in. Someone, taking a seat in one of the quieter corners, set a carefully knotted wrapping cloth onto the table. The cloth was not small. The sound of heavy combat boots came forward. A woman seated in one quarter of the visiting room, dressed in formal attire, turned her head to face the soldier approaching her.

Above a tall frame, the sound of dress-boots set against crisply-pressed combat fatigues came to a stop. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. I-sim: Look at how dark Yu-seok has gotten. Toward Yu-seok, standing there sturdy and squared, I-sim beamed at him in welcome. With his sleeves rolled up, Yu-seok, wearing the rank insignia of a private first class, was looking back at I-sim with a smile.

Pushing aside, briefly, the parcel filled to the brim with food, I-sim seated Yu-seok across from her, took in his bronzed face, and let a smile drift across her own. When his eyes met I-sim's, Yu-seok did not hesitate. Yu-seok: Mother. It was a single word, but a word that had been so very hard to deliver. At the first calling, brought through Yu-seok's now lower, thicker voice, I-sim wordlessly extended a hand and laid it against Yu-seok's rougher face. She could not answer.

To answer would have meant the lump in her throat winning. But for the Yu-seok who had taken the courage to speak — it was a reply she had to give without fail. I-sim: Yes. Yu-seok. At I-sim's voice, taking him in, Yu-seok took her hand — which had been holding his face — into his own once more. Yu-seok: I have been grateful. Once I came to the army, it came to me even more clearly. Stripped of every rank, every seat — spending time with friends my own age — I came to realize, only belatedly.

The one most like a mother to me was a single person, and only one. So, I wanted to do it before anything else. At Yu-seok's voice, holding not the slightest tremor, I-sim only nodded. Yu-seok: I kept thinking of the hangover soup you used to make, Mother. I-sim: Are you still here drinking yourself stupid, like back then? At I-sim's light scolding-tease, Yu-seok laughed and shook his head. Yu-seok: Because here, I can't have Mother's hangover soup every day. I-sim, with a brighter smile at Yu-seok's joke, nodded.

After stroking Yu-seok's rough cheek, she released him slowly and untied the wrapping cloth she had brought. Inside the cloth sat a generous spread of Korean tiered lunch boxes. Setting them out one by one, I-sim handed Yu-seok a spoon and a set of chopsticks. I-sim: Eat well, my Yu-seok. As much as you can. Scene 05_02. Why a cold, biting memory should rise to the surface now — he could not say. It felt as though one side of his head was throbbing in dull pain.

He chalked it up to having faced into the sunlight too long. Sunlight came streaming into the deep mountain ridges. Whether it was simply because the light's hue rang too close to the light back then was anyone's guess. The driving cold of now and the damp heat of that mid-summer could not possibly be the same. Yet with his back to the mountain wind, watching, as if standing watch, the old Traditional Korean house complex laid out in the distance, Yu-seok's head ran briefly tangled.

He drew in another draw of the cigarette held in his hand and scattered the long plume of smoke far out into the wind. Yu-seok: For one who must have faced humankind across that eternity of eternities — for such a one to ask why I would grant these wretches more time, is that not the stranger thing? Toward a no-one who heard him, Yu-seok delivered the unprompted muttering. Yu-seok: I have come to commit, yet again, a sin that cannot be washed away.

For that — was the silent acquiescence of my mother, the late former Oldest, who raised me and is now gone. They know that I am coming. And because they know, they wait for those wretches to make their preparations. Until the words they wish to share, the words they must deliver, have all run dry, those wretches shall come down upon you with grief-resentment in their hands, and put you to slaughter. If you wish to remain in being even a little longer, then quietly follow as I do.

Lay aside, even a little, the Han those wretches shall come to hold. That is what I am waiting for. A small voice arrived at Yu-seok's ear, but did not leak out into the air. Yu-seok: In any case — do not forget. Having received the whole of the meaning, Yu-seok wore a faint, contemptuous smile. Yu-seok: The moment they corner you down to a paltry thing — I shall, without hesitation, slip free. Scene 05_03. Gyeong-seo had already buried her face into the table, riding out a defeated sleep against the drink.

Yeon-su and So-hui, too, wore the flush of having drunk a fair share, their cheeks gone red. After fully clearing the dishes from the meal and stepping back out, Ji-young, Lee Yeon, and Hee-jin came to the table and lowered themselves into their seats. Watching Yeon-su, who had started to break into hiccups, Ji-young made an effort to swallow her laugh. Catching the lift at the corner of Ji-young's mouth, Yeon-su tried to gather herself again, shaking her head this way and that.

Ji-young: That's enough — go on, get to bed. Hurry. You need to sleep what you can. Yeon-su: Uh, well, the Oldest. So — Ji-young: I know what you're about to say. Nothing's going to happen until I step outside, so go on, sleep. So-hui too. So-hui nodded without a word. Drawing herself up with a small stretch, So-hui moved to either side of Gyeong-seo together with Yeon-su. Hoisting Gyeong-seo, who had fallen asleep with her face down, with everything they had, the two of them left the table.

A brief stillness settled in. Recalling that the conversation between Hyang-rim, Si-yeon, and Jeong-seon was running longer than expected, Ji-young turned to Lee Yeon in a quiet aside. Ji-young: The conversation is running long, though. With the Bishop. Lee Yeon: There would be much she means to convey. She would wish to leave behind even one more word more than she had. Lee Yeon's voice was even, but the meaning carried within it was no small weight. Ji-young, with a small sigh, nodded.

Lee Yeon: Knowing he is not entirely a fool, it makes it a touch more frightening. At the sudden turn of subject, Hee-jin took in Lee Yeon without a word. Lee Yeon: I, too, hold what amounts to the seat of a Strategist within The Black Doctrine. The reason he waits, the reason he has given us time — likely it is to soothe us, even a little. Hee-jin slowly nodded. Lee Yeon: I came to realize it upon hearing that it begins only when the Oldest steps forward.

The truth is — if it were only us they meant to strike, had they come in before the Oldest arrived, even with all the preparation the Envoy had laid in for us beforehand, it would have been hard to hold against everything. And yet, as though it were all arranged to interlock, they linger outside at their leisure. That is why, in truth, there is some part of me that is afraid. Hee-jin: How fiercely, when it comes, it will descend.... Lee Yeon: Yes.

To the measure of the time they have granted us, they shall come down upon us without restraint. That is why the Guide must have cautioned us, beforehand. To empty. All of it. After Lee Yeon's resolute, drawn-out resolve, Jeong-seon and Si-yeon entered the dining hall. Spotting the absence of Hyang-rim's seat, Lee Yeon, with a flicker of suspicion, rose from her place and turned to Jeong-seon, who had just begun to step in. Lee Yeon: The Bishop — Jeong-seon let out a small sigh, wordless.

Her two eyes were already swollen, as if she had wept enough. Ji-young, taking in that figure of Jeong-seon, briefly felt the echo of a past flicker through her, but did not bring it to the surface in any word. Si-yeon, lowering herself to the table in place of Jeong-seon's voice — surely worn raw — spoke. Si-yeon: She's gone to prepare. Si-yeon's voice was even. Drawing a slightly heavier sigh, Jeong-seon delivered, in a voice barely steadied, her words to Ji-young. Jeong-seon: Sis.

Ji-young did not answer, only shifted her gaze to look at Jeong-seon in silence. Jeong-seon: I'm ready too. Mom — she's gone to prepare too. So, now, without holding back, I'll follow it all. Just like the sises said. At Jeong-seon's voice — even, plain — Ji-young, with only a faintly shadowed smile drawn to her, nodded. Hee-jin: The seed of Putrefaction has already been buried deep within the Oldest, across the two prior encounters. At Hee-jin's even voice, everyone looked at Hee-jin without a word.

Ji-young, by her face, had already known. Hee-jin: Had we not held the line here, had we turned the road, this place — and the Oldest — would not have come through unharmed. There were many words to be said, many that they wished to say — but no one could readily speak. The afternoon, deep enough that not even a sigh could find its way out, was drawing into dusk.