Chương 9: S.04 Memory of the Clock 02(05)

Scene 13. Yu-seok's family estate, absent its master, was wide and desolate. With barely anyone left, Ye-ju's fury only echoed more hollow as it rang through the emptiness. Her anger would not cool. But neither Yeong-min nor Jeong-hyeon had any intention of soothing the tantrum. They sat in silence on the wooden veranda of someone else's sprawling hanok, ignoring Ye-ju's rage, each nursing private concerns. It was the same as any other day at Yu-seok's estate.

The brief bustle of bodies that had once filled the place had dwindled to less than a tenth, leaving nothing but an aimless desolation. The three of them, fed up with everything, sat on the veranda outside the wide reception hall. Yeong-min: So you're saying there's no one left to pull out. And it'll only get harder. At Yeong-min's quiet murmur, Ye-ju forced her anger down with a sigh, steadied her voice, and spoke. Ye-ju: Yeah. Getting people out will be near impossible now.

Yeong-min: That said, not everyone is going to accept that decree. Jeong-hyeon: When the decree flat-out tells everyone to die — that the world should be drowned in death — who would accept it. Yeong-min: We were there that day. We heard someone say that decree was wrong. That there has to be a key. Jeong-hyeon: I heard. Ye-ju: What the hell are you two on about. Yeong-min, as though ignoring Ye-ju's irritable retort were second nature, let out a light sigh and carried on with only his own thread.

Yeong-min: How many people actually heard that? Sure, word's probably gotten around, but it's certain — most of them won't welcome it. Being ignored was evidently nothing new for Ye-ju. She pushed her point again, voice laced with annoyance. Ye-ju: Then how are you planning to get them out. Yeong-min: Rather than pulling them outside, it'd be faster if we find an opening and go in ourselves. Ye-ju and Jeong-hyeon both looked at Yeong-min. Jeong-hyeon: And that's possible?

Yeong-min: Well, the ideal would be to recover the The Oldest's Relic and walk in with that. But even if Kwon Su-jeong just lures the upper houses outside, we could seize Headquarters first and find sympathizers on the inside. Ye-ju: You really think that'll work? Jeong-hyeon: We should probably factor you out of the equation. Ye-ju glared at Jeong-hyeon, who had poked her sore spot with a grin. Jeong-hyeon did not spare her a glance. Jeong-hyeon: But how do we bring Kwon Su-jeong back in? Yeong-min said nothing.

He clearly knew something, but he had no intention of sharing. Jeong-hyeon, taking comfort in the fact that she had her own plans anyway, slowly rose to her feet. Jeong-hyeon: I'm going to go do some legwork on my end. You two stay here and rest easy. Su-jeong: Where are you going. From a dark corner of the reception hall. 검은물(Geomeun-mul_Black Water) seeped in, dim and wavering, and Su-jeong's voice followed. Su-jeong emerged from the lapping Black Water, looking somewhat improved.

Ye-ju — who had only now learned part of the full picture — edged backward, wary. Behind Su-jeong, Ju-hee appeared. None of the three flinched. They did not even spare Ju-hee a glance. Ju-hee: What. Why isn't anyone surprised? Su-jeong and Ju-hee approached the round table where the three had been sitting and lowered themselves into the empty chairs. Yeong-min and Jeong-hyeon remained pointedly unfazed. Only Ye-ju seemed unable to adjust, her guard still aimed at Su-jeong. Ju-hee: Insolent SSibal bitches.

You leave me alone to run my ass ragged at Headquarters — slaving under that hunk of rock — and in the meantime, every last one of you sitting here already knew that Su-jeong had The Weeping inside her? This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Jeong-hyeon: Ah, of all the things to fish out, she drags up something this worthless? Ju-hee: Still a SSibal bitch as ever, aren't you, sis?

I heard you scurried around The Oldest's pockets like a rat — sniffing for crumbs. Following the sash, are we? Watching you work, it really is just — Jeong-hyeon lashed out a white sheet of paper to tear Ju-hee's mouth clean off. Ju-hee did not dodge. The white paper ripped through Ju-hee's lips and slammed into the wall. Black Water soaked the white sheet, which sagged limp to the floor.

Where the paper had passed, only a trail of Black Water remained on Ju-hee's face — her mouth returned, intact, as though nothing had happened. Ju-hee wiped the black residue from the corner of her mouth without even looking, cleaned her hand on her clothes, and sneered. Ju-hee: Ease up. Before I really split you open from crotch to crown. Just as Jeong-hyeon's next strike was about to fly, Su-jeong poured Black Water between the two of them. The bickering was unbearable.

Su-jeong did not bother with words — she simply separated them. Ju-hee adjusted her posture and cast a calm glance around the room. Jeong-hyeon, already on her feet, turned toward the exit. Su-jeong: Where are you going. Jeong-hyeon did not answer. Su-jeong did not press or call after her. Whether the people still inside knew or not — that was irrelevant too. Su-jeong let out a quiet sigh, her blank stare not fully gathered, and continued in a hollow voice.

Su-jeong: I — Su-jeong's absent murmur drifted through the dim. She knew exactly what she had done. But ever since the point when she herself had died, she was certain she had crossed a river that could never be uncrossed. No — she was certain of it from the moment she followed Yu-seok and decided to eliminate the Candidates. The murmur trailed off and did not resume for a while. Su-jeong: I committed a sin against my own bloodline. Even Ju-hee, who had been taunting everyone a moment ago, now held her tongue.

Su-jeong: Our mother abandoned us. I told myself I had no choice. But the truth — you all know. Su-jeong lifted her blank gaze and looked, one by one, at everyone seated around the table. Su-jeong: That I was the first to turn my back. That all of you — following me, or following your own greed — turned your backs on her first. Ju-hee: Who are you calling mother. My mother died in the Tribulation. The one who ordered my head chopped off — Su-jeong: Shut up and listen. You walking corpse.

Ju-hee, who had bristled mid-sentence, clamped her mouth shut at Su-jeong's hollow snap. Su-jeong: But the truth is, I met the key once. In the domain of The Weeping of Contrition. The day I smashed a stone that was trying to steal a Candidate's life — claiming it would keep the Candidate alive until the very end — I drove Yeon-hui into the domain of Contrition. The key — Kang Ji-young — stepped forward to save her. And there, Kang Ji-young said something to me. Su-jeong paused her listless monologue.

She was not deliberating. She was not conflicted. She simply wanted to know why. Su-jeong: She said she was sorry. A heavy silence fell. Su-jeong: It probably just meant she was sorry her younger sister died in her place. But aside from our mother, no one had ever said that to me. If there's anyone here who wants to throw a fit and say this means I'm forgiving Kang Ji-young — no. Absolutely not. I will kill Kang Ji-young. At the very least, I want to watch her die.

The reason I'm saying this now is that I don't want any of you acting recklessly. Su-jeong's blank gaze sharpened as it swept across everyone at the table. Hatred had begun to fill her eyes. Su-jeong: I want to hear it. Why she said that to me. From her own mouth. Whether she really thought she was better than me when she spat that nonsense — I will hear it myself. So. So!! Su-jeong's final shout stopped dead. Su-jeong: Bring her to me. Alive. Yeong-min: But for that... we're seriously short on people.

Su-jeong did not bother to respond to Yeong-min's concern. She deemed it unworthy of a reply. Su-jeong: Prepare. Everyone exchanged glances in silence, weighing whether it was truly safe to move. Su-jeong was the first to rise. Ju-hee followed and, once on her feet, quietly asked Su-jeong. Ju-hee: I just do what I'm told, right? Su-jeong nodded without a word — and then, from outside, the murmur of a gathering crowd reached them. A sizable number of footsteps crunched along the dirt path.

Figures stood in the darkness beyond, unable to cross the 인불(In-bul_Ghost Light) that burned at the threshold. Su-jeong moved first. Su-jeong: Numbers won't be a problem. Scene 14. The uneasy feeling would not lift. The warning from a detective who clearly knew something refused to leave Si-yeon's head. Alone in the empty holding cell, Si-yeon could not shake the unsettled emotion, sitting still, staring blankly up at the void above. The sense that she had forgotten something — it was always there.

But a feeling alone was not enough to ask anyone anything. With the solid pillar that had once shielded her now gone, Si-yeon let out a deep sigh and tried to anchor her drifting gaze. She wanted to know exactly what it was. But she was certain that blurting out to some stranger that she did not know what she had lost would get her no answer from anyone. In that moment, a single person surfaced in her mind.

The one she had run into at that dilapidated apartment — if it were that person, she felt, something might be answered. Scene 15. A light sigh. The chill stillness beyond the window persisted. In the dark living room, So-hui had been playing cat's cradle alone — blue thread and red thread laced between her own fingers, eyes fixed on nothing — when the firmly shut door opened and Si-yeon stepped in, arms full of shopping bags. Only then did So-hui's gaze return.

She dissolved the threads she had woven in an instant and rose from her seat toward the entryway. So-hui: You should have said something. That must have been heavy. Si-yeon twisted her body this way and that, refusing to let the bags be taken. As if it were nothing, she crossed the shabby but spacious living room to the kitchen on her own. She set the bags down on the wide table — they landed with a solid thud. So-hui switched on the living room accent light and began sorting through the groceries with Si-yeon.

Si-yeon opened the fridge and started with the cold items. She went for the chilled convenience-store lunchboxes first. She had no intention of making So-hui handle any of it. So-hui could not have missed Si-yeon's quiet, stubborn kindness. So-hui: I'm fine. Really. Si-yeon: Sure you are. So-hui exhaled softly. She was not fine, and that was why words failed her. Si-yeon's blunt jab rattled the composure she had been holding together — but she steadied herself again. She had resolved not to break.

She could do this. Si-yeon: You keep skipping meals, going on and on about paths and whatever, and you'll end up wrecked like me. So I bought stuff. If you're gonna talk crap, eat first. Then I'll listen. By the time Si-yeon finished putting everything away, So-hui pursed her lips and nodded. Comfort, Si-yeon style. Si-yeon turned around belatedly and took in So-hui's gaunt, bloodless face — then glanced down at her own clothes.

So-hui, noticing Si-yeon's thick layers for the first time, let out an involuntary laugh of disbelief. Si-yeon looked down at herself. Si-yeon: Ah. I'm cold too. I was dressing thin because sis was having a hard time, and I nearly froze to dea — froze... ah, SSibal, I'm already dead so I can't even say "froze to death." So-hui: How cold was it yesterday? Si-yeon: Minus twenty-five. It kept dropping bit by bit, then stopped right at minus twenty-five. Weirdly precise.

So-hui had apparently finished putting even the last of the fresh groceries away — every bag Si-yeon had carried was empty. Si-yeon gathered the empties and shoved them into a recycling bag without ceremony. Si-yeon: I'm starving. If I wait for you to eat first, I'll starve to dea — starve... ah SSibal, hey. Eat. I'm hungry. At Si-yeon's roundabout urging, So-hui smiled a little more and nodded.