Notes.
This chapter is kind of an apology for moving this story here. It also is one the first scene I ever thought about when I started building this story years ago. It was supposed to happen in the forest, and Mago was first written as a human girl, but apparently, my brain had other plans.
Next chapter will be the last of the second arc ! After that, I will post the second interlude, and take a break like planned before to write my Death Note chapter before coming back for the third arc.
Answer to Itsrainingtacos :
Haha, I know, it's kind of frustrating you can't answer anonymous reviews here, but I'll just do what I usually do with my french readers ! I'm really happy you lik this story that much, and of course to have you back on FF ! I'm so sorry I made you worry that much when I deleted it from AO3. I'll probably just post one-shorts there in the future, regarding the original drama and not making any crossover or related to The Gwishins ;). It was indeed very difficult to erase this work from AO3. I did felt awful, and publishing it again on FF, which is calmer, helped me feel better. I loved that you compared me to a gwishin :P ! You don't have to review all the chapters, I swear, don't feel obligated at all ! It's already so nice from you to come back here just to follow this story ! And to answer your questions, ah, the hint you thought was one isn't, in fact, but my thesis was definitely an inspiration for the Encyclopedia of the Dead :D ! I still can't tell you anything about Hui Seon (so frustrating !) but oh my, you are really, really good XD ! Next chapter will be here as usual in three days ! See you then !
CHAPTER XL
" There is a song, singin' in the dark
Don't get too close, it'll tear you apart
There is a reason for every season of the heart
There is a song, singin' in the fire
Don't get too close, it cuts like a wire
There is a reason for every season of desire "
(The Midnight, american artists, "Last Train")
a. Hyacinth's burial mound
He recognized the master instantly, and even guessed the outline of his silhouette as he was still standing with his back turned towards him, in the hot spring. It was also impossible for him to miss the girl, who was wearing a revealing gloomy expression when she saw him arrive, and who most likely thought he was following them, even though their new meeting had been the result of a fundamental coincidence. He still remembered the mistrust she had shown towards him throughout the entire journey to Sochko they had shared together. The child's black eyes, freed by his hair tossed back and wet, again expressed the same hostility they had displayed since he had offered to escort them to the city.
The two travellers were bathing in the company of a young woman with a very thin face, high cheekbones, delicate and refined shoulders, and whose every gesture and general attitude betrayed her activity as a courtesan. Woo-Jin suppressed a wave of disgust and bitterness towards her, which he knew was linked both to his lack of taste for women in general, but also to what the master had told him about an old friend who was supposed to lodge them once in Sochko. It seemed fatally obvious that the gisaeng was the friend in question.
The idea deeply displeased Woo-Jin, and filled him with a bitterness of rare intensity. The master, when he turned to follow the gaze of his student who kept watching the soldier and his small group, maintained an impassive face when he saw him in turn. The woman looked surprised, and didn't seem to understand. Aware of their attention, Woo-Jin finally greeted them with a friendly and relaxed nod. It wasn't as if he had been there on purpose after all. The city was everyone's, and the hot springs even more so.
Nevertheless, he couldn't deny that he had conceived some hope within his heart, from the moment he had lost sight of them. The master had indicated to him that they would not remain more than three days, and their stay at an acquaintance's place was generally synonymous of visits or outings with the said acquaintance, to learn to know the city, its surroundings and, above all, its hot springs, whose reputation was well established. He had considered the possibility that the two travelers had already been to Sochko, having previously learned and seen everything there was to learn and see in the area, but the probability seemed lower than the first option, mainly because both teacher and student had looked a little lost when entering the city, and such expressions were uncommon among former visitors.
Therefore, the prospect of their so-called "old friend" walking them around the city and taking them to the springs had been theorized and promoted at length by Woo-Jin. He himself had gone through the same ritual during his installation. His colleagues at the police station had then praised the landscapes, the temple with the giant Buddha, the beach and the springs. He had seen and tried everything in less than a week, and his time of experimentation had been somewhat increased because of his work at the police station.
The travelers, for their part, had no plans or specific missions to accomplish. Therefore, Woo-Jin had expected, although trying to keep a minimum of hindsight and moderation, that they would probably end up landing at the hot springs, and he had waited with some impatience for a suggestion or an opportunity to go there, even though it was implausible that he would automatically come across the master and his student. They could very well come later, or earlier, or never. He had hoped in spite of everything, in the void, like so many others before him.
He had come to the House of the Port that evening after his shift of the day, with the only desire to avoid his wenchish wife and her acrimonious remarks. His visits to the entertainment houses rarely had any other purpose, since he felt no physical or spiritual attraction to women. He met regularly with his colleagues, either from the military or from the police station, who often invited him to share banquets. They discussed strategies, captures, Gwishins, under the exaggeratedly amazed eyes of the courtesans, who pretended to be interested in their discussions and always tried, through their thieving manners, corrupt and disdainful, to rekindle the attention of the men for their charms.
Woo-Jin always maintained a coolly polished exterior with them, and they felt it every time, like animals feel a storm or fire coming, with unclear but deeply rooted instincts. They tried to get him too, to lure him into their silken traps and charming smiles, like experienced snakes, but he had learned to read them like an open book, and he saw them for what they really were, traders, merchants, liars and destroyers, whose only fun was to take men's souls and crush them until they became as weak as newborn babies, and so all in their power. They made them children to rule over them better, and Woo-Jin despised them with passion, believing that only the company of men was sincere and righteous.
He had been grabbed by one of his former men from the police station, who had seen him in the corridors and was delighted with his visit. He had taken the opportunity to have him join a dinner he was sharing with a childhood friend, an accountant whose jungin-like status might have been a joke to the two Yanbans if he hadn't been as, or even richer than them combined. Like any event, the resurrections had, by impacting the daily lives of the living, considerably modified the functioning of the economy and by extension the distribution of fortunes and the credit given to certain professions rather than others, especially in the higher classes.
They had reinforced the disdain felt for the untouchables, slaves and commoners, while raising the prestige of the military and intellectual careers to staggering levels. In particular, the accountants had been able to play their cards right by observing the financial damage throughout the kingdom and by keeping accounts in a rigorous and alarming manner. When people wanted to know the state of the country's economic crisis, they invariably turned to the accountants, without even asking the common people, whose importance was so non-existent it was not worth mentioning. They went to the army for protection, to the scholars for answers. All positions in both circles were inevitably occupied by yangbans. In addition to the mythological and financial upheaval, the appearance of the Gwishins had also contributed to fracturing the society even further, and the differences between classes were becoming ever more pronounced.
At the end of the dinner, the three gisaengs who hosted the meal had suggested a bath in the hot springs, and their mere mention had rekindled the interest of Woo-Jin, who had otherwise spent the evening bored and counting the hours, his two comrades being too busy with the fresh flesh that was laid out before their naive eyes. He had been held up the night before at the barracks until late, and had been unable to go for a stroll on the beach or to visit the springs, hoping to meet Yoon Jun-Ho. He found himself following the movement of the vaporous skirts towards Mount Seoraksan, taking the same path he had been walking since he first visited the springs.
One of the gisaengs was calmer, quieter and more shy than the others, and said almost nothing. He travelled by her side, for if he wasn't very interested in women, he was even less interested in women who were too talkative, too noisy, and too present. The latter had at least had the merit, in her silence, of becoming invisible enough for him to tolerate her proximity. They had then reached the springs, where two basins were already occupied, and in one of them were the master, the student, and the woman who accompanied them.
In the other basin were three gisaengs from the House of the Port, but they came out as soon as they saw their sisters, seemingly by tacit agreement leaving them room to better capture their prey in a fake intimacy. They were soon alone with the three other bathers, whose conversation had been interrupted upon their arrival, and who kept the volume of their voices very low, as if they had exchanged secrets about them. Being six in number, they chose to occupy the larger pool, with the small waterfall, and since his comrades were already intoxicated, and therefore feeling particularly friendly and generous, they had offered the other bathers to join them to chat more easily.
The girl had looked outraged. The gisaeng politely tried to refuse, but the accountant insisted as he had recognized her and obviously wanted to have her closer to him. Woo-Jin struggled not to say anything or to show his strong desire to come face-to-face with the master. In addition, his companions and the courtesans could hold the girl's attention. He thought of the nakedness of the bathers in the springs, and the possibility of being able to see the master's body caused him a violent and uncontrollable emotion. He knew it, because it wasn't the first time, but he was nevertheless slightly taken aback by it. He himself had sought the master's gaze when he had returned, naked, with his companions, to dive into the hot water. But the latter kept his eyes stubbornly on his pupil and the courtesan.
They were unable to get them out of their vat. The accountant seemed to remember that the courtesan, Lang Yeong-Ja, was prudish, which Woo-Jin found absurd and incredibly hypocritical regarding the activities of the young woman, but his military colleague, Khang Ha-Jun, seemed to find the thing charming and virginal. If you don't want to come with us, we should join you ! he said. Something then appeared in the eyes of the three bathers, including the young girl, when he had expressed his proposal, and Woon-Jin left his discreet observation of the master for a moment to assess the strangeness of their reaction, of which he was obviously the only witness.
His companions were unaware of it. They ended up moving out of the large basin, and finally found themselves squeezed into a vat that was usually more suitable for small gatherings. Normally, Woon-Jin would have abhorred such closeness, but his annoyance was greatly reduced when he took his place at the master's side, while the girl stood on his opposite flank, as if to protect herself and him. She looked angry and tense. The gisaeng, also near her, displayed a similar, and highly unexpected expression.
The water was prodigiously warm, and his companions began to talk to the entire audience, ignoring the fact that they were barely being listened to. The three courtesans whispered words in each other's ears, laughed, and seemed to mock their more demure companion. The girl didn't say anything, but her eyes scrutinized everyone, and regularly returned to the gisaeng, looking for something on her face, like a confirmation. The master had tied his hair back. Woo-Jin was overcome by the urge to reach in and touch the white strands of his hair.
- How do you find Sochko so far ? he asked him, to initiate the conversation.
The master turned his black eyes towards him, but looked away so quickly that Woo-Jin barely had time to see them.
- Enjoyable, he answered laconically.
He had his arms folded over his chest. The girl and the courtesan weren't taking part in the discussions around them, and they seemed to want to run away.
- Did you had time to visit ? Woo-Jin asked.
- Yeong-Ja took us to the beach, and to see the temple.
The name of the courtesan in the master's mouth irritated him.
- And ? Your impressions ? He pressed him gently, so as not to offend him.
Yoon Jun-Ho said he had found everything remarkable, but enthusiasm was lacking in his voice, and he sounded even less talkative than during their trip to Sochko. Woo-Jin became frustrated and blamed the presence of his companions and women. The courtesan had begun to play at styling the wet hair of the girl, who, while visibly enjoying the treatment, had an absent smile, and her gaze was focused on the occupants of the pool.
- I thought about you, Woo-Jin finally confessed, taking advantage of the others' inattention, and aware that he wouldn't have many other opportunities. Since we parted ways at the police station. I've thought about you relentlessly.
The master looked at him, this time for good. His expression was complex, too complex for Woo-Jin to have foreseen it. He detected pride, astonishment, and a touch of satisfaction, which, in the end, was not without the appearance of desire. He saw something else there, which swept all the others away. He saw anger, indignation, but also pity, and the latter was mocking.
b. Pleasure principle
They were back in their bedroom very late that night, during the second half of chuksi, after having waited for the other bathers to leave so that they could get out of the water safely, wrapped in their dark cloth strips. Yeong-Ja had returned to the House of the Lake, and was to meet them the next day to take them to the port, as they had agreed together, as a result of what had happened at the springs, that leaving Sochko as soon as possible would be the best solution. The risks were becoming too great. The couple were still awake when they had passed the threshold of the house, and they were immersed in a xianqgi match while waiting for their guests, mainly because they disliked resting unless all the residents of their house were present.
Goh Dae-Seong and Ran Gyeong-Ja listened attentively to Yeong-Ja's description of their hot spring bath, and at the end of it, they agreed with her that it was probably best for them to leave as soon as possible as a precaution. Mago seemed to be only waiting for an opportunity. Woon had nodded, but didn't try to give more information to his hosts. Yeong-Ja and Mago, by deliberately vague words and omitting certain details, allowed him to keep some privacy. Gyeong-Ja offered to go and reserve two places for them on a boat leaving for the east and Qing the next morning, through an intermediary belonging to the crew that she and her husband knew well and who was a discreet member of the Yeogogoedam organization, in addition to being a Gwishin.
That way you won't have to go out, she said, and therefore you will be less exposed. The suggestion was validated, and Yeong-Ja declared before retiring that she herself would accompany Woon and Mago to the port for their embarkation. For this kind of trip, the boats usually leave in the early afternoon, she announced, but be ready as soon as possible.
In the tranquility of their room, lying on their respective yo, under the blankets, and having opened the sliding doors wide as they had done the night before on the shimmering city lights, Woon and Mago both had their eyes glued to the ceiling of the hanok. Woon felt cold, distant, and disproportionately numb for a dead (I thought about you relentlessly). His ideas were stuck, unable to follow each other harmoniously or fluidly.
He thought for the first time since the beginning of his journey that he had never wanted to be in Hanyang so much, and to some extent darker, more dramatic, that he had never wished so much to go back into his grave, simply because he had never wished so much to be left alone. He tried to immerse himself in the consciousness, to contact Hui Seon, thinking that she could eventually bring solutions to his apprehensions or, failing that, crush them like dry autumn leaves between her long spidery fingers. His concentration, reduced to nothing by the whirlwind of his reflections and his questionings, didn't last a second. He released an annoyed, dejected sigh, and Mago heard it.
- You can't reach the consciousness either ? she asked him in a low voice.
- No.
They didn't look at each other. Woon watched the ceiling, on which Sochko's glow was reflected. Mago, on the other hand, was looking towards the city, and towards the sea. She continued, more hesitantly, and in a tone that underpinned a statement, not a question.
- You're thinking of Captain Seol.
Woon didn't answer. Mago took it as a confirmation.
- I knew he wanted more, she said, in a simple observation. Did you want more ? You don't have to tell me if it bothers you.
There was a slight crack in the ceiling, all curved, which looked strangely like the course of a river on a map. Woon wanted to go inside, hide in its folds, never come out (I thought about you relentlessly if you want to be with someone else).
- I don't know, he eventually confessed, knowing it was a lie.
In fact, he had known from the moment the captain had confessed his attraction to him, under the disguise of a banal and meaningful statement. The soldier had told him "I thought of you" while admiring him insistently, with envy, with a painful desire inscribed on the slightest of his facial features, and Woon had known, in a blink of an eyelash, that the man had destroyed all his chances of truly seducing him one day. It wasn't his fault. Woon was just the way he was, and he wasn't provided with operating instructions that anyone could decipher.
You don't know me, he had pointed out to the captain, and the latter had then nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders, saying that it didn't matter, and Woon had understood, had nearly laughed in his face, because those things were always (always) important, and as the captain had spent the evening getting closer, trying to touch him, contemplating him as one would contemplate a well-stocked dinner table, insisting, searching for his gaze, Woon had seen and guessed that there had never been any attraction, any respect, but simply a bland and powerful old appetite, a concupiscence that said "possess" but not "love", an interest that screamed "mine" and not "his".
The captain had raised a hand and wanted to touch his hair, and Woon had backed away, because the game was over. The soldier had lost too quickly, and he stubbornly refused to accept it, like many others before him, because some part of him probably thought he was irresistible and convincing, and maybe he was and could have been for anyone other than Woon, whose standards were not the same, and never would be.
In the hot spring water, as the captain attacked and tried in vain to charm, Woon's mind was filled with memories of before and other hot springs, arguments, curly hair tied in a bun, disappointment, and unsaid things (autumn leaves). Everything had been over then. The captain had been eliminated from the game : he had certainly played at a disadvantage, like Kenzo before him, but the result had been the same. If he wanted more, thought Woon, before decreeing : never. Mago and Yeong-Ja had witnessed the captain's attempts to seduce him, and it was mainly because of his attitude that they agreed to leave Sochko earlier.
Woon felt far away and sick and sad for no reason, maybe because his thoughts were poisoning themselves with old things, and he barely reacts when he heard Mago get up, pull herself out of her yo to go and light a small lamp, and then search in her bag. He didn't question her, but was nevertheless surprised to see her take out a small wooden bowl and a pocket that Woon recognized immediately, for having placed in it the plants that had been provided to him by the Herbalist.
- What are you doing ? he inquired, straightening up slightly on his bed.
Mago went out for a short while, and when she came back, the bowl was full of water.
- I can't relax, and you cannot either, she remarked. I can't spend the night like this. I'm making us wormwood.
- The one the Herbalist gave us ?
- Do you see any other wormwood ? the girl replied defiantly, placing the bowl over the flame of the lamp to heat its contents. Don't worry. It won't have anything to do with the mixture he made you drink, or with the clearings, for that matter. I take wormwood when I feel down. You'll see. I promise you'll feel much better. It's always the case for the gwishins, with wormwood.
- Have you seen a lot of them take it ?
- What do you think ? The living have their alcohol and their drugs. We have the plants and the hot water. We need it more than they do, if you ask me. They have sleep.
Woon granted her the point, and agreed to drink when she brought the bowl to him first, after she had finished cutting the wormwood into small, very fine pieces that she had dipped in the water once it had begun to smoke. Don't forget to swallow at least one of them, she warned him, otherwise it doesn't work as well. She said nothing afterwards, emptied the rest of the bowl almost in one go, then went to put it near her bag, blew out the candle from the lamp, and went back to bed. Now we're waiting for it to kick in, she said. You'll see, it's like falling asleep.
The room regained its calm, its immobility. Woon, not knowing what else to do, started to stare at the ceiling again. Mago, although he didn't see her completely, was still observing the city. In spite of what the girl had said, he remained vigilant, because the last mixture of plants he had been given had shown him the grave and the thing, with its empty eyes and (autumn leaves). Not a single breath disturbed the serenity of the room. Woon took a look at Mago, who was lying on her side now, quiet as a painting.
(there's someone next to you)
(you should look)
He obeyed, turned his head gently, barely overwhelmed with a hint of the fear and confusion he had felt after drinking the Herbalist's beverage. He wasn't even surprised to see Dong Soo lying next to him, on his side, standing on one elbow, his cheek pressed against his fist. He smiled, almost mischievously. His hair, loose, curly, was encircling his face, making him look younger, more ferocious, more animal. Woon would have given the country without hesitation to plunge his hands into it and feel their texture, bring them against his mouth, against his nose, breathe them in and let them suffocate him.
Hi, Dong Soo said to him, without really being here, but looking like he was, smiling more confidently, as if he was happy and amused to find himself in such a situation.
- What are you doing here ? Woon asked, a little stupidly, without being unable to formulate anything more intelligent.
- You tell me, Dong Soo replied, looking furiously satisfied with himself and shrugging his shoulders. It's your bed.
- It's my bed, Woon repeated.
- It's your bed, Dong Soo answered, and he made a movement with his head, a forward tilt of his chin, that seemed to suggest a thousand things.
He was wearing a white, loose tunic. The blanket wrapped him up to the middle of his waist. They were both in Woon's bed, and Woon was brought back to Hanyang, during the Dead Winter, when Dong Soo had offered his warmth for their survival, for him and Hui Seon.
Woon's mind, which was becoming cloudy, foggy, in a good way however, sent him back with an airy delicacy the image of Captain Seol and his eyes that had wanted to look deep into his own (I thought of you relentlessly).
- He tried to seduce me, he dropped without even realizing it, and his hand rose up to the open collar of Dong Soo's tunic, grasped the white cloth, and slipped it between his fingers, realizing that he was (real).
(he had this before I've done this before I remember on the way home it was before the (leaves) I told him we had to be careful)
- That's good, Dong Soo remarked, in an appallingly friendly and indifferent voice. I told you I don't have a problem with that, you know. If he pleases you, you shouldn't hesitate.
Woon let go of his collar, his hand falling back on the blanket. He felt, underneath, Dong Soo's legs close to his own, and an impression of warmth, the same as that of the hot springs, but of a different kind, more caressing, more voluptuous, more lethargic.
- What if I have a problem with that ? he opposed him, almost dryly.
Dong Soo looked sincerely surprised.
- What, him pleasing you ?
- No.
- Him seducing you, then ?
Woon shrugged his shoulders in response. Dong Soo's face was amazingly clear, and Woon felt (felt) him close, languid, wonderfully accessible.
- I have to admit I don't really understand, Dong Soo finally confessed.
- He doesn't know me, Woon said, after weighing the pros and cons, and realizing that it didn't matter. He doesn't even know I'm a Gwishin. If he did, he would try to kill me. He doesn't know me.
- And you think he doesn't want to, Dong Soo concluded with a colossal acuity, because he had always been like that, especially when it came to Woon (he doesn't know me). You think he doesn't care. You think he is a hunter, and you are the prey.
- Yes.
- Oh, Woon-ah, honey, Dong Soo sighed and laughed very softly, with immense tenderness and a touch of affectionate joking. You're much too smart for your own pleasure sometimes.
He then leaned towards him, covering him without really daring to touch him at all, and buried his face in Woon's neck, who felt something inside him shiver and tremble and (vibrate) with a convulsive and delirious joy when Dong Soo's breath and then lips touched his cold and dead skin, warm, real, alive. He looked briefly towards Mago, which was still facing the city.
She hadn't moved. She probably couldn't hear him, or be too lost in her own illusions to pay any attention to him. Woon sought Dong Soo's contact, pressed his forehead against his, held them together, languidly, peacefully, without a word. With one hand, he pushed Dong Soo's long curls backwards.
- He seemed nice, though, Dong Soo murmured with a voice that was meant to be reasonable. And he said you were a good fighter. I never said that.
- You were twelve years old, Woon objected, holding him against him as he had done years before, once, at the royal palace, when they were twenty.
Dong Soo's arm wrapped around his waist under the blanket, bringing him closer, drawing a sigh of pleasure from him, and Woon felt his own back arch in response, and he smiled when Dong Soo's hand slightly pushed back his nightshirt and caressed the skin on his belly.
- He doesn't know me, Woon insisted. Neither did Kenzo. Neither did the others. They only see what they want.
- You never give them time, Dong Soo observed candidly. My love, if you could just give them a little more time...
- I don't want to, Woon said. It will never be right. It will never work. I know it won't. I don't need to give them time.
- Never ?
- Never.
Dong Soo interrupted his caresses, pressed his forehead again against Woon's. His expression had become serious, and vaguely worried.
- And with me ? he then asked, and his voice had become anxious, deeply vulnerable and painful. Would it work with me ?
- I don't know, Woon confessed, feeling ashamed all of a sudden, and sad. Sometimes I think about what would happen if I found out that it wouldn't work after all.
- So you thought about it ?
Woon nodded.
- Since always.
Dong Soo pressed a long kiss against the back of his neck where he could have heard his heart, if it had still been beating.
- It's okay, he whispered devoutly. We've been like this for years, darling. You know I don't care. You know that.
- I don't want to hurt you, Dong Soo-yah, I swear.
- No, Dong Soo assured him immediately in a soft, soothing, loving voice. Of course not. Woon-ah, we've always been like this. It doesn't matter. My love, it never mattered, if only you knew...
Dong Soo kissed him, caressed him, pressed him close to him, and said, "It never mattered," and Woon drew him closer to him, held him tight, buried his face in his shoulder, and they stayed like that for a long time, in his bed, waiting for the day to come.
