Notes.

Complete sypnosis : In 1776, a few months after the execution of Heuksa Chorong's Sky Lord Yeo Woon, the dead resurrect throughout the kingdom of Joseon. Lost and traumatized, they desperately seek to rejoin their families and friends. But the living, fearful and terrorized by a phenomenon they cannot explain, reject them, and the government deploys severe repressive measures against them. After his resurrection, and forced to hide like his peers, Yeo Woon is confronted with a questioning of his identity, a choice of sides between the living and the dead, and above all the unspoken aspects of his relationship with Baek Dong Soo, responsible for his death ten years earlier.

This story, built around four main arcs, presents itself as a sequel to the original drama, and follows the development of several characters, living and dead, through a society fragmented by resurrection with ethical, social and moral questions.

Table of Contents (11/12/2020) :

First Arc : The Resurrection (chapters 1-24, written between august and october 2020)

Interlude : The Coffin

Second Arc : The Exile (chapters 25-41, written between november and december 2020)

Interlude : The Kingdom

Third Arc : The Island of the Dead (chapters 42-73, written between january and april 2021)

Interlude : The Other Place

Fourth Arc : The Peacock with a Hundred Eyes (in writing)

Just a few clarifications before you dive in.

1°) First, this is an original french work (yes, baguette, croissant, that's my country, fellows). I've written a few pieces of fanfic in french on for the Death Note Fandom and I've discovered Warrior Baek Dong Soo and the world of drama in 2012 (exactly, long time ago, in a galaxy far far away). I haven't been able to let go since then. I've always wanted to write about them, but couldn't find the courage to post anything, until now, cause I've finally reach a stage where I'm not to disappointed in my writing and ideas. The plot of the story is set-up, but I'm not sure if I will be able to post regularly, since I'm also trying to finish a thesis (yes, I'm an masochistic). I will do my best nevertheless !

I decided to translate for multiples reasons, two of them being the challenge of it, and the fact that this fandom (and website) is mainly english. This is my second try on translation. I sincerely hope there won't be too many mistakes, but should you ever see one, feel free to come and point them out at me ! I'm using a free translator website (not Google Translate, promise) and my own knowledge of the Shakespearean language (the first one is sadly more efficient). This story was first published on AO3 since august 2020, but after a bad experience there, I decided to repost it on FF.

2°) This is an Alternative Universe happening after Yeo Woon's death in the drama (hello darkness my old friend). I tried to make plot for a fanfiction with him being saved and still alive, but I couldn't get it right, so here we are (I hate myself sometimes). This story will deal with some dark issues, like suicide, the grieving process in general, murder, xenophobia and struggling with sexuality (among others). Original characters will also appears : they don't bite, I promise. If you feed them :).

3°) This story was mostly inspired by four things :

- "In the Flesh", a BBC Three award-winning series about a teen who returned from the grave to this family after being "normalized" (aka taking medecine to stop wanting to eat people's brain), and who has to adjust to the difficulties of this new state of living in a quite homophobic and xenophobic village. Oh, and he killed himself. Remind you of someone (I'm gonna cry in that corner) ?

- "Giselle", a romantic and very sad ballet about a young girl (Giselle) who falls in love with a guy (Albrecht), but the guy is betrothed to another rich lady in secret, and when Giselle finds out, she become insane and dies. The second act is about Giselle rising from her grave to join the Wilis (the ghostly spirits of maiden betrayed by their lovers) and trying to save Albrecht from dancing to death until sunrise. Yes, the second act is the major inspiration. Dong Soo and Yeo Woon are so Giselle and Albrecht that I just had to.

- "Tokyo Ghoul", a japanese manga and anime settled in a alternate reality where creatures called "ghouls" have invaded Tokyo and eat human flesh to survive. They hide from the human population. The story follows a young man called Ken Kaneki, who turns into a ghoul after surviving an encounter with one. My inspiration comes essentially from how Kaneki deals with his change of status (which implies killing people to eat, having to fight and to hide) and how it affects his relationship with his childhood best friend (these two are also endgame, but that's another topic).

- "Kingdom", the Netflix Korean serie about a zombies apocalypse in the joseon era. Not the major inspiration, but still, I thought it was nice to have a different timeline for the zombies disaster.

4°) This story will have two endings. The first one is a bittersweet ending who will be "still on a high note, but one that is mixed with sadness and nostalgia" (from the "Tropes" wiki). It means it won't be extremely happy, but it won't be horrible either. That ending will be the official one. The other one, the alternative ending, is a much harder, violent and unhappy ending qui will be, in a way, worst than the one of the original drama. Have no fears though : the two endings will be written as two separate chapters, and you will be able to choose the one you like the most, I promise ;).

I hope you will enjoy !

Sountrack : from the beginning to the end of the chapter

Violin Concerto 2nd Movement (The Round Up Soundtrack)

PROLOGUE

"Those who are dead are never gone / They are in the Shadow (...) / The Dead are not under the

Earth : They are in the Wood (...) / in the Water (...) / in the Crowd (...) / The Dead are not dead. "

(Birago Diop,"Breaths")

a. The First Resurrection

The first Gwishin, who appeared on the territory of the kingdom of Joseon, lived for several days among his living peers as a normal and sensible individual. It was the fall of 1767, and there were whispers about the declining health of King Yeongjo, who was allegedly suffering from a persistent fever. Everyone understood that the monarch was subject to these seasonal afflictions every year, but none were unaware of his age nor of the promising youth of his heir, Prince Yi San. Fields and inns were filled with gossip from the capital and entertainment houses, where gisaengs received their usual influx of customers, were the scene of passionate conversations. Motivated to stay warm and escape the icy breeze that heralded a harsh winter, people crowded the stalls with a pleasant regularity and between poems, passionate conversations and speculation about the dying ruler, herbalists made their turnover for the year. No one noticed In Monchang. No one knew that death could not be definitive. It was hard to blame anyone for this: education had always taught people the opposite, and life had proven it so.

In Monchang had been a landowner from the south of the country, owning a plot a few kilometres away from the city of Namwon. He had died at fifty-five from heart attack, caused by a combination of factors including a highly excessive consumption of alcohol, a hot-headed temperament and, above all, a rhythm of life which had killed more than one before him. The intense heat of 1756 had taken a heavy toll on his health when he went to Namwon to negotiate the price of his crops (for which he received a large percentage and left a few crumbs to his peasants, whose living conditions were even worse). He had been found lying on the ground not far from a small village specialized in the cloth trade, his horse peacefully nibbling the grass in a meadow a few metres away. He died a few hours later, as a doctor looked on together with his slightly dazed wife. Their three children, who had long married and lived separately, hurried to their mother when the news reached them, expecting to find her devastated.

Against all odds, their mother, after mourning the suddenness of the tragedy, sold her house and land and returned to Hanyang as soon as she could. Talkative neighbours claimed that the woman had a lover there and that her husband's loss, violent and unfaithful as he had been, had meant hardly anything to her. In reality her two sons and daughter found her with her parents, in the clothing shop she had worked at before her marriage. They nevertheless agreed with the rumours that she seemed happier and returned to their own spouses and children after a 'fair' distribution of the inheritance of the land sold, where the boys gleaned most of the loot and the girl was left with all the tenderness of her deceased father. The affair provoked a brawl between the families that lasted for the decade following the death of the patriarch. When In Monchang rose from his grave after eleven years of 'eternal' rest, bewildered, in a mild madness due to the shock of waking up under several layers of earth, no one recognized him. No one welcomed him.

He had been buried in the cemetery of the village where he had settled and therefore had no trouble finding his way back. His late-night interrogations with the Namwon police revealed that he thought he had merely slept for a few hours. He found his house in ruins, his crops replaced by others. His wife and children were missing. Houses had changed, he didn't recognize the names of his former neighbors (most of them had left the village to go to Namwon, where there were better job opportunities). He thought it was an attack, or mass murder. Terrorized, and paralyzed by incomprehension, he chose to sleep in the rubble of his former home, which seemed safer than the outside world, only to discover that he could not sleep. Filled with anguish, he had finally set out to go around the village in search of a horse or an awakened soul: he had found neither, and after some thought decided to leave by foot in the direction of Namwon, for lack of a better plan. He reached the city at dawn.

Several times he remembered his awakening, the confusion that he had experienced, and where it had taken place. He convinced himself as he walked that his family had pronounced him dead too soon, after his fainting due to weakness in the afternoon. He had no money and his former business colleague, whose larger investments had all resided in his partner's land, had gone bankrupt less than six months after his death. He had left the pleasant home he occupied to travel north, where living was cheaper. He sought information from the new residents, but they had no idea where the former owner lived. He had lost his bearings in Monchang. He was hungry and couldn't afford a meal, too depressed to notice his lack of thirst or the colour of his skin under his tunic. He would do it in the evening, alone in an alley. Unbeknownst to him, his eyes were opaque and black, earning him dubious looks from passerby who associated it with a particular eye disease rather than with a sign of previous death.

At the sight of his severely discoloured skin, In Monchang's terror had been so great that he had tried to find a doctor. The one he had found quickly gauged him, took note of the unusual condition of his eyes, but diagnosed him as hungover and advised him dryly to go back to cold water, without even letting him explain his symptoms. Winter was fast approaching, and the streets were quickly seeing themselves inhabited with sick people. In Monchang, if one didn't look at the rags on his hanbok or the pallor of his face and his dark, glassy eyes, looked relatively healthy. Completely disoriented, hungry for meat he remembered that he wanted red and bleeding, he had wandered the streets of Namwon for three days. He lived off of begging and the compassion of people who saw him crying alone, hiding away in a corner.

In an inn he had once frequented, the hunger had finally reached a critical stage. A pretty innkeeper brought him a bowl of rice, paid for by the generosity of passers-by. He had been unable to contain himself. He thanked her by digging his teeth into the tender, pink muscles of her arm, his mind full of hunger hunger hunger hunger hunger. Nothing had made sense anymore. The girl was dead. Imprisoned, interrogated and (to little success) tortured at the Namwon police station, In Monchang had sobbed about his missing family and his summer weakness. The police had understood who he was, the doctor was brought back, and his wife and children were brought back to identify him. They all recognized him without a doubt, and none seemed to understand. At first, they called it a miracle and the rumour spread throughout the country. Then the doctor had examined his former patient, saw the signs, and concluded that there was an existential impossibility. After learning his conclusions, the wife had fainted. The police had remained silent in terror. Meanwhile, all over Joseon, thousands of other In Monchangs were rising from their graves and returning home.

b. The Doxa

Early on, once the news was widely spread around the country, people were quite happy to see their missing loved ones return, mostly when they died in tragic circumstances. No one was able to explain the event and some, who had - or claimed to - have access to the mystical ways, warned people against any desire to know more.

"The dead are alive. This is the work of the Gods. Men don't have to understand it."

It was written on rain-soaked paper, on the walls, it was heard in the discussions of passing troupes that came to entertain the small villages. For some, including the majority of Joseon's subjects, this raising of the dead brought a flurry of questions and alarms that prevented even the most experienced from sleeping in peace. Had they done something forbidden? Was it a punishment? Was there some kind of deregulation somewhere, in the place where the dead went once their spirits had been extinguished? Had a rule been broken? An assembly of some of the country's most renowned theologians, scientists and literary scholars assiduously studied the subject, putting aside all the other questions and problems that had until then made up their daily lives.

As soon as the king was informed - and he was informed very early on - he sent his best experts on site and demanded that doctors take a look at the miracle, dissect and explain it. Answers were expected and the country roared with impatience, under his apparent joy. Most of the dead were returned to their families. When they had some family members still remaining and alive, the latter most often managed to welcome the newcomer (or returnee) and hurried to the rooftops to shout out the good news. The houses, large and small, entered into a friendly and mischievous competition that did not last. Within weeks, the dead, who had been called "Gwishins", literally "ghosts", went from being a wonder of the world to an absolute nuisance.

They had returned in great numbers, and they took their place in a country that could barely accommodate and feed its subjects. Moreover, they were not always welcome. Some were unloved, sometimes rightly so, but more often than not without any justification whatsoever. The government did not know what to do with them. They were offered work, but the living population was quickly threatened by such an eventuality, as they themselves were already struggling to find a place in society. They did not drink, but they did consume food, space and time. They were out of phase, because most of them had been dead for several years already, and desperately lost in a world that had no real time to give to their distress, too busy as it was with its own.

They made everyone uncomfortable, despite the happiness they brought with their reappearance: they destroyed beliefs, hopes, myths and a scientific truth that was thought to be eternally established. They began to frighten people with their appearance, their haunted expressions, their veiled eyes. The honeymoon phase, during which all the inhabitants had deluded themselves into believing that it was some kind of common fantasy, came to a definite end when the monarch saw a dozen of his ancestors return and when Gwishins, without families or landmarks, began to attack people for meat and, when they had none, to eat their flesh. The living, breaking their facade of gentleness and enthusiasm, revealed an interior full of hatred, anguish and denial.

The king and his returned ancestors quarreled, loyalties within the government fell apart, and the sovereign, as confused as his subjects, took advantage of a massive and intense movement of doubt during which no one knew what to say, what to do, or where to turn, to secretly order the execution of all former regents and their partners, male or female, who might be a threat to his reign. At the time, evidence had surfaced that the Gwishin could be killed for a second time, but only if they were decapitated. The executioners, when they were brought to the sovereign, swore to him before the gods that the resurrection was most likely a single event and that none of the dead who had been killed in this way had ever returned. Only the separation of brain and body seemed to provide an adequate solution to the assumed immortality of ghosts.

The monarch saw no other alternative, or rather refused to consider any other. His son, Prince Sado, had come back and tried to get in touch with Crown Prince Yi San, and the latter had been sent away from the palace by the king as soon as the first ancestors had appeared. Yeongjo summoned them all to a private banquet one evening, slipped a lethal dose of sleeping decoction into their dishes as a precautionary measure, assured them that they would discuss the issue of the throne the next day, and during the night sent a brigade of soldiers who had remained loyal to him to assassinate each of them one by one. None of them really slept, but the incredible amount of poison in their food at least somewhat reduced their agility and made them more vulnerable. Some fought back with a tenacity that cost the monarch a few men. The former kings Seongjong and Jungjong managed to escape, accompanied for the former by his wife Jeheon, who had come back to life as he did, and for the latter by two of his last concubines. Some of their followers left the palace with them. Early in the morning, from the top of his throne, Yeongjo looked down on his ministers, stared at their pale faces, and ordered the purge to begin.

The king's will was not unanimously well received, but it was meticulously followed. The army was sent to every town, country and village. The Gwishins, who were miraculous at first, gradually became hunted not only by the military but also by their relatives, who saw them as unnatural beings and the sign of divine punishment. No answer had been found regarding their return, as the doctors were struggling to explain how a spirit could function in a body where no heart was beating and no blood was circulating. The wounds of the dead produced a black liquid. People panicked. Distraught families tried to hide those who had reached them after emerging from the ground: calculating the risks, the king declared that any complicity with a Gwishin would be punished.

They began to kill the living. The dead, when they were not captured and massacred in a complete chaos, moved away from the populated areas to take shelter in the most inaccessible parts of the country, in the mountains, gaining a precarious security, but better than in cities. It was claimed that many of them crossed the border into China, or sneaked aboard a boat to Japan or Jeju Island. Yeongjo, fearing an opportunity for the neighbouring monarchies to take advantage of a weakness in Joseon, had the border guard strengthened. After three months, the country regained a certain peace, which meant that the dead became scarce among the living and disappeared to more remote areas. The king began to regain his empire over his subjects and his government.

The second resurrection struck mercilessly three years later.