Will There Be Time to Rest?

The full-length mirror on the office wall held Hwang Seokgu. An old man stood there who resembled the youth in the photograph and was not him at all—changed by wrinkles, and by time.

The black hair, once a tiger's mane that anyone might have envied, had gone white. Skin that had been rough had rotted and sickened like the bark of a dead tree. A powerful body had slowed the aging, but the age spots could not be hidden, and time, creeping forward at its own pace, had weathered him down.

The passion and tenacity of youth had withered and gone cold. Cold experience and a practical cast of mind had crowded in to take their place. So as not to shame the comrades of his past, he had kept a speck of romance and a speck of conviction, and that speck had been the force that let him endure, until this day, as a hero of Korea.

To anyone else it must have seemed strange, even magnificent, that Hwang Seokgu—old enough by any reckoning for the coffin—still led from the front. A body so solid it would have reduced a decent bodybuilder to a squalling infant. Decades of hero work carried out in the dark, where it would not show. The leadership that had dragged the heroes of Korea, nearly wiped from the earth, up into the daylight. Hero work he went on with, steady as ever, even from a chairman's chair it was hard to so much as rise out of.

If the Hero Association he left behind did not set with the sun, if someone carried his will on, his name would remain in the textbooks. Just as Captain Earth's stood, proud, in the history books of the United States.

But of course Hwang Seokgu did not see it that way. He was a worthless man. A fool who had ‍‍‌‌⁠⁠‌‍‍‌⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠‌‌‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠failed to protect a single person within his reach. A loser who had kept his life only by other people's help, and lived on. Just lucky. Seated in a place far above anything he deserved.

"……Hoyeong. I don't have the face to look at you."

The beauty in the photograph, fox ears set upon her head. The tiger's wife, who had kept a fox's charm. Kang Hoyeong. A name he had called only in his heart, and never once brought out.

Hwang Seokgu stumbled over it as he spoke. It was the first time in decades that his living voice had shaped it, and still it was as vivid as if he had called her yesterday. His face was an old man's, worn out by the years and melted down. The name alone was lively, bright. No different from those young days.

"It isn't only you. Uncle Deoksu, Uncle Manchil, Brother Bongpal, that girl Mannam—every last one of them."

If I'd known they would go like that. If I'd known the going would be so hideous. We were meant to die together, or else live together. How did I end up the only one left?

"I thought time would make it all right."

If the dictator who held the government in his fist were to die, he had been sure they would meet again soon. Even if nothing was set right, he had been sure he would at least see their faces.

"No. Failing even that, I thought they were living well somewhere I didn't know."

When the dictator died short of his span, that was what he had thought.

"They weren't. I'd been thinking far too naively."

The truth had been wretched, and it had shaken the foundation of his heart.

"I succeeded on help from ‍‍‌‌⁠⁠‌‍‍‌⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠‌‌‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠my enemy's house. I didn't know a thing. I gobbled down whatever they handed me until we were bound so tight there was no pulling us apart."

He knew. Now was not then. The one who had driven that nightmare had died in misery, and the house that had committed the crimes had been dismantled, piece by piece, under the hand that judged them. Only three of that house remained in all the world. They were good. They were just. They could feel another person's pain, and they threw themselves into the world for its sake. They meant to root out ignorance and shoulder the sins of the generation before them. Far from running, far from looking away, they went forward one step at a time. They were finding their way back to what that house had been—the Guardians of Korea, as he had heard it told.

"I ought to be grateful. I ought to thank them. I ought to trust them."

That the past had been what it was did not give him the right to drag it all the way here. There were too few of the living left to call anyone to account. Search the whole country, and how many would he find? Someone who had watched soldiers beat a woman with brutal hands and haul her away. A villager who, on nothing but the suspicion of powers, snatched a child without a word. Someone who informed on an ability user living in hiding, just to get a little money. Someone who stood against outside pressure, swearing they would live for their family. A tiger of a man who had lost wife and child entire and went on living because he could not manage to die. Someone who felt the ache of that era, who had tasted its violence, who had lived through its senselessness. How many of them could possibly still be alive?

None. Those who had hounded him and those who had helped him, without distinction—all of them would be dead. Time would have taken them.

"Haa……."

A vengeance that had lost its bearings stayed in his chest. Rage welled up, and the rims of his eyes reddened. The flesh of his cheeks trembled as if a typhoon had struck it, and yellow fur, flecked white, was ‍‍‌‌⁠⁠‌‍‍‌⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠‌‌‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠blooming over his fists.

The anger that had settled and sedimented for years burst. A dam gate met a landslide and gave way. The rage ate into his whole body. His head spun. His heart beat out of rhythm. His face went pale, and the light at the corners of his eyes thinned.

In the full-length mirror, the old man's frame contracted. Muscle anyone might have envied shriveled like a balloon losing its air, and the face that had still worn the look of a man not yet truly old sagged like candle wax. Sickness stacked upon itself with every second. His vision dimmed. Sleep came over him.

"……No."

I can't afford to weaken. How many mouths are riding on these shoulders? Those kids have only just begun to stand like proper people, only just earned the right to hold their heads up. If I let them be driven back out onto the street……

He reached out fingers that had become worse than chopsticks and pressed the button beneath the reception table.

The door banged open.

"Chairman?!"

Min Yeongsik, summoned, flung it wide in a rush.

"Yeong—Yeongsik. Miryu. Call Miryu."

"Chairman, your face—!"

"Hur… ry…. Quickly."

"Ah! Mr. Dan Miryu! Please come quickly!!!"

Min Yeongsik tore down the hall, crying as he ran. A moment later Dan Miryu came pelting in, out of breath.

"Elder?!"

"Don't be startled……. That……."

Hwang Seokgu barely caught the ember as it went out. Dan Miryu clenched his teeth and opened the necklace.

"Mr. ‍‍‌‌⁠⁠‌‍‍‌⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠‌‌‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Yeongsik! Do not let anyone in!"

"Yes, sir!"

Life surged like a wave. A sea beyond all counting swallowed the dying old man. The flesh that had been slipping away stopped. The unfocused gaze blazed sharp, and the folded back drew itself straight. A body that had been a corpse was restored to something far more full of life.

"Hoo……."

Hwang Seokgu breathed out, feeling the clean relief of a stopped chest suddenly opened.

"Damn it. A little more and I'd have crossed over. I really almost died."

"Elder. What happened?"

Dan Miryu drew Life back and wiped the cold sweat from his brow.

"To change like this in so short a time. Was there something in that book I failed to see?"

"No. The book was fine. This is my problem."

"Surely not some incurable illness you could not speak of?"

"Not that either. If it were, it would have been healed by that long ago."

Hwang Seokgu rubbed his chest. The ache there still held anger he had not poured out.

"It's a sickness of the heart that broke out. What piled up over decades came down with this as the crack. In the old fight-tales, would you call it qi deviation?"

"Elder……."

"I'm all right. At this age, everyone lives carrying one or two of those. I just couldn't overcome it or forget it, and I left it there like a stubborn fool, and this mess is what came of it."

Hwang Seokgu gave a bitter smile.

"An unbecoming fuss. Fretting over a thing that hasn't merely passed, but ended."

"……Elder, do you remember what I said at the start?"

"That you'd explain after you'd looked at the book?"

"Yes. The truth is, the matter of the book is not finished."

"What……?"

Hwang Seokgu shot to his feet. His mouth thickened. His eyes turned to a tiger's.

"There are people still alive, to this day, who were tied to that experiment."

"Is that true……?"

"It is the truth."

Hwang Seokgu's eyes caught fire. A killing intent he could not hold stabbed at Dan Miryu in the shape of fangs.

"Who? That bastard I couldn't chew up and swallow and still feel satisfied?"

"First, the child who survived as a test subject—more precisely, the child we believe did—is under our protection."

"You don't mean……."

"Yes. The dragon that ran wild in Seoul the other day."

"Hah……."

Hwang Seokgu was struck dumb.

"They succeeded? That devil's experiment?"

"It is only a supposition, for now. We will know once we have heard it from the person herself."

"I see. Then who comes next?"

"Scientist."

The young man who had been director of the laboratory then.

"That man is still alive."

"Grrrrk."

A tiger's cry burst from Hwang Seokgu's throat, rage and joy in the same sound. Rage, that his enemy had not died but lived. Joy, that he could take his revenge on that enemy with his own two hands. Anger that had been no different from poison turned into fuel for living.

"Where is he? I want to go myself. I want to see that face with my own eyes."

"I feel the same, but please compose yourself. We have neither a location nor any proper intelligence."

"Then how did you know he was alive?"

"I telephoned Mr. Phantom and asked."

Dan Miryu slipped into the phantom thief's manner of speaking.

"He answered, 'Scientist is eating well and living well, and I expect he is still at his unethical research. But if you mean to look for him, give it up. He is Another One's man.'"

"Another One……?"

"Elder, there is truly a great deal to tell you today."

Dan Miryu settled him.

"Set the anger aside until later. The day that dam breaks will come. It cannot fail to."

At Dan Miryu's flat certainty, Hwang Seokgu drew a long breath and sat.

"……No going home today. I'm going to need a drink."

"Shall I order chicken?"

"Make it soup. Looking at the clock, we're a bit past lunch."

Hwang Seokgu bellowed at the door.

"Yeongsik!"

"Chairman, are you all right?!"

"I'm fine, so go buy two large sundae soups! And bring soju!"

"Sir?!"

"Just go buy it, brat! And send everyone home early today! Anyone still here at four is dead, you hear me!"

"I—I'll tell them!!!"

Hwang Seokgu straightened where he sat.

"Going to be a tiring day."

"It should not take so very long."