Live Long, Live Long

At Seoryeong's words, the magistrate froze mid-bleed, eyes bulging. Only then did he grasp who truly held the upper hand. He clasped his trembling hands together and begged the cool-faced boy for mercy.

"Th-this lowly one has always been prone to bewitching men, you see.... First she lets a little smile curl at the corners of her eyes, all soft-like, and then — and besides, rather than live under a stepmother's thumb, it's better to keep the village beautiful and proud! It's a good thing for us too, so you see...."

"Mm...."

Seoryeong lowered her eyes, as if the whole thing bored her. The moment his confession rang true, the magistrate's agony subsided, and he clutched the floorboards, heaving.

"You hear that?"

Seoryeong addressed someone. Water dripped — drop, drop — onto the back of the magistrate's hand. The icy temperature of it raised the hair on his neck.

An eerie flute wailed somewhere in the dark.

The drops began falling faster. Drip-drip-drip-drip. Drip-drip-drip-drip.... The magistrate knew instinctively: do not look up.Something had arrived before him.

Creeeak, creeeak, creeeak.... Along with a sound like a zither played with its strings gone slack, something dark slid into the edge of his vision.

"Hyiik—!"

Blood pooled at the tips of slender, porcelain-pale fingers. The instant his gaze traveled up the wound-riddled backs of those hands, his collar was seized. The magistrate, who had tried to bolt, tumbled straight off the pavilion. Seized once more by his robes, his head was plunged into the lake below.

"Phwah—! Ghk, urkgh—!"

His face plunged down, wrenched back up; the moment he gulped a desperate breath, down it went again. Four hands held him under.

"St-stop! Enough—! I was wrong, I was—! Jang-hwa! Hong-ryeon—! Ghk...."

He begged the two sisters. But it was a lie, spoken only because his lungs were burning. He felt no remorse at all.

"If I die I'll answer to the underworld— ghk! No — no, forgive me, I misspoke! ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I'm sorry, release your grudge, I beg—! Ghk, kghk—!"

His face kept plunging into the water. Starved of air, gasping and flailing, he compounded his agony with every false word. Water and blood streamed from his mouth in a ragged, ceaseless pour.

"There is no magistrate in Cheonmaekji anymore. The magistrate has lost his mind, you see, and now spends all day dunking his own head into the lake."

Seoryeong and Myeong-do delivered this flatly to Hwa-yeong, So-yeong, and the girls of the Hae-eohwa house below the pavilion. Far off in the distance, the magistrate went on dunking his head and hauling it out, alone, again and again.

"...Will he die like that?"

One of the younger girls asked. Seoryeong shook her head without a moment's hesitation.

"No. He lives like that for the rest of his life."

"...What?"

"What the magistrate swallowed wasn't just an ordinary needle. It's a kind of acupuncture needle.... He can't die easily. I pierced every blood-point in his body so that he'll live out his natural span — no more, no less."

He would drag out his wretched existence, mind gone, never once drawing a proper breath. That was the sentence Seoryeong had passed.

"Feed the wine you were given to the next magistrate as well. He won't be able to commit a single act of corruption."

Watching the women stand with their hands clasped tightly together, Seoryeong gave a shrug of her shoulders.

"Oh — and a word of warning. Leak the secret, and a needle will pierce straight down your throats too. Don't even think about any noble little confessions."

"...There is no one here foolish enough for that."

Hwa-yeong stepped forward as she spoke. Every emotion she had swallowed for so long now lay bare on that cold beauty's face — the face of a woman sorrowful and wronged, who had nonetheless been forced to go on living.

"Thank you. We will repay this debt one day, without fail."

When Hwa-yeong bowed her head, every girl in the courtyard bowed with her. Seoryeong scratched at the back of her neck and answered as though it were nothing at all.

"Forget it. It wasn't anything great. I'm off."

She turned her back without a trace of lingering and walked away. Myeong-do fell in behind her.

"Will you not at least tell us your name—!"

At Hwa-yeong's desperate cry, Seoryeong only waved a hand without turning around. Then she left a single line behind her as she went.

It was the finest blessing that one who had carried death beside her all her life could offer.

"Holy — that was insane."

IP 85.152 let go of the decorum he normally clung to until the very end. He liked this ending far, far too much.

"It wasn't just an adequate ending — it was better...."

They could simply have cut him down with one stroke, or thrown him in prison. He would have found either of those endings unsatisfying. But no — the magistrate would suffer for the rest of his days. Gagging on his own drowned breath while hundreds of millions of needles pierced his heart.

Time, by some strange mercy, galloped past.

Before she knew it, Seoryeong had lost control of the purse strings. Ever since that brawl incident, Myeong-do flatly refused to hand the money pouch back. Everything Seoryeong wanted to buy was waved off with a shake of the head.

"Hey! That's my money!"

"If you spend it so freely, nothing will remain. And while I am watching, you must not think of swindling coin out of anyone. Even though I look like this, I am on official duty."

"What does it matter? I'm going to die once it's all spent anyway."

Seoryeong hopped and scrambled, doing everything she could to snatch the pouch back, but Myeong-do only answered with a face deliberately set in stone.

"Because you might find that you want to live."

"......."

"Who is to say. In a kingdom made strong and firm by your own hand — you might find yourself longing for a new life."

Warm sunlight fell across Seoryeong's face. She blinked, once, twice.

"Ugh...."

Then she drove her heel into Myeong-do's shin without a shred of hesitation and stomped off ahead, grumbling under her breath.

"As if. Don't talk nonsense."

After that came the day she tried to order every last dish on the tavern menu and failed.

It was only just before they were to meet Jo-gwi that Seoryeong finally managed to talk her way into dressing as a woman, using the great mission as her excuse.

"Hey! Well? What do you think!"

After all that time in men's clothing, Seoryeong — beautifully turned out now — thrust her face forward, all confidence, at the man who still believed she was one of them.

The nuance written across her face was unmistakable. Devastatingly pretty, right? That expression of hers was almost painfully endearing.

"Hm. Indeed...."

Myeong-do gave a short nod.

"Perhaps because of your small frame — women's clothing suits you even better than I expected."

At that, Seoryeong kicked him in the shin again.

"Wait. Wait a second...."

IP 85.152's memory fired off like a struck match. A cross-dressed Seoryeong, and reactions this hot — that feeling. The feeling he had seen once before. The one that had made him cry, worn himself out begging to see it just once more, and wander all the way into a drama because of it....

"Let's go."

IP 85.152 switched IPs and composed a new post.

The K-Arts final performance video began its reverse-charting climb right after the drama's finale aired.

Gimyodam was on everyone's lips, day after day. Episode four's ratings had already crossed thirteen percent. It had chased Top Class all the way to its doorstep.

"Where are we on the InTube view count?"

"Up roughly fifty thousand from yesterday."

"Keep this up and we might actually make Trending...."

This was JC ENM's new Cheongdam headquarters, and today, as always, the PR team was grinding away. Every morning, work landed on them like a fire breaking out under their feet — and every morning, they had to stamp it out before nightfall.

It was no exaggeration to say that, at this moment, Gimyodam had swallowed the entire domestic drama conversation whole.

"Anyway — push the article now and watch the response. If we hit Trending, we rework the headline into 'the video currently taking Trending by storm' and run with that."

Even on days when Gimyodam wasn't airing, the drama stans and the public prowled for content like hyenas after a kill.

They poked through the original novel to see where the story came from, predicted how future arcs would unfold from the source material, and — above all — scavenged every corner of the cast's social media.

"How's Han Yeo-reum's follower curve looking?"

"She just passed five hundred thousand!"

A well-curated feed is, for a celebrity, a work in its own right. And Yeo-reum, doubling as an Music N MC, was shooting and uploading a fresh outfit look every single week.

A rising actor brimming with hooks and bait was, for the drama stans' fluttering hearts, nothing short of perfect.

Gazing out over an internet so flooded with Gimyodam talk that even the show's off-days felt like air days, Team Leader Hong allowed himself a smile. Beside him, Rookie Shin — gulping down coffee — hadn't spoken the word "leaving on time" once since episode one aired.

"Hey, easy on the coffee. You'll punch a hole in your stomach."

"I believe that hole already exists, sir...."

"Next week you'll have to drink even more. Save it all up for then."

"Why next week?"

Looking at Rookie Shin's glazed eyes, Team Leader Hong smiled benevolently.

"Yeo-reum has to run the Faster Than Law stage greetings."

In this very moment, Ae-ta-mi wanted it more than anyone alive. She channeled the energy of the entire universe down into her fingertips.

"Not coming to lunch?"

"My stomach's a little off today...."

Because it's too full. Because my heart is beating like a lunatic. Because if I miss this, I might actually die. She swallowed the rest of the sentence. She had to see the stage greeting. It was a rare offline event — she needed to lay eyes on her, in the flesh.

Yeo-reum... your unni is coming...!

She would bring an adorable headband, too, and take a thousand photos. Ae-ta-mi steeled herself with the solemnity of a knight taking vows. She would beat out the hordes of fans who'd only decided to come for Yoon Hyeon-jo after the trailer — and see Yeo-reum from the front row.

Tick. Tick. Tick....

The second hand of the clock she'd left running — a sound that couldn't actually be heard — rang in her ears like a hallucination. And then, the hour struck. The moment ticket sales opened.

"GO—!"

Ae-ta-mi locked onto the screen. The ticketing page loaded. Her hands flew. There would be no fan service handshakes here — she absolutely, unconditionally had to see Yeo-reum up close.

Row A, seat 10—!

Sweat beaded along the hand gripping the mouse. Because she'd logged in beforehand, the payment window popped up instantly. Ae-ta-mi hammered the payment-agreement button.

"GOT IT!!!"

Ae-ta-mi screamed into the empty office. She was still clutching her monitor, drunk on triumph, when her phone buzzed. Drama stan B. A call from Reporter Wi.

"Yo, I nailed the ticketing!"

The moment she answered, she crowed her victory — but the other end of the line was silent.

"Hey. You there?"

Ae-ta-mi prodded the reporter across from her. Reporter Wi finally spoke, her voice trembling.

Reporter Wi's voice was shaking. What was going on? Bewildered, Ae-ta-mi pulled the phone away from her ear for a moment — then tapped the app on her screen.

"Uh...?"

A notification badge reading +99 glared back at her. No way. No way, no way, no way...? Half-believing, she tapped it — and for a moment, words failed her completely.

"Yeo-reum made it to Trending!"

Comments were piling up, one after another, on a video she'd uploaded the winter before last.

"Yo, obviously this means—"

"It's already circulating as clips!"

It didn't take long for the screenshots and the clipped edits to spread along with it. Ae-ta-mi found that even without eating lunch that day, she was full.

"Aaand that wraps up homeroom—"

BANG!

The words were barely out of the homeroom teacher's mouth when a chair went clattering across the floor. Before anyone could process what was happening, the door flew open and someone bolted out.

"...Hey. Who the heck was that?"

"Han Tae-yang, sir."

Tae-yang ran, eyes on the watch strapped to his wrist. He tore across the broad schoolyard, bag clutched half-heartedly in one hand rather than properly on his shoulders.

On his phone's home screen, a calendar notification glowed.

"Ugh. This is going to be brutal...."

Tae-yang, sprinting like a madman, managed to snag the bus ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠just as it was pulling away from the stop. Today was the day of the Faster Than Law stage greetings.

Nothing to be done about it.

He'd won the ticketing war. Three tickets, no less. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Because Yeo-reum had only appeared for a few scant seconds in the trailer. Which meant that from here on out, Han Yeo-reum would be disappointed — that much was certain.

That attention-hog....

Picturing her, standing all alone next to Gwak Cheol-sik and Yoon Hyeon-jo while their fans swarmed around them, made one corner of his chest go quietly hollow. Awkwardly trading greetings with the crowd, then turning away, lonely, to face the reality that not a single fan in that theater had come for her....

Somebody has to go for her. Who else but me.

So this was the price of the crime of having a hopeless older sister.