Another Generation Winds Down
Another generation is winding down, I see.
“Agh...”
There it goes again. A short haircut was so wonderfully convenient, and then I sleep and wake up and it's grown right back.
You'd think immortality would mean the body just stays frozen as-is. Instead, whenever I get hurt or sick, it always reverts to its original state.
Well, at least my height and weight won't be changing on me. Small mercies.
Knock knock.
“Haneul-nim, are you awake?”
“Yep! Come on in~”
Who else comes by in the morning? It has to be Mara.
“Oh my? Your hair's grown back.”
“Yeah. So heavy...”
“Shall I trim it once every morning, then?”
“Sure, why not?”
I could keep the cut hair and use it for ink. It's my own hair, and it still fascinates me.
Yesterday I held some up to the sunlight for the first time, and a rainbow shimmered through the strands like flowing water. They say the ink does the same. No counterfeiter in the world could fake that — it's not just rainbow-colored, the light actually moves.
“How's the ink working out? I hear they go through a lot of hair for it.”
“Apparently not as much as you'd think. They said what I took yesterday will last a few hundred years.”
That's only because the population is small right now. One look at the children running around outside and you'd swear we're on the verge of a population explosion. A few hundred years at today's rate probably means just a few years down the road.
By the way, if they're planning to make paper currency, paper matters too...
“Haneul-nim~”
“Woori's here?”
Mara and Jiwoo's son, Woori. A sly little creature I half-suspect is living his second life.
Squish.
A five-year-old has no business knowing what he knows, yet he nestles into my arms like it's the most natural thing in the world, hands wandering somewhere they shouldn't.
“Woori, how old are you?”
“Five.”
“Aigoo~ aren't you precious.”
I can't exactly ask, are you a second-lifer or what? It's deeply unsettling. Well, it's not like anything wears out from him fiddling with it. Do as you like, kid.
Let's see how you like it when you're sixty.
Flinch.
“Hmm? Woori, are you cold?”
“Y-yeah. Scary... Mommy~”
Quick little thing. He's bolted straight to his mother. But the young lamb already has quite the record behind him.
Meanwhile, they've been cutting my hair for the paper currency and I've heard absolutely nothing since. Should I ask?
I was rolling around my room when a visitor arrived.
“Haneul-nim! It's Jiwoo, I'm here!”
Nobody must be outside, judging by how loudly he's bellowing.
“Come in.”
The door swings open under my telekinesis. Even though this is far from his first time seeing it, he just stands there blinking, straining as he wheels something in on a handcart.
“And what is that supposed to be?”
“You told me before that a sundial could tell the time, remember? So I built one.”
On the cart sat a strange, concave, cauldron-like bowl. Wait — isn't that the sundial Uncle Jang Yeong-sil made back in the Joseon era?
Now that people can actually make a decent living, ideas come to him and take shape in no time at all.
Is this really okay, though? China, meanwhile, is still teetering on the edge of crawling out of the stone age...
Eh, who knows. It's all a glorious mess anyway.
Wow. He really put care into this. The curve is carved so you can read not just the hour but a rough date, too.
He must have lived in the blacksmith city for a good while — it takes real patience to work this finely.
“Even at a glance I can tell it's good. You worked hard. Well done.”
“Ah! You recognized it!”
Judging by how delighted he is, the crowds must have shrugged it off when he showed it around.
“Just remember — this thing only keeps correct time here.”
“Yes. That's why we're taking measurements at set intervals. The number of observatories has grown quite a bit.”
Oh. Now that is impressive. Daehan's territory is hardly small anymore — matching time across it takes exactly this kind of groundwork.
And he figured that out on his own?
So he's no ordinary slacker after all. Is that why Cheol keeps whaling on him?
I suppose I owe him one more secret, then.
“Let me teach you something fun. It'll help with your work.”
“Ooh!”
Time to bring out the magnet and needle I stashed away long ago. I'd been waiting to see whether Jutae or Jiwoo would come first — Jiwoo won the race.
Now then. Hang the needle from a thread, give one end a good vigorous rub with the magnet, give it a spin...
“Now, watch the needle.”
The needle, whirling for a long while, finally came to rest. Oh? That direction... the sun's over there, so that must be north.
“Watch closely — I'll spin it again.”
The needle twirls and twirls, and stops at north again.
“Whoa...”
Look at those eyes going saucer-wide.
“Here — a magnet and a needle. Why does this happen? Work on it hard with your people. It'll be useful.”
“(Mutter mutter)...(mutter mutter)…”
Not a sane man, that one. He shuffled off mumbling to himself, leaving the sundial behind.
Haha. And now I've officially run out of tricks up my sleeve.
A plateau is coming, then.
But that plateau isn't a stop. It's a crouch before a far greater stride.
Might the computer arrive a little early? It'd be nice to play some games. I'm pretty enough — maybe I could try streaming too?
“It's snowing.”
“It's really coming down.”
“Hey. You're plenty old now — why do you still tag along with your mother to visit me?”
The boy, grown tall as a sapling, presses his face into my chest again. It's gotten kind of gross. I figured he'd grow out of it, but not a thing has changed.
“Because you're here, Haneul-nim.”
Ugh, this creepy creature. He looks exactly half like each of his parents.
“Go study. You need to become someone useful to the country.”
“Haha, I study quite a lot as it is.”
Easy for him to say. He really is brilliant — what is he planning to do when he grows up?
“If you're bored, go help your father. You're clever, aren't you?”
“That part's no fun.”
Not a science man, then?
“I've been shadowing Great-grandfather instead.”
Politics, huh... Hmm. A politician with a good head on his shoulders is genuinely valuable — but when that cleverness points the wrong way, nothing on earth is more exhausting.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Because if you do anything wicked later, you're getting scolded.”
“I would never do anything to defy you, Haneul-nim.”
You couldn't if you tried. It wouldn't end at having your legs shattered. Your whole family's foundations would be ripped out by the roots.
Cheol had better whip him into shape properly. The man's muscles are still holding on, but he's gotten so old. Him too.
Another generation will slip away before I know it.
Were these the turbulent generations of sweeping change? I'm truly curious how the history books will remember them.
Will people ever learn what "iron-blooded" really meant?
“Kukukuk.”
“...?”
“Hey. Hey. Stop sneaking your hands toward my waist and hips and go bother your grandfather instead.”
The brat is still shorter than me, so whenever he hugs me his hands land right there — and he exploits it with utter shamelessness.
“Yes...”
“You. What exactly do you plan to do when you're sixty and I tease you about all this?”
“Gah!”
You're family — surely you've heard the stories? About how far Cheol's dignified image has fallen?
Well, you're already beyond saving anyway. See you in about fifty years.
Today, of all days, Jutae summoned me down to the riverbank. The boat must finally be finished.
“It's been far too long, Haneul-nim.”
“There you are. I'd assumed you'd died of old age.”
“It took a while.”
Does he feel bad about the delay? Ah, unlike that muscle-brained friend of his, this one's the delicate sort.
“Is it? I just wanted to watch longer and plan it properly.”
“Oh! Then if I succeeded quickly, that means I work fast!”
Don't you think that's a rather convenient change of stance?
He's got the thing floating on the water, so the waterproofing must have worked out. Nice and true — a pleasure to look at.
“The paddlewheels are still on it?”
“Yes. For steering alone, they seemed best.”
Fair enough — with oars you'd need everyone rowing in sync, so tying and untying ropes would be a nightmare.
“Can I ride it this time?”
“Yahaha. Of course, Haneul-nim.”
Creeeak, creeeak.
With the sail catching the wind and the paddles churning, we're making surprisingly good speed upriver?
No, hold on. Look at those muscles on Jutae. Isn't he just brute-forcing this?
Yep. The eternal, unchanging truth of the universe: when you're strong, life is easy.
Jutae eventually distilled everything he knew about shipbuilding and founded a proper shipyard in Ryeonhwa.
The shallows in front of Sinsi were hopeless for it, he declared, and off he went.
“Sob, sob. Haneul-nim, I don't want to leave!”
Then why are you crying and clinging when you're the one who insisted on going?
“Go and work hard. I'll drop by to visit now and then.”
“You promise?!”
I'm sure an occasion will come up eventually.
At Ryeonhwa, they'd now turn to researching great ocean-going vessels, while the know-how for little ferries was written up and spread to every city. Everyone lives along the rivers, after all — water transport is the lifeblood of the realm.
If we could just keep this up, no wars, no fighting, population bubbling away merrily — wouldn't that be lovely.
“QUIET, you scoundrels!~”
BANG.
There he goes again. Our iron-blooded Chancellor, detonating on schedule today as well. How old is Cheol now? Honestly remarkable.
“Khof. Khof.”
Old age must finally be catching him — he choked on his own shouting. Goodness. That's why I keep telling him to rein in the temper.
“Woori. How old is your grandfather these days?”
“Great-grandfather, Haneul-nim.”
The boy has lost every ounce of cuteness. Is he all grown up now? Feels like yesterday I was changing his diapers.
He towers over me now too. Good genes run deep in that family, apparently.
“Seventy-seven, I believe.”
Incredible. Practically a supercentenarian — and still bellowing at full lungs in the ancient world. Astonishing, truly.
He's probably still stronger than me, too.
“Are you planning to do that job too?”
“Naturally, it's my duty.”
“Why?”
It can't be an easy gig.
“Because it lets me see you up close, Haneul-nim.”
“Bleeeugh.”
Where does he pick up this nonsense? Is someone tutoring him in it?
“What is this, a marriage proposal?”
“What? Why on earth would I?”
Huh? So that's not it?
“Do you have any idea how many years apart we are? What terrifying words you speak, Haneul-nim.”
You little wretch. How humiliating. If I destroyed the evidence, I'd at least be spared kicking my blankets in my sleep over it.
“Do you want to die?”
“Ahaha, look at the time — I really must be going.”
Hehe. Waaah. How embarrassing. Should I just die? No — killing him seems the better option.
Grrrragh! So this is what they call "death by shame"?
At long last, the currency has arrived.
“Honestly, Cheol...”
“Yes. Khof, khof.”
You scoundrel. You were bellowing at people just days ago and hammering disruptors flat in the council chamber — don't play frail with me.
“Why do you keep slapping my face on everything?”
“You're beautiful, aren't you? Someone ought to make a meal of that face.”
This is all my fault. The karma I sowed back in Haseo has gone and rewritten the very beauty standards of the Daehan people.
Black hair (rainbow, in truth), thick and even brows, long lashes as the baseline — eyes must be large, the nose straight, the lips red but never too full.
A narrow waist that makes the hips and chest look fuller atop a slender frame. And slender fingers to boot.
Hold on — why is everyone actually becoming that, though? Since when does wanting a body type make it happen?
Everybody used to be sturdy and broad-featured!
It's honestly startling how the streets keep filling with people wearing my likeness.
Are they all getting secret cosmetic surgery or something?
“At this rate I won't even be able to walk around anywhere, will I?”
“Do you truly believe there's a soul in this country who wouldn't recognize you, Haneul-nim?”
Ah, there it is. Those eyes blinking away in how absurd can you be exasperation! I want to jab a finger straight into them...
Poke.
“GYAAAAGH!”
“...Huh?”
Uh-oh. I actually got him? Um... is he okay?
“Sorry. It was a reflex.”
“WHY would you do that!”
Aigoo, a grandfather grown old and gray, tears streaming down his face. How am I supposed to explain that I did it out of spite?
“More importantly — way out east in Dongpyeong, they probably won't recognize me, right?”
“Shall we go and see?”
For all that blubbering and gloating, this is what you offer?
“...Why do you sound so ominous?”
“It happened on the day of a village feast. They say Haneul-nim descended among them in person.”
“Haa...”
It's not as if there's an internet or newspapers or anything, you know?
“What place in the land is without a statue or portrait of you...”
Ah. Right. We do have the painters.
By the way, your attitude has gotten awfully sulky over one little eye-poke. I really should have kept some leverage — but I've told every story from my childhood already. Nothing left to hold over anyone.
“Now that I think of it, so many people keep pouring into Sinsi. Is it because of me?”
“Half and half. Thanks to the sewers, Sinsi is a genuinely wonderful place to live.”
“Can't you build other cities like it?”
“We lack the manpower. Honestly, Sinsi was only possible because you dug the ground out for us, Haneul-nim.”
I suppose someday I'll have to go on a tour of the realm, carving out the earth as I go...