The Thirty-First Assignment — Different Positions, Different Perspectives ⑧
His resolve had been confirmed. That being so, telling him was simply the proper thing to do. The Ten Kings eyed one another, each apparently wrestling with the question of who should speak first. An invisible, ferocious war of glances flew back and forth. Even personages as exalted as the Ten Kings, it seemed, were in no hurry to volunteer for a story this troublesome.
"Why don't you take this one, King Chogang? This sort of tale is your specialty, is it not?"
"I would thank you not to assign me specialties as you please. Weighty words are far better suited to King Odojeonryun. Let His Majesty handle it."
"Must you pawn it off on someone else? Can you not simply do it yourself?"
"There's hardly any persuasive power in it if you won't volunteer yourself, King Yeomra."
The only minor flaw in the exchange, really, was that the words flying back and forth were all rather cowardly. But what could they do? A thing one did not want to do was a thing one did not want to do.
"Grim Reaper Simyeong is waiting. Let us simply decide and be done with it."
Volunteering to take the lead was taking rather longer than expected. The Directors and Simyeong watched the Ten Kings with uneasy eyes, and the Kings, for their part, buckled under the mounting pressure to settle the matter somehow. In the end, the method they chose was an exceedingly simple one.
"Whoever puts their hand out last is it. Play as you will."
"Fine, I heard you — now shut up and hurry!"
The three of them lowered their hands beneath the table. They were going to play rock-paper-scissors where no one could see. For personages of such lofty station, it was a dazzlingly childish way to reach a decision. Though perhaps they deserved some credit for how simple and clear it was? In any case, they threw their signs in a flash.
"Did I not say so? Perfectly suited to King Odojeonryun."
"It would have been so much simpler if His Majesty had simply gone first…"
"Fine, fine! I'll do it, all right?!"
The winner — or rather, the loser — was King Odojeonryun. He glared at the two Kings who were needling him, then lifted his head and turned his gaze on the Directors, and on Simyeong, who was craning his neck in wait. His expression was so fearsome that everyone flinched.
"Don't you lot tense up. This isn't because of you. Damn those old bastards."
Having gotten in that lingering parting shot, King Odojeonryun chose his words. This was a secret being revealed for the first time to anyone below Director rank. Even if the contents themselves were nothing extraordinary, a certain tension was inevitable. He furrowed his brow and sorted through his thoughts. A moment later, at last, the words came.
"Grim Reaper Lee Simyeong."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"I'll ask you something first. You, I imagine, consider this your chance to ask questions of your own. I, for my part, consider it my chance to hear what you subordinates actually think. So I believe I'll ask, this once."
King Odojeonryun was circling the point in a curiously roundabout way. Simyeong wanted nothing more than to say they should get on with the real subject. But when a King declared he wished to hear the thoughts of those beneath him, it was rather difficult to refuse. He swallowed his dissatisfaction and answered.
"Please command me."
"Which side do you think is right, then? Meaning — are we right, or is that Gangnim bastard right? Don't let it weigh on you. Speak honestly."
Simyeong's eyes flew open as wide as lanterns. Perhaps it was the sheer audacity of the topic. The question that met it was every bit as blistering. To compare the exalted Ten Kings with an insolent rebel and say which one was correct — it was the sort of thing that would never have been uttered under ordinary circumstances, and his mind went blank.
"What? You said you were prepared, and now a question like this leaves you speechless? What's a young fellow doing with so little nerve? Spit it out! I won't punish you for it."
As the hesitation dragged on, King Odojeonryun prodded for an answer in a booming voice. If there was one thing he hated even more than insolence, it was dawdling. Simyeong finally collected himself and weighed his reply. In truth, the scale in his heart had already tipped.
"If I may be so bold as to speak my true thoughts…"
"Yes?"
"I… I believe the rebel Gangnim's argument may be the more correct one."
Gangnim was right.
Which was to say, he had just affirmed the claim that the Underworld would be shaken if things continued as they were. A statement that the Ten Kings were wrong and a rebel was right! Anywhere but this conference chamber, those would have been words enough to bring down punishment and then some. But not a soul in the room rebuked him.
"Landing on the right answer is no guarantee you understand the reason. Why do you think so?"
Because that, simply, had been the truth of it.
"I remember Grim Reaper Gangnim from before he became a rebel. He was a Grim Reaper more learned in the work of the Underworld, and more devoted to it, than anyone. Even the cause of his rebellion was not a personal grievance — he put the Underworld itself front and center. I do not believe a Grim Reaper like that would have spoken carelessly."
"That's all?"
As if teasing him, or perhaps testing him, King Odojeonryun looked down at Simyeong with composure. Simyeong answered just as clearly, as if rising to meet that gaze. A confidence never seen on him before sat upon his face.
"There is one thing more. After Yeoni met Grim Reaper Gangnim and heard what he had to say, he wrestled with it in earnest — and he was worried. If Gangnim had been lying, that boy would not have believed him."
"The rebel Gangnim could have bewitched him into it."
"We confirmed that in advance. There was no sign of enchantment. It was, quite plainly, a conclusion Yeoni reached on his own."
Objectively, the evidence was thin. Beyond the character of Gangnim as Simyeong had personally known it, and beyond Yeoni's own regard — there was no physical proof. And yet Simyeong believed Gangnim had spoken truly. It was a conclusion drawn from intuition and insight, the very faculties a Grim Reaper was bound to possess.
"Intuition without evidence is nothing more than a lucky guess. From now on, you will obtain solid physical proof before you speak! That said… the intuition itself was excellent."
King Odojeonryun dealt him praise and rebuke in the same breath. A pass, if an ambiguous one. But Simyeong felt no joy. If Gangnim was right — then what was the Post Office supposed to do from here? Worry came rolling in like a tide.
"You're worried."
"Of course I am. If what the rebel Gangnim said is true…"
"Well. It's worth worrying about, I'll grant you. The Underworld is the reference point upon which the Living World stands. If this place were to collapse, we would be in no small amount of trouble. But the thing you fear will not come to pass. Not now, at least."
The answer came down like a verdict: it would be all right. The weight of that voice inspired a trust all its own. Was there something that allowed him to speak with such certainty? Simyeong looked at the Ten Kings with the faintest sliver of doubt. On their faces, there was not a hint of wavering.
"If it would not be too forward, may I ask why?"
"Impatient, aren't you. I was going to tell you anyway."
King Odojeonryun drew a breath. The poise and confidence receded, and sorrow spread across his face. Before the question of why could even form, he began to explain. His voice sank, heavy and low.
"I'll warn you in advance. If you mean to tell the children, sanitize it as much as you can."
It was a memory from seventy years ago, stale and thick with settled dust.
"What happened was…"
A memory steeped, through and through, in bitterness.
"……"
"……"
Yeoni was exhausted, thanks to a guest who had shown up without a word of warning — namely, his other half. The gaze that had been fixed on him without pause was starting to weigh on him. He looked left, he looked right; it followed him all the same. It clung to him as if it had been nailed in place. What had gotten into her? He couldn't quite bring himself to tell her to knock it off, so he had no choice but to endure that relentless stare.
"Hey. This has been bothering me for a while now."
The wordless standoff had gone on for more than ten minutes. Sitting in silence for long enough to cook a cup of instant ramen had him just about ready to climb the walls. The chair was starting to dig into him. And Dayeong's answer, when it came, was even more outrageous.
"That's the idea. I want it to bother you."
So then WHY?!
The shameless composure of that reply set his blood boiling. Should he just get up and walk out of the room? He even entertained the thought of her grabbing him and refusing to let go if she caught him trying. He was still groaning over it inwardly when Dayeong reached out, mischief in her hands. She caught both his cheeks in her palms, as if to make sure he couldn't look away.
"What is it this time."
"Listen to you, all terse. Does a girl need a reason to look at her boyfriend? Oof — so scratchy. You haven't been taking care of your skin lately, have you."
Complaint or no complaint, Dayeong went on rubbing his cheeks with great diligence. Through her palms she could feel how rough the skin had gotten. She pushed out her lower lip in a pout. Ordinarily it was as soft as a baby's…
"It's winter break. And it's freezing. I couldn't even bring myself to go outside."
"Dummy! Skincare is something you do even if you don't go out, you know that? Typical guy. You really don't know anything about this stuff."
"It's a hassle."
"Even when you've got things on your mind, you've got to take care of yourself properly."
His cheeks, apparently, were not enough. Dayeong's hands slid down, and her arms wound around Yeoni's neck. A cotton-candy warmth wrapped his throat and his cheek. Yeoni let the tension drain from his body and sighed, softly.
"I'd need the breathing room for that first."
"Don't take it so hard. The worst that happens is you quit a part-time job. Thinking about it like it's the end of the world isn't going to solve anything anyway. Keep it simple. Easy."
"You think I'd be like this if it were just some part-time job?"
Yeoni answered with a bitter smile. He understood that she meant to comfort him. But it was work he had grown attached to, work that gave him a real sense of purpose, and taking it lightly was harder than she made it sound. He pushed out his lip in a full, theatrical pout and grumbled.
"Damn that old man. Getting me all wound up over nothing."
"You mean Uncle Simyeong?"
"Not hyung Simyeong. Someone else."
Yeoni cut the question off cleanly. Awkward as things had become between them, Simyeong was still his hyung. There was only one person Yeoni ever called "that old man."
Gangnim.
The question he had left behind had settled on Yeoni as a heavy, lingering worry. And the whole affair was growing larger than he had expected. It had gone beyond a matter of like or dislike — it reached all the way to the order of the Underworld itself. The scale of it was more than he could bear, and a hollow helplessness crept in with it.
What kind of mess is this complicated? Tch.
What was he supposed to do? Which argument was he supposed to stand behind?
For Yeoni, who was still just a college student, it was a task too vast and too heavy by far.
"I know who. It's that Gangnim-or-whatever old man, right?"
Dayeong finally put her finger on the source of his worry. Yeoni only nodded, saying nothing, and Dayeong grumbled right along with him. She, too, found herself at a loss whenever she thought back on that whole affair.
"Yeah, I'd be stuck too. Just thinking about it makes my head hurt. Underworld rules this, cosmic laws that… Ugh! How did college students like us even get mixed up in something like this?"
"How? Because of me, that's how."
Yeoni gave a short, dry laugh. Then he reached out and smoothed Dayeong's hair — a gesture that said don't worry. But Dayeong, displeased with something in it, caught his hand and pulled it down. She spoke to him in a voice gone sulky.
"Don't say that. Did you go looking to do something wrong? If you talk all weak like that, you're just letting that old man jerk you around."
"The situation's the situation. Cut me some slack."
"I will not, thank you. Hmph!"
Dayeong pressed his hand down with feeling. Then she spun around and planted herself squarely in front of him. The eyes that met his were as steady as ever — a gaze that lent him strength, a gaze he could lean on.
"I'm no good with the hard stuff, so I can't really help you with any of that."
"You don't have to help."
Just having her there was enough. What more could he possibly need? Yeoni meant it, truly. Dayeong smiled, bright and small, and tipped her body gently toward him. What followed was a hug, the way it always was. The warmth of it was more desperately needed than it had ever been, and Yeoni wrapped his arms around her just as naturally. Dayeong spoke against him, as if soothing a child.
"Don't make it complicated, and don't make it so serious. Just think about what's in front of you. Got it?"
"I'll try."
"Not try. Do it. That's an order from your girlfriend."
"Orders between lovers, huh."
She did not leave it at words. As if to insist she was not joking, she even stamped the order with a deep, lingering seal. Her lips covered his, seeking the tongue hidden deep within, and delivered her warmth with unmistakable certainty. Yeoni laughed under his breath even as he received that sincerity in full.
A sweet silence flowed between them.
"Hah…"
When they finally drew apart, both of them let out a satisfied breath, neither first nor second. It had been a kiss far longer than the last one. Even after their lips parted, their flushed faces did not pull away. Still wrapped around each other without a gap between them, Yeoni and Dayeong simply stayed there, quietly savoring each other's warmth.
"Yeoni."
"Yeah, Dayeong."
"Whatever the result is — I'll take your side. No matter what."
A moment later, Dayeong offered him that short, solid cheer. That single line was more than enough. It overflowed.
"Thank you."
At last, Yeoni smiled an easy smile.
Whatever the outcome — please, let there be no regrets.