When Past and Present Overlap
At the funeral of Hoeyeon's master, Yu Eunha, it was Hoeyeon who served as chief mourner.
They called it a funeral, though whether the word even applied was debatable. Hoeyeon conducted it alone, and the whole affair took less than an hour. The chief mourner was also the sole guest. She placed the body in the coffin herself, carried it, dug the earth, buried it, and raised the stone.
Before the illness claimed her, Yu Eunha had told Hoeyeon in no uncertain terms:
"Hey. When I die, stick me in a box and bury me right away."
"Understood."
"You didn't get it, you idiot disciple. I said right away. Right. Away."
"Meaning…"
"Yeah. The second I stop breathing, shove me in the coffin, hammer the nails in, haul me up the mountain, and put me in the ground. Forget ceremonies. Forget procedures. Nobody's coming anyway."
Yu Eunha died young of illness. By Hoeyeon's estimate she had been twenty-eight or twenty-nine — an estimate only, because she had never spoken of herself to anyone.
Where she had been born. What she had done with her life before taking Hoeyeon in. Whether she had family or friends. Where she herself had learned the sword. She had revealed nothing.
"Master…"
Even as she was dying — right up to the final moment — Yu Eunha watched Hoeyeon swing her sword. Dragging her ruined body out each day, she pushed Hoeyeon to the edge of her limits: the cut, the circulation of internal energy, the loading of sword qi.
"Is there anyone you would like me to notify of your passing?"
"No."
Yu Eunha coughed into a cloth. The cloth she held was no longer merely stained with blood — it was soaked through.
Her body was failing in many places at once. Not only the lungs; every organ was coming apart together.
Hoeyeon steadied her breath and swept her sword in a vertical arc.
A sharp hiss as the blade split the air.
When the motion was done, Hoeyeon spoke carefully to her master, who leaned against the dojo wall.
"Perhaps you should go inside and rest today."
"Idiot disciple. You think resting is going to fix me?"
"…Even so."
Yu Eunha coughed again and spat blood.
"Hoeyeon."
"…Yes, Master."
It was vanishingly rare for Yu Eunha to call her by name.
"I've got nothing to show for my life. Except one thing. That's you."
"If you mean your disciples, there are others besides—"
"Those ones aren't even half-baked."
Yu Eunha cut her off clean.
"When I croak, I'm leaving nothing behind. Never built anything. Never raised anything. Never wrote a single line of prose or a scrap of a song. But there's exactly one exception, and it's you, you idiot disciple."
Only those fierce green eyes kept their brilliance to the very end.
She did not meet death in a bed. That day, too, she sat propped against the dojo wall, watching Hoeyeon swing her sword.
"Hey, disciple."
"Yes, Master."
Hiss.
The sound of breathing.
"Thanks to you, I had a good time, Hoeyeon."
"The pleasure was mine."
Hiss.
"Go in peace."
Hiss.
Tears welled and spilled from Hoeyeon's eyes, drop by drop.
She had hoped to hear that rough laugh — What are you crying over something like that for?
But the only sound left was her own sword cutting the wind.
"Go… in… peace."
The tears broke the words apart.
Without delivering a single one of the things she had wanted to say, without conveying a single feeling she had carried, Hoeyeon let her benefactor go.
Dozing in the hot spring, climbing out to rest, then slipping back in again — by the time they had done this a few rounds, the sky had deepened to indigo and the stars were beginning to rise.
"Those wretches attacked this humble one ten days past," Arang said from the steaming water.
"It was no accident of timing… they struck when I was spent, no doubt. There was work my underlings had forced upon me, and the assault came hard upon its heels. I felled two or three of them, then lost consciousness there."
Arang turned her face to the night sky, as though she had no wish to let anyone see the expression she wore.
"And when I woke… I was in no pleasant state. I ran wild like that, smashed something or other in my frenzy, and then I collided with the two of you. The rest, you already know."
"Do you remember anything of your attackers?"
Gayul asked the question with both elbows propped on the rim of the pool, her cheek resting on the backs of her hands. The lines of her shoulder blades stood out cleanly along the back she turned toward them.
"The memories after I lost consciousness are murky, yet there seemed to be one they called General."
"General?"
"And another they called Teacher, or so it seemed — though whether either truly existed, or whether my disordered mind spun them from nothing, I cannot say."
"A general and a teacher. Were there no symbols of any kind? Emblems, crests, colors, clothing…"
"Nothing comes to mind. I would not find it strange if there had been, and yet…"
"I see."
For a while the three of them simply counted stars.
"What business were Hoeyeon and Gayul about, that you were traveling?"
"A private matter. Promise me you will speak of it to no one else."
"I so swear."
"We are bound for Geumdo."
"And that reason is tied to the fact that I sense none of Geon's imperial power upon Gayul, is it not?"
"It is."
A single breath's pause.
"I shall explain more fully."
"Is that wise?"
"Did you not just swear an oath?"
"So I did."
Gayul explained.
What bond existed between herself and Hoeyeon; why, after ten years, she had sought her out again and why the two of them now journeyed toward Geumdo. And how they had become entangled by chance with the snake-man they had met the day before — the context and the circumstances of that encounter as well.
This time the silence lasted long enough to count a stretch of stars.
Then Gayul spoke again.
"Arang. I wish to punish those who wronged you."
"And the reason?"
Gayul still faced away. Arang still looked up at the sky. The only one who could hold both of them in her gaze at once was Hoeyeon.
"Because they are repulsive. And because they harm people."
"The world is full of the repulsive, and full of those who do harm. Why take it upon yourself to punish these ones in particular?"
"Because they entered my sight — and because both their repulsiveness and their harm are vast."
"Is that all?"
"Is anything more required?"
"What recompense do you seek?"
"That they cease to exist is enough."
"Is that all?"
"Is that not sufficient?"
"A large vessel, indeed."
"It once held the world beneath heaven."
"Heh."
Arang slowly crossed her legs the other way beneath the water.
"Then — will you take this humble one into your vessel as well?"
"That is not for me to decide. If the sizes differ, the greater simply holds the lesser."
"And if neither is greater nor lesser — if they are equal?"
"Then we would only knock together as wine cups, would we not? And if so, it would make for a most pleasant drinking party."
"A fine drinking party needs fitting fare to go with the wine."
"And what do you intend to bring?"
"This humble one shall journey to Geumdo with you."
"And what do you stand to gain there?"
"Nothing at all. But might I not repay, in some small measure, the grace I have received from you both?"
"And what do we stand to gain from you?"
"Will the faction you mean to punish not already count you among its enemies?"
"Hm."
Hoeyeon let out a breath and closed her eyes.
"Sharp."
"I am aware."
"And arrogant."
"Are you not the same?"
"Haha. Fair enough."
With a little grunt of effort, Gayul turned around. Arang lifted her head with a matching sound of her own.
"And how shall we seal the oath?"
"Will this not suffice?"
Arang extended her right hand.
"If an oath is wanting with that, then nothing will ever be enough."
Gayul put out her right hand in the same way.
Watching the two of them, Hoeyeon thought:
Gayul and Arang really are extraordinary people.
Even she wondered why the thought came now, of all times — but the reason was simple.
Until now, they had not shown her these sides of themselves.
It was not merely that the chance had never arisen. Both of them had been deliberately holding those faces back.
And there was another reason.
Hoeyeon herself had not wanted to see them.
How strong that feeling had been, even she could not say.
But it had been there. It was still there.
Because they were different.
Different from her — things she could not truly empathize with.
So looking at those qualities would only make her feel alien.
Just as she was feeling shut out right now.
It was in that moment, as Hoeyeon's right hand fidgeted unconsciously, that—
"Hoeyeon. What are you doing?"
"Will you not join us already? This is growing awkward."
Gayul and Arang looked at her.
"Huh?"
Hoeyeon nearly pointed at herself on reflex — Me? — but their gazes stopped her from doing anything so pathetic.
It was not that they had belatedly decided she could join in.
When they had offered their hands to each other, both had simply assumed Hoeyeon would come as a matter of course. If anything, they found her half-beat of delay strange.
Bluff or not, she could not look ridiculous in front of the two of them.
"Sorry. The water felt too good."
Hoeyeon came forward as well, and the three of them stretched their hands to the center and stacked them.
"Shall someone make a grand speech?"
"Hardly necessary, is it?"
"Then — one, two, three!"
"Three!"
"Three! Hehe…"
All three flung their hands upward at once. Water droplets scattered.
Gayul cried out:
"Well then — the oath is sealed, so shall we drink?!"
"Aye, the most vital part of all!"
"????????"
"And for drinking attire, shall we keep things just as they are?!"
"Aye, I second that motion!"
"Why on earth!?!?????"
"Why, you ask — well, rather than having everything on full display—"
"Hoeyeon, half-concealed is precisely—"
"You absolute perverts!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Hoeyeon's shout, and the boisterous laughter that followed it, rang out beneath the night sky.