Once I was alone in the ritual room, I prepared the ritual materials according to Isul’s instructions.

First, I took up the ritual dagger, one half black and one half white, and cut my left hand with the black edge. I let the blood drip into a black vase that had been prepared for this purpose. Once that was done, I cut my right hand with the white blade and collected blood in the white vase.

Some transmutative property of the vases transformed my blood into black and light silver ink, respectively. Using the two correspondingly colored brushes prepared in the room, I drew out the Tripartite’s symbol on the floor: three swirling circles interlocking with each other. As you might expect, half was drawn with the black ink, and the other with silver. Somehow, the ink in the two vases didn’t run out.

Next, I lit the silver candles placed before the bas-relief of the Tripartite. Even though the flames summoned by my fire magic were orange, the candles burned silver. The room lit up with an eerie glow that seemed to leech all the color out of my surroundings, and the shadows grew dark and thick, as if they could spring alive. Under the flickering light, it was as if the statue’s eyes were moving to look at me.

I suppressed the uneasiness in my heart and stood in the center of the ritual circle I’d drawn.

“Before the phenomenon, the noumenon exists. Without the phenomenon, the noumenon cannot be perceived. But despite the phenomenon, the noumenon cannot be known.”

A dreadful hush weighed on the room. Some unspeakable presence was gathering. My heart began to pound in my chest.

“Therefore, today, I challenge you. To the mask and the one who wears it; to the mystery and the one who reveals it; to the circle of history and the one who breaks it; I declare that for all you have observed of me, all you have interpreted of me, and all you have recorded of me, that which lies outside your understanding is yet enough to birth a world!”

The candles flared. The darkness of the room surged forward violently, swallowing everything until all that could be seen was the silver light on the Tripartite’s statue and the ritual circle glowing beneath my feet. Somehow, against the electrifying pressure and the wind now stirring around me, I managed to lift my head to gaze into the statue’s eyes.

“I, Jeong Eunseok, challenge you to bear the weight of all that I am!”

Before my eyes, the lips of the statue’s three faces curled up into terrifying smiles.

With a ghostly laugh, all the light went out. The wind, like a cold hand, brushed against the back of my neck and stroked my cheek.

[Jeong Eunseok.]

[We have been waiting for you.]

[Come forth and show us your truth!]

A dizzying sense of vertigo overcame me, as if the entire world was collapsing. My sense of self briefly dimmed. I might have lost consciousness. When it came back to me, the entire world had changed.

I was in a chaotic space, a vast and endless darkness through which galaxies of silver light traced bizarre patterns with their stars. The light flickered like words, or pages, or scenes in a mirror, millions upon millions of fragments that lanced knowledge through my head with a piercing pain when I looked at them. The darkness around it, too, writhed like ink blots on a page, blotting out the knowledge brought to me by the light as quickly as it arrived. Under their pressure, my body and consciousness felt like sand scattering before the wind.

Then, through my dimming awareness, I saw the universe peel open like a torn page. That tear formed a humanoid shape with three pairs of arms. It cupped one pair of hands beneath me to form a platform, and it brought its gaping void of a face closer, blotting out the sky. Under its attention, my body and mind stabilized. A violent shiver went down my spine.

Fucking hell.

Isul, you liar, you never said anything about this! Weren’t you just supposed to hear the Tripartite’s voices through the bas-relief?!

I didn’t have any time to be consumed by terror before the void of the Tripartite’s head rotated to show me a mask-like face with a seamless knot pattern shining in its eyes.

[Tell us, Jeong Eunseok,] said the Secret-Keeper. [In your eyes, what is the nature of the world?]

The questioning had begun.

For each question, the challenger had to stake an achievement title to answer it. Whatever the answer, it had to be in line with the title, because the title served as proof of your “Inner World.”

In a way, I wished I had better titles to answer with, but even if they were better, I still had to answer with the truth.

With a shaky voice, I spoke.

“As the [Inevitable Survivor of Disaster], I declare that… the world is a capricious struggle, not knowing what disaster might befall the next day.”

I was honestly scared of giving an answer like that. It felt like I was inviting a disaster into my home of my own volition.

But it would probably be worse to give my most honest answer…

The Secret-Keeper laughed softly. The head spun around; the next face that came to face me had glowing masks in its eyes, a perfect copy of its face, and in each of those masks’ eyes, there was another mask — on and on, like a mirror recursing to infinity.

[Tell us, Jeong Eunseok,] said the Signifier. [In your eyes, what should the world be like?]

The title I wanted to use for this one…

I pushed down the impulse to touch the burning tree tattoo on my shoulder. The Tripartite was the one to name it, so they must have known everything already. But it still hurt to say.

“As the [Sage of Red Dust’s Foolish Disciple], I declare that — the world should be a place where you won’t suffer for doing what’s right.”

It was absolutely nauseating to say something so cloyingly delusional and naive.

But at the end of the day, I guess I was still like a child — someone who hadn’t yet let go of the grief that the world just wasn’t fair.

Finally, the last face turned to ask me its question. Where its pupils might have been, instead, there were two slowly turning snakes, each devouring their own tails.

[Tell us, Jeong Eunseok,] said the Scribe. [What is the legacy your world will leave behind?]

Something better than what had happened in my old world, I hoped.

“As the [Keeper of Forgotten Wrongs],” I said, doing my level best to ignore just how bad that all sounded, “I — hope that even the most powerless people in society can one day redress their grievances.”

But I had no way of knowing what would happen after my death, so I didn’t want to “declare” it.

Having answered their questions, I waited for them to accept or deny it.

What greeted me was an overlapping chorus of laughs.

[How sad, Jeong Eunseok, that in your fear, you would keep your most honest answers from us.]

[Then let us record it for you.]

My stomach dropped. “Wait, what? You—”

The Tripartite’s second pair of hands gripped me and pulled me apart.

My body unfolded into an endless golden scroll. I felt violated, exposed, like I’d been flayed completely open and turned into nothing but one raw nerve. Their hands were touching my very soul.

With their last pair of hands, the Tripartite traced through the words on the pages, casting shadows into the void.

[What is the nature of the {Inevitable Survivor of Disaster}’s world?]

I convulsed. As their hands moved over my pages, familiar scenes appeared in shades of black and white. The day my brother had been killed. The bullet that blew out my teacher’s head, the blood that had sprayed across the room. The ashes of my second home, where I had left my sister’s body to burn.

The shadow of my sixteen year old self, letting out a rattling laugh from a military hospital bed.

“Chen Xiarui, you said? Don’t worry. A little more pain won’t break me when I’m already living through hell.”

[What is the answer?]

[The world is hell.]

[Then what does the {Sage of Red Dust’s Foolish Disciple} believe the world should be?]

It wasn’t a physical pain that sang through me at that moment, but a protest so violent I thought it might break me.

No. I don’t want you to see it.

It was my teacher, cheeks crinkling as she smiled at me from her wheelchair, tucking a patched-up thermal blanket over her legs.

“Jeong Eunseok, the world doesn’t have to be this way. It is possible to love and care for each other, sustaining everyone’s right to life. That is why I abide by a principle of nonviolence. To prove that even someone like me — old, disabled, unwilling and unable to fight — can live on in this world.” She spread her hands. “The fact that so many people have come together to keep me alive… is that itself not proof that the world can be kind?”

“You think you’re building paradise or something?” My younger self, just shy of thirteen, sneered at her from across the shack. “Only idiots and senile old fools like you would believe in something like that.”

“But that foolishness is the reason for the food in your belly and the coat on your back, is it not?”

To the me who had experienced my brother’s death not one year ago, it was incomprehensible to me. That I could have approached someone with such rage and violence, and yet be clothed, fed, and welcomed in like an old friend. I was silent with my shame.

My teacher — though of course, she hadn’t been my teacher yet — did not mock me for my wretchedness, nor pry into my wounds. She smiled gently and extended a hand.

“Before you judge my ambitions impossible, why don’t you follow me for a few days first and see my world for yourself?”

So I had.

And then I’d kept following her, into her home, into her life, never believing but wanting to believe, up until the day that the dream couldn’t hold anymore.

[What is the answer?]

[The world should have been paradise.]

[Then we ask: what legacy will the world of the {Keeper of Forgotten Wrongs} leave behind?]

Just stop it, I wanted to say. There’s nothing left. Don’t go looking there.

They ran their finger over my records and pulled a scene out like they were gutting me.

In the innards of the Gwangdong power plant, where I’d barricaded myself in the control room, I looked out the window at the fire spreading towards the fuel lines and the quantum engine humming away in the center of the plant. The bodies of the people I’d killed were disappearing in the distortions of heat. The fire safety systems and emergency failsafes wouldn’t kick in; I’d already made sure of that. If my wounds didn’t kill me soon, the destruction of the power plant would.

Clutched in my bloodstained hand was the emergency broadcast transmitter, something that was only meant to be used if the entire quantum territory was on the verge of destruction. The red light was blinking. Every major channel inside the Gwangdong territory was surely listening to me now.

Bleeding out alone in that room, I spoke into the one-way transmitter, giving my name, my reasons, my legacy of the dead. Now the only thing left was my dying curse. All the hatred that I had to give.

“…May all the blood spilled to preserve the system be taken from you,” I said. “May every death caused by this machine come back to haunt you. May you suffer as all of us have suffered…”

I was definitely destined for Naraka after I died, if I wasn’t living there already, but I wouldn’t go alone. I bared my teeth in one final bloody smile that no one was left to see.

“Burn in hell with us.”

The quantum engine exploded in a great conflagration of heat and flame.

The Tripartite laughed. They folded me back into my original shape, placing me gently in their palms. All I could do was lie there and gasp and tremble in the aftermath of sensation wracking my body.

[What is the answer?]

[Nothing will be left but blood and shattered illusions.]

“Stop it,” I whispered. “That’s enough.”

If this continued, I was going to go crazy.

[To his secrets, it is real.]

[To his emotions, it is true.]

[Then, as it has been recorded, let it be so.]

The Tripartite’s hands reached into the sky and plucked out light and darkness, weaving it together into a pulsing star. Flicking it forward with one long finger, they pushed it into my chest.

It was like the star had moved into my mind, bursting with a blinding radiance that nearly made my consciousness shatter apart completely. My awareness went dangerously dim. But even as I struggled to maintain my grasp on sanity, the Tripartite’s words continued to reverberate in my mind, winding through me like a cold thread, stitching my pieces together.

[Jeong Eunseok.]

[We have recognized your world.]

[But even when the noumenon exists, it can only be understood through the phenomenon it creates.]

[Therefore, we ask: by whose auspices shall Jeong Eunseok’s world manifest?]

Like a man caught in the throes of nightmares, I struggled to speak.

This was the selection. I had to choose myself, or else…!

[By the mask, and the one who wears it.]

[By the mystery, and the one who reveals it.]

[By the circle of history, and the one who breaks it.]

It was too late. I could only let out a wordless groan of protest, lost beneath the cadence of their words.

[Then, by our blessings, may the {Bloody Seed of Paradise} gain the power to manifest in this world.]

I shook violently. A cold power bloomed in what felt like the depths of my soul. It swelled, grew, and poured out to fill every part of me.

Under its nourishing power, I finally managed to spit out the words I wanted to say.

“What paradise? There’s no such thing…!”

The Tripartite laughed.

[If there is no such thing.]

[Then, when your trials come—]

[Show us the destruction of that illusion.]

The tear in the universe that constituted the Tripartite’s body expanded, grew, swallowed light and dark alike. Stars fell. The firmament collapsed. Everything was disappearing, and I was falling through the dissolving chaos, mind tearing apart.

But there in the depths of my mind, that star was still burning. Previously, it had destroyed me; now, it was my anchor. I focused on it desperately, clung onto it with everything I had, until it had swallowed my perception entirely. A prison and a shield.

Then, with a sickening lurch, my eyes snapped open, and I was back in the ritual room in the Scribe’s temple.

The candles before the bas-relief extinguished themselves. Color and daylight flooded back into the room. My knees gave out beneath me, and I collapsed to the floor, dry heaving as the ritual circle burst into silver flame and burned clean away.

Unbidden, my Record manifested itself in a flash of golden light, flipping open to a new page that had appeared after the description of my World Proof.

Inner World: [Bloody Seed of Paradise]

Description: Paradise is an illusion. But throughout history, countless bodies have been buried for the sake of that damning fantasy. What is the difference between the one who chases paradise, and the one who strikes it down?

Core Phenomenon: Once a day, cast and witness an illusion that shows the target’s dreams or the destruction thereof. Though the subjective experience may differ, the illusion will last for three seconds.

Remaining trials: 3

I felt sick.

Shutting my eyes tightly, I waved the book away and just curled up on the floor for a while, waiting for my head to stop spinning and my stomach to settle. Even as I did, though, I couldn’t help but think that a guaranteed method to delay an enemy by three seconds was a huge difference in battle — at least if I had a trustworthy ally by my side. Not to mention the psychological advantages it could provide…

The Tripartite really knew how to give me something that I would use even if I didn’t like it, huh. Suddenly, I found myself a lot more empathetic towards Linden and his [Regretful Devourer of what He Loves]. This did nothing to improve my mood.

When I finally felt better, I uncurled and sat back up, reaching out to take my Record.

I was about to close it entirely when I remembered that ranking up was supposed to increase your existential weight. If that was the case, then perhaps there would be some changes to the black pages at the end of my record.

With great trepidation, I flipped through the pages.

As I watched, the first of the black pages shimmered and turned gold. Ink wrote itself across the page.

Title: [Face Changer With the Hidden Knife]

Symbol: Knife behind a Yeongno mask

Description: The one who bore the grievances of the people and raged against the powerful must have been a monster. But everyone had grievances, and anyone could act. Which smiling face would be the next to reveal the mask? The monster will never die so long as the people are alive.

Active Skill: Due to insufficient existential power, the effects cannot be expressed.

Passive Skill: The title holder naturally belongs wherever people hold grievances in their hearts. Encourages others to accept and overlook any doubts about the title holder’s presence and identity.

• The skill is more effective against those with heavy “karma,” but may induce an additional sense of paranoia.
• The skill’s effects will end if the title holder shows hostility or breaches the target’s cognitive threshold of suspicion.
• Due to insufficient existential power, the full effects cannot be expressed.

The nausea that had been subsiding surged back with full force. I tightened my cold fingers on the record, and my stomach sank like lead.

Whose title, exactly, was this?

I wanted to believe that it was Acacius’. According to the family tree, his mother’s name was Lily Song, wasn’t it? ‘Song’ could be a Korean last name. He and Cynara didn’t exactly have the most “western” features. It could be normal for him to have Korean iconography in his titles; he could have been someone who secretly burned with injustice at the world.

But the yeongno mask…

…It was the same one I’d once performed with, back when Teacher had still been alive.

Unbidden, I recalled Isul’s explanation about Fantasm Spirits.

That sometimes they were based on real people.

That they acquired titles based on their concepts.

That they could be summoned into Kosmonymia, too—

…

Somehow, calmly, I found my new title tattoo by my hip. The yeongno’s imugi-like mask, shining with red and yellow scales, cast a shadow in the shape of a thin black blade.

My world had been a harsh and difficult place, but that didn’t mean people didn’t seek pleasure. Alcohol, gambling, drugs, celebrations. We still had festivals on the holidays, too. The yeongno was a stock character that showed up in the mask performances, sometimes: a creature banished from heaven, who could only return if it devoured one hundred corrupt officials. Well, “corrupt officials” were a historical archetype from the dynastic days of Korea’s history… but when they showed up in the plays, everyone knew they were really about the settlement administrators and the people they served, living a life of paradise somewhere we couldn’t reach.

But the last thing I’d ever done…

My throat was tight. I thought I’d died as some anonymous villain, a figure to be reviled and hated for however many generations the world had left, but… I’d broadcasted my whole dying message, hadn’t I? And I’d left behind all those records, too, that Chen Xiarui may have found—

And the dead have no say over what the living do with their legacy.

The question I had avoided thinking about was facing me now. I felt like I was staring down into the maw of darkness, an abyss with no return.

What exactly had happened after I died?

Did the Scribe have it in its records, did the Secret-Keeper guard it in its repositories of knowledge? Had the Signifier drawn on it to craft these signs for me?

I felt like I was going crazy.

Carefully taking a deep breath, I slumped to the ground and hung my head between my knees, squeezing my eyes closed.

Calm down, Eunseok.

It’s all just speculation; you don’t know, and you have no way of…

No, that wasn’t quite right.

If I was here, the Tripartite must know. I could learn from them.

I wasn’t ready to deal with the Tripartite again, but if they knew, then maybe, someone connected to them could know, too.

I raised my head, looking towards the door.

Once I’d regained my composure a little, I cracked it open, squinting out against the sunlight.

“Isul?”

“Here.”

Isul rose from where he’d been lounging against one of the courtyard pillars. He looked me up and down with a gaze full of curiosity and anticipation.

I gave him a faintly aggrieved look.

“You didn’t warn me that I might get sucked into the Tripartite’s crazy mind dimension…”

Isul’s eyes sparkled. “You saw their divine realm? Amazing! Not many have the opportunity to do so in their lifetime. Congratulations on your successful challenge, my friend.”

“Have you seen their divine realm, too?”

He nodded. “They gave me a warm welcome during my challenge as well.”

The way he sounded so happy about it, he had to have a screw loose in his head.

“If they like you,” I said, “are they kind to you?”

“Of course not. The Tripartite are not human, and they do not love me as humans do.”

That matched with what I knew of them.

“Then why do you like them so much?”

“Why does one love the sun and the moon, the fire and the winter wind, the mountains and the seas? The world is a wondrous and beautiful thing — and the Tripartite, too, are a part of this world.”

It was truly a difficult viewpoint for me to understand.

“Are you close to them? Do you think you understand them?”

“As much as a scholar loves what they have devoted their life to learning.”

“Then you must know things that others don’t, right?”

Isul tilted his head instead of answering, gazing at me with his dark eyes.

“I think… no, I know I’m a strange person,” I said. “And probably suspicious too. Why have you been so interested in me?”

“Because the Tripartite is interested in you.”

“Then what do you know about me, Isul? Who am I? … What am I?”

Perhaps sensing my desperation, Isul faced me seriously as well.

“If you don’t know, then I can’t know, either,” he said. “If you do, then you don’t need my words. I can only tell you what you are like in my eyes: someone with many secrets, many regrets, and a long shadow you drag behind you.”

“Bullshit. You have to know more than that.” I almost felt desperate enough to grab him by the shoulders and start shaking him. “You must.”

He leaned on his lantern-staff, regarding me with dark eyes.

“We have been speaking about world seeds today, so let me tell you mine. It is the [Seed of the Loving Observer]. Because of my position, there are things that I can see clearer than most — but also, many things I can’t know. What I see of you is not everything; and were I to act on that knowledge, I would not be an ‘observer’ anymore. I am sorry that I cannot give you the answers you seek, my friend, but I hope that you may therefore rest assured that no matter what, your secrets are safe with me.”

It wasn’t the answer I wanted.

“If I want answers,” I said, half-despairing, “what should I do?”

Isul looked a little sad.

“The Tripartite does not often give answers, because finding answers is part of how we construct meaning in our lives. However, it does not mean they never intercede. If you want answers that no one else can give, then perhaps the best chance to bargain for them lies with the trials awaiting you.”

So at the end of the day, there was only this one way forward, huh?

I didn’t want to bargain with the Tripartite, but the trials would come for me anyway. If I could gain more benefits out of it, then that was only the sensible thing to do.

Struggling against the odds to reach my goals was how I best knew how to live.

Chapter 57 Back to Index