Prologue (2)

The massive sedan glided to a smooth halt in front of an enormous building in the heart of Gangnam. Ji-won stepped out of the car with a distinctly sour expression, tilting his head back to survey the sensuously well-designed facade. He had passed this place countless times without a second thought, but standing before it now, he could finally feel the cold, unsettling aura it gave off. He'd always assumed it was just some eco-friendly venture that had ridden the government incentives to stratospheric growth. To think it was actually in the business of this impossible nonsense….

Perhaps because he'd heard it described as the afterlife's civil service, he had vaguely expected something classical and old-fashioned, but the building's internal systems turned out to be startlingly modern. First he had to pass through a security checkpoint under the sharp-eyed watch of guards, where the轮廓 of his belongings—where every outline of his belongings was laid bare by scanners. Only after clearing facial recognition did they let him approach the elevators, and even then he had to scan his fingerprint to open the doors, while a grating warning tone continued to chirp until he'd authenticated his iris a second time.

At the clear, chime-like mechanical voice, Ji-won reflexively swallowed a dry gulp. It wasn't as if he were off to see a king—did security really need to be this airtight? Knowing his luck, he could die right here and no one would ever know. Maybe he should have told someone where he was going. Wait. Could a living person actually go to Jungcheon and… come back alive?

Regret and anxiety, arriving far too late, came creeping up on him. The head of security, who had been watching Ji-won's complexion with hawkish attention, offered a reassuring smile, but having been threatened less than thirty minutes ago, Ji-won wasn't inclined to trust it.

"Jungcheon is on the 49th floor?"

"No, sir. This building is forty-eight stories above ground. Jungcheon exists in a dimension separate from the mortal realm—this is simply one of the passages reserved for the living. The dead cannot share the entrance we use. That one has no exit function, you see…."

The 49th floor of a 48-story building…. Right. At this point, nothing could surprise me anymore. A door with no exit function is creepy as hell, though.

"For reference, there are roughly two hundred passages on Earth connected to Jungcheon. Once you're a full employee, you may use any of them, but when returning from Jungcheon to the mortal realm, you must exit through the same door you entered. The rule exists to prevent unauthorized comings and goings—and to keep the dead from slipping out."

"So there's no way to travel to a different region through Jungcheon."

"Correct. Should you ever mistake one passage for another, you won't end up in another region—you'll end up in another dimension. And there's no guarantee your body would survive the trip intact. Now, step out, please."

What a ruthless system. Ji-won stepped slowly through the doors, trying not to let his nerves show, but keeping his composure proved harder than expected. He wasn't the type to make a fuss under ordinary circumstances, yet maintaining his equilibrium in the face of the breathtaking sight unfolding before him was no easy feat.

For one thing, the sheer area defied all common sense. The ceiling soared so high the eye could hardly gauge its distance, and one wall alone seemed to stretch for several kilometers. This was not the scale of a single floor in any ordinary building. The words another dimension finally took on real meaning.

"It's enormous."

"Is it? I used to think so, but with the death toll what it is these days, it never feels roomy anymore. At least six thousand souls arrive every hour—and Zenith's own staff numbers over two thousand."

Just as the security chief said, souls of every race and nation were rising ceaselessly from the mirror-smooth floor at points all across the vast space. Friendly-faced receptionists hurried to meet each arrival, confirmed what language the deceased spoke, and escorted them to one of the hundreds of desks lining the left and right walls. It felt uncannily like the service counters of a government office, and most of the dead queued in orderly lines before their assigned desks.

"What happens at those desks?"

"The deceased's final destination is decided there. You see the scales on the desks? When the dead stand before them, the scales tilt according to the merits and sins of their lifetime. If they tip to the left—from the soul's point of view—they are reborn into the mortal realm. If they tip right, they descend to Myeonggye."

"And if they balance?"

"It almost never happens, but on the rare occasion the scales sit perfectly level, the Master of Jungcheon—our CEO—delivers the final judgment herself."

"Do even children that young go to hell?"

When Ji-won frowned at the sight of an infant too young to walk, carried in an employee's arms toward somewhere unknown, the security chief shook his head lightly, his eyes full of quiet regret.

"No. Children under ten are taken straight to the Gate of Reincarnation without any trial at all. It's exceedingly rare for a child that young to commit misdeeds grave enough to warrant punishment in the afterlife—and should they have sinned, responsibility is attributed to their guardians at that age."

"The Gate of Reincarnation?"

"That door on the left. The one on the right is the Myeonggye Water Gate."

Following the chief's gesture, Ji-won's gaze landed on two enormous, identical doors far in the distance. Yet the atmosphere of each was starkly different. Beyond the left door glowed a bright, warm radiance; beyond the right, a darkness so deep it was almost funereal. Most of those standing before the right door were paralyzed with terror, and many were weeping or screaming.

The Myeonggye Water Gate—the door to hell…. Seeing it in person, the sheer weight of the thing is no joke. Ji-won's face paled slightly as he quietly rubbed the gooseflesh rising on his arms, when suddenly a commotion erupted somewhere nearby, and a furious shouting laced with vulgar curses rang out. He turned toward the noise to find a well-groomed middle-aged man, face purple with rage, bellowing at the top of his lungs.

"What kind of nonsense is this! Weigh me again! Weigh me again on a different scale! I lived such an upright life, and it tips this far to the right? Are you kidding me?"

"Sir, if you wish, we will weigh you again on another scale—please calm yourself. You're frightening the others."

When a kind-faced Determination Officer tried to soothe him with gentle words, the arrogant man only grew more condescending and shouted louder.

"That's exactly my point—who told you to bring out defective equipment like this in the first place, huh? Do it right the first time and none of this happens! Why do you have to make things difficult for busy people!"

His attitude made it painfully easy to imagine exactly what kind of life he'd led. Old habits die hard, apparently—a menace in life, a menace in death. With the indulgence of the other souls waiting, the man was promptly moved to the nearest desk, where he seemed to settle down for a moment. But when the second weighing produced the exact same verdict, he promptly hurled the scale to the floor and threw a full-blown tantrum.

"Are you people fraudsters or what! Who do you think you are, judging me! Do you have any idea who I am? Dead or not, this is no way to treat me! What's your name?"

As the atmosphere turned ugly, burly security guards in black suits swarmed in and surrounded the man, and his rampage only escalated.

"What is this! You people are nothing but a gang of thugs! You planning to beat me now? Get me whoever's in charge! I'm not moving one step from this spot, so bring me the person in charge right now—"

The man, sprawled on the floor with the veins standing out on his neck, was still shrieking himself hoarse when a low hum arose, and a faint vibration rolled through the whole of Jungcheon. The source of the ripple was the great spring at the center of the hall. The water's surface, smooth and motionless as ice, heaved once in a great wave—and a single young woman in an immaculate suit, long hair neatly bound back, walked out through the current, her face utterly expressionless.

"That is the Master of Jungcheon, CEO Ju Gaon."

Even without the security chief's aside, her entrance made her identity unmistakable. The moment Gaon appeared, every employee in Jungcheon stopped what they were doing at once and bowed their heads in reverence. Hers was the face of someone barely in her early twenties, yet her presence was so overwhelming that even the dead who had no idea who she was found themselves quietly averting their eyes.

Younger than I expected, though? He'd assumed the CEO of a major corporation would be at least fifty. They say Zenith Company is making waves overseas these days, and she's dressed head to toe in luxury, apparently. Ji-won, silently taking in her outfit, let out a snort. Well, well—Musa by Marini. And look at those creases in the heel. Wearing shoes worth over three million won like a pair of rubber slippers.

With every eye in the hall fixed upon her, Gaon swept her gaze around the space in one wide arc, spotted the man mid-tantrum, and began walking toward him with unhurried steps. At once, the security guards who had been restraining him fell back in a body. Sensing that something extraordinary was unfolding, the man scrambled halfway to his feet, his eyes darting nervously—and then Gaon stopped in front of him and spoke in a low, clear voice.

"You were a father who beat your own child."

"Wh-what did you say? You—young brat, where do you get off talking down to—"

Though clearly flustered, the man kept shouting—but Gaon simply stared at him, impassive. For an instant, a flicker of what might have been contempt passed through her large, dark eyes, but it was gone so quickly that Ji-won couldn't be certain.

"More than one life was taken cruelly beneath your kicks."

"So what! I kicked a few dogs to death and now you're sending a respectable human being to hell for it?!"

"Respectable…. Even beasts court their mates with devotion and care, yet you took yours by vile force and called it marriage. You are a creature lower than a beast. And even toward the wife you forced to your side, you kept no faith. Your wife, who carried that ache in her heart her whole life, sickened from grief and died—that sin, too, is yours."

Good Lord, he even cheated on her? The sheer gall of the man. The souls around them turned as one to shoot him looks of condemnation, but still the man refused to yield.

"What kind of nonsense is that?! Can you pr-prove it?"

"Foolish child. It would serve you better to quietly accept it now—for even in this very moment, your conduct is being added, line by line, to the record of your sins. Meaning the punishment you will receive in Myeonggye is growing larger even as we speak. You have only one chance left to atone, so I would advise you not to take it lightly."

"…What did you say?"

Realizing that the tide was turning decisively against him, the man's eyes gleamed with cunning—and he bolted for the nearest small wooden door. But his desperate flight ended anticlimactically before he'd covered ten steps. A transparent sword appeared, as if out of nowhere, hanging silently at his throat, and the man froze in place, too terrified to release even a single scream. It was a beautiful weapon, the water droplets leaping along its blade glittering like jewels, yet anyone could instinctively feel that a mere brush against it would cut a body to ribbons.

"But if you fail to grasp the weight of that final chance and continue to disturb the order of Jungcheon, I will cut you down without further delay. Should you bear a scar from my blade, you will be cast straight into the Abyss without even the judgment of King Yeomma. And once you set foot in that place, there is no coming out again. Not ever."

The moment the man understood he had no choice left to make, a deep despair settled over his face—and Gaon issued her ultimatum in a voice cold as frost.

"I will grant it as you wish. What will you do?"

The man's head finally dropped, and the security guards, who had closed in within moments, dragged the man—who no longer had the spine to resist—away and practically hurled him through the right-hand door. A belated scream echoed faintly from beyond it, and Jungcheon's briefly stilled time lurched back into its busy rhythm.

"CEO Nim, this is Director Cha Ji-won of Gallery Hwadam, whom I spoke to you about."

At the security chief's introduction, Gaon turned her head slightly, held Ji-won's gaze for a moment—less than three seconds—and then withdrew her eyes entirely. At that utterly indifferent display, Ji-won felt, inexplicably, stung.

"Manager Kwon."

"Yes, CEO Nim."

"Send him back."

Gaon delivered her verdict and turned away without a backward glance, and after a moment of sheer disbelief, the corner of Ji-won's mouth twitched upward. What is this? You had me hauled up here by force, and you can't spare a single word of greeting? If I was going to be turned away this easily, what was all that terrifying intimidation for?

"Just a moment, please."

If you summon a person, the least you can do is look them in the face and say it yourself. Shaking off the security chief's frantic attempts to restrain him, Ji-won stepped squarely into Gaon's path. Looking into those pale, emotionless eyes, something strange and indefinable surged up inside him in that instant—a perverse competitive fire. It was a feeling rather too complicated to simply call fighting spirit, but in that moment, he had no other name for it.