# Episode 2. An Era Without Dangun
—Who is the Dangun ruling Joseon now?
The man's voice echoed across Baekdu Mountain.
Yoon Seo-ha couldn't say a word.
Not because she didn't understand the question. She simply had no idea where to begin explaining.
Joseon had fallen long ago.
After that came Goguryeo, Baekje, and Silla, followed by Goryeo and a new Joseon. Then came the Korean Empire, the colonial period, war, and the era of division.
And now, there was no leader called Dangun on the Korean Peninsula.
Clutching the black shard of stone, Yoon Seo-ha opened her mouth.
“There's no Dangun.”
The man's pupils moved inside the transparent tube.
—None?
“Joseon fell.”
A brief silence followed.
There was neither anger nor sorrow on the man's face. His gaze merely grew distant, as if he were looking somewhere far away.
—Which Dangun did it end with?
“I don't know that either.”
—You don't know?
“The Dangun we know was one person.”
Yoon Seo-ha steadied her breathing.
“A man born to Hwanung and Ungnyeo who founded Joseon. It's said he ruled the country for a very long time before becoming a mountain god.”
The man's eyes turned cold.
—Who changed history that way?
“Isn't that what myths are? As they're passed down over long periods of time, the stories of several people get merged into one….”
—Dangun is not a person's name.
The man's voice cut her off.
—It is the title of the human leader elected by the tribal council to rule Joseon. The first Dangun was my son, but the Danguns after him were not of my bloodline.
Yoon Seo-ha pressed her lips together.
It was the same as the record her grandmother had left behind.
‘Dangun was not one person.’
That meant a considerable portion of the sentence passed down through her family was not a story her family had invented.
Park Do-yoon cautiously approached Yoon Seo-ha.
“Dr. Yoon.”
He asked in a low voice,
“Who are you talking to?”
Yoon Seo-ha pointed at the main screen.
“Can't you see him?”
The screen showed only the black structure rising from beneath Heaven Lake. Neither the glass tube nor the man sleeping inside it appeared.
Do-yoon shook his head, his face rigid.
“There is nothing here except the black object.”
“What about the voice?”
“All I can hear is your voice, Dr. Yoon.”
Yoon Seo-ha looked down at the black stone fused to her hand.
Hwanung's appearance and voice were reaching only her through the stone.
—Who are you?
The man asked.
“Yoon Seo-ha. I'm a geologist.”
—I asked about your tribe.
“There are no tribes.”
—There is no Dangun, and there are no tribes?
“We use the terms nation and citizens now.”
—Who chooses the leader?
“The citizens choose through an election.”
—How many participate?
Yoon Seo-ha calculated for a moment.
“Just in the south, there are tens of millions.”
The man's pupils trembled faintly.
To someone who had brought about Joseon's downfall by failing even to secure the agreement of thirteen tribes, the idea that tens of millions of people elected a leader seemed impossible to understand.
—Are you saying tens of millions gather in one place?
“There's no need for that. Each person chooses the candidate they want, and the results are added together.”
—How do you combine choices made in different places into one?
“We use information and communications networks.”
—Do you connect your thoughts?
“Not our thoughts.”
Hwanung was silent for a while.
His gaze moved over the monitors, communications equipment, and satellite data behind Yoon Seo-ha in turn. He couldn't see them directly, but it seemed as though he was seeing what she saw through the black stone.
—Even without me, you exchange the words of Heaven.
For the first time, emotion colored his voice.
It was astonishment.
That single remark made Yoon Seo-ha even more certain that the being before her was not a god.
He was not omnipotent.
He had merely lived for an extraordinarily long time and possessed knowledge and power far beyond those of humans.
“Are you Hwanung?”
The man did not answer right away.
—That is not my name.
“I know. I know it's a title.”
—That survived as well?
“Only among a very small number of people.”
The man closed his eyes, then opened them again.
—Hwanin is the guardian of the memory of Heaven. Hwanung is the one who shares the power of life on new lands. Hwanhee is the one who prevents that power from going against humanity's will.
“Then you are….”
—I am the last Hwanung.
At that moment, every alarm in the analysis center went off at once.
BEEEEEP—!
“Heaven Lake's surface level is rising rapidly!”
“Earthquake magnitude 6.1! The epicenter is moving!”
“Volcanic gas concentration has exceeded the measurement limit!”
Heaven Lake thrashed across the main screen.
As the black structure rose higher above the surface, the ice walls along the lakeshore collapsed one after another. A gigantic wave slammed into the inside of the caldera.
Do-yoon hurriedly pounded the keyboard.
“A landslide has begun on the northeastern slope. It will reach Residential Zone Two in….”
His hands stopped.
“Seven minutes.”
The analysis center froze.
Around 160 people, including the families of the night-shift workers and local support personnel, were staying in Residential Zone Two of the Baekdu Mountain Joint Observation Base.
Even if they began evacuating immediately, there was no way to get everyone out within seven minutes.
“Send the evacuation alert first!”
Yoon Seo-ha shouted.
“The communications network is down!”
“What about the satellite phone?”
“No connection!”
“Open every emergency frequency!”
The researchers sprang into action.
Yoon Seo-ha gripped the black stone again.
“Did you cause this?”
—No.
“It started right after you woke up!”
—More precisely, it started right after you woke me up.
“This isn't the time to play word games. There are people over there.”
Hwanung's eyes glowed gold.
The strata beneath Heaven Lake flooded into Yoon Seo-ha's mind.
Scorching magma.
Cracked bedrock.
A colossal spaceship embedded deep underground for thousands of years.
The cooling system surrounding the spaceship had stopped, causing the pressure of the surrounding magma to rise sharply.
Hwanung's awakening was not the cause of the eruption.
But it was clear that disabling his hibernation had hastened the explosion.
—If I begin hibernation again, I can delay the pressure buildup.
“Then do it.”
—That is impossible right now.
“Why?”
—The thirteenth gate opened first.
New characters appeared in the air.
Twelve Seats access: 8 percent.
Hwanhee connection unavailable.
Control authority unstable.
Searching for the first Awakened.
“What are the Twelve Seats?”
—The power I divided among the twelve tribes long ago.
“The Twelve Zodiac Gods….”
—That is what later generations called them, apparently.
“What does that power have to do with stopping the volcano?”
—My power is divided into twelve parts. To go back to sleep, I must reclaim the power that has been opened.
“But no Awakened has even appeared yet.”
—One has.
Hwanung's gaze turned toward somewhere else.
At the same time, a ray of light shot from the black stone. It extended to the main screen and forcibly activated one of the surveillance cameras that had gone offline.
The screen changed.
Baekdu Mountain Residential Zone Two.
Volcanic ash poured down like gray snow.
Oh Yeon-jae shoved twenty-three children into the underground shelter.
“Get inside! Don't stop until you reach the back wall!”
The children descended the stairs, crying.
She had worked as the zone's overnight childcare teacher for four years. She had gone through volcanic evacuation drills many times. But during the drills, the ground had never split open, and the exterior walls of the buildings had never collapsed.
Most of all, an entire mountain had never come crashing down toward them.
“Teacher!”
Eight-year-old Minho had stopped halfway down the stairs.
“Yujin's not here!”
Yeon-jae's face stiffened.
“What?”
“She went back to her room to get her doll.”
Yeon-jae counted the children in the shelter.
Twenty-two.
One was truly missing.
Outside, rocks rained down onto the roof. Far off on the mountainside, hundreds of thousands of tons of rock and earth were surging toward the residential zone.
Less than four minutes remained.
“Lock the door and wait inside,”
Yeon-jae told Minho.
“What about you, Teacher?”
“I'll bring Yujin back.”
The assistant teacher grabbed her arm.
“Are you crazy? If you go out now, you'll die!”
“You want me to shut the door and leave a seven-year-old alone?”
“One person could put everyone in here at risk!”
He wasn't wrong.
The shelter's blast door had to be closed manually. If Yeon-jae failed to return, someone outside would have to close the door for her.
The assistant teacher's hand was shaking.
Yeon-jae pulled it away.
“If I'm not back in two minutes, close it.”
“Teacher Oh!”
Yeon-jae ran up the stairs.
The moment she stepped outside, hot wind and volcanic ash battered her face. With the power out, she couldn't see a foot ahead inside the building.
“Yujin!”
There was no answer.
“Han Yu-jin!”
Keeping one hand against the wall, Yeon-jae headed toward the children's quarters. A faint sob came from beneath the collapsed ceiling.
“Teacher….”
Yeon-jae pushed aside the debris.
Yujin was curled up between a bed and chunks of concrete, clutching a stuffed rabbit to her chest.
“It's okay. Teacher's here.”
“I can't move my leg.”
Yeon-jae lifted the debris.
It did not budge.
A thunderous roar came from outside.
One minute remained.
Yeon-jae gritted her teeth and pushed again.
At that moment, her heart gave a powerful thump.
Boom.
Someone's voice echoed inside her head.
—Will you endanger those who remain for the sake of one person?
Pushing against the debris, Yeon-jae answered.
“Who are you?”
—To protect twenty-two, you must abandon one.
“Cut the crap.”
—You cannot save everyone.
“Who are you to decide that?”
Light appeared on the back of Yeon-jae's hand.
A golden line climbed her wrist and entered her heart. At the same time, the impossibly heavy concrete began to lift, little by little.
Yeon-jae screamed as she shoved the debris aside.
She scooped up Yujin and ran out of the building.
Far away, the mountainside was collapsing.
Black earth and rocks swept down like a wave, swallowing the residential zone. Only a few hundred meters remained between the landslide and the shelter.
Yeon-jae ran with the child in her arms.
She could see the blast door.
It was slowly closing.
“Wait!”
Yeon-jae shouted.
The people inside saw her.
The assistant teacher grabbed the closing door.
Yeon-jae pushed Yujin inside.
“Close the door!”
“Get in too, Teacher!”
The instant Yeon-jae tried to enter, a massive impact struck the building.
KRA-BOOM—!
The ceiling collapsed.
A twisted steel beam fell and pierced the upper section of the blast door. The door stopped moving, half open.
“No!”
Everyone threw themselves against it, but the door did not budge.
The black landslide was almost upon them.
Yeon-jae looked inside the shelter.
There were twenty-three children.
Their parents and her coworkers were there too.
They were the people she had to protect.
Yeon-jae stepped outside the door.
“Teacher Oh!”
“Move farther inside.”
“What are you going to do?”
Yeon-jae stood before the open door.
The golden line on her wrist flowed down to the floor. It encircled the entire shelter, forming a single circle.
Without realizing it, Yeon-jae spoke.
“This is the door.”
The exact same words Dallae had spoken a thousand years earlier.
“As long as I'm here, nothing can get through.”
The mountain came crashing down.
The analysis center's main screen turned gold.
The landslide swallowed the underground shelter. But at the point where Oh Yeon-jae stood, earth and rock split apart in both directions.
An invisible wall was protecting the shelter.
Not one of the researchers could speak.
Yoon Seo-ha stared at the woman on the screen.
Her entire body was trembling. Blood flowed from her nose and ears. Even so, she did not retreat a single step.
Hwanung spoke in a low voice.
—The Dog Seat.
“You mean that woman is one of the Twelve Zodiac Gods?”
—She chose what to protect and stood between them and danger. She is worthy of receiving the power of the gate.
“She'll die if this continues.”
—She will not fall until the gate is closed.
“And after that?”
Hwanung did not answer.
Yoon Seo-ha remembered the record from 946 CE.
A woman who saved the forty-three.
A name everyone had forgotten.
Dallae.
“No way….”
Yoon Seo-ha pressed the black stone against the screen.
“Is she going to disappear too?”
—I have not fully awakened. Incomplete power comes at a price.
Oh Yeon-jae's face on the screen was growing blurry.
It was not a camera malfunction.
Her photograph and name were gradually disappearing from the employee roster displayed beside the screen.
Oh Yeon-jae.
The last of the three syllables vanished first.
Acting on instinct, Yoon Seo-ha switched on the microphone.
“Can you hear me?”
Yeon-jae, standing before the shelter, flinched.
“Who… are you?”
“Say your name!”
“Why does that matter right now?”
“Hurry! You have to say your name!”
Struggling to hold back the falling rocks, Yeon-jae forced open her mouth.
“Oh… Yeon-jae.”
Yoon Seo-ha wrote the name on a sheet of paper on the desk.
Oh Yeon-jae.
The letters faded.
She wrote it again.
Oh Yeon-jae.
The second syllable disappeared too.
“Your name is Oh Yeon-jae!”
Yoon Seo-ha shouted.
“You saved twenty-three children. On November 3, 2030, at Baekdu Mountain Residential Zone Two, you guarded the door!”
The black stone grew searing hot.
Temporary authority for the Thirteenth Seat confirmed.
Recording testimony.
The name stopped disappearing.
Oh Yeon-jae's photograph reappeared on the employee roster.
Something changed in Hwanung's eyes.
—You held on to her name.
Enduring the pain of her palm burning, Yoon Seo-ha asked,
“Is this Hwanhee's power?”
—No.
Hwanung answered.
—Before becoming Hwanhee, it was the oldest power humanity was meant to possess.
“What is it?”
—Not forgetting.
The landslide stopped.
Oh Yeon-jae fell to her knees. The golden barrier vanished, but the shelter remained intact.
The first modern Awakened had survived.
The characters in the air changed.
Dog Seat awakening complete.
Seats remaining: 11.
Estimated end of the Awakening Era.
November 3, 2060.
Thirty years remained.
Then a new warning appeared.
Hwanin's hibernation chamber empty.
Yoon Seo-ha's face hardened.
“Empty?”
Hwanung slowly turned his head as if he were seeing the information for the first time.
—That can't be.
Final opening record for the hibernation chamber.
April 1903.
Yoon Seo-ha stopped breathing.
1903 was the year of Baekdu Mountain's last recorded eruption.
Hwanung's father.
The guardian of the memory of Heaven.
A transcendent being incapable of properly communicating with humans had awakened first, 127 years ago.
And no one knew where he had been ever since.
For the first time, fear appeared on Hwanung's face.
—Find Hwanin.
Beneath Heaven Lake, the door to the second hibernation chamber opened.
There was no one inside.
Only a single sentence, written in a human hand, remained on the wall.
I will raise Dangun again.