I will raise Dangun again.
The moment Yoon Seo-ha saw the sentence left on the wall of the second hibernation chamber, she felt something strange.
It wasn't a sentence she was seeing for the first time.
"No way..."
Yoon Seo-ha opened her desk drawer.
Beneath the box that had held the black stone was an old notebook. Its cover bore no writing. It was the notebook in which Yoon Seo-ha had personally recopied the oldest records in her family.
She flipped through the pages quickly.
Records of Baekdu Mountain's eruption.
A legend about an Awakened who lost their name.
The claim that Dangun was not a person's name.
And the final page.
Yoon Seo-ha's hand stopped.
I will raise Dangun again.
It wasn't only the shape of the writing that matched. The habit of dragging the end of "Dan" upward and curving the final consonant of "gun" inward was identical, too.
"Yoon Tae-gyeom."
Yoon Seo-ha murmured the name.
Park Do-yoon asked, "Who is that?"
"My great-grandfather's grandfather."
More precisely, he was the person who first established the Sinsi Archives in Yoon Seo-ha's family.
Yoon Tae-gyeom.
Born in 1874, he left for Baekdu Mountain in 1903. He disappeared for eighteen days immediately after the eruption, then returned alone.
But he remembered neither his family's names nor anything that had happened to him at Baekdu Mountain. He barely spoke, either. There was only one sentence he wrote over and over throughout his life.
I will raise Dangun again.
Yoon Seo-ha had thought the sentence was her ancestor's delusion.
But the same sentence was written inside Hwanin's hibernation chamber.
Hwanung asked coldly,
—Are you saying your ancestor awakened Hwanin?
"I don't know."
—You recognized the handwriting.
"Knowing that the handwriting is the same doesn't tell us everything."
—This hibernation chamber cannot be opened from the inside.
Hwanung's golden eyes narrowed.
—Someone outside released Hwanin's seal. And this sentence is written in human script, not the script of a transcendent being.
Yoon Seo-ha couldn't argue.
Hwanung was right.
The spaceship's records appeared in midair.
Hwanin hibernation disengagement time.
4:11 a.m., April 18, 1903.
External user confirmed.
Restoring user name.
The letters began to appear, then broke apart.
When Yoon Seo-ha clenched the black stone, the vanishing characters gathered together again.
Yoon Tae-gyeom.
Everyone inside the analysis center turned to look at Yoon Seo-ha.
Park Do-yoon spoke first.
"Dr. Yoon, your ancestor really did awaken Hwanin."
"That can't be."
"The evidence is right in front of us."
"My great-grandfather was an ordinary man. He didn't know how to open a hibernation device belonging to a transcendent being."
—An ordinary human could not have entered this place.
Hwanung spoke.
—To reach Hwanin's hibernation chamber, one needs a seal of the Heavenly Seals.
Yoon Seo-ha looked down at the black stone attached to her hand.
"Is this one of the Heavenly Seals?"
—Part of one.
"Not a mirror, sword, or bell?"
—Humans merely remembered them as objects they could understand. The Heavenly Seals are three seals that divide authority: memory, boundary, and invocation.
A faint light flowed from the black stone.
—What you possess is the seal of memory.
"So that's why I was able to protect their names."
—The last Hwanhee possessed that seal.
Yoon Seo-ha's expression stiffened.
"Ungnyeo?"
—Ara was the first Hwanhee.
Hwanung's voice dropped.
—And she was also the last Hwanhee I knew.
"How did that seal end up in my family...?"
—That is what I am asking you.
Hwanung suspected Yoon Seo-ha.
Her family had awakened Hwanin, and they also possessed the last Hwanhee's Heavenly Seal.
Even Yoon Seo-ha would have suspected herself.
BEEEEEP—!
A new alarm cut off the conversation.
Twelve Seats opening rate: 16 percent.
Second Awakening response confirmed.
A map of the Korean Peninsula appeared on the screen.
A golden wave extending from Baekdu Mountain was moving south along the mountain range. The light passed through Pyongyang and Gaeseong before stopping beneath Seoul.
"Seoul?"
Park Do-yoon zoomed in on the map.
"A massive short circuit occurred in the subway's loop power grid. Part of Line 6 has lost power."
Yoon Seo-ha asked, "Earthquake damage?"
"It isn't an earthquake."
Do-yoon's face hardened as he stared at the screen.
"Something is moving underground."
Thirty-eight meters beneath Seoul.
Han Do-gyeong opened his eyes in the darkness.
Emergency lights blinked red.
"Wake up!"
A woman shouted from somewhere nearby.
Do-gyeong planted a hand on the floor and pushed himself up. Blood ran from his head. The stopped subway car was filled with smoke and screams.
He was an employee of a subcontractor that inspected Seoul's subway electrical equipment at night. When power to the tracks suddenly cut out, he had been working in the inspection area beside the driver's cab.
The tunnel ceiling collapsed just after the train began its emergency braking.
"Is everyone okay?"
Do-gyeong switched on his flashlight.
The passengers had fallen and been thrown into one another, but most of them could still move. The problem was that the tunnel was blocked at both ends of the train.
Rocks and concrete completely blocked the tracks.
The driver approached.
"You're a maintenance worker, right?"
"Electrical maintenance."
"Is there any way out of here?"
Do-gyeong shook his head.
This section was more than a kilometer from either station. There was an evacuation path beside the tunnel, but the collapses at both ends made it unusable.
The driver asked quietly, "There are seventy-two passengers. The oxygen..."
His voice trailed off.
The ventilation system had stopped, too.
Smoke was slowly gathering inside the car.
Do-gyeong took out an emergency tablet. It wouldn't turn on. His phone had no signal, either.
"Isn't there a maintenance passage we can use manually?"
"Not in this section."
The driver answered firmly.
"I have the plans memorized."
Do-gyeong had inspected this section dozens of times. The locations of the tracks, electrical rooms, and drainage pipes were all stored in his mind.
There was no hidden exit.
Then a child's sobs rang out.
Do-gyeong moved toward the end of the car.
A girl of about six was clutching the hand of an old woman who had collapsed.
"Grandma won't get up."
The old woman was breathing, but it seemed she'd injured her leg. She couldn't move on her own.
The people nearby looked at Do-gyeong anxiously.
He hated that look.
Do-gyeong had neither the power to save them nor the authority to make a decision. He wasn't even a full-time employee, and he wasn't a rescue worker.
He was just someone who replaced severed wires and found the cause when a short circuit occurred.
Thud.
His heart pounded.
Thud.
Something moved in the darkness.
Golden lines appeared before Do-gyeong's eyes.
The lines stretched through the tunnel walls and floor, between the fallen slabs of concrete. Hundreds of branching paths.
Some paths led over the tracks. Others vanished into the walls.
Do-gyeong stared at the brightest line.
It began at the emergency door at the rear of the train and passed through a gap in the collapse. Someone with a light enough body could escape through it.
Numbers appeared in Do-gyeong's mind.
Possible survivors: 65.
Time required: 18 minutes.
Unable to move: 7.
The injured old woman and the little girl were among them.
—This path saves the most people.
An unfamiliar voice spoke.
Do-gyeong looked around.
"Who are you?"
No one answered.
—If you abandon seven, sixty-five live.
Do-gyeong glared at the golden path.
"What about the other paths?"
—There are none.
"But I can see them."
Hundreds of dim lines were visible.
—Paths you cannot reach.
"You decided I couldn't reach them."
Do-gyeong turned his back to the fallen old woman.
"Climb on."
The driver grabbed his arm.
"Did you find some kind of way out?"
"I'm not sure."
"Where are you going?"
Do-gyeong pointed at the tunnel wall.
"Beyond there."
The driver stared at him in disbelief.
"That's a wall."
Do-gyeong knew that, too.
But wind was blowing from beyond the wall.
It was a tiny, faint gap.
A path visible only to him.
With the old woman on his back, Do-gyeong told the people, "Line up single file. Put the children and injured people in the middle."
"Is there an exit?"
"We'll make one."
Do-gyeong stood before the wall.
When he placed his palm against it, cracks inside the concrete began to glow gold. It wasn't the ability to smash through walls.
It was the power to find gaps wide enough for a person to pass through.
He thrust his hand between the cracks.
The wall split like paper.
Beyond it was a drainage facility that had been sealed off long ago—a subterranean passage from the period of Japanese occupation that no longer existed on current maps.
"Why is there a passage like this...?"
The driver couldn't finish his sentence.
"Let's ask questions after we get out."
Do-gyeong entered the passage.
A golden line continued through the darkness.
The people followed him.
The passage was narrow and slippery. Collapsed sections appeared at intervals, but Do-gyeong always found a small gap people could pass through.
Ten minutes.
Twenty minutes.
The people grew increasingly exhausted.
Something was disappearing from Do-gyeong's mind, too.
At first, he couldn't remember where he'd parked the inspection vehicle.
Then he forgot the way back to the company.
And when he found the final iron door, he couldn't even recall what neighborhood his home was in.
Each time he found a path, one path he knew disappeared.
—Stop.
The voice spoke.
—If you open this path, you will lose the place you return to.
Do-gyeong heard the old woman's breathing on his back.
The child's small hand clung to his work clothes.
"People don't die just because they lose the place they return to."
Do-gyeong placed his hand on the iron door.
"But if we stay here, they'll all die."
A golden line climbed up his wrist.
The second Seat opened.
The Rat's Seat.
The one who sees gaps and opens paths through blocked places.
Do-gyeong pushed open the iron door.
Light and cold air poured in.
The people emerged onto the surface.
All seventy-two of them.
"The second Awakened saved the people!"
Cheers erupted in the analysis center.
The rescued passengers appeared on the subway exit's security cameras.
Finally, a man in work clothes emerged carrying an old woman on his back.
Words appeared before Yoon Seo-ha.
Rat's Seat Awakening complete.
Awakened's name.
Han Do-gyeong.
Yoon Seo-ha hurriedly wrote the name on a sheet of paper.
Han Do-gyeong.
The black stone in her palm suddenly grew scorching hot.
Yoon Seo-ha swallowed a groan.
Across the desk, Oh Yeon-jae's name was fading.
"What's happening?"
—Because you are trying to hold on to two names at once.
Hwanung spoke.
"The Thirteenth Seat is supposed to remember every Awakened."
—That was when Hwanhee was complete.
"So because I'm not Hwanhee, I have to choose only one?"
—You are merely a human temporarily connected to the seal of memory.
Han Do-gyeong's face was blurring on the screen.
At the same time, Oh Yeon-jae's employee records began disappearing again.
Remember one person, and forget another.
Yoon Seo-ha gritted her teeth.
"So you're telling me to choose again."
—That is the price of using power.
"No."
Yoon Seo-ha turned to Park Do-yoon.
"Bring me paper."
"What?"
"Write Oh Yeon-jae."
"Who?"
He was already starting to forget.
Yoon Seo-ha grabbed him by the collar.
"The person who saved twenty-three children. Oh Yeon-jae. Write it down!"
Without knowing why, Do-yoon wrote the name on the paper.
Oh Yeon-jae.
"Read it out loud."
"Oh Yeon-jae."
"Again."
"Oh Yeon-jae."
The other researchers in the analysis center looked at Yoon Seo-ha.
"Everyone, repeat it!"
Yoon Seo-ha shouted.
"Oh Yeon-jae!"
"Oh Yeon-jae."
"Louder!"
"Oh Yeon-jae!"
Several voices overlapped.
The fading record of Oh Yeon-jae stopped.
Yoon Seo-ha wrote Han Do-gyeong's name on another sheet and handed it to Do-yoon.
"Now this person."
"Han Do-gyeong."
"All together!"
The researchers repeated the name.
"Han Do-gyeong!"
"Han Do-gyeong!"
Both faces reappeared on the screen.
The heat of the black stone gradually faded.
Hwanung watched the scene.
—You shared the memory.
Yoon Seo-ha breathed heavily.
"One person doesn't have to remember everything."
—Ara said the same thing.
For the first time, old longing colored Hwanung's voice.
—That was why we entrusted one another's names, one to each of the thirteen tribes.
"Then why did you fail?"
Hwanung did not answer.
Yoon Seo-ha didn't ask again.
The important thing now wasn't the failures of the past.
Ten more would awaken.
If one person couldn't remember every hero, then more people had to become witnesses.
Yoon Seo-ha issued orders throughout the analysis center.
"Distribute the Awakened records across multiple locations. Use paper, independent servers, and voice recordings. Have at least thirteen people memorize each person's name."
Do-yoon asked, "What do we do about the official report?"
"Not yet."
"But seventy-two people were rescued in Seoul. The media will find out soon."
"If the Awakened's identity is made public, we don't know who will reach them first."
Yoon Seo-ha looked at Hwanung.
"Hwanin awakened 127 years ago. If he was really trying to establish a new Dangun, he wouldn't have acted alone."
As if it had been waiting for those words, the spaceship's records began operating again.
Restoring video from the time of Hwanin's hibernation disengagement.
A blurry scene appeared.
April 18, 1903.
A young man stood before Hwanin's hibernation chamber.
It was Yoon Tae-gyeom.
In his hand was the same black seal Yoon Seo-ha now possessed.
The hibernation chamber opened, and Hwanin collapsed onto the floor.
Hwanin moved his lips, but he couldn't speak in human language. Yoon Tae-gyeom approached and helped him up.
Hwanin's hand touched Yoon Tae-gyeom's head.
Gold exploded.
Yoon Tae-gyeom collapsed with a scream, and Hwanin spoke human words for the first time.
"Dangun..."
Hwanin took language from Yoon Tae-gyeom.
In exchange, Yoon Tae-gyeom lost his speech and memories.
In the video, Hwanin pointed at the wall of the hibernation chamber.
With a trembling hand, Yoon Tae-gyeom wrote the sentence.
I will raise Dangun again.
Hwanung's face twisted.
—Hwanin does not understand humans.
"But he learned to speak."
—He only took the language. He did not understand the meaning of words.
The video ended.
The final travel record appeared.
Hwanin left Baekdu Mountain with Yoon Tae-gyeom.
Their destination was Hanseong, the capital of the Daehan Empire.
And in December 1903, only Yoon Tae-gyeom returned home.
Hwanin's trail ended there.
Except for one line of records.
New Dangun selection plan.
Project name: Rebuilding Joseon.
Administrator: Hwanin.
Selection period: April 18, 1903–November 3, 2030.
Status: Selection complete.
Yoon Seo-ha's heart sank.
"It says complete?"
Hwanung rose inside the transparent chamber.
The hesitation that had remained on his face disappeared.
—Dangun is not a position Hwanin has the right to decide.
"Does Hwanin know that?"
—No.
The final information appeared in midair.
Location of new Dangun candidate Awakening.
Seoul, Republic of Korea.
At that moment, every light went out in a high-rise building in central Seoul.
Top floor.
A man sitting alone in the darkness slowly opened his eyes.
Before him sat an old machine that had not stopped once in 127 years.
A voice flowed from the machine.
—The last Hwanung has awakened.
The man smiled as he looked down at Seoul through the window.
"A little earlier than expected."
—Two of the Twelve Seats have opened.
The man rose from his chair.
An unfamiliar pattern, a mixture of black and gold, was engraved in his palm.
"It doesn't matter."
He continued, "I'll bring them to me before Hwanung gathers the twelve heroes."
A nameplate on the desk caught the emergency light.
Chairman of the Heavenly Seals Foundation.
Baek Do-won.
The new Dangun Hwanin had spent 127 years preparing.