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The tick of the watchtower followed Jung Heewon as she opened her eyes to the midday sun. The sparks that shackled her to the ground dissipated and she stood with a shaky breath.
Tick, tick, tick.
“Yoo Sangah.”
Light hair shifted as a pair of eyes peered at Jung Heewon, wide with shock and tears. The sword of judgment slipped into her grasp. The hilt was sweaty and unfamiliar now that the man who crafted it had disappeared into that maw of darkness.
“You knew.” The seething words burned her already-raw throat and Jung Heewon felt a stinging liquid trail down her cheeks. Just before Kim Dokja had burst into the air there was a look—a hated, stupid, conspiratorial look between Kim Dokja and Yoo Sangah. She knew.
“Tell me where he is!”
“I don’t know, Heewon-ssi!” Yoo Sangah, still kneeling on the ground, threw her hands up. The intricate swirls and lines carved into those hands tried to whisper innocent, innocent, innocent to Jung Heewon, but she wouldn’t accept it. No, if this woman knew that Kim Dokja—that he… that he what? The lack of knowledge was what truly enraged her.
“I don’t know what he did,” Yoo Sangah continued. “I just—I, I didn’t know he would do that. He—he told me that it was coming. He figured it out from Surya’s train, and he asked me for help, and I thought I did I thought we figured it out but clearly I wasn’t—”
“Stop.” The tip of her sword wavered in front of Yoo Sangah’s face. “Yoo Sangah, just… just tell me. What did he do?” She dropped to the ground as the tears flowed from her eyes, the question an unanswered scream in the air. Nearby, Shin Yoosung was collapsed on the ground, clenching her chest as violent sobs broke from her throat. Lee Gilyoung looked at the sky with empty eyes, muttering incoherent sentences to himself as insects started writhing under the dirt. Lee Jihye had run over and was now shaking Lee Hyunsung as he cried ugly tears, screaming obscenities in the man’s face and asking that one question that couldn’t be answered:
Where is Kim Dokja?
Tick, tick, tick.
The crunch of boots on dirt broke Jung Heewon from her reverie. Yes, if anyone knew what to do, it would be—
“Yoo Joonghyuk.” The words came out as a half-sob.
But what awaited Jung Heewon scared her. Those burning eyes were empty, devoid of their usual grit, staring at the sky. His arms hung awkwardly by his sides, dangling in the slight breeze that tickled the hair on his forehead. And that fierce mouth that goaded the gods hung slightly open, disbelieving. The man looked like a broken toy that had been neglected by a child.
“Wha…” The words were soft but Jung Heewon managed to pick up on the sound. Those empty eyes swept over the group. “…Kim Dokja?”
“Oh, God.” Jung Heewon sobbed and Yoo Sangah grabbed her, face shoved into Jung Heewon’s hair. The women sobbed in tandem, an echoing orchestra that was drowned out by the cheers in the distance. Jung Heewon couldn’t see Yoo Joonghyuk but heard the thud as he dropped to the ground and dug his fingers into the dirt, scrabbling for an answer that couldn’t be found.
Tick, tick, tick.