Chapter Text
Begin again (and again).
Joonggil is going to die soon, or he’s going to commit the worst crimes of all. Killing the Jade Empress should do that, punishment as hard as oblivion. Out of the extravagant things she would order, she had to come up with this.
Jumadeung’s memo #67337
To all seniors grim reapers/ Jumadeung members who have been in service for more than two hundred years: Please be informed that the next two days and nights have been set aside for recreational activities to improve the quality of work of the older members of the company. Therefore, a place has been reserved in Jeju for you to enjoy these days in the most comfortable way possible, however, due to the exorbitant number of members, it has been arranged that the rooms will be organized in duos and quartets depending on the area you belong to and your professional ranks (you are reminded to maintain composure and due order in your rooms). At the bottom of this note, your roommate (s) is/are designated; this is not subject to change.
Assignation: Park Joonggil and Koo Ryeon.
Koo Ryeon.
Ryeon.
His Wife.
To be exact, his wife in his past life, which he had recently remembered two months ago, and after a month in Hell and a month of only seeing little glimpses of her pink hair in the hallways, they didn't seem to know how to start over.
Joonggil was trying not to be a jerk, at least not again after inflicting so many cruelties on his wife. Still, even his insolent protégé tended to give him some eye-rolling whenever Joonggil made no move to improve the relationship with Ryeon.
And again. He wasn't even sure how his wife would react to whatever the Jade Empress was planning. Perhaps, knowing her character, he would find himself in an empty room in a few hours, realizing that Ryeon didn't want to be near him.
Now, the problem per se wasn't that Joonggil didn't want to see her, especially within four walls with a bed for two days, but the timing wasn't right. Just thinking about it made his skin tingle with anxiety, tension, and other emotions he should avoid at all costs.
The lobby was luxurious. The Director hadn't lied. This would be a vacation worthy of Her Majesty.
His body tensed when he saw his... old companion approaching the reception desk. She wore her characteristic pink eye shades, pink hair now on her shoulders, a white strapless blouse, worn flared jeans, and white heels.
Joonggil was certainly going to die.
He didn't consider himself a pervert or anything like that. He prided himself on never crossing any boundaries with his wife when they were alive, nor in Jumadeung. However, with their 400 years of baggage of love and tragedy, his first thought was to carry her on his shoulders and lock himself in the room with her for a week, as he used to do after returning from his military campaigns.
Damn it. He was NOT going to make it.
Joonggil approached to check in alongside his partner. A sharp knock on the desk snapped him out of his thoughts. “What do you mean there's only one damn bed?” Ryeon looked like he wanted to kill the receptionist and then kill him for simply witnessing this ridiculous conversation.
“Miss Koo, unfortunately, many of the members of your company took the shared rooms. Your room has the best views of the beach, it is one of the most comfortable rooms in terms of furniture, and you will feel right at home.”
Ryeon was not impressed by the situation. She had fantasized so much about what could happen on this vacation that, of course, the Director would take the opportunity to become the typical not-wanted meddler in her marital problems with her ex-husband.
The receptionist added, “We will include two spa sessions and free passes to the best attractions in the area, to make up for the inconvenience.”
Seeing the poor girl's near-desperation and obvious desire to cry, she agreed and gave Joonggil, who looked like he was about to collapse after hearing the words “one bed,” an unfriendly look.
Ever since Joonggil regained his memory and returned to Jumadeong, Ryeon began to feel as if she were 15 years old again, standing in the middle of the forest with her targets ready to practice, and with the desire to return to Joonggil, practice with him, and do everything possible to be in harmony.
Worried that Joonggil might not like her enough, but wanting to play with him as they would after getting married, she wanted him to be honest with her and calm all her worries with kisses and caresses.
Um… She wonders.
She knew Joonggil well enough to know that old habits of playfulness were playing on his mind, eager to know who would make the first move. Would there be tears and regrets? Or would they let their bodies settle this damn wait and then make up for it with words of eternal love?
Ryeon's skin tingled, waiting for something, anything.
Their room was spacious, an executive suite, but with a single bed. Joonggil left his small suitcase in the middle of the room and took a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket; he needed air and nicotine in his lungs.
One of the great benefits of being dead was that he didn't need to worry about his lungs or diseases in general. He exhaled each puff forcefully when he felt his wife's piercing gaze—he really had to get his thoughts in order and stop thinking of Ryeon as his. He could almost feel her gaze on his lips and hand holding the cigarette burning into him to the point that he had to turn his gaze to the horizon, where the sun was setting. The calm of the ocean seemed to contradict the storm in his heart.
He wondered.
.
.
.
.
Hours later, it started again.
Apparently, the Director decided that her dinner would not be among the hundreds of Jumadeung reapers, but away from the turbulent atmosphere of the hotel, in a small, reserved place in front of the ocean.
Ryeon wanted to scream in desperation. She wasn't trying to hit Joonggil in the face with her silence. Do something, she wanted to scream. Say something, anything, just talk to me.
Joonggil wanted to slap himself.
Of course, he understood his wife's body language, but what could he say to her without sounding like an idiot after so much cruelty, tears, and regret? She was sitting across from him, looking radiant.
She was wearing only a small blouse and a long skirt, which highlighted her figure and elegance, but was casual enough to go unnoticed among the tourists.
“Food is really expensive these days,” he said, closing his eyes in shame. God, he was really going to slap himself and throw himself into the damn ocean.
Stupid.
Stupid.
But then… she was laughing, her eyes were shining, and her small hand could not cover her big smile. Joonggil marveled. So beautiful.
“Food, I can't… can’t believe,” she said with a mocking voice. “Out of all the damn topics…,” she sighed in resignation.
Joonggil hit his fist on the table and began to move his leg anxiously. “I don't know how, Ryeon, I have so many things... so many things to say that sometimes I just want to scream even if you hate me,” he said haltingly.
And before she could reply, he continued, “This past year has ironically been hell for me. I thought we had a silent mutual understanding, even if I didn't remember that you were my wife.” he exhaled shakily and closed his eyes tightly. “Those 200 years together, whether it was in the halls of Jumadeung, on the battlefield, among lost souls, or in duty to the Jade Empress,” he swallowed the lump in his throat.
Ryeon stayed quiet. She seemed to accept what he had to say.
"I don't know if it was because my soul never stopped loving you, or because this new version of me, cold and rough, didn't have his wife to soften the edges... I have always wanted you by my side, with or without labels. I didn't need kisses or caresses; your simple company was enough. Our little walks in the nights were enough to imagine a future where my duty was only a small sacrifice to be with you."
I look straight into her eyes, bright, full of so many emotions, some that I could identify as love, sorrow, and something heavier that his existence would never understand how to decipher.
"And then you left. You left without any explanation. Maybe my soul remembered how much it hurt the first time you left without me. I admit it, and I will regret every minute of this life for how I treated you, not only you, but everything your work means, the souls you care for, why you care for them, but..." The lump in his throat seemed to grow heavier and tighter. "I hated that you were happy without me. From one day to the next, not only did you abandon me, the one I considered my companion, but you also changed. Everything I knew about you seemed to fade away. Every single thing that took me decades to discover slipped through my fingers like water. Your hair, the way you dressed, even the soft tone of your voice. When I saw you working from afar, I could see smiles, gestures, and soft words that were never meant for me. I don't think I deserve them now that I remember everything, but it still hurts. I feel like a rock in the river that remains stuck, with no chance of the current moving me, no chance of you wanting to pull me out of the river to hold me in your hands."
She was crying, her hands were clenching the tablecloth, without taking her eyes off him. “And now? Now that you know what I really meant to you?” she whispered, pressing her lips together and tears in her eyelashes.
He sighed, "Now, I can understand myself. I can understand the decision of my old self, two lives waiting alone for someone to walk through the door and take me home, two long lives of regrets in my heart that I couldn't understand, a wound that would never stop bleeding, because of what I did and what I couldn't do for you and for you. I am so sorry that my cowardice reached the point of sealing my memories of our life together, that my pride made you mad, made you suffer, but if I had to do it again, with the promise of seeing you again, I would. The gods know how much I preferred to go into the nothingness than to be without you."
He clenched his hands tightly, digging his nails into his palms. “Now, I just wish I could start over, pretend this is a new life where there are no regrets, no pain, no anguish, just two souls who found each other again to build a life together.” his tears blurred his vision, but he was determined to say everything he had to say.
“I want to start over,” he continued in a determined voice. "I want to help you with your work, provide you with staff if you need it. I want us to eat together after work, to talk about our dreams and concerns under the moonlight. I want to be the one who comforts you when you sleep, the one who kisses you when you wake up. I want to be everything to you... I just... I don't care if we're not the same people we used to be, I want to be with you, please... just let me try... let me show you that everything you ever loved is still here."
Ryeon's face was flushed, the tears on her cheeks seeming to enhance the delicacy of her features.
Unexpectedly, she chuckled.
“You idiot, you're an idiot, even more so than those damn waiters who seemed to read the room and left,” she began in a broken voice, "but you know what's worse, thinking that I... do you think I stopped loving you? Do you think I didn’t fall in love with every facet of Jumadeung, even that stupid, cold character? You say you thought my absence made you rough, a shell of what I loved. You keep belittling yourself. Every soul you guide with care, every criminal you beat because you can't bring justice, every time you accompany me in silence, even when you hated my team, you cared enough to meddle in my business. I'm not going to say that what you did throughout this last year didn’t hurt me, but... I would never reproach you for it. I killed you, Joonggil, all the years you could have lived, the two lives I filled with misery, the uncertainty I caused every time I did something since I arrived in Jumadeung.
She paused briefly to wipe the wetness from her cheeks and nose. “I love you. As my companion, as my friend, as my husband.” A broken smile, "You don't even have to ask, from the first minute they freed you from Hell, you had every right to come to me... what a pair of cowards, don't you think? So much love and pain... we've drowned... do you want to start over? Fine. Hold my hand and don't let go again, Joonggil,“ her voice was rough and broken, “don't let me drown in my pain again, love me, I promise I won't leave again, not without you at least."
Joonggil was smiling through his tears, nodding. He grabbed Ryeon's hand tightly. It still had the same warmth and softness as before, but with slight differences, battle wounds, those of duty and honor.
“Yes, yes, just… let's begin again.” Joonggil nodded endlessly and felt a sense of fulfillment in his chest, the promise of companionship and comfort from his most beloved, the being who embodied everything he loved in life and death.
Ryeon closed her eyes as she squeezed his hand.
And before either of them could say anything else, their food appeared out of nowhere with a note.
“To new beginnings and to the bonds that transcend the understanding of fate.”
They both laughed softly. Her Majesty really was something else.
And amid whispers laden with something deeper than love, they enjoyed their meal. Now, there were no lamentations about past wounds, at least for now, only words about everyday life, ideas for tomorrow, and the comfort of silent, reassuring, eternal companionship.
They both decided to walk back to the hotel without teleporting, like any husband and wife in the living world, enjoying the cold but strangely pleasant night, holding hands, without needing to talk, just looking at the reflection of the moonlight on the sea.
Luckily, they didn't encounter any other reapers in the elevator, which was a relief after all the emotions they had experienced that night. Neither of them had time to explain or dodge comments about their joined hands or the redness of their eyes.
“There's only one bed,” she said before the elevator hit their floor.
He looked at her nervously, “Do you mind?” She shook her head.
“Let’s sleep, we are too tired because of our jobs and too drained from today, let’s worry about anything else tomorrow.”
She nodded; she looked exhausted.
It felt like a ritual, one engraved in their bones, where Ryeon would change into soft nightclothes, take the left side of the bed but with her face turned toward him, and for Joonggil, the comfort of seeing his wife in bed next to him, lying down and placing his hand on her waist, the mutual agreement to watch over each other's dreams to start another day.
She fell asleep almost immediately, while he, on the other hand, took several minutes, seeing the serenity on her face for the first time in an eternity.
For the first time in 400 years, Joonggil fell asleep without worries, without the pain of invisible wounds, and without the weight of loneliness.