Satanas Chapter 8.4 - Ribs

“…Are you serious?”

Jurgen asked again, and Sabina, who had turned around on her heels, nodded her head. He took the drawings out of the envelope he held preciously in his arms and approached the desk.

“No, no. That cannot be.”

However, Jurgen just kept shaking his head with a dazed face.

“What do you mean?”

“There are only two people in this country of Joseon who know of that drawing. Me and Peter.”

“Pardon?”

🦇

Why did Peter wish to be called Peter? A woman who had never even stepped outside the capital city walls in her entire life laid out the life of a man who lived up to his name as if she were seeing it before her own eyes. The three-inch tongue of Satan, as cruel as the punishment of yuksi, even foretold the future of the country, so was reciting the footsteps of a human buried in the ground nothing at all?

Tadeo tightly gripped the cross dangling near his solar plexus.

“How… do you know Peter so well?”

“Blessed are you who have not seen me and yet have believed. So then, can you believe even after seeing me?”

The woman still had not opened her eyes. With only her small, fluttering lips, her voice rang in his ears like a drizzle soaking the nape of his neck. Even while gripping the cross, Tadeo’s chaotic mind could not be put in order.

“Look, my child. This is all I can show you.”

The hand that lay on top of the spread bedding was lifted. The black eyes watching the hand gently stroking the swollen belly twisted. The small hill revealed as the jeogori clung to her was slowly sinking. Tadeo, who had been staring at this blankly, clenched his trembling hands into fists. He began to step backward, then tripped on a bush slithering on the floor like a serpent and collapsed.

“Truly I tell you, meet that person before this night is over.”

When those words ended, all that remained was a stomach so gaunt it was shriveled. And even after the woman withdrew the hand that had been stroking her belly, she did not stop speaking.

“That person is them, who are in the far corners of the world, and if things go wrong, a single gunshot in Serbia will be waiting for hell’s revelation.”

“What on earth….”

“He violated the Peter you serve like a father, and he cut off the wings of the one you hold dear.”

“…What?”

The hand that had been covering his mouth, lest a scream escape, slapped down onto the floor. Only then did the quietly closed eyes open. The eyelids lifted as if the moon that had briefly hidden the sun was moving aside. The clear eyes that emerged beneath them resembled the eyes Tadeo had.

“You know his name, too.”

The head, which had been lying down staring only at the ceiling, turned. Two similar pairs of eyes met, and at the name that flowed out softly, Tadeo ran out of the annex.

“Hey, Father! Where are you going so suddenly without a word!”

Yushin, who had been sitting on the edge of the main floor, shot to his feet. He checked the complexion of the man running out, and it was just when he was thinking it was a relief that he did not seem frightened. Yushin shouted at the black cassock crossing the courtyard without a second thought. Tadeo pressed down on the capello romano on his head and looked back.

“There is somewhere I must go urgently!”

“What on earth did you hear to be acting like this…!”

Yushin ran after him. The white taesahye with black stripes caught up with the dress shoes where camellia petals had fallen. Just as the silver-white cuffs, fluttering as much as the otgoreum, reached out to meet the black silk, Tadeo, who was running ahead, abruptly spun around.

“I will believe you.”

“Suddenly?”

“No, actually, I do not know for sure.”

Tadeo caught his breath for a moment, swallowed his cold saliva, and opened his mouth again.

“But I have no other way but to believe. What should I say to that lady.”

Yushin let his hand slide from the forearm he had grabbed.

“You can tell her it is a divine illness. That the baby in her womb is in danger, so it is urgent. That we must perform an exorcism or something.”

“What kind of exorcism?”

“Did you not just say you believe me.”

He only blinked, unable to come up with an immediate answer. Tadeo looked down at the cross dangling at his solar plexus, then raised his gaze vertically. In the eyes he met after traveling up the silver-white silk, he could not feel the falsehood disguised with truth. In his mind, the woman’s last words were echoing again.

‘Stefano, who has the name Hadad.’

“…I believe you.”

It was a late answer, but Yushin smiled as if satisfied and stepped back.

“Then leave this place to me and go on your way.”

🦇

Twilight had not even arrived, but dusk was already settling on the western mountains. The cold wind that rose from the river brought the watery scent of the Taedong River and spread it around. Golden hair, a substitute for the last rays of the sun, filled the gaps between the twigs, and a massive shadow was cast over the footsteps treading the rocky mountain path.

The golden hair that had been looking up at the sky where golden clouds floated scattered in all directions. The silenced combat boots stepped on the fallen leaves that were turning into soil. The sound of rummaging through the mountains slithered like a snake, making the ground beneath his feet tremble. The man, who stood quietly listening for any presence, happened to spot a gun barrel aimed through a gap in the bushes.

Bang!

“I-It’s an attack! It’s the Japanese bastards!”

“何をするやつだ。(What, what are you doing…!)”

The gun barrel raised toward the sky was reflected in the ocean-like eyes. The man pinned down the Japanese soldier he had slammed down with one hand and propped one foot on a boulder. As he bowed his head, the hair that was long enough to cover the scars on his shoulder blades cascaded forward.

“一体お前は誰だ。(Who… the hell are you…!)”

Behind Bell, who stood with a high mound between them, shadows shot up like bamboo shoots after a rain. But they were not shadows. They were righteous army soldiers with topknots, holding weapons with clumsy hands. The Japanese soldier, who had been grinding his teeth in frustration, rolled his eyes back as gun barrels were slowly aimed at him.

And Bell silently pulled the trigger.

“Wh-what? Who, who are you?! Who are you to be helping us!”

A nightless city descended upon the mountain that even the golden clouds could not illuminate. A Joseon man who had crawled across the ground through the hail of bullets grabbed Bell by the back of his neck. As they hid behind a rock together, the figures that had only looked like shadows revealed themselves and gathered.

“…That’s Korean.”

At the calmly uttered words, the righteous army soldiers, who had been exchanging glances, tilted their heads.

“Is this… Joseon?”

Bell asked.

“My goodness, I’ve never seen such a bizarre fellow! Yes, of course this is Joseon! Is it the Japanese bastards’ land just because they’re all over the place?!”

“Where in Joseon.”

“Pyeongyang, Pyeongyang. Where did you come from? You speak our language very well!”

“…Manchuria.”

Though they could not laugh out loud, every one of them had a bright expression. It was hard to believe these were the faces of humans with death at their doorstep. The more one knows of humans, the more unknowable a being they are. Bell answered half-heartedly while leaning his back against the rock, but his attention was on the cluster of combat boots.

“How long would it take to get to Hanseong from here.”

“It takes two full days of riding a horse. How long did it take you to get here from Manchuria?”

“…One day.”

“What?! One day?! That’s all it took?!”

The righteous army soldiers, who had been keeping low, were so surprised they nearly lifted their heads high. When Bell only nodded, their dumbfounded faces soon burst into laughter. ‘This person is a good liar, too!’ At those words, Bell himself let out a laugh that felt like the air escaping his lungs.

The flashing light of the gunshots died down. The quieted mountain became as still as a mouse, and even the sound of the Taedong River’s water could be heard. The smiling faces disappeared as they picked up their old-fashioned guns with dirt-caked fingertips. There were also quite a few who picked up swords and farming tools instead of guns.

When one man at the forefront shouted, the combat boots soon came pouring down.

That year, they said spring had come to the Taedong River too, but it was cold.

🦇

‘He was so hale and hearty when I saw him last evening…. His back as he left, saying he was going to meet an informant, is so vivid in my mind….’

‘An informant… you say?’

‘That’s right. He was a good Japanese man. I heard he ran a photography studio.’

There were things I had overlooked. Among the countless things left in the past, the only thing that sparkled was ‘you.’

Am I, who never tires, finally blaming ‘you’?

The sky, where twilight had not yet arrived, was blended with evening. A carriage that passed by the brazenly parading Japanese army was heading for Myeongnyebang. The streets of Hanseong, visible through the window, felt as narrow as a secluded path. The scenery that flashed like a kaleidoscope in his black eyes was faded.

‘He said he is holding a party at his place on the night of the 10th.’

‘Oh! A party, that is very nice. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard that word. I still can’t forget the parties at Versailles.’

‘…Pardon? I didn’t hear you correctly.’

‘Mm, no, no. It’s nothing. Just think of it as an old man’s ramblings.’

Tadeo finally buried his face in his hands. Stefano’s voice, which had been ringing so clearly, faded away. The words he had mumbled afterward were, laughably, not just left in the past, but thankfully not gone, just left to molder in gray. It was because everything but ‘you’ was gray.

Suddenly, he recalled the night when the side-by-side rickshaws were getting closer to the moon. ‘The masquerade ball held at Versailles during Louis XIV’s time was the best, I think.’ The only thing that sparkled in that memory was ‘you.’ If only I had paid attention to your words rather than listening to the sound of my own heart…. Could I have noticed the existence of the devil?

Bell, I complained once again that it was your fault, never tiring of blaming you, for your words which might have been a hint. Even though it may just be my own fault for overlooking it.

The moisture seeping between the lines of his palm felt clammy. Tadeo could not lift his drenched eyes from his hands. Just then, the carriage door burst open.

“Father Tadeo!”

“Is this the Tadeo that Peter spoke of?”

Tadeo lifted his reddened eyes. Whether he knew when they had arrived or not, the Latin cross steeple was visible behind Sabina and Jurgen.

🦇

“In the beginning, there were five cherubim who guarded Eden, and among them, two angels were brothers.”

The carriage was moving quickly. The two people sitting across from each other in it put their heads together over the drawings Sabina had taken out. The parchment, soaked in ink instead of ink wash, had a tough texture that was still alive despite being as dry as dried fish. The oriental painting drawn upon it and the traditional Chinese characters written in a flowing hand were eye-catching.

“Here, they look just like twins, don’t they? In the Vatican, they interpreted these as the angels Michael and Luciel.”

First, the first drawing. Five angels were gathered around a tree that grew on a hill of green vegetation. Judging by the fruit that grew along with the lush leaves, it was a fig tree, which is said to bear fruit without flowers. This meant the fruit of the knowledge of good and evil, and the hill of vegetation meant the Garden of Eden.

Jurgen pointed to the two angels closest to the sky. Dressed in long robes of silk that fluttered in place of wings, they rode on clouds and looked very similar.

“Just as the Lord made Eve from Adam’s rib, he created another five angels from the ribs of these five cherubim. These are the archangels.”

Next was the second drawing. Below the five cherubim were five ribs, and below that, the five archangels could be seen. One of them had a hairstyle of coiled, wavy locks, and his appearance was just like that of a celestial maiden. Jurgen called him ‘Gabriel.’

“Now, here. One of the cherubim brothers we saw earlier appears again.”

The third drawing. In a sky with no sun and only the moon, a single morning star was the brightest.

“We saw this and interpreted it as the angel called the son of the morning. Now, look. Doesn’t one of the cherubim brothers we saw earlier appear?”

Jurgen said, moistening his drying lips with saliva. His chapped fingertip pointed to one of the cherubim seen in the first drawing.

“…Luciel.”

“That’s right!”

Jurgen, who did not miss the words Tadeo muttered softly, excitedly slapped his knee.

“Now, then you must have figured out what will appear in the next drawing.”

The fourth drawing. The sun was alone in the sky, so it must have been the most appropriate time to say that both heaven and earth were bright. The morning star, which the sun had cherished and allowed to remain in the sky until just before it rose, coveted God’s throne.

“The cherub called the son of the morning raised a heavenly army and plotted a rebellion.”

The cherub who guarded Eden led countless angels and confronted the sun. He stood at the forefront, riding a chariot of fire, and at his feet, he was worshipped by beasts and demons that were evil from the beginning.

“That cherub killed the archangel Uriel, who was made from his own rib, and took his rib. Just like in this drawing.”

The fifth drawing. Before an angel who had fallen, pierced by a spear, Luciel stood on his chariot, holding a rib and staring. Sabina quickly turned to the next page. Luciel, treading upon the sky, was seen handing the rib to an unknown angel.

“And he gave it to the angel closest to him… is what this drawing shows.”

The two faces, so close they were almost touching, looked different. However, their fluttering hair and the eyes that must have held each other’s gazes were as if they were looking at each other in a mirror. They were holding hands over a single rib, and Tadeo could not take his eyes off of it.

“We have interpreted this angel as one of the Thrones.”

“Thrones?”

“Thrones mean eyeballs, or chariot wheels. Look at this angel’s head.”

What Jurgen said was true. Above the head he pointed to, a round halo in the shape of a chariot wheel was floating, and instead of spokes, living flames blazed.

“The chariot that Luciel was always riding is also gone, isn’t it?”

“But what does this have to do with anything?”

“Do you know who brought this drawing?”

At Tadeo’s question, Jurgen asked back.

“Would it kill you to just tell me instead of acting like you know everything?”

Sabina, who had been listening silently, frowned and snapped at him.

“Joseon’s first priest, Kim Dae-geon Andrew, brought it from France.”

Jurgen opened his mouth at once, as if he had never acted that way.

“By any chance, have you ever performed an exorcism with Peter since coming here?”

“I have.”

“Then you must have also heard the name of the demon at the very top.”

“…I have.”

“But Peter would not have been surprised or thought it absurd. Even after hearing the name ‘Lucifer’.”

Sabina stared at Tadeo with wide eyes. He did not deny it. Because everything Jurgen said was true.

“Why? Because he has heard it countless times. We believe that this drawing tells us how to stop that demon, Lucifer. If you look, a few drawings are missing.”

As soon as he finished speaking, Sabina turned the page. As he said, the drawing was ending its story with the sixth one as the last.

“It doesn’t connect. It abruptly concludes with the end of the cherub who appears to be the son of the morning.”

The sun in the sky, life on the earth. In the drawing that signified ‘coexistence,’ only Lucifer, meeting his end, could not coexist. He was trapped in the ribs of the angels he had killed, looking up at the sky. The three of them were silent for a while, just staring at the last drawing.

As they neared their destination, the outside grew darker and darker. It was impossible to know if it was darkness that had naturally come with the passage of time. On the running road, whenever the carriage shook due to the occasionally jolting wheels, the three bodies swayed in time with it. Their figures remained on the window.

And Tadeo was lost in thought. ‘Where in the world did the Throne who was said to have Luciel’s rib go,’ he wondered.

“We’ve arrived!”

It was not long after that the coachman’s voice, like a horn, was heard.

“There was… a place like this in Hanseong?”

The muddy ground was unpleasant, to say the least. It was almost like a swamp, as if it had just rained, and the soft mud clung stickily to the soles of their shoes before falling off. A musty smell, a stale odor, and a sour stench like vomit made them hold their noses, and that smell continued all the way to the open sewer where dirty water flowed.

“Actually, I don’t know the exact residential area either. However, I think I heard it in passing. That it’s a place where people with no homes gather to live….”

“But it looks like a place where no one lives at all. Is it just my feeling? It’s incredibly gloomy.”

It was a desolate land. The terrain, mainly consisting of hills, was high, and with no houses, even small voices carried far. It was when they had climbed up to the hillside backed by a small mountain. Tadeo, who had been silently leading the way, suddenly stopped moving.

“What is it?”

“This… is a slash-and-burn field.”

Tadeo said, looking down at his shoe-clad feet. His eyes, now accustomed to the darkness, discovered blackened, burnt traces among the withered, twisted blades of grass. Originally, slash-and-burn farming was about cutting and burning trees and grass to create a field, but sometimes, unable to bear usurious loans and exorbitant taxes, people would burn their livelihood, the field, and flee.

“Hey… who are you people.”

They had thought it was just a place full of abandoned dugouts. Following the gruff voice, a dark figure crawled out from the ground. The presence that originated from the desolate land was eerie. The three people, who had been staring blankly into the air, flinched and stepped back.

“It’s a woman, a woman! She’s pretty!”

“Be quiet. Shut up! The Father is not well either.”

Figures, multiplying like they were breeding, instantly grew to several dozens and blocked their path. Among them, a man wearing a straw mat as a coat walked forward. He was the owner of the gruff voice. He seemed to be the leader of this group.

As Tadeo stepped forward, hiding Sabina behind him, a cackling laugh burst out.

“We are priests from Jonghyeon Cathedral. We have come to see Father Stefano.”

“And so, what.”

“Excuse me, but could you tell us where he is?”

The sneers, which had not stopped even at his polite greeting, all ceased at once. A momentary silence fell upon the beggars’ turf, which even the wind avoided. The faces, engulfed in darkness, were so chillingly cold they were horrifying.

“Ah. I think I heard.”

“…Heard what.”

And yet, he could see how high the smirking corners of the man’s mouth went up. The man nodded, revealing his yellowed teeth.

“Our Father said so.”

“…”

“If there are any who come looking for me, kill them without mercy.”

With the figures gathered in a circle, there was no place to retreat. Just when they had become trapped in a cage, the cawing of a crow could be heard faintly in the distance.

🦇

Yushin was sharpening a sword. In the middle of an exorcism rite where gongs, drums, cymbals, and pipes frolicked, he alone was transcendent with his eyes closed. Over a hundred slaves ran out to pray with their hands together, and only the exorcists, who beat the folk instruments as if to smash them, raised the heat. The master of the Yi Champan household, who was watching this, clicked his tongue and turned away.

“Tsk, tch!”

The master’s wife, who stared blankly at her husband’s receding back, turned her gaze back to the exorcism. At the word that an exorcism had to be performed quickly, she had released half of her slaves to find shamans. She had offered freshly butchered raw meat and had also caught and offered chickens. She even made the servants’ children cook and set up the table, yet there he sat, just sharpening his sword.

“Hoo… hooo….”

The crimson flames soaring from the brazier dyed the silver-white durumagi like a sunset. Yushin, who had been breathing heavily through his nose, so much that his chest swelled, opened his eyes.

“The great shaman is rising!”

“Eoiya, eolssu!”

He held a sword in one hand and a bell in the other. When he rose from his seated position as if in a divine frolic, he was the tallest of all the men gathered at the rite. His small face, flourishing in the firelight, was so bright and luminous, like a Buddhist nun before performing the monk’s dance, it was ethereal.