The vision has been shared – you have seen what you were meant to see. There is no other path than the one I am on. Time to find those who are waiting for me.
Hmm, not as hard as I thought it was going to be.
Not sue what this will become. Looks pretty serious though. As I continued my journey through what I now realized is Seoul, I came across Kang Ye-Jin, who appears to be a nun that has been recruited by the Dragon.
I kept having this dream where I’m pregnant. Which is silly because…you know. It’s twins – a boy and a girl – and they pop out like fireworks. Bang, bang! I’m holding them in my arms and I’m very happy, because I know i’m going to cherish them forever. But then the doctor says, “There’s more coming!” More coming?! Suddenly I’m terrified and I start screaming: No! make them turn back! There’s no love for any more! Isn’t that awful? Anyway, that was a few months ago. I don’t dream anymore. I can’t even sleep.
At least chaos explains the pain and confusion…in a way. But if I believe that, how can I still believe in… I mean, what if our lives really are directed by the whims of a little boy? He should be stomping in mud, playing on swings! I’ve always been good with kids – I can sense how they’re feeling. He’s very wise for his age, and he understands everything that goes on around him. But more than anything else, he’s lonely.
The Orochi Group
It started with fewer and fewer youth coming on Sundays. At first I didn’t want to chase after them. It’s important that people come of their own will. But then it wasn’t just the ministry. It was the homework clubs, the community centres, the schools. The kids weren’t just not coming anymore. They weren’t anywhere! The Dragon began sending me things…beginnings of trails leading to strange programs and clinics. Eventually they sent me train tickets…three leaving in different directions at the same time. The train I chose led me to an Orochi test clinic. That’s where I saw the experiments…and found records of three of the children I used to know. I can’t imagine the other trains leading anywhere worse than that… Oh God, what if they did?
Seoul Fight Club
Assistant Inspector Kim Yong-Bae
Assistant Inspector with the Seoul Metropolitan Police Agency, at the Dragon’s service. My job is to make sure relations between the police and the Dragon are as efficient and cordial as possible. We rub your back, you help us deal with any occult disaster that threatens Seoul. It’s a fair deal. As long as everyone’s willing to look the other way from time to time, the relationship works fine.
What can I tell you about the Dragon that you don’t already know? I guess the truth is that no one knows anything about the Dragon. The Dragon simply is.
This is my city. I live to protect it. As long as you don’t do anything to hurt it, you and me are going to get along just fine.
This house is shelter from the coming storm. In time, it too will be swept away, as will we all. Until that time, this is a place where your choices need not have consequence. In this house, we stand apart from the fabric of the world. In this martial silence, meditate on what you are. What you will become. Ask yourself if you seek to master a single talent. Or become adept with many. Know that the Dragon will rearrange itself around you. In adaptability we find strength. There will always be change. Return here whenever you wish.
I suppose one day my services will no longer be required to man the platforms. Modernization encroaches on us all… “Ticket machines,” indeed. Good for addition, I don’t doubt. Always with the correct change. Yet somewhat lacking in the human touch. Hm. Like my thunderous mechanic companions here. Oh, I doff my cap to them, though. For how many centuries they patrolled these stations alone, who can say. I pride myself on punctuality and dedication, but they are the original article. What faces they must have seen. Many gentlemen explorers – ladies, too – have stepped before you into Agartha’s honeyed halls. That pleasant Norwegian chap, for one. Amundsen. Yes, you’re in fine company, fine company indeed. Ah, I vouch a ticket machine wouldn’t tell you that.
You’ll get used to the balmy temperature. It’s for the bees, they prefer it. Their honey is remarkable, though the aftertaste – a little like machine oil. Her Majesty once commented favorably on Agartha to me, “A work of quite miraculous craftsmanship.” I believe to tour it was one of her few joys after Albert passed. Well, try not to approach all this as something unnatural. It may not follow the, ah, accepted theories of the Earth’s consistency. I assure you, though, it is very much a part of our world. Over the years, these halls have expanded and contracted with the growth of the Tree. Like breathing, I expect. Fresh branches find their way to the surface, to many different surfaces. The older growth, further down, leads to other places in other times. Stacked like those Russian dolls that were all the rage in Paris. Why I encountered myself as a young man once. Heh. Heh. Curious thing.
The Secret World
Topside-speaking, I admit to falling a touch behind the times. Out of date. You understand, though, a massive floramechanical network won’t run itself. One always finds something needing doing down here. I’m certainly more of a groundsman than an engineer. Were we vanished from the world – perish the thought – Agartha would still perpetuate. A golden age without tarnish. Hmm. I say “without tarnish,” but in confidence, troubling events are afoot. Tremors, like a distant thunder. Outpourings of an horrific, black water… I believe it gathers far beneath us in great reservoirs. And yet I haven’t the nerve to put that theorem to the test. Well, listen to me go on about the rot in the Tree of Life! You have so many pressing cloak-and-dagger affairs to see to, up there in the world of man. I shouldn’t think there’s anything to worry about. Not yet.
Something strange going on over there.