WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Natty
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◈ How to Rewrite Ghost Stories ◈
Episode 65: Geochilsan Express Train (11)
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“Well, first...”
There were things I needed to consider carefully as I separated this pitch-black box.
First, remove the 100 Million Years Button from this train while returning everyone to their original, whole selves.
Even if I failed and a hundred million years simply passed, this insane monster train absolutely could not reach Busan Station.
Second, for now, I would call it the time-collecting box. Just as Urashima Taro opened his box and instantly became a white-haired old man, if I got caught up in the time-reversal phenomenon the wrong way, I might weather into a handful of dust without even bones left behind.
Even if I endured with the Eyeballs That Never Sleep clenched between my teeth... there was no guarantee I could restore thousands or tens of thousands of years all at once, or even hold out until then. I might lose my mind first.
— Then what if we accelerate the train’s time as fast as possible, store it all in the box, and detach the whole thing afterward?
The essential problem with that was leaving everyone here to suffer as they were for another hour. If I were going to do that, I would not have gone through all this trouble in the first place.
“And if I mistime it, I could end up as an ordinary, happy civilian who arrives in Busan with amnesia.”
It was worth considering, but I needed to think more.
— And we have only about an hour left.
Right. There was not enough time. If I forgot everything when time ran out after coming this far, it would be cruel not only to me after all the hell I had gone through, but also to Section Chief Mok hanging outside and the hundreds of passengers.
More than anything, I did not want everything I had agonized over to be conveniently smoothed over. I had no intention of making this into some half-finished blog post that said, Well, I survived, so it worked out.
‘Again. Let’s look through everything from the beginning.’
I steadied my impatience and opened the blog. Train, terminus, time, station. Then I widened the search with Busan, Geochilsan, and more.
There was no decisive answer that fit perfectly into place. Every time the numbers on the ticking digital clock changed, hundreds of years passed.
I scrolled endlessly. I categorized ghost stories with similar nuances by hashtag and opened dozens of browser tabs, trying to visualize one huge brainstorming session.
Japan’s Kisaragi Station ghost story. A ghost train that never stops. Tracks joined like a Möbius strip. A loop...
‘Geochilsan (居漆山)... A small state that existed in the Gyeongsang region during the Proto-Three Kingdoms period. It is believed to have been located around present-day Dongnae, Yeonje, Suyeong, and Nam Districts in Busan...’
Just as the dining car and engine room simultaneously embodied two time periods from one train, the reason it was called a Geochilsan-bound train was likely because it had been overlaid onto a real train bound for Busan.
‘There’s no separate direct, non-stop train anymore. People are being flung out at each coordinate as it skips over them. It has nothing to do with time coordinates either...’
By that logic, the ghost story called the Geochilsan Express Train should not exist at all. It was probably a kind of virtual coordinate created when existing Busan-bound trains overlapped. That was why the Depth Gauge had not responded.
I had overlooked what the ghost stories I experienced without being registered in the Depth Gauge had in common. Cases where so many ghost stories had mixed together that none could represent the whole. And cases where a ghost story was not broad enough to become the prototype for another ghost story.
If it was not a ghost story in the first place, I could not rewrite it. A broader ghost story responsible for its core had been swallowed by the 100 Million Years Button, leaving me unable to do anything.
‘There’s no time. I have to build it again from the beginning...!’
I shattered the assumptions I had built and rebuilt them. Spatial concepts like whether the train stopped at stations midway, or where its terminus lay, had not been important. There was only the beginning, the end, and one hundred million years of time.
The departure station and the final station. The world of the living and the world of the dead. The major premises required for a ghost story to exist.
If I wanted to put back the time that had already passed, to return to the beginning, and having the train arrive on time could not be the answer...
“...It just must never have departed.”
The thoughts in my head fell into order.
“We turn it back into a train that never departed in the first place.”
— But Partner, didn’t you say that if the 100 Million Years Button were overlaid incorrectly, the train’s current state could remain unchanged?
“That would be true if we overlaid it again after the train departed. But what if the button was never pressed in the first place?”
— You don’t have the ability to turn back time, Partner.
“I don’t. But this box does.”
— The box from the folktale only releases its stored time all at once. It can’t turn things back like Superman.
“That would have been true of the original Urashima Taro box. But... this came from the Helical Cult. And that was the answer.”
A ghost story rigged so only believers could handle it.
An idea no one could attempt without knowing the cult’s doctrine.
The two are one, and there is no one-way path. Where something is wound, something must be unwound. One returns, while one ascends. All of it works through the interlocking of spirals and gears.
“The way these bastards work is that once one direction is set, the opposite direction must also exist. That’s what this ghost story is. And because it’s a ghost story, it has no choice but to work that way.”
I could not rewrite something that was not a ghost story. But if it was a ghost story, I could rewrite it. I could rewrite it into new content, with a different ending.
My hand grabbed the wires of the circuit board firmly embedded in the black box.
— But you must consider the burden you will have to bear if you handle the box incorrectly...!
“It’s okay. I have the eyeballs in my mouth properly... and I have the bracelet. This much is...”
This was a symbolic item used by someone in an important post within the Helical Cult. If the bastard who installed the box was an ordinary believer, then as someone above them, I would not be penalized for changing the plan and overturning the box.
‘Of course, it’ll hurt...’
But could it hurt worse than slicing living flesh with a scale?
With the hand wearing the bracelet, I ripped out the wires in the box in one motion and twisted it open.
The box twisted in the opposite direction. Tightly wound screws made a scraping sound as they forcibly bent.
‘Just a little more... Just a little more...!’
Screeech.
The box turned with a sharp noise.
And then...
“...!”
It hurt.
It burned.
It stung.
It ached.
It felt as if my whole body were on fire.
A burning sensation.
Burning. Heat. Deterioration. Flames. Burns. Painithurtithurtithurtithurtithurtithurtithurtithurts
It hurts
It hurts
It hurts
It hurts!!
My whole body felt like it was burning.
I was dizzy.
This was on an entirely different level from simply cutting my body with a knife or searing it against a hot pot. My whole body was instantly set on fire, yet it felt as though it would burn forever!
I could hear screaming. It might have been my own.
In my vision, burned pure white, only something pitch-black barely allowed my eyes to focus. I clutched it as if it were a lifeline.
“Rookie!!!”
Lee Gangrim’s shout was the last thing I heard before everything shattered. A black light swallowed the train along with me.
With a distant sensation, every sound disappeared.
...
❖ ❖ ❖
Blink.
Blink. Blink.
It was dazzling. Glittering.
‘Lighting...?’
No, it was not lighting. It was a beam like someone holding a flashlight right in front of my face and shaking it.
“Ugh...”
A groan like a moan slipped through my cracked lips. Sensation rapidly began returning throughout my body.
Complaints, irritated voices, the sound of suitcase wheels dragging across the floor, and chairs rattling as they turned overlapped vividly from all around me.
Then the figure shining light into my eyes gradually came into focus.
“...Officer Ryu?”
“...You have regained consciousness. Are you all right?”
“Rookie!! You’re awake?”
Lee Gangrim suddenly pushed in behind Ryu Hyeon-u, who was looking down at me with concern, then grabbed me and shook me.
“You punk, what did you do at the end? You never told us about that!”
“Archivist Gangrim, please calm down.”
“No, let me go. You’re the kid from next door. This guy suddenly blew up the train without telling me anything!”
“The train... exploded?”
I was speechless. Then what had happened to all those people?
Had I failed and passed beyond seven thousand years to arrive here...? No. Then I would not have my memories.
“What happened to the train?”
As I tried to stand unsteadily, Ryu Hyeon-u supported me.
“No, Jaehyeon. The train is unharmed.”
“He said it exploded. I did cause an explosion, but...”
“Archivist Gangrim exaggerated what happened just before. Everyone is safe. See for yourself.”
Ryu Hyeon-u supported me with one arm, practically lifting me as we got off the train. Ryu Hyeon-u cleared the high steps in a single bound, and my feet hit the solid platform floor as reality returned all at once.
“Uh...”
Along with an announcement echoing across the platform, the electronic train information board flashed brightly.
3:40 PM Seoul Departure - Busan-Bound Train No. 239 [CANCELED]
- We would like to inform you that KTX Train No. 239, scheduled to depart for Busan at 3:40 PM, has been delayed indefinitely due to track and train inspections. We sincerely apologize for the inconvenience...
As if possessed, I checked the current time displayed in small letters at the corner of the board.
3:52 PM.
Only twelve minutes had passed. This was Seoul Station.
The train had not gone anywhere!!
“I...”
People packed the platform, complaining, checking the time, going back up the platform stairs, and demanding refunds from the train staff.
Even the crew member whose head had been split open was fine.
I recognized the bags of a group of students getting off in the distance.
The people in old clothes, and the elderly couple dressed in fine suits.
The original owners of the decayed objects were walking around in their original forms.
“Mr. Seon Jaehyeon, the Distortion has been resolved. The train Distortion has been processed as concluded as of this moment, with no abnormalities remaining.”
Ryu Hyeon-u continued his calm report. Everyone was safe. No one had been hurt.
“Officer... your memories...”
Ryu Hyeon-u's condition was what worried me most. Ryu Hyeon-u shook their head.
“They are hazy. I remember bits and pieces, but they are disappearing rapidly. I was likely inside when the Distortion was resolved.”
“My side is fine. Your memories are intact too, right?”
“...Yes. Ah, then what happened to the cult?”
“We didn’t catch them.”
Lee Gangrim let out a deep sigh.
“It looks like they ran the moment the doors opened after we returned to the moment before the train departed.”
“Fortunately, Section Chief Seon-u In was at the scene, so we secured the list of people scheduled to board today. Records are also being collected nearby, so we will surely find a lead.”
Good. There could not be a happier ending than this.
But one important detail was missing, leaving the story hanging in the air.
“Where is Section Chief Mok?”
Lee Gangrim and Ryu Hyeon-u both fell silent.
Why? Had she gone out for a cigarette?
I tried to imagine the best possible explanation, but the grim faces of the two people made that impossible.
“It seems she went to take charge of the ordinary police and railway personnel who know nothing about Distortions or ghost stories, and help settle the situation. I wanted to ask after her more than anyone...”
Still, neither said a word. A black dread rose inside me. Why were they not answering? What was it? What had happened?
“Section Chief Mok did go to handle the scene, right?”
At last, Lee Gangrim slowly opened his mouth.
“...She wasn’t there.”
“What? What do you mean, she wasn’t there?”
“As soon as the train returned to normal, we searched every car from Car 1 through Car 18. Rookie, but...”
It felt as if the red glow of a cigarette had flashed once before my eyes and disappeared. Everyone had returned. Everything that had kept Mok Inha from moving was gone.
“Section Chief Mok Inha is gone, Rookie.”
Something had gone terribly wrong.
Footnotes:
Urashima Taro is a Japanese folktale figure who opens a mysterious box and instantly ages.
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