WeTried Translations
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Chapter 137: Great Calamity 【Great Floo■ of the Gapsul Year】 (3)
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People of old believed fire and water were gods.
The Chinese said that Zhurong, god of fire, and Gonggong, god of water, fought for dominion over the world.
Sima Zhen wrote in the Basic Annals of the Three Sovereigns that the defeated Gonggong, filled with fury, rammed into a mountain. The whole sky tilted, and the remnants of the world that came pouring down became the Eastern Sea.
The islanders took it a step further. They said that twin siblings who created heaven and earth fell in love and gave birth to fire, and that the fire burned its mother goddess to death from within as it was born.
The enraged elder brother god drew his sword and beheaded the newborn fire. From the remains of that nephew and son, all manner of deities were born, including gods of mountains, war, and lightning. Both the Nihon Shoki and Kojiki told the same tale.
Fire ruled one side, water the other, and together they made the world people knew. Just as there was a god in the sea,[1] a god in the well, and a male god wandering through wildfire, even the West believed a goddess dwelled within the hearth.
People lived by serving the gods.
And serving them meant, in the end, feeding them.
People in every land understood that principle well. They offered the first spoonful of rice from the pot to the Kitchen God, and every first lunar month, they held rites with a bowl of liquor holding the moon's reflection.
The nymphs who lived by springs smiled whenever they received bouquets. Ancient Greek poets said those smiles kindled fires in their hearts, sending them wandering the world in song.
Yet sometimes, gods grew hungry.
Even in a world where dust covered the pot, the wells had run dry, and only wilted flowers remained, the nymphs still smiled.
Their white, sharp teeth bared.
When there was nothing left to offer, people's faith was truly put to the test.
They still had to offer something.
Whenever locusts blanketed the fields, the god of Carthage received newborn babies into the fire.
In both north and west, the apostles of war gods slew their own kin and offered them to the sea before setting sail. Once victorious, they burned cities and raised them to the heavens.
Sim Cheong threw herself into Indang Sea for her blind father. The price had been three hundred seom of sacrificial rice, so the value of her father's sight was, in the end, the Dragon King of the Eastern Sea's food bill.
The gods people revered were, therefore, all beasts that ate human beings.
Time passed.
In a world where the gods remained as fierce as ever, heroes began appearing among humanity, one by one.
Yu the Great of Xia chained the monster Wuzhiqi and tamed the Huai River. Prometheus, thief among thieves, stole fire from the palace of the gods and confined it to humanity's hearths.
On the islands, Susanoo slew the great eight-branched serpent that devoured a maiden each year and secured a domain for mankind. The emperors of Japan passed down the sword drawn from its tail from generation to generation.
People put collars around the necks of the gods their heroes had hunted.
They built embankments along rivers and weirs in the sea. They remade mountains and forests by planting trees in carefully fitted rows so fire could spread no farther.
By the Age of Enlightenment, they even measured the weather in the heavens and gave typhoons and earthquakes dry numerical names.
Fire and water now had to step down from their places as gods.
They refused.
The old gods missed the days when they had been gods. Whenever they had the chance, they gnawed at their collars, hoping to return to those days.
Still, the two beasts had different natures.
Fire bared its teeth the moment it grew a little larger.
Water was a more insidious beast.
Water knew how to wait.
July 15, 1934.
Rain fell.
The cracks in the rice paddies, split apart for a month, drank in sweet water and began to heal. Farmers happily opened the irrigation channels, and drinks passed from hand to hand in taverns across the eight provinces for the first time in ages.
"Looks like the sky finally came to its senses."
"This year's crop might not be a complete loss after all."
Their worries eased, and people's thoughts turned to the world beyond the distant autumn harvest.
"But are they really putting that Rice Control Act into effect?"
"Really? They're already doing it. I heard the enforcement decree came down last May. The law itself passed at the end of last year."
"Hah. What'll become of us?"
"It'll work out somehow."
While people's thoughts were fixed on the concerns of the human world, the newborn beast rubbed against their hands like a kitten and shook off its wet fur.
It was welcome rain.
Birth was always a blessing.
July 16, 1934.
It rained that day too.
Rain fell upon the embankment at Geomseri, Samnangjin, on the lower Nakdong River.
The embankment had collapsed in last year's typhoon, been rebuilt, then collapsed again in May and been patched up once more.
"It'll hold through this monsoon season, right?"
The village head bowed deeply to the Government-General official who had come to inspect it.
"Of course. Third time's the charm, isn't it? We've repaired it thoroughly this time."
"Yes. It looks sturdy enough."
Patter, patter.
Like the purring of a grown cat, the beast's gentle footsteps seeped through the air as the embankment quietly vanished into the water mist.
July 17, 1934.
It was still raining.
It had not grown heavier.
It simply did not stop.
After two days without rest, the rain had exceeded what the earth could swallow. The beasts that could no longer seep into the ground swallowed one another and crawled toward lower ground.
Brooks gathered and were swallowed by ditches. Ditches gathered and were swallowed by streams. Streams gathered and were swallowed by rivers.
The ferrymen at the docks frowned.
"Doesn't the river look a little swollen?"
"Well, rivers always swell a little during monsoon season..."
They said so, but as though by agreement, their eyes turned to the sky. Rain still fell from the storm clouds blanketing the peninsula.
The beast curled up like an old wildcat and waited.
July 18, 1934.
Still, still it rained.
The beast had grown enormously before anyone realized.
From a kitten to a grown cat.
From a cat to a wildcat.
And now it had grown large enough to be called a tiger.
Had it been fire, it would have bared its teeth and begun to rage.
Water did not.
Having descended from the sky, it was calm. Being wet, it had been damp and sinister from birth. It could seep into any place, and its essence lay in its sharpness.
With that calmness, that dampness, and that sharpness, the Water Tiger did not set its sights on people's homes or fields.
It targeted the roads.
Just as a mountain tiger cut off its prey's escape route first, so did the Water Tiger. It took away the lowest-lying roads one by one.
Asphalt had not yet spread far and wide.
The dirt roads, swollen from drinking water until they could take no more, turned into mud pits. Travelers grimaced and rolled up their trouser legs. Some stopped walking. Others turned back altogether.
"Why are the roads such a mess?"
"Tch. We'll have to wait until they dry out before we try again."
But they did not dry out.
Those who had rolled up their trouser legs and pressed on came to a stop before the rapids.
"Weren't there stepping stones here?"
"I can't see them... Maybe they'll appear if we go a little farther?"
But they did not appear.
When the creek rose by a handspan, over one hundred thousand stepping stones sank beneath the surface on the same day.
"Let's go to the ferry crossing."
"The boats will still be running, right?"
But they were not.
Once the streams grew a little rougher, tens of thousands of ferryboats were stranded all at once.
The ferrymen put tobacco pipes in their mouths and looked out at the river.
"Wait. We can't launch right now."
"We'll start again once it calms down. Luckily, it isn't that bad yet."
But it did not calm down.
The rain kept falling.
Without growing louder.
Without turning violent.
Just steadily.
Relentlessly.
"Wait, the letter still hasn't come?"
"That's strange. My nephew was supposed to arrive today..."
Within the sound of rain that had become familiar before anyone knew it, even those who had never set out began to grow uneasy, one by one.
July 1■, 1934.
The Gyeongbu Line and Honam Line came to a stop.
Because bridges had collapsed? Because mudslides from the mountains had crushed trains?
No.
Three or four sections of track had simply, quietly flooded.
One train stopped. The trains traveling the same route stopped behind it. Those aboard got off one station short of their destination.
"Damn it. The railways on this peninsula are always like this."
"We'll have to take the next train. Or turn back."
But the next train never came.
Another stretch of rail connecting that station to the previous one had quietly submerged in the meantime.
As the arteries connecting the peninsula became blocked, stations swelled with people one by one.
"Stationmaster, haven't you heard anything yet?"
"Who knows? The telegraph's been dead for a while now. The signal must be bad."
The Water Tiger remained quiet.
There were no mudslides splitting mountains apart, no winds ripping trees up by their roots, no thunder and lightning shaking the sky, no raging currents sweeping away villages.
Even so, people finally began to realize.
"Hey... this rain..."
"How long is it going to keep falling?"
By the time they realized it, the people of the peninsula had been isolated upon countless lonely islands.
The rain was still falling.
July ■■, 1934.
They said the human body could not last three days without water.
And the human heart struggled to last three days in a world containing nothing but water.
"How long is this going to keep falling!?"
The markets were the first to close. The ground turned into mud pits, and rainwater leaked through the tarps, making it impossible to lay out any goods.
"No, when the hell are the goods coming!?"
Stores closed one after another. The merchandise expected to arrive was a day late, then another day late, until there was nothing left to sell.
"When will things go back to normal?"
"Excuse me, my child has been missing since yesterday. When can you make some time for us...?"
"When is this rain ever going to end...?"
When, when, when.
Countless whens echoed across each island.
Government offices were paralyzed in turn. In small villages without them, the homes of village heads and other local notables overflowed with people, until they too began locking their doors one by one.
When the sound of warehouse doors being firmly barred echoed out, even those without warehouses understood the situation.
"Wait. How much food do we even have left at home?"
July ■■, 1934.
The rain kept falling.
"The roof is leaking!"
"The damp's getting to the rice jar. It's growing mold..."
The rain kept falling.
"Damn it! We can't hold on any longer!"
"Anyone short on food, come out! Let's at least try to get to town!"
In every village, homes that had run out of food began sending people out one by one.
July ■■, 1934.
The rain kept falling.
Just as water flowed and pooled in lower places, people crossed water and flowed toward larger islands.
They walked along roads turned to mud, drenched by the ceaseless rain. They crossed rapids where the stepping stones had submerged, or made long detours until they found a place that looked passable.
Some could not cross.
"Argh! I slipped, glug! Ahh!"
"Hey! I told you to be careful... At least you only hurt your leg. Let's go back."
Some could not cross.
"Good. Town's just ahead. Other than Mr. Seo and Mr. Yang with the injured legs, huh? Where's Mr. Kim?"
"Uh, he was still with us when we crossed that rapid... Ah, don't tell me..."
Some could not cross.
July ■■, 1934.
The rain kept falling.
Those who somehow crossed the water and reached town saw silhouettes gathered before them. The water mist was so thick that they only realized they were people once they came very close.
"Why are there so many people gathered here?"
"Why else? I live in this town, so I'm here. Where did you people come from?"
"I'm from Geomseri up north."
"Geomseri? Then did all those people coming behind you come from Geomseri too?"
At that, the newcomers turned around. The silhouettes shambling through the mist were only revealed to be people after drawing much closer this time as well.
"No? I've never seen them before..."
"Why are so many people gathered here? I came from Ulchon, over that way..."
The people who had been there originally, those who arrived first, and those who came later all gathered together. The places they had crossed to were islands as well, so people pooled upon each island.
July ■■, 1934.
The rain kept falling.
"My child is sick..."
"Of course the kid's sick! They've been getting drenched in the rain! Why couldn't you stay home instead of coming here and making this whole mess!?"
The rain kept falling.
"Please let us in! Just let us rest for one day!"
"Who the hell are you people? Take one step into our yard and see what happens..."
The rain kept falling.
"My child is sick, you sons of bitches!"
"Why are you coming to our house and making a fuss because your kid is sick, urgh! Ah! Did you just hit me? You hit me? Honey! Bring me that club!"
July ■■, 1934.
The rain kept falling.
"This bastard's back again? Honey! Bring me that club again. ...Honey? Honey, why aren't you answering? No, who are you people? Why are you coming out of there? Where's my honey? H-Hey, let's talk this out..."
July ■■, 1934.
The rain kept falling.
"Constable, please come over here! A gang of thieves broke into our house!"
"Check our company warehouse first! A whole mob of robbers came for us!"
July ■■, 1934.
The rain kept falling.
"See that tiled-roof house? Jap families live there. They must have piled up food like mountains, like little squirrels. Those beasts. Isn't all that built on the blood of us Koreans? Go take it back, little brother."
"Hyung, I went there, but they were all Koreans. I heard they even took part in the Manse Movement."
"Oh, really? I could've sworn I heard Jap speech... Why the hell are they causing misunderstandings, those bastards?"
"Don't worry, Hyung. We took everything worth taking as compensation for making decent people like us mistake them for someone else."
The rain kept falling.
"Koreans are committing robberies under cover of the flood! I repeat, Koreans are committing robberies under cover of the flood!"
"Our families! Our property! We must protect them with our own hands from the beasts called Koreans!"
"Hey, you there! Don't recognize you. You're Korean, aren't you!?"
"I-I'm Japanese! The train stopped, so now I'm..."
"Who are you trying to fool, you disgusting Korean bastard? Your accent's strange, and you look Korean too! Everybody, get him!"
"I'm Japanese! Japanese, Japan! I came from the Mainland, urgh!"
"Hey, Matsuoka-san, I think this person might really have been Japanese? This was in his clothes..."
"Fake. It's fake. Give it here, I'll deal with it."
"More importantly, hey! Those bastards over there! Let's go catch those four. From the brats to the old hag, they all look primitive. They're definitely Korean robbers."
The rain kept falling.
July ■■, 1934.
Without using claw or fang, the Water Tiger swallowed the peninsula. The shattered fragments of civilization began dissolving in its stomach acid, starting with the softest pieces.
The Water Tiger let out a long yawn.
Now all it had to do was curl up and digest.
But moments later, it twitched.
With half-lidded eyes, the Water Tiger tried to curl itself up again.
It twitched once more.
The Water Tiger furrowed its brow and looked into its own belly.
Gangwon.
"Everyone! Gather over here!"
At the edge of the peninsula, where railways were scarce and the new roads had only recently been laid, a land barely clinging to the edge of modernity was, for some reason, holding firm better than anywhere else.
The Water Tiger did not know that an old hunter had regressed and spent one year and three months waiting for this very moment.
[1] Bada can also be a personal name, but here it is simply the Korean word for “sea.”
Footnotes:
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