“Where… am I now…?”

Only then did Silken Bodhisattva realize she was lying in an octagonal pavilion built atop a low hill.

The air was warm.

Unusual for late autumn, the temperature was perfect for a nap in the sun and breeze.

A blue butterfly drifted past, fluttering its wings.

“…?”

It was followed by a dozen more, their brightly colored wings a blur as they flirted with one another, darting into the pavilion before zipping back out again.

Silken Bodhisattva pushed herself to her feet and slowly turned, taking in her surroundings.

Each of the pavilion’s eight sides offered a completely different view.

One showed trees budding with new life. Another, a flowerbed in a riot of color. A third revealed branches heavy with fruit and autumn leaves, and the last, delicate snow blossoms frosting every limb.

With a single turn, she could see the landscapes of all four seasons: spring, summer, autumn, and winter.

Staring at the surreal vista, Silken Bodhisattva muttered in bewilderment, “Is this a dream?”

“That’s not entirely untrue.”

The voice came from behind her. She spun around.

“After all, what is this life of ours if not a midday dream?”

A woman in a Bride’s Mask was reclining on the floor like a lounging Buddha. She wore the mask askew, revealing the tip of her nose down to her chin. A long tobacco pipe was clenched between her lips.

“Deceived, it is but a dream; deceiving, it is but a dream.”

She took a deep drag from the pipe, then exhaled a plume of white smoke that billowed from her lips.

“This winding, transient world… Set fire to this shadowed heart.”

After reciting the final lines of Yi Sang’s A Record of Meeting and Parting, the woman met Silken Bodhisattva’s gaze and smiled faintly.

“And so on.”

***

“Welcome, Silken Bodhisattva.”

After another long, leisurely pull on her pipe, the woman in the Bride’s Mask slowly sat up.

“I am the leader of the Villain alliance, the Crimson Poverty Front. Callsign: Chun-hyang.”

Chun-hyang offered a relaxed smile as Silken Bodhisattva broke out in a cold sweat.

“I used to be called Brain.”

“Brain…? You?”

Her appearance was nothing like that of the infamous crime consultant.

Silken Bodhisattva frowned. “Did you switch bodies or something?”

“Precisely. I traded up,” Chun-hyang said with a soft laugh.

Assuming it was just a bad joke, Silken Bodhisattva changed the subject. “Where is this place?”

“This is Yuldo.”

Chun-hyang rose to her feet and swept a hand toward the landscape surrounding the pavilion.

“It’s an island where a paradise called Yuldo Land once existed. Now, we of the Crimson Poverty Front use it as our base of operations.”

She’d never heard of an island by that name.

And paradise? Silken Bodhisattva couldn’t help but scoff. As if such a thing could exist in this world.

“So, Brain-turned-Chun-hyang, or whatever you are. Why did someone so important bring me here? What do you want with me?”

“An invitation to join us, of course.”

Chun-hyang slowly removed her mask.

The face beneath was unremarkable, but her eyes held a chilling, dark energy. They were terrifyingly clear, sparkling like stars.

“The Crimson Poverty Front needs your power. Won’t you join us?”

Silken Bodhisattva let out a long sigh. “There are two things I don’t understand.”

“Go on.”

“First, I don’t see what use I could possibly be to you.” Silken Bodhisattva shot her a fierce glare. “Second, I don’t know why you think I’d ever accept your offer.”

“…”

“I may have committed crimes and been locked up on that ship, but I was paying my debt. Why would I throw in with a pack of Villains like you?”

“To answer your first question,” Chun-hyang began with a bright smile, “your curse technique—Cursewrit—is incredibly useful.”

“You want me to kill?”

“Is there another use for it?”

“…”

As Silken Bodhisattva’s eyes narrowed, Chun-hyang calmly admitted her murderous intent.

“Not only can you cast a curse on anyone within your line of sight, but if you know their name and birth date, you can kill them from a distance. It’s remarkably effective.”

“…”

“It’s essential to the Crimson Poverty Front’s plan. That’s the answer to your first question.”

Chun-hyang stepped forward, closing the distance until she was whispering in Silken Bodhisattva’s ear.

“As for your second question… of course you’ll accept. You’re going to join us.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Because we have something you need.”

Chun-hyang casually took Silken Bodhisattva’s hand and began to lead her away.

“Come. I’ll show you.”

The two left the garden of four seasons and headed down the hill. As they descended the steps, the island’s heavenly beauty began to transform.

The landscape grew barren and desolate. The plants were withered and blackened, and the air reeked of blood and ash. Breathing became difficult.

“It’s so different from up there.”

Chun-hyang covered her mouth and giggled. “The other side of paradise being hell… isn’t that just common sense?”

They continued down the seemingly endless staircase. Just as Silken Bodhisattva began to wonder where the path was leading, the steps finally ended.

And at the bottom, in a darkness barely touched by the sun, stood a single structure.

“What is that…?”

It was a massive stone tomb, half-buried in the earth.

The pale stone seemed to breathe, swelling in a slow, shallow rhythm. With each breath, a chilling aura pulsed outward.

“What in the world is that?”

“The Gate.”

Chun-hyang walked calmly toward the tomb and stepped onto it. She then beckoned to Silken Bodhisattva.

As if mesmerized, Silken Bodhisattva followed.

“Look here.”

Chun-hyang pointed to a crack in the stone that radiated a malevolent energy. A distinct fissure ran across the largest slab covering the tomb. Each time the structure “breathed,” the crack widened slightly before sealing shut again.

Like a door.

“It’s all right. You can look inside,” Chun-hyang whispered in her ear.

Silken Bodhisattva found herself kneeling on the stone slab. She cautiously brought her eye to the crack and peered through… to the other side of the tomb.

The fissure was so narrow she could barely make out the scene beyond. But by focusing whenever the crack widened, the image slowly sharpened.

Just as she was straining to get a better look—Thud!

Something slammed against the other side of the Gate.

It was a figure, burned pitch-black. It swung an arm that had turned to ash, desperately pounding against the stone.

Startled, Silken Bodhisattva started to pull back, but a voice made her freeze in disbelief.

Lady Bodhisattva!

“…?!”

Lady Bodhisattva, Lady Bodhisattva, Lady Bodhisattva!

Stunned, Silken Bodhisattva stammered, “Lamb…?”

Ahh, Lady Bodhisattva! Lady Bodhisattva! Lady Bodhisattva!

“Lamb?! Is that you? Is it really you?”

No, no, no…!

Little Lamb tried to speak, but the sounds died in his mouth. Ash spilled from his scorched throat.

He clutched his neck, crumbling as more fell from him, but no voice emerged.

“… Just you wait.” Swallowing a sudden sob, Silken Bodhisattva cried out, “Wait, Lamb! I’ll save you!”

…!

“Whatever it takes, whatever I have to do, I’ll get you out of there! Do you understand? You trust me, don’t you?”

Meeting her lover’s wide eyes, Silken Bodhisattva forced a desperate smile.

“I promise I’ll…!”

BOOM!

The Gate, which had been open just a sliver, slammed completely shut.

The pale stone tomb stopped breathing. The chilling energy emanating from the crack slowly subsided.

Chun-hyang chuckled softly as she looked down at Silken Bodhisattva, who had collapsed onto the stone, staring blankly at the sealed Gate.

“I heard you recently lost your lover. That’s why I brought you here.”

“…What is this Gate?”

Silken Bodhisattva shook her head. “No, it doesn’t matter. None of it matters.”

She whipped her head around to face Chun-hyang, a ferocious will blazing in her eyes—a will that burned with blind devotion, as if she were possessed.

“How do I open it?”

As if she had been waiting for the question, Chun-hyang answered.

“Do you have the courage to burn down the rest of the world for the one person you love?”

Smiling benevolently, Chun-hyang extended a hand to Silken Bodhisattva.

“If you do, then join the Crimson Poverty Front.”

“…”

“Because everyone here is the same.”

Silken Bodhisattva stared at the Villain leader’s hand, then raised her eyes to meet Chun-hyang’s.

She did not hesitate.

***

Back at the octagonal pavilion on the hill.

Chun-hyang leaned against a pillar, slowly smoking her pipe, when a voice spoke from beside her.

“Was your persuasion successful?”

“Of course.”

She turned to see a man in a black robe and a Nobleman’s Mask—Hong Gil-dong, the Deputy Leader of the Crimson Poverty Front.

Chun-hyang’s eyes crinkled into a smile. “I only gathered those who were certain to be persuaded.”

“With this, we have almost everyone we need.”

Hong Gil-dong moved to her side and smoothly took the pipe from her hand.

“Robbin’ Hood’s death left the Butcher’s Mask vacant, but we can fill that spot as we go.”

He took a long, leisurely drag from the pipe and exhaled a stream of smoke. “Now we can finally begin the Mask Play in earnest.”

“We’ll dance, and we’ll sing.”

Chun-hyang took the pipe back from him, took another slow puff, and exhaled the rest of her sentence with the smoke.

“And we’ll burn the world down.”

Hong Gil-dong smiled at his leader. “By the way, I’m a little concerned we’re exposing ourselves to Ghost too much.”

“Why? Are you afraid she’ll hunt us down and cut us all to pieces?”

“Frankly, yes. She’s more than capable of it.”

Chun-hyang giggled at that.

Though she could have operated more discreetly, she had deliberately orchestrated the Crimson Poverty Front’s activities to intersect with Ghost.

She answered Hong Gil-dong’s concern honestly. “Still… you have to commit a robbery to get the police to chase you, don’t you?”

“Pardon?”

“It’s just how it is.”

Tap, tap.

Chun-hyang tapped the ash from her pipe and murmured, “For a villain to exist as a villain, they need a hero.”

“…”

“And if I’m going to have a hero chasing me, I’d very much prefer it to be her.”

Hong Gil-dong gave a smile that was both troubled and resigned.

“What does it matter if we set fire to this transient world?” Chun-hyang hummed a little tune as she brought the pipe to her lips again. “Deceived, it is but a dream; deceiving, it is but a dream, after all.”

***

The next morning, aboard the prison cruise ship Paradise Lost.

Deck 10, the Rooftop. Inside the Clinic’s hospital room.

Jae-hee Han woke and stared blankly at the ceiling. “Now that’s a familiar ceiling.”

“What are you on about the moment you wake up?”

He turned toward the voice. Ghost sat in a chair beside his bed, skillfully peeling an apple.

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