The overcast sky above Seoul had just begun to spill flurries in the January air when Seunghyun stepped out of the airport, leather suitcase in hand.  The sunglasses he wore were more to hide his blood-shot eyes than to shield him from harsh light.  No matter how much he traveled, he just couldn’t make himself sleep in a moving vehicle, and planes were no exception. Exhausted as he was, sleep would have to wait.  The museum was expecting this delivery, and due to the uncooperative weather he was already hours late.

Wrapping his tan overcoat more tightly around him, he hailed the next empty taxi that passed.  It slowed to a stop, and the trunk popped open before the cabby stepped out.  “Where to?”

“The history museum at 2nd and Cedar,” Seunghyun nearly shouted over the noise of the airport.

“The Choi Memorial Museum?” the driver clarified.

“That’s the one.”  Seunghyun could never get used to calling it that.  The endowment his father gave just before his death may have seemed generous to his fellow historians, but his son knew the intentions behind it.  His father didn’t care about preserving artifacts or the pursuit of knowledge.  He just wanted his name on something big and made of stone.

The cab driver reached for the suitcase in Seunghyun’s hand, only to have it pulled away.  “No, no, wait, let me,” his passenger insisted, and Seunghyun slowly placed the luggage in the trunk with as much care as a mother laying her baby in a crib.

“This is extremely fragile, so can you please try to drive carefully?” he pleaded.  But the cabby only shrugged and headed back to the driver’s seat.  Every other person he picks up must say that, Seunghyun thought sheepishly as he climbed into the car.

—-

The marble steps were slippery in the accumulating snow and Seunghyun took his time ascending them, wiping his feet with a few extra shuffles before entering the museum.  He took the elevator to the third floor, and caught a glimpse of himself in the metal of the sliding door.  “You need sleep,” he told the reflection.  “About 15 hours of it.”

The hallway he exited into was quiet.  It was nearly 7pm, only the most dedicated researchers and administrators would still be in the building.  Or was usually the case with Seunghyun, those with the least to do with their free time.

He knocked on the door of the third office on the left.  “Ms. Park?  Are you still here?”

“We’ve been expecting you!”  The familiar voice reached Seunghyun’s ears before he caught sight of his supervisor, seemingly walled on all sides by stacks of worn and tattered books.  Every time he walked into her office, Chairwoman Park had added another dozen or so.  When the clutter became too much,  she would ask his assistance in wheeling her collections back down to the archives, only to amass them in bulk once again.

“You’ll have to forgive me, my flight was delayed.  Twice.”  He took her hands as she stepped cautiously over a cardboard box full of encyclopedias, her long bare legs stretching to reach the floor again.

She smoothed her pinstriped miniskirt.  Ms. Park was an acclaimed scholar with an assortment of degrees and certifications that put Seunghyun’s to shame.  But her attire was always a little less than up to dress code. 

“Don’t worry about it, the important thing is everything got here in one piece.”  She lifted her eyes from the suitcase Seunghyun had placed on the floor.  “It… did, didn’t it?”

“Yes of course!”  Seunghyun nervously grabbed at the parcel again and set it carefully on one of the more sturdy stacks of books.  He grimaced slightly at the memory of one of his first inter-institute assignments: delivering a set of 900-year-old royal robes to the National Archives.  He would forever owe his job and reputation to Ms. Park and her ability to remove ketchup stains from priceless silk.

The locks popped open with a click and he lifted the lid of the suitcase, removing the foam padding to reveal a set of jade animal figurines.  Each was detailed in gold and just as impressive as if they’d been carved yesterday and not centuries ago.

“The university was very pleased with the manuscripts you prepared for them, Chairwoman,” Seunghyun said, his admiration for his senior obvious in his voice.  “They believe this collection will fit nicely with the exhibit you’re preparing—“

“Look at the little monkey!” she squealed and clasped her hands, and Seunghyun shifted his feet awkwardly.  Noticing his discomfort, she stood and regained her professional air.  “I think you’re right.  I’ll have them prepared for display.  Thank you Seunghyun, I know this trip was short notice.”

“It was my pleasure,” Seunghyun tried to lie, but his tired face betrayed him.  “Well, if you don’t mind, I think I’m going to head home—“

“Oh, before you go,” she began, giving a pitying look at the sight of Seunghyun’s weary, near whining face.  “Dr. Yang wants to see you in the warehouse; I think he has something to show you.”

It wasn’t that Seunghyun didn’t like Dr. Yang.  In fact, the man had been his mentor since he was a child, when he would spend most of his time outside of school at the museum across the street from his widowed father’s banking firm.  The polished halls and dimly-lit storerooms of the building became a kind of second home, and Dr. Yang always found time to entertain the awkward, chubby little boy who insisted on following him everywhere.

He definitely liked Dr. Yang.  But he hated the warehouse.

It was vast, lined with rows of industrial shelving that reached two stories high in some spots.  The lighting was terrible, and only on the sunniest of days did the large expanse look anything less than frightening.  As a boy, it had been a dungeon, occupied by the ghosts of ancient Korean kings and their loyal warriors.  Even as a grown man, he avoided it whenever he could.

“Dr. Yang!” he yelled from the doorway, praying he was nearby and they could speak in the hall.  But the only answer was the echo of his own voice.

Focusing on the sound of his footsteps in order to block out any unknown noises, he walked in, peering down long corridors.  “Dr. Yang!  It’s Seunghyun!”

A sound like fluttering wings to his right stopped him cold, but the source remained a mystery.

“Dr. Yang, if you don’t mind, I’d really like to be heading home now—“

“Seunghyun, my boy!” 

He nearly jumped out of his skin at the voice behind him, and whirled around.  The old man chuckled to himself as he shook Seunghyun’s hand and adjusted his suspenders.  “Didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“What? No…”  But the crack in his voice was unmistakable.  “How are you, sir?”

“Fiiine, son, just fine!”  Dr. Yang placed a hand on his protégé’s shoulder and led him towards the cluttered workstation in the center of the room.  “I have something for you!”

Four desks were pushed together to create one large table-top, and it was littered with open books and boxes.  A sizeable area had been cleared, however, to make room for the artifact that Dr. Yang motioned towards as they approached.

It resembled a large vase, possibly two feet in diameter near the top and tapering to the bottom.  Black lacquer was inlaid with red and gold paints, and most of the container was covered in what resembled Korean ideographs, but only vaguely.  The feature that caught Seunghyun’s gaze, however, was the raised etching of an intricately carved dragon, twisting around the widest section, its head meeting its tail on the side aimed at he and Dr. Yang.

“It appears to me to be an urn,” the latter concluded.

Seunghyun stooped to examine the impressive piece more closely.  “What makes you say that?”

Without a word, Dr. Yang removed the small lid and tipped the piece towards Seunghyun, bringing him face to face with its contents: a pile of ashes dotted with bone fragments.

He stood quickly and looked away, covering his mouth and nose.  “Oh, I see.”

“These markings are particularly puzzling to me, however,” Dr. Yang went on.  He lifted the urn and turned it around in his hands.  “It’s indecipherable to me, but then, that isn’t my field of expertise.”

Seunghyun understood.  “No, it’s mine.”

Dr. Yang handed the piece to the younger historian.  “I want you to take it home with you, and work on figuring it out when you get the chance.”

“Take it home?”  Seunghyun’s thick brows creased in confusion.  “Why can’t I study it here?  I mean isn’t that against museum policy?”

“And who do you think sets museum policy, huh?” Dr. Yang said through a smirk. 

“But sir, these are human remains…”

The white-haired man flung his hands in dismissal of Seunghyun’s concerns.  “Just take it!  Besides, this is more of an off-the-clock project, if you know what I mean.”

Seunghyun frowned, but took the urn from his senior none the less.  “Alright, whatever you say.”

“That’s my boy.”  Dr. Yang patted his shoulder and sent him on his way.  Seunghyun was relieved to leave the room, but seeing as he was taking someone’s ashes with him, the creeping chill of the warehouse seemed to follow him up the stairs and out the staff exit.  He held the urn with arms extended from his body, wishing he didn’t have to touch it at all, and hoped whoever was driving his cab home didn’t want to know what was inside.