The space between worlds opened at one forty three PM.
Precisely.
Not approximately.
The old man did not do imprecise.
Han-Ho was on the rooftop waiting because he had adjusted the Wednesday route to include the rooftop at one thirty PM and had been there for thirteen minutes when the air in the center of the rooftop folded quietly and two people stepped through.
The old man.
And Wei Junhao.
Wei Junhao was carrying six bags of honey butter chips.
Han-Ho looked at the six bags.
"One bag," said Han-Ho.
"Master said to find out what they were," said Wei Junhao. "I wanted to be thorough."
"Where did you get them."
"A small trading post near the qi disturbance point," said Wei Junhao. "They have been trading with your world informally for some time apparently. The woman at the post said they are very popular."
Han-Ho made a note.
Informal trade route between martial world and Earth predating official contact. Honey butter chips apparently reach the martial world through Gate residue trade routes. Filing report. Ms. Yoon will have questions.
He filed it.
Looked at Wei Junhao.
"One bag today," said Han-Ho. "The others go in the kitchen cabinet. Second shelf left side."
"Yes," said Wei Junhao, with the focused attention of someone who has been trained since age six to receive instructions and follow them precisely.
The old man stepped off the residue zone without being asked.
Han-Ho noticed.
Made a note.
Old man: learned the residue zone protocol without reminder. Efficient.
"Ready," said Han-Ho.
"Yes," said the old man.
They went downstairs.
The taxi took eleven minutes to reach the Registry.
Eleven minutes during which the old man sat in the back seat and looked at Seoul through the window with the focused attention of someone reading a battlefield he had never seen before.
Not overwhelmed.
Just reading.
"The metal boxes," said the old man.
"Cars," said Han-Ho.
"They all move together."
"Traffic."
"They could move faster individually."
"Yes."
"But they move together slowly."
"That is how roads work," said Han-Ho.
The old man looked at the traffic.
At the cars moving at thirty kilometers per hour in the specific contained frustration of a Tuesday morning traffic jam on Mapo-daero that was actually a Wednesday morning traffic jam but the energy was the same.
"In my world," said the old man. "A martial artist of sufficient level can cover this distance in—"
"I know," said Han-Ho.
"Approximately four seconds."
"I know."
"You cannot do that here."
"I prefer not to," said Han-Ho. "The residue from high speed qi movement in an urban area is significant."
The old man looked at him.
"You have thought about the residue from high speed qi movement," said the old man.
"I have cleaned it twice," said Han-Ho. "After Min-Seo activated everything in the parking garage last month. The shadow energy residue in enclosed spaces is very difficult."
The old man sat with this.
Wei Junhao in the front seat next to the driver was looking at everything with enormous eyes.
The driver was not looking at anything except the road because the driver had a system.
"The lights," said Wei Junhao.
"Traffic lights," said Han-Ho.
"They control the movement."
"Yes."
"All the metal boxes stop when the light is red."
"Yes."
"All of them."
"Yes."
"At once."
"Yes."
Wei Junhao watched a red light stop forty seven metal boxes simultaneously.
"Extraordinary," said Wei Junhao.
From Han-Ho's bag pocket River said: "Extraordinary."
Wei Junhao looked at the bag pocket.
River looked back.
"You said it too," said Wei Junhao.
"Yes," said River. "Everything is extraordinary."
"Everything?"
"Everything," said River with complete conviction.
Wei Junhao looked at the traffic light turning green.
Forty seven metal boxes moving simultaneously.
"Yes," said Wei Junhao. "Everything."
The Registry lobby at two oh three PM.
The old man walked through the entrance.
Looked at the marble floor.
Avoided the left side near the decorative plant.
The receptionist looked up.
Looked at the old man.
Looked at Wei Junhao.
Looked at the six bags of honey butter chips Wei Junhao was carrying.
Looked at Han-Ho.
"Fourteenth floor," said Han-Ho.
"Of course," said the receptionist.
In the elevator Kjor looked at the buttons.
Looked at Wei Junhao.
"You may press the button," said Kjor.
Wei Junhao looked at Kjor.
Looked at the buttons.
Pressed fourteen.
The elevator moved.
Wei Junhao's expression was the expression of someone who has just discovered that moving staircases are not the most extraordinary thing in this world.
Moving boxes are.
Ms. Yoon was ready.
She had been ready since Han-Ho's report yesterday afternoon about the old man's eight thousand year mapping data.
She had created three new file categories overnight.
She had updated the dimensional arrivals intake form with twelve new fields.
She had printed comparative Dragon Vein network maps from the Registry scan data and left space for the martial world data.
She had two coffees on the table.
One for her.
One for whoever needed it most.
The Director was at the head of the table.
Park Sung-Jin was by the wall.
The old man walked in.
Looked at the room.
Looked at Ms. Yoon.
Looked at the comparative maps on the table.
Looked at Ms. Yoon again.
"You prepared comparative maps," said the old man.
"I prepared them last night when Mr. Kang filed the report," said Ms. Yoon. "I left space for your data on the right side. If your mapping system uses a different coordinate reference I have a conversion table."
The old man sat down.
Looked at the maps.
Looked at Ms. Yoon.
"In eight thousand years," said the old man, "nobody has prepared comparative maps for my data."
"The data should be compared," said Ms. Yoon. "That is what data is for."
The old man looked at her for a long moment.
"What is your name," said the old man.
"Ms. Yoon," said Ms. Yoon.
"Ms. Yoon," said the old man. "I have been trying to clear the fracture network blockage for eight thousand years. I have produced extensive mapping data in that time. Nobody has asked to see it."
"I am asking to see it," said Ms. Yoon.
"I know," said the old man. "That is why I am here."
He produced his data.
Not in a notebook. Not on paper. In the martial world data was stored in qi crystals. Small translucent stones that held information the way a book held words but denser. Eight thousand years of mapping data in twelve crystals the size of marbles.
Ms. Yoon looked at the crystals.
"How do I access this," said Ms. Yoon.
"You need—" The old man stopped. Looked at Han-Ho.
Han-Ho was already pressing his hand against one of the crystals.
Reading it.
Making notes.
"I can translate," said Han-Ho. "The energy structure of the data is similar to the scan format. I can convert it."
Ms. Yoon looked at Han-Ho.
"You are translating eight thousand year old martial world Dragon Vein mapping data into Registry scan format," said Ms. Yoon.
"Slowly," said Han-Ho. "Give me an hour."
"Take two," said Ms. Yoon.
She drank her coffee.
The Director looked at the room.
At Han-Ho translating qi crystals.
At Ms. Yoon reviewing the preliminary data Han-Ho was producing.
At the old man watching Han-Ho work with the expression he had been wearing since Tuesday.
At Wei Junhao in the corner opening a bag of honey butter chips.
At Park Sung-Jin by the wall writing in his folder with the focused efficiency of someone who has accepted that his folder is going to need a significant expansion.
"Mr. Director," said Park Sung-Jin.
"Yes Sung-Jin."
"I need to requisition more folders."
"How many."
Park Sung-Jin looked at the room.
Looked at his current folder.
Looked at the twelve qi crystals.
"Many," said Park Sung-Jin.
The meeting lasted four hours.
By the end Ms. Yoon had converted the martial world Dragon Vein mapping data into Registry format and overlaid it on the Earth scan data and the comparative map showed something that made her sit back and look at it for a very long time.
"Mr. Kang," said Ms. Yoon.
"Yes," said Han-Ho.
"The two networks."
"Yes."
"The Earth mana vein network and the martial world Dragon Vein network."
"Yes."
"They are the same network."
Han-Ho looked at the map.
At the Earth data in blue.
At the martial world data in red.
Overlaid perfectly.
Not similar.
Not parallel.
The same network.
Different dimensional expression of the same fundamental system.
"Yes," said Han-Ho.
"The blockage," said Ms. Yoon.
"Is in both," said Han-Ho. "The same blockage. In both dimensional expressions simultaneously."
"Which means when you clean it on the Earth side—"
"The martial world side clears too," said Han-Ho. "Yes. That is why the old man felt the western sections open. He has been trying to reach the blockage from the martial world side for eight thousand years. The blockage is in the dimensional space between the two expressions. Neither side could reach it alone."
Ms. Yoon looked at the map.
"But you can," said Ms. Yoon.
"Stain Removal doesn't care which side of a surface the stain is on," said Han-Ho. "It reads through. It cleans through." He looked at his hand. "I have been cleaning the Earth side of the blockage. The martial world side clears automatically because they are the same surface."
The Director looked at this map for a long time.
Looked at Han-Ho.
Looked at the old man.
"Eight thousand years," said the Director. "You have been trying to clear this for eight thousand years."
"Yes," said the old man.
"And he cleared two thirds of it in three weeks."
"Yes," said the old man.
"Because it is a stain," said the Director.
"Yes," said the old man.
The Director sat back.
Looked at the ceiling.
"Of course it is," said the Director.
"Of course it is," said Ms. Yoon, not looking up from the map.
Park Sung-Jin wrote something in his folder.
Han-Ho made a note.
Wei Junhao ate a chip.
On the way out of the Registry the old man stopped at the lobby.
Looked at the left side near the decorative plant.
The residue mark was there again.
The cleaning crew had missed it again.
The old man looked at Han-Ho.
Han-Ho was already crouching down.
Addressed it.
Stood up.
"I have filed eleven reports about this location," said Han-Ho.
"Has anyone responded," said the old man.
"The cleaning crew supervisor responded once," said Han-Ho. "They said they would address it. They did not address it."
"I see," said the old man.
"The cleaning crew is not Registry staff," said Han-Ho. "They are contracted. The contract does not specify this location as a priority cleaning point. I have requested the contract be updated."
"Has it been updated."
"Not yet," said Han-Ho.
The old man looked at the clean spot near the plant.
Looked at the Registry building around them.
At the institution that had been failing to respond to this specific location's residue mark for eleven reports.
"In my world," said the old man carefully. "If a sect elder failed to address a clear problem eleven times after being notified eleven times the consequences would be—significant."
"The Registry has a process," said Han-Ho.
"The process is slow."
"Yes," said Han-Ho. "But it is improving."
The old man looked at him.
"You are very patient," said the old man.
"The residue will still be there when the process catches up," said Han-Ho. "I clean it in the meantime. That is the job."
The old man looked at the clean spot.
Looked at Han-Ho.
"The job," said the old man, very quietly.
"Yes," said Han-Ho.
They went outside.
The Wednesday afternoon city did its Wednesday afternoon things.
Wei Junhao looked at a traffic light for seventeen seconds.
"Extraordinary," said Wei Junhao.
"Yes," said River, from the bag pocket.
They went to the GS25.