April 25, 1942
Beomgyu fidgeted. He bit his fingernails and tapped his feet nervously. Soobin was beside him, watching him. Something felt off. He, who always seemed to be on fire, running around like some kind of imaginary creature, a red bird, was so quiet, she wondered. Feeling lonely, she sat down next to him. The narrow staircase allowed them to feel each other's body heat. Neither hot nor cold, just the kind of warmth of early spring. Soobin spoke.
“Why is that?”
But Beomgyu didn't answer Soobin. He hadn't expected a response, so Soobin shrugged. "The night sky is really pretty, isn't it?" he smiled. Beomgyu barely nodded. Soobin had no way of knowing what was bothering him. Something must have happened, though. Soon, Namjoon squeezed into the narrow staircase.
“Oh, bro, it’s narrow.”
“Hey, let’s stay together for a bit. Is that okay with you, Beomgyu?”
Beomgyu nodded quietly. Namjoon, with his naturally large frame, felt as if the stairs were trying to squeeze the three men out.
“It’s useless if we fight among ourselves.”
“If you think of us as compatriots, then so be it.”
Soobin and Namjoon turned their heads at the curt remark. "Ah… sorry. We don't speak Japanese very well." Namjoon scratched his head sheepishly. Beomgyu shrugged. Soobin bit her lip and stood up. Namjoon stood up too. It bothered him, but he didn't want to pay attention to him. He wasn't a pleasant person, after all. Even though they hadn't spoken to each other, Soobin felt uneasy whenever he saw Beomgyu. The true nature of that unease would probably be revealed later. Soobin felt sorry for them, having to endure this inexplicable sense of discomfort during that time.
“They told me to change my name at school.”
"Are you going to do it?" Namjoon asked. Japan had effectively forced students to change their names, saying they would have to do so to continue attending classes. Soobin shook her head. "We have to do it," Soobin said.
“…I’m writing poetry comfortably alone.”
Self-portrait
I turn the corner of the mountain and go alone to a secluded well in the field and look into it quietly.
In the well, the moon is bright, clouds flow, the sky spreads out, a blue wind blows, and autumn is here.
And there's this guy.
Somehow I hate that man and turn away.
Thinking back, I feel sorry for that man.
When I looked down the road, the man was still there.
I go back to hating that guy again.
Thinking back, I miss that man.
In the well, the moon is bright, clouds flow, the sky spreads out, a blue wind blows, there is autumn, and there is a man like a memory.
Jimin stretched. He had just finished reading all the letters from the Malmoi members. Just when he thought he could finally rest, Taehyun came in carrying a large bag. Hoseok came from behind, groaning, carrying another bag. Jimin let out a sob and collapsed. "Oh, I can't, I can't." Jimin waved his hand. His knuckles, stiff from staying up all night opening, reading, and writing down over 90 letters, screamed.
“Comrade Park, it’s too early to give up.”
“I know…”
Jimin sighed as he looked at the letters that didn't even reach half of the target amount.
“It’s difficult to continue like this.”
"Taehyun said," he said. "I longed for everything new." The woman sitting next to Jimin bristled, questioning whether a dictionary could ever be completed. The young man's other word, he said, was change, and therefore it was his duty to strive for positive change. Taehyun stood up and walked to the blackboard. He then began to write freely with chalk.
'advertisement'
It was almost embarrassing that he hadn't thought of it. Taehyun drew a line under the letters.
"How about running an ad in a newspaper? Isn't the 'Hangeul' magazine used to update members of the Malmoi community on the progress of their work on the Great Dictionary and provide instructions? If you want to leverage the power of the majority, running an ad in a newspaper would be effective."
“But if that happens, Comrade Hoeseon will be in danger.”
Jimin spoke out against it. Even though no wanted posters had been posted yet, it was clear that the Japanese were keeping an eye on Taehyun. Therefore, no matter what the odds, he had no choice but to tread cautiously, as if on thin ice. Jimin wondered why the usually calm, methodical, and reserved man had suddenly become so bold.
“Isn’t this something you were prepared for from the beginning?”
“Let me ask you one thing.”
The gray-haired president of the Korean Language Society raised his hand and spoke. His eyes bore the dignity of age, and his purple robe added to his dignity.
“What is the reason for being so proactive?”
Taehyun looked at the chairman for a moment and then shrugged.
“I thought I’d try my luck this time. Anyway, does everyone agree?”
Everyone nodded. Only Jimin, with a disapproving expression, reluctantly agreed. Hoseok pulled up a chair next to Jimin and sat down. The other members of Malmoi sat in a circle around Taehyun, discussing the ad content, but Jimin simply watched from afar.
“Seon-sang, aren’t you going to do it?”
Ho-seok asked, pointing to the members of Malmoi sitting in a circle and Tae-hyun.
“I don’t like the idea of risking one’s life. Wouldn’t you, Mr. Ho-seok, do that?”
"What good can I possibly do? I'm just a playboy. I won't do anything. Even if I pretend to know everything, I'm just a beggar."
Jimin felt sorry for Hoseok, who was talking with a smile as if it was nothing special. While Hoseok was telling the story of the play group, Jimin continued to be lost in thought. Originally, King Sejong created Hunminjeongeum so that all the people could read and write… Jimin quietly repeated the Hunminjeongeum Haeryebon. Hang the national language on a stick… I wonder if it won’t be good to read and write in letters and characters. In this way, even though I am a single mother, I have to take care of my children and read them carefully… … .
“Can’t you just learn?”
Hoseok's eyes widened. Jimin spoke again, adding force. "We're building a school."
April 26, 1942
Yeonjun leaped across the rooftops of Gyeongseong as if flying. The moonlight was obscured by clouds, and all he could rely on was his intuition. Light leaked from a building. It was Choi Si-hyung's mansion. No, more precisely, Endo Tadayoshi's mansion. Yeonjun set up on the roof closest to the mansion, his back to the stars. He loaded his gun and waited for his target to appear. Based on his observations, Endo Tadayoshi strolled around the garden around nine o'clock. As if to prove that his months of observation had not been in vain, Choi Si-hyung came out into the yard, holding a long pipe. He was dressed in a suit like a Japanese man. Yeonjun paused to catch his breath, running his tongue over his parched lips.
“Long live Korean independence.”
Just as he was about to pull the trigger, a familiar face appeared behind Sihyung. That was the only major blemish on Yeonjun's life as an assassin.In the pause, the trigger was pulled. The texture of metal, something I'd never felt before, pierced my wrist. I barely managed to hold on to my staggering body. I bit my lip to endure the pain that threatened to burst forth. The skin on my lip was crushed, bleeding. Holding my wrist, which was also bleeding, Yeonjun looked down. Japanese soldiers in yellow uniforms surrounded the rooftop.
"You are surrounded!"
“The bullies are fierce.”
"If you don't value your life, get down, put down your gun and surrender!"
With his bullet still lodged in his wrist, Yeonjun ignored the Japanese soldiers' words and aimed again at Sihyung. Sihyung's and Yeonjun's eyes met.
"Shoot!"
The moment he pulled the trigger, the bullet pierced his ankle and shattered his ankle bone. Yeonjun lost his grip on the gun, slipped from the roof, and tumbled to the floor. Roof tiles fell on him, leaving a trail of blood in their wake. Thrown unceremoniously to the ground, Yeonjun struggled to catch his breath and endure the belated pain. His breath caught in his throat, making an animal-like noise.
“He is caught in the act. Arrest him immediately!”
I had no strength to stand. My body didn't feel like my own. While the military police handcuffed me and loaded me like a piece of luggage onto the truck, I felt helpless, unable to do anything. I felt empty and helpless. I lamented that, born as a man of Joseon, all I had achieved was the loss of nine corpses. How could I be so ashamed? Yeonjun said in a self-deprecating voice.
"Hold a trial immediately, you son of the Korean assassination squad."
Yeonjun let out a deflated laugh. "I'm not an assassin," he muttered. As a young man, death wasn't a fear. However, his regret was that he hadn't been able to execute Choi Si-hyung. Yeonjun stared absentmindedly down the road to Gyeongseong Prison. Through the smoke billowing from the car, a familiar figure glimpsed. As he tried to look more closely, the figure vanished into a Gyeongseong alley. He closed his eyes. He felt a deep regret at not having left a will for his fellow youth group members.
April 27, 1942
Seokjin kicked open the door and burst in. Everyone in the Korean Youth Association stood and looked at him.
“Comrade Choi has been arrested!”
In an instant, the conference room erupted into chaos. Kai collapsed to the ground. Namjoon glared into space, as if facing an invisible enemy, and Soobin's pale face grew even paler. Jimin and Taehyung clutched each other tightly, suppressing the fear that had overtaken them. Seokjin and Taehyun were busy formulating countermeasures with their notebooks open. Taehyun held onto his fountain pen, trying not to show his anxiety. Perhaps from his nerves, his neat handwriting kept blurring, and perhaps from his tight grip, ink splattered. Seokjin grabbed Taehyun's hand and shouted.
“Calm down!”
The Korean Youth Association spares no effort in securing the independence of their homeland. It was an organization formed from the very beginning, remembering the untimely deaths of youth. In the 1940s, they resolved to live with the spirit of a single candle, the last remaining candle in that dark time. Yet, these young, pale youths had never faced death so close. Taehyun struggled to catch his breath. How could fate be so cruel? He was clearly their master, yet he lashed out like an untamed horse, trying to throw him from the saddle.
"jewel…"
Taehyun gasped for breath and exhaled with difficulty. "Can we afford to apply for bail?" Namjoon asked. Seokjin rose from his chair and said,
"I joined the youth group for times like this, didn't I? I can raise the bail money myself."
Soobin nodded. The atmosphere at the Korean Youth Association, which had struggled to escape the chaos, was in turmoil. Taehyung stood up.
"No amount of talking here will help. It's best to check Comrade Choi's condition first. There's no telling what those bastards could have done in a single day. Let's go."
He spoke sharply. Seokjin supported Taehyun. There were several wanted men or people under surveillance, so Namjoon, Jimin, and Taehyun decided to go see them. Unable to even hire a rickshaw man, they walked helplessly. The fleeting footsteps felt like eternity, and it felt like the ground was about to swallow them up. After arriving at Gyeongseong Prison, they requested a visit. When asked about their relationship with the inmates, they evaded the question, saying, "It's a request from a relative." The military police nodded absentmindedly. They walked into the prison and returned dragging a man. Their breath was suffocating. Namjoon finally shook the iron bars in anger.
“How come it is like this, how!”
Namjoon screamed. It was anger, resentment, pity, and sadness.