February 5, 1943
“Walk quickly!”
My vision was hazy and blurry, and the outside of the prison was no different from the inside. It was bitterly cold, and an unusually heavy snowfall had fallen. When the snow touched my head, it felt like every hair on my head stood on end. The snow continued to fall relentlessly, seemingly as if the sky were weeping. If someone, feeling pity for me, were to ask my name, I would answer with blank eyes: "I am just some insignificant so-and-so."
“For the head.”
A large hand shoved his left shoulder violently. Where the hand had been released, a prisoner number was written. "5728." That was their idea of his name. Behind the camera stood another military policeman. He clicked the shutter. The sound was like a gunshot. The shutter was clicked four or five more times. Each time, the hallucination of a gunshot resonated. Finally, when his fingers stopped clicking, a bird flew over the military policeman's head. Does that poor thing know its fate? Does the beasts of the stolen sky and stolen fields know that we are imprisoned? The military policeman stared at the bird and fiddled with his pistol. 5728 mustered all his strength, pursed his lips, and made a "whistling" sound. A sharp, bird-like cry escaped from his roughly chapped lips. The military policeman, who had been watching the bird with annoyance, walked forward with an expression that seemed even more annoyed by this bizarre behavior.
"It's crazy now."
The military police kicked Prisoner Number 5728 in the stomach with a spiked shoe. He collapsed helplessly, gasping for breath. The military police surrounded him as if they were watching a funny game, all too absorbed in laughter. He had no time to feel the humiliation, nor the chill that had suddenly descended upon him. When he looked up, the bird was already gone. The military police, who had been spitting, cursing, and kicking him, then forcefully lifted him back up, his body limp like a rag.
"Hey, doctor!"
They soon stripped the Korean man of his yellowish-brown clothes. Before them, there must have been at least ten of them, the man stood naked, not even wearing a single thread. The small Japanese man, known as "Mr. Doctor," held a tape measure and examined the man's body, scratching a piece of paper with a pen. Beyond the usual height, facial features, and other noticeable features, he recorded his chest circumference, waist circumference, and hand size. He even recorded embarrassing details like the size of his genitals and the circumference of his buttocks. He nodded to the military police and smiled kindly.
“Fortunately, the prisoner this time wants to be pretty energetic. (다행이오, 이번 죄수는 꽤 건강한 듯 싶소.)”
As soon as the doctor finished speaking, the junior military policeman put his clothes back on the man.
"How is it?"
“……”
“What a solitary confinement.”
Opening the door to a room barely large enough to lie down in, the guard, who appeared to be a guard, chuckled. The previous occupant had long since died, as not a trace of human warmth remained. After all, how could anyone expect warmth in a place like this?
"That's why I was able to relax a little with this expression."
The guard tapped his shoulder. Then he pushed the prisoner in and locked the door. The prisoner, thrown helplessly to the floor, looked out through the tiny window of his cell. He seemed so exhausted that he couldn't even sit up.
“…one star, memories…one star, love…one star, loneliness…one star, longing…one star, poetry. One star, mother, mother…”
The man lay there, breathing heavily, mumbling, and closing his eyes weakly.
His name is not anyone, nor is it 5728.
His name is a three-character word meaning ‘to appear big’.
It was ‘Kang Tae-hyun’.
March 17, 1942
The Kim family was busy from morning. Their youngest son, who had studied abroad in the United States for ten years, was expected to return soon. The mistress of the house was overwhelmed with joy at the news that she would finally see her second son, whom she had only seen through letters for ten years. One of the servants set off first, accompanied by a rickshaw puller. After constantly harassing the puller, the servant soon arrived at the train station. Thinking of the young master who must have traveled a long way from Busan Port, a lump in her throat already grew. Turning her head toward the crowd's cheers, she could just barely make out the faint steam of a train in the distance. The train, massive and roaring as it pulled into the station, roared like thunder.
“Master? Master? Where are you?!”
The servant, searching for the young master through the crowd, stopped dead in his tracks before a man. Dressed in a suit and carrying a trunk, he was a tall, imposing man. Overwhelmed by the man, the servant opened his mouth twice before screaming.
"master!"
"You've grown up, you've become quite a man. You're no different from when I left Joseon. It's nice to see you so consistent. Seeing you makes me feel like I'm home." The two men chatted politely, then spotted a passing rickshaw puller and boarded his rickshaw.
“Joseon has really changed a lot in the past 10 years.”
“Of course. It’s completely different from ten years ago.”
Of course, he hoped so. As if in retaliation for Joseon's resistance, the Japanese oppression intensified, and as he fled, he hoped, ironically, that Joseon would improve even a little while he was gone. Seokjin fiddled with his leather bag, taking in Gyeongseong with his eyes. It was beautiful. Even though it was a sight he'd seen so many times in America, it warmed his heart and made his chest flutter. The busily moving subway, the modern boys and girls walking arm in arm, unabashedly. Seokjin smiled faintly.
“Come to think of it, doesn’t your majesty have a good woman?”
“Why is that…”
“I heard that when you go to America, you end up sleeping together every other day.”
"I'm not even an American, so how could I possibly learn their bad habits? Don't talk nonsense."
“Oh, but you too, young master, will have to love soon.”
“I will do it someday.”
I'm tired. I'm going to take a nap, so wake me up when you get there.
“Seokjin!”
Ten years later, his still-beautiful mother hugged Seokjin tightly. Tears welled up in her eyes as she watched her son grow so much. Seokjin bent down and hugged his now-small mother even tighter. "I'm here, Mother." After sharing a warm embrace with his father, Seokjin met his siblings, who had come to his hometown upon hearing the news of his return. They had already started their own families and even had children. The newborn, Sanghyuk, who hadn't even turned one, desperately wanted to be held by Seokjin, as if he knew something.
“How was life in America?”
“Didn’t the sheep ignore you?”
“I told you everything in the letter, but I’m still curious.”
"what……"
Seokjin smiled brightly.
“One thing is certain: I am happier than ever to be back home.”
The Kim family, which had accumulated wealth for generations since the days when Gyeongseong was Hanyang, was already powerful. This was evident from the fact that the family, which was not even a pro-Japanese collaborator, had several servants.
“Come to think of it, I don’t see that kid.”
Seokjin, who felt empty as he entered the room that was the same as when he left, asked.
"who?"
“Hoseok…no.”
“Oh, you mean that kid?”
"Mother said it," Seokjin said, unable to deny it. He nodded quietly.
"That kid was your playmate, wasn't he? I figured with you gone, there was no reason for you to stay here anymore. Now that you're free, I told you to go and pursue whatever you want."
Seokjin nodded, seemingly satisfied. His kind parents were never harsh on their servants. The thought that the boy, his good childhood friend, was living a happy life somewhere brought him comfort.
“Okay, then sleep well.”
March 24, 1942
His sister's daughter, Heewon, kept glancing at Seokjin. The other family members were nodding off at the dinner table. Everyone looked at him with worried faces.
“Are you tired?”
“…I guess so. I guess I’m still a bit tired.”
"You've been sick and suffering like that for a whole week. Studying abroad in America must not have been easy. Why don't you take a bath? I'll get some water for you."
The older brother and older sister each spoke. As soon as the older sister finished speaking, the young master's mother rose and led Seokjin to the bathtub. The young master's mother hadn't spoken since yesterday. She would have been more delighted than anyone to see the young master again after such a long time, but Seokjin stared at her with a puzzled expression, her mouth still closed.
“Your Majesty.”
“…Yes, my lord.”
She seemed to look at Seokjin, then turned her head and averted her gaze. Seokjin grew even more suspicious. The young master's mother dissolved Seokjin's favorite bath salts into the water. Then she gestured to help him undress. She remained silent, but Seokjin could sense that her hands were unusually trembling. The young master's mother slowly undressed Seokjin. After putting a thin gown on him, she turned away.
"…nurse."
Seokjin spoke quietly. The young woman flinched. Even her already aged brain was trembling. Seokjin decided to get an answer.
“Why aren’t you saying anything?”
“…”
"Nanny, you're the one who treated me like a son. Aren't you glad to see your son back after ten long years?"
The young master's mother glanced at Seokjin's eyes and pursed her lips. Then, she silently poured warm water on his back. The fragrant scent of the bath salts wafted up, causing Seokjin's muscles to relax. The young master poured a few more splashes of warm water before screaming and collapsing. The large wooden bowl she was holding clattered to the floor. In the blink of an eye, Seokjin leaped out of the bathtub, pulled out his gun, and aimed it. The young master's mother, still covered in water from the wooden bowl, looked up at Seokjin.
“Master…! Master…!”
“Be quiet, Nanny.”
Because there are ways to shoot it.
The young woman trembled as she saw the gun pointed at her head. Seokjin covered her mouth, preventing her from screaming as before. The young woman's eyes were wide with fear.
“What did you see?”
“…!”
“Tell me right now.”
The young woman drew a black bird on my palm with her finger. Seokjin sighed and glared at her. His eyes lit up with a piercing expression.
“So, what are you going to do now? Call the whole family?”
The young woman shook her head violently. Seokjin looked at her for a moment, then removed the hand covering her mouth. Apparently the shock had subsided, the young woman trembled as she picked up the wooden bowl.
“Your Majesty, Your Highness…”
The young woman stood up and faced Seokjin.
“That rumor… is true…?”