April 20, 1942
Soobin was particularly susceptible to flowers. Allergies. Yes, that's what the big-nosed American medical professor had said. Namjoon looked at Soobin, whose eyes and nose were red from allergies, with a very pitiful expression. "Ach!" Namjoon pulled out a tissue and handed it to her as if he was used to it. Soobin thanked him in a nasally voice. Soobin, who was studying with her mouth tightly shut and making a wheezing sound, was very pitiful.
“Are you studying?”
“Ah… I’m going to write poetry. And publish a book of poetry…”
Namjoon chuckled as he looked at the manuscripts piled atop a thick book and stroked Soobin's hair. The feeling of her hair gently brushing his fingers reminded him of a poet's posthumous poem.
“Does a poet have to stay away from flowers to write?”
Namjoon said playfully. Soobin sat on her chair, smiling silently, and looked at Namjoon.
“I have something like that too.”
“What? What about allergies!”
Namjoon shouted, taking off his round glasses. "Why are you taking it like that, not like a flower—" "Ppopak." The vibrations his fingers sent and the short, heavy sound caused the two to scream silently. The silence was broken by their boarding house friends who had brought dumplings.
“Did Namjoon break it again?”
“It’s still the same, it’s still the same.”
“Is Subin feeling a bit better?”
It was clear that the new dumpling shop near the school would soon fail unless they made some innovative changes to their dumpling wrappers. Ji-seop, who had been eating the chewy filling, finally put down his dumpling. Starting with Ji-seop, everyone else followed suit. When Soobin finally let go of his dumpling, Namjoon gathered up the remaining dumplings and took them to the dog that lived in the kennel behind the boarding house.
“But Namjoon, why did you break your glasses again?”
"ah."
The lumpiness of the dumplings brought back memories of my glasses, which I'd quickly forgotten. Everyone lowered their heads in a moment of solemn silence. A sneeze! Subin's sneeze echoed through the silence.
April 21, 1942
Yamato gazed at the woman sitting quietly in a kimono. She was a stunning beauty, with lustrous hair, fair skin, and rosy cheeks. The blue kimono he wore made her appear even more delicate. The young man and woman, politely sharing tea, sat in awkward silence, unsure of what to do.
“I heard that you are the eldest son of the Endo family.”
"Ah... yes... that's right. I was born and raised in the Kanto region."
When I uttered the word "Kwandong," a lump formed in my chest. The sound of fifteen yen and fifty sen lingered in my mind like an auditory hallucination. The woman turned her face away, as if embarrassed, and spoke. The sunlight gently fell on her beautiful face.
"By the way, you didn't say my name."
"That's right."
“Koharu…is…”
"Spring of the Heart"... ...They say she's the only daughter of an old couple, and it must have been true. Koharu smiled shyly and nudged Yamato. The two caught the attention of passersby, but they themselves were oblivious. Those in shabby jackets spat "Kaak to!" while the Japanese in neat suits whispered that they were a good match. Of course, a Joseon-jin followed them, daring them to... Koharu was the only daughter of a wealthy Japanese family. She smiled shyly again, saying she was good at playing the violin. Her rosy cheeks flushed even more. But Yamato, feeling guilty, kept sipping his tea. Unfortunately, the unfortunate young lady thought it was the behavior of a shy man like him. Yamato stood up. He was about to say that he couldn't go through with this engagement.
"Can I see you again later? (나중에 다시 뵐 수 있을까요?)"
Koharu suddenly grabbed Yamato's sleeve and spoke. Yamato remained frozen, flustered. Koharu, startled, let go of the sleeve, as if suddenly coming to her senses.
"I'm sorry...! I was rude...!"
“It’s okay…”
“Well...then...would it be okay if I invite you to my house...?”
Yamato felt a heat slowly rising from his neck. It was an unfamiliar, awkward heat. Yamato nodded slightly. Koharu was grateful for that alone.
“Hey, you. (Hey. There.)”
Kai stopped in his tracks. He turned around and saw a familiar figure.
“It’s been a while, isn’t it? (It’s been a while, isn’t it?)”
A man in a US military uniform smiled brightly. He was tall and had green eyes.
“Yeah, well……I have something to do right now, so I’ll just…go. (Yeah, well……I have something to do right now. I’ll go.)”
“Go? Well, that’s not a pretty good welcome to your hometown friend, huh? (Go? That’s not a pretty good welcome to your hometown friend, is it?)”
Kai clenched his fists. A familiar accent, a familiar voice. He hadn't expected to encounter it again in Gyeongseong. Human coincidences are incredibly strange, aren't they? He turned to leave, then sighed, turned around, and smiled nonchalantly. Just like he always does.
“I suppose keeping a ‘hometown friend’ standing on the street isn’t a pretty good welcome, either. (I don’t think keeping a ‘hometown friend’ standing on the street is a very good welcome, either.)”
“Ha! I can see that you’ve changed. I guess you have grown since that- (Ha! I see. You’ve changed. I guess you grew up since that time-)”
“Well, thank you. You are just as same as always. (Well, thank you. You are just as same as always.)”
Kai cut him off without even hearing the rest of his words, and walked briskly past the man. He felt the gun in his pocket. He wanted to shoot, but he didn't. Instead, he opened the door to the small, simple classroom.
“Hello!”
Because the people there were all driven solely by a passion to learn. And in the very center of the classroom, there was a familiar face.
“We have a new student today. Hosuk? Will you come forward?”
Hoseok, who had been sitting in the center, straightened his shoulders and came out, greeting them cheerfully. Everyone was delighted to see the familiar face of the Noreumpae. I'd heard that Noreumpae was a profession looked down on in Joseon, so it was a relief to see everyone so welcoming. Kai approached the blackboard with an even more cheerful expression. Kai, who had written "Two-Digit Addition," soon began writing down several problems. 12+34= 27+31= 56+43= 34+49= 29+10=… …
"Adding two-digit numbers is similar to adding single-digit numbers. First, add the ones digit, then the tens digit. Is there anyone who can help me solve these three problems?"
“Let me try to solve it!”
"I'm going out to make money and live, so I'm good at math," Hoseok said with a confident expression. He then wrote down the numbers, though crooked, quite neatly. After fiddling with his fingers a few times, Hoseok returned to his seat with a proud expression as he wrote down the answer. Suppressing a sly laugh, Kai explained, drawing a chalk line on the blackboard. "I never thought I'd come to Joseon as a missionary and meet so many people." He quietly made the sign of the cross.
“Are you doing well? I learned something from going out!”
“Yes, of course. You did well.”
After all the other students left, the two laughed and chatted. Hoseok couldn't understand Kai, and Kai couldn't understand Hoseok, but they somehow managed to communicate. They both knew it was absurd. It was truly absurd.
“But why do you say that crooked thing?”
“Pardon?”
“What? What are you selling?”
“…?”
“…?”
…Let's eat some rice. "Go out and make some amazing soybean paste stew," Hoseok said. Kai's face soured at the smell of the soybean paste that would linger for the next few days. Hoseok liked the cozy smell, but he still couldn't eat the soybean paste.
“I’ll be back before you know.”
Kai shouted into the kitchen and left the house, stopping somewhere random for a quick dinner. "I'm sorry, but…" he kept repeating.
April 23, 1942
“It’s a new unit.”
Yeonjun looked at Taehyung, who was standing in front of him. Jimin was standing next to him, fidgeting. Yeonjun glanced down at him. Then he turned to Taehyung and spoke leisurely.
“Let’s have a drink together, guys.”
“…Good.”
Taehyung's reaction was a step behind him. Yeonjun grinned. "Somehow," he muttered softly. The three entered a bar packed with Koreans. The two looked awkward, but Yeonjun seemed ready for the pleasure to come. They ordered a bottle of strong sake and sat down. Soon, the kimono-clad owner brought the drinks. He seemed to be very interested in these men, as evidenced by the fact that he continued to hover around the trio.
“Let us have a drink.”
"Yeonjun said," Jimin and Taehyung awkwardly raised their glasses. To anyone who didn't know, they probably looked like they were trying alcohol for the first time. "Here, cheers." Only Yeonjun's glass clinked. Then he let out a hollow laugh.
“this."
"This is not fun at all," Yeonjun muttered.
“If you don’t drink together, you’re not friends.”
The Fed put down its glass and lit a cigarette.
“I thought we could become friends.”
Yeonjun exhaled a puff of cigarette smoke and spoke. Taehyung watched him quietly. Perhaps out of caution, perhaps out of curiosity.
“If you die.”
Yeonjun raised his glass again. This time, the two others did the same. The glasses clinked together. The three of them tilted their heads back and poured the drinks down their chapped throats.
“I thought I would be very sad.”
Yeonjun stared straight into Taehyung's eyes. He considered looking away, but decided against it. It was the gaze of someone who knew more than he'd expected. No, was this all just the acting of a skilled assassin? Jimin tilted his head back and downed a few drinks beside him. "I have a surprise for you all. Would you like to see it?" Jimin laughed, closing his eyes. "This kid's drunk." Taehyung shrugged. Yeonjun flicked his cigarette. Jimin, taking it as their own token of approval, pulled a small magazine out of his coat.
“Isn’t it a Korean magazine?”
“Oh. That can’t be.”
Jimin raised his eyebrows and said playfully. Taehyung seriously considered how he should take this drunkard home. Then he glanced ahead. The assassin was looking at Jimin with a sly smile. He must have found the whole situation amusing.
"Enough, let's go now. It's almost time for the youth council meeting."
“I guess it’s because you’re new, but you’re really punctual.”
"There's no need to go. I don't have time to waste time listening to the empty talk of those gentlemen," Yeonjun said. It was a very reasonable point. At least for them. Yeonjun only thought about his target. Endo Tadayoshi. The assassin's eyes turned bloodshot as he chewed on the name. And the faint image of Inyeong in the darkness also searched his mind. Yamato… that's what it said. Yeonjun spat. Taehyung, who was supporting Jimin, made a puzzled expression. "There must be only one or two guys named Yamato," Yeonjun spat. Taehyung nodded. His face held a subtle understanding. I wish that could be seen on the faces of those who love writing, stars, and flowers.
“I know all about your hardships. The life of an assassin is incredibly difficult.”
Taehyung said.
“You can act.”
Taehyun said, noticing Jimin, who had been staggering drunk just moments before, sitting upright in his chair. There were four empty seats, and one new one had been occupied. "I'm late introducing myself. He's not a formal member of our Korean Youth Association, but he'll be actively participating in this gathering." Taehyun's lips curved into a subtle smile.
“I came here after seeing this magazine!”
Jimin felt tears welling up in his eyes. It was undoubtedly the dialect of his hometown, the language he had longed for so long.