"Subin, this was something that someone had to do someday. Don't leave this house."
"Brother, this is really not right... I really don't think so..."
"Oppa, I'll be back. I'll definitely be back, so make sure you're doing well and not hurt anywhere until then. Don't cry, I'll feel like crying too."
"Yeonbin, don't be like that. Please don't be like that... What kind of democracy is that! You're shedding blood like this, your lives threatened..."
Yeonbin opened her eyes and looked at Choi Soobin. "That democracy, oppa, that's more important than our lives."
Yeonbin's clear, ringing voice pierced Choi Soobin's ears even more intensely today. Even though he was a mortal enemy of his brothers and sisters, shouldn't his own blood relatives be sent to that battlefield, where blood and screams were rampant? Of course, he should have stopped them. Still, Choi Soobin couldn't defeat them. Their yearning for democracy and freedom was so strong that they could easily sacrifice their own lives, and there was no way they could be quelled with such mere words. Choi Soobin couldn't hold back the sobs that rose to his throat and choked him to death.
In the end, Choi Soo-bin had no choice but to cry as she looked at the traces left behind by the two of them throughout the house.
*
Choi Soo-bin roughly wrapped a handkerchief around his mouth and went outside to find food. But he soon regretted coming out. The horrific scene outside left him speechless. Now, all that remained of Gwangju, his hometown, was the acrid smoke of tear gas and the corpses of civilians trampled and left unsorted on the streets. Oh, God. It was such a horrific sight that Choi Soo-bin, who never believed in God, prayed to Him for the first time.
Oh, Choi Soo-bin closed her eyes, dragged her slippers on, and quickly ran into her regular supermarket in front of her house.
"Grandma, I'm here."
"Oh my, Subin is a kid!"
"Yes, it's been a while.. I came to buy something to eat."
"Okay, okay, hurry up and buy it and go inside. But students can't protest?"
"Yes, Grandma. I don't have the guts to do that." After giving a short answer, Choi Soo-bin picked up some ramen, paid the bill, and left.
"Oh my... God. What is wrong with these little ones..."
"Ugh... tsk. The world these days is the end of the world, the end of the world... What kind of soldier would trample on a student with a bright future like that... What a pitiful thing..."
The streets were filled with the cries of those who had lost their children, spouses, or friends. Some screamed in rage, while others inflicted violence on themselves to determine if it was a dream or reality.
To be honest, Choi Soo-bin couldn't understand the government that called the Gwangju residents communists and indiscriminately assaulted them even though they were citizens of their own country, and he couldn't understand the citizens of Gwangju who sacrificed everything for freedom, that one thing. It was all futile anyway. Do you think you can defeat armed soldiers with peaceful protests? Choi Soo-bin didn't have a strong desire for democracy, and he didn't have the courage to rush in and fight armed soldiers with guns and knives. It was better to be a bystander than to go out and fight and lose his life. Some might call him a coward and a mean person, the true communist, but he will just remain that hypocrite.
As Choi Soobin was walking home, dodging the people sprawled on the street, he saw two familiar faces. This couldn't be happening. Covered in blood and sprawled on the street, he couldn't help but recognize them. They were his brothers. Choi Yeonjun and Choi Yeonbin. Why, why? Choi Soobin dropped the black plastic bag he was holding. His whole body trembled.
"Why are you here, why? Why?"
They say the dead don't speak, don't they? Asking those two, who had already turned into corpses and grown cold, yielded no answer.
"No... You can't stay here, guys. You said you'd definitely come back alive... You said you'd come back..."
Choi Soo-bin sank to the ground, hugged them, and wept. She wept bitterly. She wept so desperately that people gathered around her, one by one, to pat her on the back or offer words of comfort. Regardless, Choi Soo-bin wept so loudly, as if she had lost the world. The warmth she felt when she hugged me a few weeks ago still lingered, but even if she tried to warm me by holding me tightly, it felt like a foolish act.
Clearly, May is a time when new life springs forth and everything turns green, but Gwangju in May 1980 was nothing but desolation. Life was dying and everything was turning red. If there was a God, he shouldn't have let this happen.
