Gogu 1795
The grasses and flowers wavered and bent as the breeze that had been blowing picked up. Overhead, clouds bellowed and raced across the sky, chased by the wind that sprang up, covering the twinkling stars from view. The speed of the clouds slowed. They waddled ponderously until finally, the burden they carried was released to fall below. The dry ground swallowed the offering greedily, then as more followed, gulped as much as it could before it had to concede defeat and water began to pool.
Rain. A welcomed sight to farmers, signaling that the farming season would begin in earnest. Was it raining back in Uiryeong, Yunbok wondered as he looked out. Surely it must be so. There would be cries of joy in the famine affected provinces. Rain. Life giving water. Where were they now? Were they caught in the same storm? It would take less than a month for them to reach Uiryeong. Travelling in spring was easier than in winter. He turned his attention back to the small party in the daecheong, smiling when Iseul deliberately served everyone the sikhye and left Suk-kwon the last. An indication of her displeasure at his "leaving her to simmer" at the Sohn residence, were her first words to him when she arrived that morning with Cheol-yu.
His eyes flicked to the two women sitting near him. Talking easily. A little of the tension within loosened. Song-mi looked tentatively at ease. At least she seemed ready to respond in a positive way to Jeong-hyang's overtures after that night. He had been gratified when she took his suggestion to take her ease, rest for a few days. He had a discussion with the old couple who Suk-kwon felt would be sympathetic and might be willing to provide the support the woman needed.
His expectations were borne out when they learned the truth of Song-mi's unfortunate past. They had gone out of their way to slowly engage Song-mi and her son. That they had not already done so initially was due to her reticence to their previous attempts. Now that they knew the reason, they felt they should do their outmost to ease her fear and pain even after warnings about Song-mi's mental stability. Would their plan succeed? It remained to be seen. Thus far, he had managed to get her to talk candidly about that day's event. It was a painful issue he had no desire to raise but it must be done in order to have her relieve the horrors of that day. It was a session he was glad he need not repeat.
It stressed them both so much that she looked on the verge of complete insanity; tears of rage, hatred. Forewarned, no one came to interfere when she screamed and vented her terrorised memories on him. He still bear the bruises she had inflicted but he felt it was worth it for she seemed calmer thereafter. She had reiterated once more what she had told him in the garden at the Sohn residence; she did not blame him for running away. Whether it was the truth she spoke thus, he had no idea. He tried to point out the good intentions of the others. If he could but make it clear to her that there were others who were just as empathetic and generous.
If only it was so easy. Changing a person's point of view was like shifting a mountain but he had to try rather than not. Lifting his bowl, he sipped the sikhye. A piece of paper was thrust before him.
"Ah .. what roiling thunder," he said of the sketch. "I feel cold already."
"Does it, aboji?" Pokkot cocked her head, judging her own work critically as Jinjia who had become her shadow when they were together, looked on curiously.
"Do you wish to present the perils of a thunderstorm? Here," he patted the floor beside him and waited until she had settled down before lifting the charcoal she handed to him. Iseul suggested there should be some entertainment to celebrate the rainfall. Suggestions were bandied back and forth. Jeong-hyang proposed a dance performance from Iseul. There were no musical instruments and no musicians, objected Suk-kwon, a little put out by Iseul's little tirade at him earlier. Whereupon, Hong-do said he had the daegeum and went off to get it as Suk-kwon tried to pour cold water on the suggestion.
His pique with Hong-do was obvious when he grumbled loudly at the waste of time. Ignoring him, Iseul had a brief discussion with Hong-do before settling on a plausible piece of music. Yunbok finished his little sketch to show what he meant to Pokkot. They watched as the dance began. With delicate, elegant movements of her hands and arms, Iseul conveyed a series of joy and anticipations as she moved lightly. It reminded Yunbok of Akeno. He could not help but glanced at Jeong-hyang, involuntarily smiling at each other as they recalled the night Akeno requested her to provide some entertainment music with her gayageum.
The dance ended. The men showed their appreciation with loud toasts, Cheol-yu and the rest could not resist complimenting Hong-do on his skill with the daegeum, adding to Suk-kwon's disgruntlement. Whereupon, Ban-gung leaped to the larger area near the porch and began to show off his acrobatic skills, to the children's delight. Jong-gwan added on with various minyo, most of which everyone knew to join in. It was a convivial evening.
"That hurts!" he hissed as hands kneaded his back. "That .. really really hurt!" Yunbok tried to wriggle away but she bore down on him. "Enough, enough!"
"Stop whining," she said as she worked along the muscles of his back.
"You're killing me ... stop.. stop..," he tried to wriggle away but she sat on his legs instead. He pounded the floor with a fist as he grimaced at the pain.
"Will you be quiet? You're conveying the wrong impression should anyone hear you," she admonished.
"I can't when you..." His next complaint was muffled by the quilt thrown over his head. Grabbing a fold of it, he stuffed it into his mouth, wincing at the pain travelling up and down his spine.
"Will you just relax?!"
To that, he made no answer and could only regret complaining about the bruises and aches on his back. If he had known he would suffer even worst agony from the massage, he would not have agreed to it. Her fingers were of iron. He jerked as another sore spot was pressed. No, hot metal, he corrected himself. Feeling stifled, he pulled off the quilt, face red from the lack of air.
"Can we forget this and..," he began to say.
"No...you should have seen your back," she said, stopping to add a little more ointment to her hands. "How many times did she hit you?"
"I wasn't keeping count ... please, can't you be a little lighter?" he begged and gave up when she only pressed harder between his shoulder blades. Flopping face down, he tried to think of something else instead of the pain.
"I hope this is the first and last time you let her do this to you," she said in a low voice as she worked in the ointment Suk-kwon had provided.
"I don't intend.," he winced, "to repeat it. It's just that.. traumatic incident .."
"Do you really have to have her relive it?"
"That is the beginning of her and my troubles, I don't have a choice. I know..," he put in, knowing what she was going to say. "It's too grievous and too deep to be alleviated so easily but it is a start, isn't it? Doesn't she seem more self-possessed?"
"Do we even have experience with mad people?"
"She's not mad .. ow!" he could have sworn that was a deliberate jab. "If she lost total control ... we would all be dead," he said sombrely.
"Did she say something about the mushrooms?"
She began long slow sweeps along his back, feeling him relaxed since she was no longer kneading. Despite his complaints, the pressure she used was very light. It was the soreness of his bruises that were the cause of the pain. She was none too pleased he had allowed such injuries.
"No but it would be easy for her to drop something into the soup, wouldn't it?" he sighed. "There is very little time," he added.
"Three weeks at the most?" she shifted slightly.
"What have you talking been about to her these days?" Waves of drowsiness began to gnaw at him.
"Women chatter; preparation of food, recipes, chores, this and that," she paused. "What are you planning when we have to leave?"
"I.." The plan he had been thinking over for the past days rose to his lips.
"Because if you intend to bring her with us, I will not support such a notion." The obdurate tone in her voice dispelled any thought of sleepiness.
"But..," he sat up as she withdrew, handing him his shirt before she turned away to cover the little pot and pushed it near the tunggyong.
It was as she thought, he intended to bring the woman and her son along with them. She would have far preferred he carried on the original plan; had the woman sent to the far north to settle down. They had had enough problems of their own to have the additional burden to deal with the murky personality of another who may turn on them.
"Why not?" He drew on the shirt, feeling the twinges of his bruises.
"Isn't it obvious?" she said. "Do what you can within these three weeks but you cannot bring her with us."
"Three weeks is not enough," he began to protest when she rounded on him.
"Do you intend to spend the rest of your life making up to her? That's what you are thinking of, isn't it?"
"No but three weeks is not enough to set her on feet ..."
"It will have to be. It has to be. Set aside your feelings, she poses a danger to us. The farther away she is, the better."
"How can I do that to her?"
"Why not? You can stop bringing up that running away incident, how that act alone condemned her to a life of fear and torment. She has been doing it. You are doing it. There is enough self condemnation to go around," she took a deep breath to calm herself. "It is over. Do not forget your intentions. You want her to pick herself up and continue with her life. To do that you have to break this unhealthy link between the two of you. You have taken responsibility, don't lose sight of your priorities by thinking you have to continue, thinking you owe her."
"I do..."
"You don't!" she grabbed his arm, willing him to listen. "You don't owe her anything. Even if you had gone and found her alive and took her away, would that have prevented the assassin from finding her? He went back for her, don't you remember? If you had been there, still, she would have been taken away. You had no means of helping her, he did. Would you not have relinquished responsibility to him?"
What she said was true. "Even so, I..," he began.
"Yes, everything would still have happened. The guilt would still be there because you let her go. Listen to me," she pleaded when she saw the stubbornness in him. "You are doing your outmost to help her but there is a limit to restitution. If you do not see this, you will lose everything to her. Master Park knows this. He has warned you against it."
"This is what you fear, isn't it?"
"I do. I do not wish to see you making the mistake of placing her before all else because you feel you owe her. Don't you know you are in the initial stages? If you entangle yourself, she will never let you go. She will never find her own feet. Why do so when you are there to do it for her?"
Was she right? He closed his eyes as he hugged her, trying to sort out the morass of feelings and reason. "There is one thing you have forgotten," he said softly. "I have forgotten. The King wants her settle in the far north, she cannot go against his will."
"But you have the freedom to decide where we are to settle next. I have no wish to follow, to the north." She waited with bated breath for his next statement, hoping he would see her point.
He tried to imagine doing what she feared; going with the woman and her son to the north. Settling down, tending to her occasional displays of delirium. Such incidents would continue for who knew how long before she recover. Pacifying her might take up most of his time, just as it had taken the entire morning the other day. Instead of finding independence of her own will, would she come to rely on him more and more to resolve such issues? Would that not shackle him permanently to her? For all the wrong reasons? Would that cause him to neglect Jeong-hyang and Pokkot? The last was so highly improbable to him.
"Will it happen that way?" he said doubtfully, half to himself.
"Do you want to test the fates? To see it happen?!" She strove to rein in her apprehension. "For our sake, don't do it. There's another point to consider. If you keep proximity to her for too long, eventually, she will find out what you are. The fallout will be far worst than you can possibly imagine."
"Then ... we stay with the original plan," he said finally, not entirely persuaded but he could not brush aside her pertinent arguments. "I will try to help as much as I can these three weeks," he smiled when he felt her crushing embrace, her happiness at his decision. It absolved most of her fears, he knew. "Will she go willingly?"
"We will have to hope she does," she said, not willing to spare a thought in that direction as yet.
"We shall overcome this obstacle together," he whispered, understanding her refusal to entertain any more dismal outcome. "As we always do," he murmured as he trailed his lips along her neck and felt her response. Nothing more was said that night.
In the days that followed, Yunbok tried to steer most of his conversations with Song-mi to the plans of moving north but she seemed more interested in questioning and listening to his tales of wandering. Thinking it would be better not to force the issue, he tried to say as little as he could of himself and more of the people he met in his travels and what he had seen. Prompting and probing as much as he could, he tried to take stock of her current state of mind as he encouraged her to talk of her life with Ui-sik.
To facilitate a better inducement to recovery, Suk-kwon and the rest of the protectors took turns to have charge of her son, leaving her time to relax without having to worry over the boy. It seemed to leave her in confusion however, having nothing to be apprehensive over. With the other women's supportive company, she was drawn to interact more actively.
On some nights, Jeong-hyang would comment to Yunbok it was difficult to mask her intense scrutiny whenever Song-mi was in the kitchen. She had to rope in the old couple, Soon-joo and Iseul's help to keep an eye on her during preparations of meals. Whenever she took up a knife, Jeong-hyang felt obliged not to have her back to the woman. Song-mi seemed not to notice thes scrutiny. Although she seemed less tense and reserved, with no further agitated outbursts, it was not wise to let down her guard. It was a pity because she felt the woman was making positive progress but it could not be helped.
As the days sped by, the paintings at the workroom slowly accumulated. When the seventh was completed and placed among the rest, Hong-do was both pleased and dismayed. Pleased that the task was soon to be finished, dismayed that they would all be breaking up and going their own way soon. It was inevitable of course. They all had their own lives to go back to, Yunbok particularly would have to re-establish another home. Where would they go, he wondered, looking at the seventh the impending separation brought sadness, there was no wretchness he had felt years ago when he left that island. It was akin to, he smiled when he realised what it was. Yes, it was the sadness at the thought of parting with a dear friend.
"What are you smiling about?" said Yunbok as he tacked a new piece of silk to a new frame.
"How do you know I'm smiling?" Hong-do said in astonishment, turning around.
"Your posture says so." Tapping the silk lightly to be certain it was not stretched too tightly, Yunbok laid the wooden frame on the floor. "When you are pleased about something, your hands will cross at the back, you will take a few deep breaths and your head will move about so." He moved his head to mimic Hong-do's actions.
"How long did it take you to discover that?" Hong-do was impressed and amused as he picked up the draft for the last painting from the desk.
"It doesn't take much to figure out what you're thinking of when you stand in front of a painting," laughed Yunbok as he helped to hold down the draft on the second frame and tacked it firmly.
"There is only so much to think when one stands in front of art," agreed Hong-do, moving around the frame to double check the fastenings. "This is our last piece," he sighed as they placed the first frame over the second. "I am thinking of our parting. You, to unknown parts, me to the Changdeokgung to present the paintings."
"And?" Yunbok did not look up from the brush he was preparing.
"I will miss all of you." Hong-do looked up but Yunbok continued with his task. There was tension however, in the set of his shoulders. "And how much I am going to miss this rascally younger brother of mine," he added.
"Heh, I'm afraid I dare not claim to be any relation of yours," sniffed Yunbok disdainfully," with the company you keep."
"He's much better than the wild one you're going with these days," quipped Hong-do before he turned solemn. "How do you think she is going to react?"
"I'm getting tired of that question. You know how she will react." After double checking once more the frames were attached firmly, Yunbok bent to trace the first outlines of the final painting onto the silk.
It was the truth. Every time the subject of Song-mi came up, the inevitable trepidation would arise such that he wished the forthcoming affray with the woman would simply explode one day just to settle the under seething current of anxiety. The only ones who did not seem to be agitated were the elderly couple. Mayhaps they felt they were already past their prime and could withstand the coming storm.
"Such murky waters to wade in." Taking out his glasses from the angyeongjip, Hong-do polished it meticulously before putting them on and slowly prepared the ink. "All right, so I'm repeating myself," he sighed when there was no answer.
"You and just about everyone else," murmured Yunbok absently, "it's getting to be such that perhaps I should arrange with her to have the big explosive day."
"Just make sure Suk-kwon is there to catch you with a net and the others on hand to tie her down," joked Hong-do, testing the brush before starting on his end of the painting.
"I'm leaving it up, to the heavens." Yunbok turned to freshen the brush and caught Hong-do's eye. "I've learned that it's completely useless to try to anticipate. Rather, to flow with it is the better course."
"If the flow should crush you?" Hong-do said pensively. "Is that all you can do?" he said when Yunbok shook his head.
"Can the leaf on the ground or on the tree say no when the wind says otherwise? Whatever happens, old friend. I have no regrets."
Perhaps not. Hong-do watched him for a while before bending to his own work. All other thoughts slipped from his mind as he concentrated. Slowly, the scenery appeared on the silk as they moved about. They worked through the day, hardly stopping for lunch when it was delivered that Jeong-hyang felt obliged to threaten to pour water over each of them. At that, they stopped. Primarily because they were feeling hungry, not because of her threat but neither one said so. As they sat at the windows, looking out to the garden and enjoying the meal, the light gradually vanished as dark clouds gathered overhead. Heavy rumblings shook both sky and ground. Soon raindrops were pattering down.
"We're going to need more light," Hong-do said, closing the windows before the rain splattered in. Jeong-hyang lit the candle and brought it over.
"Surely you're not going to continue?" she said in consternation as it grew darker. "What a storm!" The thunderclap overhead nearly drowned her out.
"For the brightness we need, it will have to be more than three candles. Do we even have enough in stock?" Yunbok was doubtful there would be enough. Supply would be low given the amount of time they were at the residence.
"There should be some in the kitchen," she said, thinking of the unused candles in the storeroom. "Are you sure?"
"From the sound of the storm," Hong-do pointed above their heads. "It's doubtful we will see the sun soon." He had to shout to make himself heard.
"I'll get the candles." She got up. When Yunbok followed, she glanced at him, puzzled.
"I'll get the ones in the rooms there are not being used right now," he said. "The more candles, the brighter the light." They went out of the room, down the corridor and stopped in astonishment at the sight. The level of water on the ground in the yard had reached the first steps of the taettol. "Will you be all right?" he shouted to her as she hastily retrieved her shoes.
"I'll run for it!" she said. She put on her shoes, pulled up her chima and ran across the yard, making sure to stay on the laid stones, to the anbang as he watched.
He cursed at his forgetfulness and hurried to the porch. His shoes were totally wet when he got to them and so were Hong-do's. Propping them up against the wall in a corner of the daecheong, he went to the first unused guest room of the sarang and removed the unused candles from the desk. When he came out of the room, a flicker of movement at the corner of the corridor caught his eye. Who was that? Cautiously, he approached the corner and looked around it. The corridor was empty. He looked at the door of the vacant guest room he was standing outside. Since he was there, he would get the spare candles. With those he had in hand, there should be enough to provide the light they needed. The room was in total darkness when he opened the door but the lightning flared bright to show him where the desk was.
A rush of air behind him and an indrawn breath as he approached the desk was all the warning he had. He turned, dropping the candles he was holding to ward off whatever was coming but he was a fraction too slow. He gasped as something hard hit his head. Light exploded behind his eyes. Fighting to stay conscious, he staggered away, trying to find some space and time to respond. Turning to grapple with his attacker, he tried to disarm the attacker. It was a foregone conclusion who it could be. The question was why? They fell to the floor when he slipped on one of the candles. His hand caught hold of the stick she was wielding. The pain in his head was debilitating as he tried to wrench the stick away.
"Why are you doing this?" he gasped when she elbowed him in the stomach. No answer was forthcoming. He nearly blacked out when she gave his jaw a push, knocking his head against the floor. Half-conscious, he waited for the final blow but it did not come. Instead, he heard the rattle of the stick as it was thrown away and sobs, water on his face. Water?
"I'm sorry ..."
Apologising for what she was doing? What was she doing? Hands on his face, gentle and still the water, dripping. Darkness beckoned. He gave in to it.
Fetching the candles from the storeroom took only a moment. Wrapping the ends thickly in paper, Jeong-hyang dashed across the yard, holding her chima as high as she could. Her shoes were well soaked when she reached the sarang. Hastily, she removed them, her beoseon were also damp. She would have to put up with it for the moment. Hong-do was alone when she went in.
"Do you want them lit right now, master Danwon?" she said, showing the candles to him.
"There're six here," he counted what she had in her hands. "Let's mount them up first and see how many he gets." He set about getting fixing them to empty bowls that were not used for paints. "Three over there and three over here." He arranged the candles around the painting and looked up when footsteps approached.
"This is some storm!" boomed Suk-kwon, water dripping off his face and the bottoms of his baji. Jinjia chortled as he was swung about. "This little one seems to be enjoying it."
"He's not wet is he?" Jeong-hyang checked the boy but he was dry as tinder.
"Of course not, I hid him under the poncho." Suk-kwon tickled the boy, raising the volume of his laughter. "And he was as quiet as a mouse."
"It's getting too noisy here!" complained Hong-do when the boy shrieked as he was tossed into the air. The shrieks raised a head in a dark room. The sobs fell silent.
"You'll make him sick, master Park!" admonished Jeong-hyang, thinking that men made bad nannies.
"If he mess up the place, you have better clean it!" threatened Hong-do as he eyed the paintings.
"Aigooo! Why so many candles?" A blaze of light shone into the room as lightning flashed outside. "With such bright light from the elements, it's a waste!"
"You''ll ruck up bigger trouble, see if you don't!" Hong-do nearly jumped up in panic when Jinjia was nearly upended over the painting on the floor.
"Master Park!" Jeong-hyang couldn't help but raised her voice sharply.
"All right, all right," Suk-kwon coughed as Hong-do hid a grin. The older man straightened the boy and set him on his feet, looking suitably chastised. "Are we missing someone?" he said, hoping to divert Jeong-hyang.
"He's in the other vacant rooms, collecting spare candles. We need better light to continue, this storm is not likely to blow over soon." Hong-do plucked a brush out of the boy's hand.
"I'll see what's holding him up," she said, looking up and down the dark corridor. "I'm going to need a light," she said, returning to the room.
"Take this one." Hong-do lit one of the candles and handed the bowl to her. "Now then ..," he turned to Suk-kwon. "Isn't that an asinine thing to do? Placing..."
His voice became muffled as she went down the corridor, glancing at the doors of the rooms. Where was he? Another lightning flash brightened the residence. Turning, she went back up the corridor, thinking Yunbok was in the vacant rooms near the daecheong. Hong-do was still speaking when she passed the workroom, sounding very annoyed. All the doors were closed. Opening each door, she peered in to check, feeling silly and yet worried. He should not be taking so long. Back she went again and turned the corner. Ah, here was an opened door. As the light from the candle shone into the room, she froze. Neither of the occupants moved.
"Song-miya, what has happened?" she said softly, approaching slowly and stilled when the woman moved. Silver glinted in Song-mi's hand when she brought it down to Yunbok's throat as he lay on the floor. "Please, tell me," Jeong-hyang said, fighting the urge to leap forward and remove the knife. "Is he hurt?" her eyes roved around the room. Candles lay scattered on the floor. Nothing else. Yunbok was too still, how did Song-mi disable him?
"Hurt ...," a murmur from Song-mi who touched Yunbok's face with her other hand. "Yes, I hurt him."
"Why?" Jeong-hyang fought to keep her eyes on the other woman's face rather than the knife.
"I don't want to but there is little time left." Her fingers traced his brows, winding down to his cheekbone.
"Little time for what?" Slowly Jeong-hyang sat down. The only thing she could do now was to talk the woman out of whatever she intended for she doubt she could lunge forward in time to stop any action the woman might take.
"For us. He will be leaving soon ... leaving me behind ... again."
"Aren't you looking forward to making a new life for yourself. That's what you said, the other day."
"I lied," a hysterical laugh escaped Song-mi as she looked at Jeong-hyang. "Because that's what all of you want to hear, isn't it? So...I adapt... don't you know that's how I got by during those years? You have never trusted me, I know. Neither do the others. Just as I lied to you, so did you all."
"We did not lie. If we seem to be, that's because we are afraid for you. Of what you would do, to yourself, to those around you."
"You say that..," Song-mi looked down at Yunbok, "because you want to keep him. All of you want me to disappear except for him."
"None of us want you to disappear, all of us want you to live. But you do not wish to, don't you? Not when you do this..."
"Is there reason to live when he is going away again? You are hardhearted. He wants to bring me with him, I know he does!"
"How do you know..."
"I know you persuaded him not to ... you spoke to Iseul. You are pleased, isn't it? You don't have to share ... if you are selfish, I can too."
"It's not a matter of sharing. It is the King's command that you settle elsewhere. He cannot go against his wish."
"I know that but you do not want him to follow, don't try to deceive me."
"If he follows you, what are you expecting?"
"We will be together, all of us. A happy family. I know he has a true heart, he will look after me..."
"It may happen as you hope but are you planning to inflict your selfish whims on him for the rest of his life?"
"When did I...," began Song-mi angrily.
"You beat him, he was trying to help you. Don't you remember?" Jeong-hyang fought to keep her anger out when she recalled the dark bruises on Yunbok. "In your torment in reliving those memories, you struck out, he let you. Because he still feels the guilt in running away, because he wants to help you, help himself lay that incident behind forever. Can you say it will not happen again?"
"I.. I did hit him .. many times." The knife trembled. "I never meant to... hurt him."
"You are hurting him now ... again. Can't you see how it will be? How is it any different from the life you had with your husband? You would visit upon him the horrors of what you had suffered? When you have your bouts of...temper?"
"He is a man, how can I..."
"It is not physical pain I speak of," Jeong-hyang said in a low voice, watching as Song-mi's shoulders drooped. "You would use his guilt against him, you have already done so. If you are honest with yourself, admit that you enjoyed it. Didn't you? Watched him try his outmost to pacify because you know he will do so. You saw his unstinting nature back then and it attracted you... and you fell in love with him."
"I still do!"
"It's not love if you manipulate it for your own means!" Jeong-hyang fought not to shout and clenched her fists, wishing she could tear Yunbok away from the edge of that knife. "To love is to give, to share. What have you given and shared with him these days?"
"That is not fair. There is too little time to do any..."
"Excuses! Sincerity does not need months. All it needs is action but all your actions have been false, hasn't it? To adapt, as you put it. You throw our sincerity to the ground because you refuse to try to believe in us. Can you blame us if we sense you are not true?" The room lit briefly as lightning flashed outside. "How does your own actions make you any different from those of the one you hated?"
An indrawn breath at that comparative observation. Denial flashed from Song-mi's eyes. "I'm not like him!"
"Then prove it. Everyone here empathises with you. He most of all because of what he had gone through. He says often, that you are far stronger in will than he because you fight to live instead of giving in. You endured so much more than he did for so long, he has the utmost admiration for you."
"Doesn't he ... love me at all?"
"Fourteen ..." the weak voice startled the both of them.
"Painter!" Jeong-hyang started forward, hand outstretched and pulled back when the knife flashed again.
"You were fourteen ... even then, your will is already set. I saw it.. in your eyes. Despite the harsh bitterness of living, you strove to ease the pain and burden of your parents. I was...losing my will then." Yunbok closed his eyes, dizziness threatening to send him back into darkness but he fought to hold on. "To see it in one so young, I was humbled. You gave me hope. It pained me when I thought you were lost. To me .. it seemed the world had darkened horribly with such light gone from it. Imagine my joy to find you're alive, my despair when I learned what had happened. Despite everything, that light ... is still within you. Will you let the evil of others hide it forever? Will you let hatred eat it away? Will you not forgive?"
"Do you not love me?" Tears dropped once more onto his face.
"I do love you...as I love a dear sister of my heart." Yunbok opened his eyes, feeling the cold metal against his throat. "A friend once said, forced passion when it's not wanted will eventually turn to hate, dust and emptiness. They are sad and bad companions for company, constantly stabbing at the heart, bitter to taste at the end of the road. Even if you kill me now, yourself, it changes nothing."
"No .. no," Song-mi cried as she pulled Yunbok to her. Bile rose to his throat. He fought not to vomit as the dizziness grew worse. He just need to hold on for a while longer to push her to have a firmer grip on sanity. She was near, he could sense it.
"Accept the truth," Jeong-hyang said softly, anxiety colouring her tone at Yunbok's pale face. "Do you have the courage to face up to it?"
"How can I live .. without .."
"You have already done it for so many years. Don't use him as an excuse to hide behind anymore."
"If .. he says I have this will, this light .. I ... I .. must face it."
Thunder rumbled overhead, a flash of lightning followed.
"What am I to do?" a gulping sob from Song-mi. "I have no wish to go north."
"What do you want?" Jeong-hyang said gently, feeling this was finally a true admission from the woman. "Where is the place, the people with whom you feel you can make a home?"
"It is here, isn't it?" Yunbok said between stiff lips. "The one place... only place...," he stopped to try to swallow.
"Yes..," Song-mi admitted after considering it. "I ... I feel at home here. The ..haraboji Au, halmoni Jung ... they remind me of aboji ... omoni ..."
"Then..," Yunbok heaved and pushed himself up, almost gagging as vomit spewed from him.
"Painter!" Jeong-hyang sprang forward, not caring if Song-mi fetched her a swipe but the woman turned and threw the knife away. It tinkled as it hit a wall and dropped into a corner. "You hold him, I'll get the water!" she ran for the door. She was stunned to see Suk-kwon and Hong-do standing there. When had they arrived?
"I sent Cheol-yu to get it, see to him," Suk-kwon said as Hong-do vanished down the corridor.
Yunbok felt as if his stomach was trying to empty everything out, he had no control over the involuntary heaving that pushed the meal he had eaten through his nose. He felt he could not breathe. The pain in his head became worse from the violent retching, tears and mucus ran. Song-mi and Jeong-hyang pulled him away from the puddles on the floor before he could soil his clothing. Hong-do rushed in with the dry clean towels he had gone to his room for. The women tried to hold Yunbok steady.
Where was Cheol-yu? Jeong-hyang was almost beside herself as Yunbok continued to vomit. Song-mi tried to ensure he remained upright for fear of choking.. When Cheol-yu finally arrived with the water and towels, she snatched them away before he could offer them. The wet was a relief for it seemed to reduce the heavings. By now, Yunbok had nothing to bring up. He felt sicker than he had ever been before. With encouragements, he tried to clear his nose.
"Slowly," Suk-kwon said when they were about to lay Yunbok down on the floor. "Did he hit his head?"
"I ...," Song-mi rumpled her chima, guilt ridden, "I hit him twice ... on the head."
"Tsk ... that certainly will make him feel horrible," Suk-kwon said mildly though his emotions were raging, feeling the bumps on Yunbok's head. "He will have to stay quiet for a few days. No excitement, just rest. Don't move him about, let him stay here." He nodded to Hong-do and Cheol-yu to follow him out, leaving the women to tend to Yunbok.
"You are going to have to make a trip back to Hanseong," he said to Cheol-yu after he closed the door behind him.
"To amend the orders for her?"
"We'll see what he says and take it from there." Suk-kwon took a deep breath to calm himself, reminding himself that the incident had ended peacefully. He would not want to be throttling that woman by the throat like he wanted to.
"Um ... it's raining, sir ..," Cheol-yu said hesitatingly as the storm continued unabated overhead. He was not looking forward to a wet dreary journey back to the city.
"Did I say you're bringing the letter now?" snapped Suk-kwon and waved him away.
"He was just being ... polite." Hong-do leaned away when a glare hit him. "I'm not one of your former underlings, you can forget about intimidating me," he sniffed.
"How can you remain calm after that ..." Suk-kwon pointed behind them.
"It's over. We were just bystanders, that's what eating you, isn't it?"
"No it was not! I'll never forgive myself if he had..," muttered Suk-kwon. "Under that woman's hand too!"
"I think you need a woman's hand," said Hong-do shrewdly. "You're more grumpy than usual ..." he hastily ducked into his own room as red suffused the other man's face. He closed the door quickly.
Suk-kwon glared at the door before stomping away.