Chapter 2: Viennese Coffee (Pak)

I bolted upright, gasping for air. Was it all a bad dream?

My hands frantically searched across my chest. Nothing. I looked down. My torso was covered in old scars, but they were noticeably absent where the Student Body President stabbed me. I tried rotating my right ankle, but there was no pain. I felt relieved. Maybe it was a dream after all.

But as I sat up, my right arm brushed up against something—something wet. I turned and looked. There was a white shirt drenched in blood. I slowly picked it up. There was a large cut on the front and an even larger gash on the back. The back was still dripping with blood. The cut perfectly matched the place where the white-haired girl stabbed me. I could barely keep myself from vomiting.

So it wasn't a dream. But how was I still alive? I suddenly recalled what Yuri told me—no one can die in the afterlife. Maybe I was dead. But then again, maybe I was just lucky. Maybe it was all just a dream. Maybe the shirt belonged to someone else.

"I have to get out of here," I muttered to myself. There were still people trying to kill me. The sad irony was that it did not matter whether or not I was dreaming. Murderers chased me in my dreams, and British fighter-bombers and paratroopers chased me outside of them.

I got out of bed and checked my surroundings. It was morning outside; I could hear the birds chirping in the trees. The songs of skylarks were especially soothing. I saw some people walking and chatting in the distance. They all wore similar uniforms. Based on their age and dress, I reasoned that they were probably high school students coming to school.

I looked around the room. It seemed to be a school infirmary of some sort. There were still some boxes labelled with the Red Cross symbol. It was strangely reassuring to find something familiar. There were also some posters and books about public health and sanitation—again, all in Japanese.

I had the room all to myself, so I decided to scavenge the area for something useful. There was a set of clothes in one of the closets. It was the uniform similar to the one I wore yesterday. I put on the new clothes, adjusted my hair, and took off my eyepatch. I figured that my best option was to climb out the window and blend in with the other students. I also decided to bring along a large glass bottle of rubbing alcohol. Maybe if I were lucky, I could find the materials to make a good Molotov cocktail. I wasn't sure if Yuri and the Student Body President were real or just characters in my dream, but I didn't want to take any risks. The bottle was no use against a gun, but if the President tried to stab me again, I could at least have something to defend myself.

I tried to move as silently as possible, but I've always been somewhat clumsy. I accidentally brushed against a bookshelf. Some folders fell from the top shelf, barely missing my feet. They hit the ground with a loud bang.

The door, seemingly on cue, slid open. I clutched the glass bottle in my right hand, ready to face off against the assailants.

"So you're finally awake!" a familiar voice proclaimed, "Hope you enjoyed your nap."

It was Yuri Nakamura's voice. She strolled inside the room, with a confidant grin on her face. She was wearing the same sailor fuku uniform, but this time with a white beret cap. And she wasn't alone either. She was flanked by two large males, who acted like her bodyguards. Both wore crème-colored business suits. The one on the left was about my height. He adjusted his glasses and looked at me stoically. I knew some taekwondo. And with some luck, I might have been able to take him down. The other, however, was much bigger. He had the build of Max Schmeling. He folded his arms across his chest, as if preparing for a fight.

I raised the bottle over my head, threatening to throw it. Neither of the males, however, showed any sign of fear or trepidation. The guy with glasses pulled Yuri to the ground. The big guy charged at me in a straight line. I had expected him go around the two beds in front of me, but he just leapt across them.

"You want to die, you damn Cyclops?" he shouted as he hurled through the air. I tried to whack him on the head with the bottle, but he anticipated the move and grabbed my arm. There was nothing I could do. I was thrown off my feet and tackled to the ground. I heard the bottle shatter a moment later.

"He's down, Yurippe!" I heard the big guy yell. He had me pinned down on my stomach. My arm was twisted at a painful angle. He was a judo master, no doubt. I could hardly breathe, let along move my limbs.

"Nice work, Matsushita the Fifth," Yuri complemented. I heard two people's footsteps coming towards me. There was nothing I could do to stop it. That Matsushita guy had me pinned.

Soon, Yuri came into view. She stood right above me, with her hands on her hips. She was so close that I could see up the white panties under her skirt. She had a triumphant smile on her face. I just turned away in disgust.

She grabbed my chin and tilted my head in her direction. She was squatting down now. "Listen, Pak," she said, "We're here to help you. I'm not going to shoot you, I promise." Her look was more serious, and her voice changed to match her mood.

I said nothing. There was a long silence.

"We won't harm you. I promise. We're on your side."

"Prove it then," I grunted. It was very hard to breathe and talk. My ribcage was threatening to cave in. "For starters, you can stop trying to crush me."

"Matsushita, let him go."

"But Yurippe, he'll…"

"Just do it."

I felt the pressure being lifted off of me. Yuri extended her hand, offering to help me get off the ground. I rejected the offer, resisting the temptation to spit at her face.

"What do you want from me?" I asked, trying to catch my breath.

"We want you to join the Afterlife Battlefront."

"I thought that it was the Not-Yet-Dead Battlefront."

"Yeah. We change our name a lot. We can never seem to agree on one name."

"And if I refuse?"

"You'll get obliterated if you don't fight Tenshi."

"Who's the Angel?"

"The girl you ran into yesterday. The one who stabbed you. White hair. Short. Golden eyes. She calls herself the Student Body President."

It all came back to me. I recalled everything that happened the night before. She was the one who stabbed me, not Yuri. Yuri probably could have easily shot me while I was running away, but she didn't. She didn't even try. Angel was the enemy, not Yuri. I felt bad for treating her so badly earlier, but I reminded myself that I couldn't trust her either.

"You know," Yuri continued, "If it weren't for us, you probably would have been obliterated yesterday. We found you right after she stabbed you and took you here to recover."

I looked down in embarrassment. "Um… thanks," I muttered, hating myself for my previous behavior, "I'm sorry about what just happened. I really am."

"Does this mean that you'll join us?" Yurippe asked. She extended her hand a third time. She seemed to cheer up a bit.

I did not hesitate this time. Angel was my enemy. Anyone who tried to stab me was the enemy. No one had the right to "obliterate" me; no one has the right to take my life away from me. I still wasn't sure what Yuri meant by "obliterated", and I still found it hard to accept my death. But I had to befriend her before getting any answers.

"Count me in. I will do everything I can to ensure the elimination of our enemy," I grabbed her hand and gave her a firm handshake. "My honor is loyalty, Yuri."

The smile on her face couldn't be bigger. She laughed. "The Afterlife Battlefront is happy to have go-getters like you on our side. Welcome to the Afterlife Battlefront, Ralf Pak. We are rebels against the god. Welcome to our rebellion."

For the first time in forever, I felt an abstract sense of happiness. I felt like I've found a new family—a new goal in life. A common goal. I was a part of something wonderful. I looked around. Both the guy with glasses and Matsushita were smiling.

"I still have a few questions though," I said, "I'm afraid I'm very new here."

"Let's talk over some coffee," Yurippe suggested, "You Europeans like coffee, right?"

"Coffee? I love coffee," I responded. I haven't had any in so long. Coffee was a luxury in Germany, especially during the war. The idea that I would be able to enjoy a nice cup of coffee was so refreshing, especially after all I went through.

I couldn't help but laugh a little, recalling the events of the day. Just a few minutes ago, I thought that my life was going to end. I thought that it was all over. But in the course of three mere minutes, my enemies became my friends. Not just friends, but also comrades. Comrades allied in a fight against Angel.

I laughed. Lady fortune was one my side. I was going to enjoy a nice cup of coffee with one of the cutest girls I've met. Her friends seemed like really nice people too. My luck was finally starting to turn.

A minutes later, I found myself in what seemed to be the school cafeteria. The place was huge. It was as big as a large aircraft hangar, and it looked like one too, with a steel frame and a curved ceiling. My Viennese coffee arrived, far more impressive than I had imagined—superb, delicious, and accompanied by three honey biscuits. I started at it in fascination for a long while, until I finally dared to pick up the long-handled spoon and, with a sign of ecstasy, plunge it into the cream. My mouth was watering. I glanced over at Yurippe, who looked at me curiously, clearly amused by my fascination with coffee. I smiled. I wanted to make this moment last as long as possible, to stretch it all the way to eternity.

The guy with glasses came back with a can of Coca-Cola. "I'm Takamatsu," he introduced himself, opening the bottle of soda, "We'd all like to know more about you and your skills. Where are you from, Pak?"

"I work and went to school in Munich, but I was born in a rural village in Karafuto Prefecture," I answered, "The village was named…"

The village. Crap. What was its name? I couldn't remember. I knew that I hailed from Sakhalin Island, but what was the name of that village? It was a coal-mining town, but what was the name? Why couldn't I seem to remember anything from my childhood?

"I can't seem to remember the specific village…" I continued, my voice trailing, "I must have hit my head at some point." Crap, did I have amnesia too?

"Amnesia is quite common here," Takamatsu reassured me, "Many of us hit our heads before dying." He nonchalantly took a sip from his can and scribbled down something on a clipboard.

I scratched my head in confusion. My recollections of my personal life were very vague. I had two sisters—one older and one younger. Father worked in the coal mines, and Mother was a factory worker. I could remember their faces, but not their names. I couldn't even recall the name of my school or the names of my friends. My memories about Germany were a little clearer, and I could remember the names of most of my superiors. Come to think of it, which one of my superiors ordered me to fly that night? I was not a certified pilot, and I had no training in night operations. Flying alone at night was suicidal, especially with all the British night-fighters that prowled the area. The person who ordered the mission must have been extremely desperate or reckless. But why? Which one of my commanders made such a rash decision? And why did I not point it out?

I hit my hand against the side of my head, trying to restart my mind. What could I still remember? Let's see. The Messerschmitt Me-410. It had a length of 12.4 meters and a wingspan of 16.39 meters. It was powered by two Daimler-Benz DB 603A V12 engines. The top speed was around 620 kilometers per hour, about 45 km/h faster than the Soviet LaGG-3 fighter. I could still remember all the technical details about my projects. I just couldn't remember much about myself.

"Sorry guys," I apologized, "I probably did hit my head. My memories are really spotty."

"It's alright," Matsushita reassured me, "You're not the only one. Some of our members can't even remember their names." But now that Matsushita mentioned it, my name did sound a little strange. My German name was Ralf, without a doubt, and my family name was certainly Pak. But I was less certain about my Korean name: Jin. I couldn't recall ever being called that, at least not prior to my arrival in Europe. Was Jin just a nickname? Jin Pak. Advancing modesty. It had a nice ring to it. I've read about a Korean Imjin War general with the same name, and I knew that it was a real, if not generic, name. But was it my given name? And why would someone name their child "advancing modesty"?

"You said that you were from Karafuto Prefecture? Karafuto Prefecture was formally dissolved on June 1, 1949," Takamatsu resumed the conversation, "The entire Sakhalin Island became Soviet territory."

My heart seemed to skip a beat. I had a bubbly feeling inside of me. Was I happy? Why did I feel so happy all of a sudden? I hadn't been in Karafuto Prefecture in years. Why was I so happy that the Soviets unified the island? Did I have a lot of Russian friends? My mother was a Russian-Chinese mix; that's how I ended up with this weird reddish hair. She taught me both languages, but I couldn't recall any economic ties with the Soviets. Was it because of political allegiances? Heck, what were my political views? I had always hated the Nazis, but I couldn't remember anything else. Have I forgotten my political beliefs as well?

"Takamatsu seems smart, but he's actually stupid," Yurippe chirped in, breaking the silence.

I snapped out of my psychological panic. My head started to hurt a little bit. Maybe I should just stop thinking about my past. It'll all come back to me eventually. Victims of post-traumatic amnesia usually recover their memories. It just takes time.

It was time for a mental coffee break, I thought to myself. I just needed to calm down and take a few deep breaths. My memories were going to come back to me eventually.

"So do you still remember your date of death?" Matsushita asked, sipping from a comically large bowl of udon.

"It was the night of July 23rd, 1944. My plane was shot down over Dusseldorf by the Royal Air Force."

"I see," Takamatsu replied, adjusting his glasses. There was a short pause, "So you worked with the Luftwaffe?"

I tilted my head slightly. "A little. I worked for Messerschmitt officially, although I routinely worked alongside Luftwaffe personnel and engineers from other design bureaus. I was mostly involved with Messerschmitt designs."

Takamatsu nodded once. He then turned to Yurippe and whispered something into her ear. I couldn't hear what he was saying, but I did see Yurippe nod a few times.

"Welcome to 2010, Pak," Matsushita proclaimed, louder than usual. I could tell that he was just trying to prevent me from hearing the conversation between Yurippe and Takamatsu. "Most of our members are from the 21st century, but we do get a few strays ever now and then. There's this one girl in our Battlefront. Her name is Shiina Eri. He was a female ninja in feudal Japan. She makes us seem a hundred men stronger."

So I was not only in the afterlife but also in the future? Incredible. I looked around. The future sure was a lot more… futuristic, I guess. (I'm an engineer, not a poet; quit judging me). I was impressed with the technological progress. I've read about fluorescent lighting in magazines, but I had never seen one before. Here, in this school, fluorescent lights were everywhere. Why didn't I notice that before? A lot of the students and teachers carried around hand-held screens that served as both radios and televisions. I was very anxious to learn how those things worked. I studied quite a bit of electrical engineering, and I had great hopes for future technologies. However, the screen that these students were using were beyond my wildest dreams.

"Pak," Yuri interrupted, snapping her fingers, "There's a place we would like to show you. I think that you will be very interested."

"Meet us at the Principal's Office after school. We've circled the location on the map," Takamatsu added. He handed me a map of the schoolyard, "The password is 'No god. No Buddha. No angels.'" I quickly jot down the password on the paper.

"Your class schedule and backpack have been already prepared," Yurippe added, handing me a backpack and another slip of paper, "Take the time to catch up on modern history and technology. Oh, and try not to act like a model student. People get obliterated for doing that."

"And don't mind these other students too much," Takamatsu added, "They're not human like us. They're non-player characters."

As if on cue, a loud mechanical beep rang out on the school speaking system. The students around me started to file out of the room. "That's the alarm bell," Matsushita informed me, "You have five minutes to get to class."

I slung the backpack on my shoulder, bid farewell to my three mentors, and joined the columns of students filing out of the cafeteria. I still had many questions on my mind. What did Yurippe mean by "obliterated"? What was the mission of the SSS? And was the Student Body President actually an angel? There were so many questions that still needed to be answered.

But I had to push those thoughts out of my head. I had to concentrate on my studies. I was anxious to learn about the latter 20th century and all its technological developments. It was a good time for me to catch up on world events. I might even be able to use the newest technologies in my future airplane designs.

I still wanted my memories back, but I was okay without them. I couldn't remember many details about my previous life, but I do remember that it was a very painful and grim existence. The war was terrible for everyone. Millions were dying on the battlefields, and so much material was being wasted on pointless destruction. No one was safe. The afterlife, in contrast, was so calm. For the most part, the students around me seemed cordial; I was easily able to strike conversations with some of them. I didn't have to deal with abrasive coworkers or worry about enemy air raids. Heck, I didn't even have to worry about death! I had a nice group of friends and cheap coffee to boot. I was starting to enjoy my new existence.

Jargon Dictionary:

Max Schmeling (1905 – 2005)

Maximillian Adolph Otto Siegfried Schmeling was a famous German boxer who held the title of the heavyweight champion of the world between 1930 and 1932. In Germany, he was viewed as a hero, and the Nazis promoted him as the paradigm of German supremacy over the rest of the world. However, he was defeated by Joe Louis in 1938. He served as an elite paratrooper during the WWII but was discharged after a knee injury suffered at the Battle of Crete. He later campaigned for better treatment of Allied POWs and helped hide Jewish children from the Nazis.

Karafuto Prefecture

Also known as South Sakhalin, Karafuto Prefecture was the Imperial Japanese administrative division responsible for governing the southern half of Sakhalin Island, a large island east of Russia. Russia ceded the resource-rich territory to Japan after the Russo-Japanese War, and it became a prefecture in 1907. The prefecture had a population of 406,000 (the size of Oakland, California), which included a considerable number of Koreans forcibly relocated to work in the coal mines and oil fields. Soviet troops invaded the island in August, 1945, and the territory became a part of Russia.

Düsseldorf

The majestic city of Düsseldorf is the capital of the German state of North Rhine-phalia. The city, currently home to 11 million, is located near the Dutch border and serves as a major hub for international business and finance. The city now hosts a large Japanese population, although this was not true in Ralf's time. During World War II, the city hosted a large number of factories and oil facilities and was heavily bombed by the Allied forces. The city was liberated in April 1945.

Gyeongsang General Jin Pak (1520 – 1567)

Jin Pak (or Park, depending on the Romanization system), was a Korean Joseon Dynasty Army general, who served with distinction in the Imjin War, a 16th century military conflict between Korea and Japan. Initially defeated by the Japanese at the Battle of Miryang, he redeemed his honor in the victories at Yeongcheon and Gyeongju. He was also a charismatic and skilled diplomat, convincing Japanese General Sayaka to defect and surrender his forces. He was killed in 1567, after a Chinese general falsely accused him of disobeying orders.