Chapter 2
Ryang Young-Jae
A healthy-looking child with dimples looked back at Ryang Young-jae from the wall-length mirror in front of her. She was flanked by more than a dozen other girls in matching red and gold dresses, fluttering like a flock of butterflies.
Just outside the door to the dance studio, a twelve-year-old in her school uniform was serving as tour guide to a group of foreign tourists. Russians, Young-jae thought she heard. They were being led on a tour through all the different classrooms, to see all the different children. That's what the Children's Palace was for. It was a gift from the Great Leader, Kim Il-sung—a beautiful marble building with fountains and statues—so that all the children of Pyongyang could study anything they wished: dance, music, acting, embroidery. Everything imaginable could be studied at the Mangyongdae Children's Palace, and it was all free.
The Russian tourists were supposed to be watching just an ordinary 'practice', but this was anything but. Whenever there was even a hint of foreigners coming to the Mangyongdae Children's Palace, everyone knew about it. And only the best of the best were allowed to perform exhibitions in front of them. Nothing less would do. If anyone did happen to make a mistake in front of a foreigner…well, Young-jae didn't know what would happen. She knew her class wouldn't be allowed to perform for a long time, but after that…again.
But it had never happened to her, so Young-jae didn't have to think about it.
Besides, the girls in class today were the best of their age group, so there was nothing to worry about. And Young-jae was proud to know that in her class of the best dance students, she was the best out of all of them.
As the music picked up, and their teacher clapped faster along with it, the other girls scurried away from Young-jae on all sides. It was time for her solo.
Spin, jump, pirouette, arabesque, keep legs straight, arms graceful, don't forget to smile. In the brief instances when Young-jae could watch the tourists at the door, she saw that they were all watching at rapt attention and amazement. Young-jae smiled proudly. Russia was supposed to be famous for training great ballerinas. If her dancing impressed them, it was all the more proof of Young-jae's skills, and by extension, the Democratic People's Republic of Korea's ability to train the world's best dancers.
Young-jae kept her eyes focused on the same spot in the mirror as she began a pirouette, losing track of how many times she had spun around. The rest of her classmates began to move again, circling around her, though Young-jae wasn't particularly focused on the movements of everyone else. That was never a good idea, and usually only succeeded in bringing one to falling to the floor in a dizzy fit.
All the girls came to a stop, and the applause from the doorway echoed loudly. They all turned, smiling, towards the tourists, some girls waving, others giving dramatic bows. Once the clapping began to die down, the young tour guide began moving the Russians along their way so they could be shown even more of the Palace's most talented children, the best and brightest the Democratic People's Republic had to offer.
Once they were gone, though, the class returned to its normal order of things, with the girls being goofy, noisy, and generally child-like, which they certainly couldn't be in front of foreigners. They had to look completely dedicated to their craft.
"Alright, girls!" The teacher called them all to the front. "You did wonderfully today! We'll have class next week at the same time on Monday and Wednesday. Make sure you all keep practicing on your own, and I look forward to seeing you all again."
Young-jae and the other girls all bowed in unison before running off to change back into their school clothes. Excited chatter echoed through the hallways all the way to the girls' locker room. Everyone was pleased with the performance. Every success seen by the outside world was a victory, no matter how small. This was why Young-jae felt so elated, possibly even more so than any other girl in the room.
She was so caught up in the euphoric feeling that her best friend had to shake her by both shoulders to get her attention.
"You were amazing, Young-jae!" she gushed praises. "Did you hear how loud they were clapping for you?"
Young-jae gave a big, toothy smile. No matter how many times a person was given praise, there was never a time when she got tired of hearing it. "They were clapping for all of us," she tried to be gracious, "and you did wonderfully too."
The girl gave a soft smile, never really one for exuberant emotions.
Won Soon-bok had been Young-jae's best friend ever since she could remember. They had met on their first day of kindergarten and became friends before finding out they actually lived in the same apartment building, Young-jae on the sixth floor and Soon-bok on the eighth. Ever since then, the two girls spent every spare minute they had together. Soon-bok even started classes at the Mangyongdae Children's Palace because Young-jae started taking them first.
"Yes, but I don't get picked for solos and people don't clap for just me the way they clap for you." There was a sad sort of resigned tone in her voice. "Gi-yun keeps telling me I should join the Mass Games Club at school, and now I'm starting to think I should."
At hearing this, Young-jae felt her stomach begin to tie in knots. Even if Soon-bok wasn't the best dancer in their class, there was no reason to give up on her training in favor of taking classes with her sister.
The Mass Games were held whenever there was a national holiday. Thousands of performers would dance, play music, and perform gymnastics in an amazing choreographed display. It was meant to show the collective power and beauty of the nation as a whole, and the Democratic People's Republic of Korea was the only country in the world that performed them.
But Young-jae knew how many hours one had to devote to the sport in order to be part of the games. Gi-yun's practices began as soon as school let out and she would not get home until well past nine. As the games got closer, they would train up to eight hours a day and would sometimes even miss school for it (something that was not as great as it sounded).
"The Mass Games are a very noble sport," Young-jae told her. "They glorify Korea and the Dear Leader and the Eternal President."
And even if it wasn't so nice to say so, Mass Games were probably a better fit than performance where people where actually watching her. Soon-bok was never very good when it came to performing on her own, and she would probably feel much more comfortable performing in a crowd of thousands, but that didn't mean Young-jae was looking forward to not having her best friend in class with her anymore. They had been in their primary school classes and Mangyongdae classes together since they were five.
But Young-jae knew she would never want to be part of the Mass Games herself. She loved too much the thrill of having all eyes on her and her alone, with all the applause just for her. This was a terrible political attitude, Young-jae knew, but she couldn't help it. Besides, it wasn't really bad or selfish as long as she kept it to herself.
Of course, Mass Games athletes were much more likely to have the honor of performing the son of Kim Il-sung, the General, the Dear Leader, who became the nation's leader after the Great Leader died. There could be no greater honor imaginable. Young-jae had performed on stage for hundreds of people and had even been on television, but she had never once been seen by the General. The General didn't even know she existed.
Young-jae shook her head to shake the bad thoughts out of her skull. Friends shouldn't think these things about one another. And they especially shouldn't be jealous of one another.
"Come on!" Young-jae reached over and grabbed her friend's hand. "Let's go home!"
At this, Soon-bok's mood seemed to lighten. She squeezed Young-jae's hand and took off running with her, even as the adults shouted at them to slow down. Outside, the sun was shining, and it was just warm enough not to need jackets. Young-jae alternated between walking backwards and doing one-footed jumps down the stone staircase. Soon-bok followed behind, biting her bottom lip and flinching as she waited for her friend to fall backwards and crack her skull on the pavement, which she never did.
Every day, after school and their Mangyongdae classes, Young-jae and Soon-bok would walk home together. It was a ritual they followed ever since they were six, and it was almost something that brought them closer together than the actual classes themselves.
The capital city of Pyongyang was so beautiful. There were tall skyscrapers, glittering glass hotels, and brightly painted slogans everywhere. And unlike the capitals of other countries, that were plagued by filth and pollution, Pyongyang had neither of these problems. There were no thieves or pickpockets because no one was any richer or poorer than anyone else. The streets were always clean and swept free of litter. There was never any real threat of danger of any kind because of the many soldiers who patrolled, keeping the citizens safe. Where else in the world could two ten-year-old girls walk across the city with no threat of danger?
Suddenly, Soon-bok pointed across the street. "Look, Young-jae! There's your mother!"
Young-jae's head snapped in the direction of her friend's hand. Sure enough, there her mother stood in her crisp blue traffic conductor's uniform, standing in the center of the same street she worked at every day. Young-jae wanted desperately to wave to her, but she knew shouldn't distract her mother when she performed such an important job. Without traffic conductors, the capital city would literally grind to a halt.
Besides, she would see her at supper tonight. Young-jae took her best friend by the hand and began leading her back home.
Young-jae and Soon-bok's apartment building sat on a block completely made up of other apartment buildings, all of them ten to fifteen stories high. Young-jae's father, who had grown up in the country, was still amazed at how many people could live on such a small piece of land. But Young-jae and her mother, who had both grown up in Pyongyang, would just laugh. They were true city girls.
The two schoolgirls both had strong legs, not just from dance, but from climbing all these stairs their whole lives. It had made them very strong and very healthy, to the point where they weren't even tired when they reached the end.
When they finally did reach the sixth floor where Young-jae live, Soon-bok said her good-bye and took off for her own apartment two stories up. Soon-bok was so lucky. Her mother was always home when she came home from school, usually with treats waiting for her, and her older sister, Gi-yun, to play with in the evening. When Young-jae got home, however, her apartment was always empty.
Well, not empty, but it might as well have been.
As soon as her key clicked in the lock, Young-jae took a deep breath and pushed herself inside. locked the deadbolt, and then turned around to see an elderly woman sitting on the living room sofa, a half-finished sewing project in her lap.
Young-jae gave a low and respectful bow. "Hello, Grandmother."
As soon as the exchange was done, Young-jae wanted desperately to run off to her room and shut herself inside. All her other friends' grandmothers were sweet and kindly. They made their grandchildren clothes, treats, and took them to the park. Young-jae's grandmother didn't do any of these things; she barely even left the house. When she wasn't cranky or snapping at Young-jae, she was listless and sad, spreading her sour mood to everyone else. She just generally wasn't a very pleasant person to be around.
But Young-jae father had told her time and again that she needed to spend more time with her grandmother.
Just sit down, tell her about your day, then you can leave and tell Abeoji that you tried.
Young-jae made her way to the couch and took a seat as far away from her grandmother as physically possible. "How was your day?" she finally asked.
Her grandmother sighed and answered without even looking Young-jae in the eye, "It was very well."
But still, the elderly woman didn't take any initiative to start a conversation, though Young-jae kept trying. "What are you working on?"
"It's the blouse you tore last week," her grandmother replied. "And next I have to fix the hemline on your other uniform, so you don't keep wearing the same one over and over again."
Young-jae's eyes moved down to the floor, fingers clenching around the skirt of her current uniform. How did this turn into something about her causing trouble?
"How was school, Young-jae?"
The sudden question caught Young-jae by surprise. Her grandmother actually asking what happened in Young-jae's day (unless it was to scold) was a very rare occurrence. "We learned about the Great Leader's resistance work in revolutionary history, and we painted birds in art class. I had my dance class at Mangyongdae, and I have my gayageum lesson tomorrow."
Young-jae's grandmother gave the closest thing to a smile as was possible for her. "You like doing creative things like music and dance, don't you, Young-jae."
The ten-year-old nodded earnestly. "I'm lucky to live in a country that allows me to learn all of these things!" she exclaimed. "And hopefully someday I'll be able to use what I've learned to glorify our nation and the Dear Leader!"
But Young-jae's grandmother had always had a lackluster attitude towards patriotism, and it was showing again. The woman sighed with a lack of emotion. "I'm just glad you have the opportunity to study the things you love."
Not one word about the Dear Leader who allowed Young-jae to learn all these things or how she could use them to give back to her nation. Young-jae couldn't help but scowl. Did her grandmother have any sense of what was really important?
Finally, Young-jae gave up and moved towards her bedroom. "I need to study."
Before shutting the door, Young-jae saw her grandmother nod in approval. Throwing her book bag roughly against her desk, Young-jae paced, stomped, and vented her frustration until she finally felt collected enough to reach into her backpack and start on her homework.
The first workbook Young-jae pulled out of her bag was for English. She would save that until her father came home. Even if Young-jaw wasn't considered one of the 'best' students in her class, she was still wise enough to know that she should take advantage of the expansive knowledge of the English language that her father possessed.
Young-jae set her English workbook to the side, her eyes resting on the door. Her grandmother really should have been more grateful. It was because of her son, Young-jae's father, that she was able to live in the beautiful capital city of Pyongyang, after all.
Instead, Young-jae chose to start with math, getting the worst assignment over and done with.
Young-jae's father had been born the youngest of six on a cooperative farm where her aunts and uncles all still lived. Her father most likely would have been resigned to the life of a peasant as well, were it not for his teachers noticing his early aptitude for the English language. Eventually, the State sent him to a special language school where his skill could be refined, far away from the cooperative farm where he was born.
After that, he was sent to to Kim Il-sung University in Pyongyang. It was while living in the city that he met Young-jae's mother. After the two of them were married and the State allocated them housing in the capital, Young-jae's father appealed to the government to let his mother come live with them too. Her children were all grown and her husband had died several years ago in a work accident, so Young-jae's father was the best suited to take care of her. All of Young-jae's aunts and uncles had several young children and very cramped houses on the farm.
Math was done, now time for Korean.
It was only a few years after that when Young-jae was born, and that's how their family came to be. Young-jae would often ask her parents why they didn't have any more children, but they always said it was because they already had a perfect child. Young-jae knew it was a line, but it was still nice to hear it.
The Korean assignment was easy. Revolutionary history was next.
There were several reasons why her grandmother's political attitude worried her. It was supposed to be a privilege to live in Pyongyang, and the government granted housing to those with excellent political attitudes. Young-jae wasn't worried about her parents. They had both dedicated their whole lives and careers to helping the government, but there was nothing her grandmother said or did to suggest she was a loyal Korean.
Young-jae's father said she had to be understanding, that her grandmother had lived a very hard life between the Japanese occupation, the war with the South, and her life of working on the cooperative farm. Besides, surely the government wouldn't care about one little old woman, would they?
It was still a worry that haunted Young-jae's mind. Even if she wasn't particularly close with her grandmother, she still didn't want anything to happen to her.
Young-jae had just finished her last worksheet question when she heard the front door open and the sound of high-heeled shoes walking across the floor. Young-jae stuffed her homework into her bag before racing to the door, barreling out into the living room. "Eomeoni!"
Young-jae's mother nearly toppled over by the speed and force of her daughter's hug, catching her balance partially by stabling herself on her daughter's head. "I'm glad to see you too, Young-jae."
Young-jae had always thought her mother was beautiful. She had rather large, almond-shaped eyes, a round face with delicate features, and long black hair that grew thick and sleek. A lot of people said Young-jae looked just like her when she was young, and that had always made Young-jae feel incredibly proud. When Young-jae was younger, she had always thought her mother should have been an actress in movies, but her mother explained again and again that she had no artistic talent whatsoever, and that was something that was unique to Young-jae.
All the same, Young-jae admired her mother greatly, seeing her as a wonderful example of what it meant to be a good citizen of the Democratic People's Republic of Korea.
"Have you been studying at all?" Young-jae's mother asked, beginning to unbutton her bright blue jacket.
Young-jae nodded vigorously. "I'm saving the English until Abeoji comes home."
Her mother nodded in approval as she hung her jacket on a hanger. "Do you have any other homework?"
Young started to shuffle her feet. "Just science."
Science was a very minor subject, unless you were intent on working in a research institute in the future (which Young-jae certainly wasn't). Almost no one in the school took it seriously, not even a lot of the teachers.
But Young-jae's mother wasn't so convinced. "Your education is a gift from the father of our nation. No one subject is any less important than any other." She gave Young-jae a push towards her bedroom. "Go study. You'll have plenty of time to play before Abeoji gets home."
"Young-jae, you should really eat more." Her mother spooned the last of the noodles onto her plate. "You're a growing girl, after all, and you burn so much energy with all the classes you take."
Part of Young-jae felt guilty for taking the last of her family's food, even if it was just the noodles (which happened to be her favorite food). "It's all worth it to glorify the Dear Leader."
Young-jae's father, who was sitting next to her, pushed her plate closer. "Which you won't be able to do if you don't eat enough to give you all that energy. Finish your dinner."
Picking up her chopsticks, Young-jae giggled at the expression of fake sternness on her father's face. They both knew she didn't have to be ordered to eat her favorite food, but it was still fun to play this game anyway.
Young-jae's father always came home just before dinner. He worked as a manager for a hotel in central Pyongyang, but not just any hotel. This was a hotel specially designated for foreign visitors staying in the capital. All the employees, right down to the maids, had to be specially selected by the government for their skills and their loyalty to the Party. And Young-jae had secretly always been very proud that her father was among the Selected Ones.
But despite his serious job, whenever he came home, he was all smiles and jokes, making the mood in the apartment feel a hundred times lighter. Her father was the one to joke and play with, her mother was the one who encouraged her to try her best at everything she did, and her grandmother…was the one who did all the scolding and the snapping.
The family sat at the small square table set just outside the kitchen, but not quite in the living room. There was little conversation over the meal, as was the traditional Korean custom, aside from the occasional laugh or joke (or for Young-jae's grandmother to disapprove of her table manners). From the kitchen, Young-Jae could hear the state radio, the one piped into the wall, just like every home in Pyongyang had. There was turned down as low as it would go. There was no way to turn it off. What if there was suddenly an emergency or an invasion, after all? The people needed to be prepared for anything that might happen.
As the radio gave a broadcast about the youth being the future of Korea, a thought came to Young-jae's mind. "I wish we had a television," she said suddenly. "Gi-yun was given one by the Dear Leader for competing in the Mass Games."
The whole family stopped eating, caught off guard by the spontaneous remark. "Maybe if I work hard with my training and become good enough to perform abroad, the Dear Leader will give our family a television too."
"That certainly sounds like an excellent ambition," her father was the first to speak, though he seemed to be a bit uncomfortable for some reason. "But I'm sure it will also be very nice to be handpicked by the Dear Leader for your talent as well."
Young-jae nodded, unable to do anything else with her mouth full of her last bit of noodles. Of course she knew that. It was just the idea of having a television like Gi-yun's family that had prompted this thinking in the first place. It was entirely possible, if Young-jae was talented enough, that the General would give her family a television too. But being given a present by the Dear Leader himself would certainly mean she had been noticed by her nation's leader for her craft.
Suddenly, the lights surged and went out completely, leaving the apartment in total darkness.
Only one thing came to Young-jae's mind. "Damned Americans!"
"Young-jae!" her grandmother scolded sharply, causing Young-jae to fold her hands into her lap and cast her eyes downward.
She knew she shouldn't have used such language around her family, but really, there was no other word that could describe what was going on. It was because of the American imperialists that there were all these electrical shortages and air raid drills. The Democratic People's Republic of Korea was the last true socialist society on Earth, and the Americans were determined to destroy it, doing so by causing food shortages and blocking trade. But Koreans had to be strong and withstand hardships like this in order to preserve their way of life.
That didn't make nights like these any easier, though.
As Young-jae heard her parents moving to get the candles, though, the lights flashed on again, so bright that Young-jae had to cover her eyes with her sleeve.
"There, you see?" Her mother sat back down again. "It was only for a second."
But as Young-jae turned her attention back to the meal, she saw a terrible sight. The rice she had been passing when the lights went out was now spilt all over the tabletop.
"Oh, no!" she gasped in horror. "I'm sorry!"
It wasn't all that long ago, during the Arduous March, that food shortages were so terrible that there was nothing to eat but porridge made from corncobs. Ever since then, everyone had learned to appreciate even the smallest bit of food. So it was no wonder all the good, wasted rice was such a grievous sin in Young-jae's eyes.
"It's alright," Young-jae's father tried to assure her. When that didn't seem to work, he scraped the spilled rice onto his plate before taking a very large spoonful. "See? It's still good."
At her father's kind act, Young-jae began to feel immensely better. But she was further distracted from the spilt rice by a sharp knock at the door.
"I'll get it!" Young-jae raced away from the table before anyone could beat her there.
Young-jae unlatched the lock (she was still too short to look through the peephole) and threw it open. It was Soon-bok and Gi-yun, the pair of them flanking a tall, wiry man with metal-frame glasses.
"Professor Won, hello." Young-jae greeted her friends' father with a bow.
Professor Won taught physics at Kim Il-sung University, meaning Soon-bok and Gi-yun came from the Intellectual Class. Young-jae's family came from the Workers Class, but this didn't matter. In the Democratic People's Republic of Korean, the workers, the peasants, and the intellectuals were all equals; a system that existed nowhere else in the world.
"Dak-ho," Young-jae heard her mother say behind her. "What are you doing here?"
Professor Won pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "The power went out, and once again, your apartment in the first to regain power."
At hearing this, Young-jae's stomach started to twist. She rushed to the kitchen to look out over the balcony. Sure enough, the entire city block still had no power. The windows of the building across the street were pitch black.
This happened every time there was a power outage. No matter how long the power was gone in the rest of the city, Young-jae's apartment would always be the first to regain its electricity. Sometimes the Ryangs wouldn't even lose their electricity at all.
"It's an old building," Young-jae's father would say. "The old wiring probably just keeps other apartments from getting electricity back as fast."
But that still didn't explain why the Ryangs' apartment was always the first to get their power back, after every single power outage. Other people were suspicious about this too, until the State even sent in their own electrical specialist, who could find nothing wrong. Once the State said there was nothing wrong, their neighbors all just accepted it, but Young-jae remained unconvinced.
It couldn't just be that simple, could it? Not after so many times.
"Anyway," the professor went on, "the girls both still have homework to do, and all we have are candles. It's not good for them to read in such poor light."
"Certainly," her mother agreed before Professor Won could flat out ask. "The girls can both come here to study."
"Oh! Can they sleepover?" Young-jae rushed back to the door. "Please?"
The girls all had school tomorrow, but then again, but there was no telling whether the power would be back by then, so Young-jae thought there would at least be a chance their parents would say yes.
Professor Won seemed reluctant at first, but eventually nodded. "Just make sure you have them out the door in time for school," he said over his squealing daughters. "And Sun-hee will bring some rice rations over in the morning, since you'll be feeding them."
"Oh, Dak-ho, you know you don't have to do that!"
But Professor Won shook his head, not willing to change her mind. "These are hard times, comrade. We all have to work together and support each other in times like these."
Professor Won then turned to his daughters. "Girls, go get your bedrolls and your book bags. You're coming here to study, and you aren't going to waste the Ryangs' electricity by not even opening books."
But of course, not a lot of studying got done. There was laughing and singing, and Gi-yun was always willing to teach the girls some new dance or gymnastics move she had learned in the Mass Games Club.
She had just competed in the last Mass Games a few weeks ago—to celebrate the fifty-fifth anniversary of the founding of the Korean Workers Party—and already, her club was preparing for the next one. Young-jae's family had even gone to see the performance. It had all been beautiful, but of course, Gi-yun's performance was Young-jae's favorite. Gi-yun had even received the honor of being in the center of the first row, just a testament of how good she really was.
"You're so talented, Eonni!" Young-jae exclaimed, clapping as hard as she could. "You'll probably be chosen for rhythmic gymnastics for the 2008 Olympics!"
Even though they weren't related, Young-jae still called Gi-yun 'Big Sister'. She was so close to Soon-bok and spent so much time at her apartment that it almost like Gi-yun was her big sister.
Gi-yun blushed and sat back down again. "I don't know about that. It's still such a long ways away. But it would be such a wonderful honor to be given the chance to glorify our nation."
Young-jae felt her heart grow warm with happiness at the thought of Gi-yun being one of those selected to compete at the international games. She had heard that Olympic athletes even got to attend a special banquet put on by the Dear Leader himself. Gi-yun wouldn't just be seen by the Dear Leader; she would actually get to meet him! That alone would be even greater than winning a dozen gold metals.
"And Soon-bok told me she's going to be joining the Mass Games club right along with you."
Gi-yun nodded with a smile on her face. "If she works hard and applies herself, she might be performing in the Mass Games by next April."
"Oh, I'm sure she will when she has someone as talented as you teaching her, Eonni."
Soon-bok chewed on her bottom lip, as though she weren't completely committed to this decision yet. "Eonni, could you help me with this sum?"
Despite all the fun and games, they did somehow manage to finish all their schoolwork, finally falling asleep at eleven o'clock. They would be completely exhausted at school tomorrow, but it was well worth it.
At one in the morning, however, Young-jae awoke with an incredibly dry thirst in the back of her throat. She quietly pushed the covers back so she would not wake up her friends, and stepped lightly on her tiptoes so she wouldn't accidently step on them.
Once she was out of her bedroom, she noticed a dim glow coming from the living room. Because the apartment only had two bedrooms, Young-jae's grandmother slept on the living room floor. But what would she be doing up this late?
Young-crept towards the living room so she would see what was going on. There was a lit candle beside her bedroll and her grandmother was sitting up, hunched over something.
"Grandmother?"
Her grandmother's head suddenly snapped over her shoulder. "Young-jae! What are you doing up?"
Young-jae peered to the side to see her grandmother holding…a newspaper. A great deal of the paper had Chinese letters on it (which were never used in the Democratic Republic anymore), but what there was in hangul, Young-jae could read Starvation Rampant, Citizens Forced to Leave Their Homes, and Incompetent Government Leaders.
Young-jae's eyes went wide in shock and horror. Who would write such a horrible paper, never mind where would her grandmother get one when she barely left the house?
Young-jae's teachers had often told her that Americans, in an effort to destroy their socialist society, would print papers like this and drop them in Korean neighborhoods in order to dissuade people from the Party. Some especially traitorous Koreans would even help them!
But Young-jae's grandmother couldn't possibly be one of these people! Her family would notice. But even having one of these papers was a terrible crime, one that people were sent away for. Young-jae didn't want anything like that to happen to her grandmother, but if she didn't tell anyone, she would be a collaborator. And being a collaborator in a political crime was almost as bad as committing the crime yourself.
"Eomeoni, Abeoji!" she shouted running towards her parents' room. "Come quick!"
Her parents were through the door in a matter of seconds, following Young-jae into the living room. But when they got there, Young-jae didn't see the paper anywhere. She couldn't even see the corners of it sticking out from under the blankets or the bedroll. And there was the faint smell of smoke in the air.
"It's alright, son," her grandmother said in a calm sweet voice. "I was reading and I knocked a candle over and it singed the blankets. It's out now, but I think it gave Young-jae quite a scare."
Young-jae looked over her shoulder to see her parents nodding in agreement. They believed her! But how could Young-jae accuse her grandmother of such a thing without the newspaper as proof?
"But it's fine now," she went on to say, "and Young-jae should go back to bed. We don't want her falling asleep in class."
At that, Young-jae's parents turned to go back to their bedroom, leaving Young-jae still standing dumbfounded.
"Listen to your grandmother, Young-jae."
Young-jae slowly turned back to her grandmother with a perplexed expression, but her grandmother's face was an expressionless mask. Eventually, Young-jae turned to go back to her room without the water she had come out to get in the first place. She stepped carefully over her sleeping friends, wondering if they knew just how close they had come to being collaborators themselves, and how it would have been Young-jae's fault for inviting them to sleepover in the first place.
She settled into her bed with her warm blankets and comfy pillow, but she really didn't sleep for the rest of the night.
"Young-jae! Your school pin fell off again!"
Young-jae's attention snapped away from the running faucet and to the rectangle pin in her friend's outstretched palm.
"Thank you!" she exclaimed in relief as she took it back. This was the fifth time it had fallen off this week and it wasn't always this easy to find it. She would have gotten in a lot of trouble for losing this pin. It identified her as a student of Moran Bong Middle School Number One. Watching in the mirror, Young-jae pinned it just below her pin of the Great Leader, which all citizens of the Democratic People's Republic wore.
She would have to get a new pin anyway, though, if it kept falling off the way it did.
"You seem distracted today," her friend said, looking at her own reflection. "Oh! My braid came undone again! Can you fix it?"
Young-jae took the loose strands of the thin braid in her fingers, while at the same time holding onto the rubber band and the red ribbon. Yes, she was distracted, and not just from the lack of sleep.
Did Soon-bok and Gi-yun know how close they had come to being arrested for treason? Because they were at Young-jae's apartment when the incident occurred, they would have been seen as collaborators too, and Young-jae would never be able to forgive herself if her friends were punished because of bad luck!
There had been too many odd things going on in Young-jae's house lately, and she didn't like things that were out of the ordinary. Not one bit!
And yet, things like this seemed to happen at lot. When she had first started dance training, the teacher was teaching them jumps right next to the bar, and somehow, Young-jae jumped with so much energy that she landed feet first on top of the bar. What's more, she stuck the landing with perfect grace. The teacher just assumed Young-jae was incredibly strong and talented, so she started giving her more solos and more one-on-one attention. But for as much talent as Young-jae knew she had, she knew she couldn't have possibly done something like that at only six.
Other instances included five months ago when Young-jae had lost her faulty school pin on the subway. Finding it would have been impossible, and Young-jae had gone home prepared to be punished for it, but when she got to her room, there it was waiting on her desk. And that had actually been one of the more pleasant instances. There were many others that Young-jae really didn't want to think about at the moment.
Young-jae tied the bow at the end of the braid and let it drop. "Looks good now."
Just as Young-jae finished with the braid, a group of older girls walked into the bathroom and pushed the two ten-year-olds away from the mirror.
"Young-jae, let's go!" Soon-bok grabbed her friend's hand, trying to lead her away before trouble started.
But before Young-jae could really react either way, the faucet in front of one of the girls burst and sent water spraying in her face and all down her front. What's more, the water somehow split three ways so both her friends got soaked too. Young-jae stood, mouth wide in utter shock, while Soon-bok still led her away, laughing wildly as she did so.
"Did you see that?" Soon-bok gasped between more laughter. "It must have been karma! That was karma if I've ever seen it!"
Young-jae squirmed. "You shouldn't say things like that," she lectured, knowing Soon-bok's family just barely believed in the tenants of Buddhism. "Karma is silly superstition, and religious thoughts only take away devotion that could be given to the Great Leader."
Soon-bok's eyes drifted down to the floor. She knew Young-jae was right, of course, but Young-jae couldn't help feeling a little guilty. What she had said had almost nothing to do with patriotism, and everything to do with wanting to forget what had just happened.
"Let's go!" Young-jae took her turn leading Soon-bok to the door. What happened in the bathroom was enough for her to want her to end the day as soon as possible.
As they walked through the front door, they could see the Mass Games club practicing their brand new routine in their bright blue gymnastics uniforms. That was right where Soon-bok stopped. Young-jae was confused, but then she saw Gi-yun running towards them. "Soon-bok, I'm glad you're here! Come with me!"
Young-jae raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you coming to the Children's Palace today? You said you wouldn't be joining the Mass Games Club 'til Monday." It was only Thursday.
"Yes, but I want Soon-bok to at least meet the couches and watch the practice today. Maybe the teachers will even let her try practicing some of the steps."
Young-jae looked at her friend, but Soon-bok only kept looking at her sister's feet.
"Alright then," Young-jae said, feeling a little sad. "I'll see you tomorrow morning."
Soon-bok waved, but then followed her sister to go join the group of synchronized gymnasts, leaving Young-jae feeling suddenly feeling very alone as she left for her classes by herself.
People on the pavements pushed by Young-jae without even giving her a glance. It was so strange to be walking to the Children's Palace by herself. Every time before, Soon-bok and Young-jae would race, joke and laugh, Young-jae begging Soon-bok (who was more academic) to help with her homework, and Soon-bok begging Young-jae to stay after class with her to work with her on their newest song or dance routine.
Eventually, even the strangers dissipated, and Young-jae felt even more alone. Desire for individual glory was a completely anti-communist attitude. Maybe this loneliness was some sort of divine punishment—maybe even from the Eternal President—to teach her how to be a better communist.
Young-jae had never put that much thought into this before, and it wasn't a pleasant thing to think about.
It was as Young-jae drifted out of her own thoughts that she became very aware of a large shadow following just behind her.
As soon as she did turn around, however, she was stopped right in her tracks, not knowing whether what she saw was hilarious or terrifying.
It was a man, roughly the same age as her parents, but that's where any similarity stopped. His hair was long and part of it tied in a topknot decorated with gold ornaments. His robe-like clothing was ancient-style hanbok in a brilliant shade of violet that Young-jae didn't know even existed, decorated in gold patterns. And Young-jae had to admit he was quite handsome, almost like a movie star. And if he did just coming from a movie set, that would certainly explain his clothes.
"Miss Ryang Young-jae, isn't it?" he said in a pleasant tone. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."
The man knew her name? Now Young-jae knew for certain she should be terrified. But when she glanced around, there wasn't a soldier or city official to be found. How was that even possible?
"Who are you?"
"Ah, yes! How rude of me!" The man apologized before offering a low bow. "My name is Sun Bae-yul; Professor Sun Bae-yul, actually."
Professor? Like Professor Won at Kim Il-sung University? This was just getting more and more confusing. First he was a movie actor, now he was a professor. Who was this man?
"Now 'Young-jae', that's an interesting name," he went on to say. "Isn't that traditionally a boy's name?"
Young-jae scowled. She had been hearing this all her life, but she liked her name! Most girls' names had the characters 'beautiful', 'grace', 'mild', things like that, again and again. Confucianism dictated that names should strongly infer gender, but Young-jae's name made her stand out, and she liked standing out!
"It means 'eternally prosperous', does it not?" he went on. "Your parents clearly wanted you to be successful at anything you tried. It shows a rather enlightened attitude, valuing your accomplishments over being beautiful or well-behaved."
Young-jae knew it was meant to be a compliment, but it still sat like an insult, as though she wasn't beautiful and could only cause trouble everywhere she went.
"Anyway," the man went on, "I was hoping I might have a moment to speak with you."
Now things were really starting to get frightening. "I have gayageum lessons at the Children's Palace," Young-jae said, stepping away. "I'm never late, so the teachers will know something's wrong if I'm not there."
And she'll alert the authorities before you have a chance to do anything to me!
But the man didn't seem to hear what Young-jae was implying. "Oh, I promise it won't take long," he said, stepping closer. "It will just be long enough to arrange a meeting later."
It was at those last words that Young-jae bolted away full force. At some point, she lost her book bag, but she had more important things to worry about. Surely her parents and teachers would excuse her once she told them she had lost them running away from a kidnapper.
She wondered if she should even tell any of her teachers what had happened. The man hadn't actually done anything to her, and everyone would just end up panicking for no reason. It wasn't as though the man would be hard to find, as strangely dressed and acting as he was, but Young-jae wasn't really sure she was upset enough to go through the headache that would have followed reporting him. Even once she reached the Mangyongdae Children's Palace, she still wasn't sure.
But once she reached the top of the stairs, there she saw him standing again. He stood idly, almost looking bored. How could he have possibly beaten her there? What's more, how could he, dressed that way, possibly be standing there without a crowd of children pointing and laughing at him?
What's more, why was there still not a soldier or government official to be found? Normally they could be seen everywhere, so why was it that the one time Young-jae was in really in danger that she couldn't find one?
The man barely met her eyes when Young-jae took off back down the stairs again. There would obviously be no gayageum lesson for her today. She could say she had hurt her wrist falling down in gym class, and the school nurse said no music lessons until it was better. It wasn't as though her gayageum teacher was actually going to call and check.
Fighting her way through the crowds on the pavement moving against her, Young-jae was gasping and wheezing as though she were an old man. It was by no means a short walk to her apartment. It usually took a half hour to walk home from classes, but today, Young-jae managed to make the distance in little more than fifteen minutes. It might have been safer to take the subway, but if you happened to be on the train during a power outage, you could be trapped in your car for hours. Young-jae could remember this happening to her and her mother when she was seven, and it was not an experience she wanted to repeat.
Once on her block, Young doubled over, grabbing onto her knees, taking in as much air as she could. She actually felt like she was going to throw up. Out of the corners of her eyes, she could see people walking past her, but no one stopped to ask her if she was okay, which was just fine with Young-jae. She really didn't want to explain what had brought her to this position.
When Young-jae finally did look up, she felt that profound shock and fear once again. Young-jae knew she was fast and could easily outrun any adult she knew, say nothing about an adult wearing ridiculous, impractical robes. And yet, there he was again, standing in front of the doors to her apartment! And Young-jae was now too tired to go running in the other direction again. She couldn't think of anywhere else to run to.
"My goodness, you're fast!" he exclaimed in surprise before pulling something out from behind his back, holding it out to Young-jae. "I thought you might be wanting this."
It was her school bag! Why hadn't she seen him holding it when he had been outside the Mangyongdae Children's Palace? Not giving the man enough time to try anything, she snatched the bag out of his hands and held it tightly to her chest. But the man, Professor Sun, remained as calm and collected as ever.
"But now that you won't be going to your music class after all, maybe you'd be willing to speak with me now."
Young-jae didn't even bother with any sort of response this time. She barely let Professor Sun finish his sentence before she bolted for the door, throwing it open with as much force as a ten-year-old was capable of. With no elevators (again, as a result of the constant power outages), Young-jae was forced to run up the six flights of stairs. She was even pretty sure she could run up the stairs faster than an elevator could take her, and all she cared about was speed.
By the time she reached the fourth floor, she was so tired and out of breath, that she couldn't find the energy to be horrified when she saw Professor Sun waiting for her at the top of the stairs.
"Still not willing to talk, I see."
Young-jae ran the rest of the distance with her eyes squeezed shut, trying to fight off frightened tears. Her legs were throbbing and her chest was constricting, but finally she reached her front door. She actually fell to the floor, not really worrying about the man catching up to her, but she was just so exhausted. In fact, it was a miracle that Young-jae even landed on her knees and not flat on her stomach.
In fact, Young-jae was still crawling on her knees when she reached for the knob and wasn't able to stand until she had inched inside and shut the door behind her.
"Grandmother!" she shouted as she started on the locks. "Don't let anyone in the apartment! All the way home, there was a strange man following me…"
Young-jae's voice trailed off as she saw a head with a black topknot visible over the back of the chair. The man peered over the left side of the chair, but that wasn't necessary for Young-jae to recognize Professor Sun.
"I'm sorry, Miss Ryang, but you wouldn't listen to me, so I had to go over your head."
Young-jae couldn't believe it! It was one thing for the man to find her on his own, but she couldn't believe her own family would help this Professor Sun kidnap her! "Grandmother! What are you thinking? You really do want to get rid of me!"
"Young-jae!" her grandmother snapped, so much more intensely than she ever had before. "You will not be so rude to our guests ever again! Now go to your room! You can either start on your homework or take some much needed time to collect yourself!"
The glare on her grandmother's face was one she had never seen before, and it left no room for argument. Young-je sidestepped her way to her room, not taking her eyes off either adult. Professor Sun didn't take his eyes off her either. The man looked almost apologetic for getting her scolded.
When Young-jae finally did make it to her bedroom, she slumped down to the floor and sighed deeply. She also mentally prepared herself for being snatched from behind and having a sack shoved over her head.
Chapter End Notes:
Here there are going to be some more culture notes still, and they are going to be a lot more extensive.
Eomeoni: mother
Abeoji: father
There is a reason why Hae-won and Young-jae use different names to refer to their parents, and not just for the sake of the story. Eomeoni and Abeoji! are the rough equivilent of 'mother' and 'father' in our language, as opposed to 'mom' and 'dad', which Hae-won calls her parents, Appa and Eomma.
The former is consider more formal and much more dated. And because Korea has been complete split and cut off from one another since WWII, it would make sense that North Korean language would seem more dated and not have gone through the same linguistic evolutions and the South Korean language.
But it most South Korean movies, characters refer to their parents as Appa and Eomma, while in documenteries about North Korea, parents are called Eomeoni and Abeoji.
gayageum: a traditional Korean zither-like string instrument, with 12 strings
Great Leader, Eturnal President: these are all titles used to refer to Kim Il-sung, the founder of North Korea, who is still worship almost like a God in the country.
Dear Leader, the General: these are titles used to rerfer to the current leader of North Korea, who, for the sake of site rules, will not be named, just like J.K. never named the British Prime Minister in Book 7. Besides, it could be argued these titles would have been given to Kim Il-sung's successor, no matter who they turned out to be.
And while a lot of the things you read about in this story might seem strange (such as state radios that can't be turned off, living without electricity, and the constant hate of Americans), it is all quite true. My favorite source of information has been documentories. Quite a few are offered on Netflix, but my favorite State of Mind can be found on Youtube.
It is quite educational and very creepy, but definately worth seeing if you want to know more about life in North Korea. It could also be helpful in gaining a little background for reading this story.