Cheongmyeong 1795
"It's a beautiful sight, isn't it?" Hong-do said, as he stood at one end of the workroom, admiring the finished paintings that were lined against the wall. He moved closer, bending to each painting, he checked them for any overlooked flaws.
"Three more to go, do you think we can finish them in time?" said Yunbok, peering at the paintings through the square frame he formed with his fingers.
"The fifth could have been finished faster if we have not been taking your little breaks," sniffed Hong-do, rubbing an itchy nose as he leaned back to take in the visual aspect of the painting before him.
"Come now, admit it, you feel better after a little exercise," Yunbok said, moving to clear away the debris from the work area.
"So I do." Hong-do watched him as he used a broom to sweep away the dust to another corner. "You are positively buoyant ..," he said hesitantly, hoping he would not be raking up further heartaches.
"I've done what I wanted to do. Yes, it pains me .. us but we are the better for it." Yunbok looked up to see Hong-do's appreciation of that statement. "I'm looking forward instead of dwelling on what I cannot affect."
"Have you finalised your plans?" Hong-do moved towards the paintings, covering them up carefully.
"Somewhat. What about you?" Satisfied that he had gotten most of the dust swept into the corner, Yunbok used a discarded moistened rag to blot up most of it as Hong-do bent to gather up the brushes.
"A field of rice is a field of rice." Hong-do emitted a tiny snicker as they made their way down the corridor to the back courtyard. "Gatherings and paintings. I expect my patron to ask what new item I have for him once this task is completed."
"He is very generous indeed to have provided a house and everything that you need," noted Yunbok, pleased that his old master was doing well. "Not like me, I have to slog for my daily bowl of bap."
"Slog maybe but you enjoyed it," Hong-do nudged him as he made a face. "You're more rustic than I ever imagine you will be."
"There is nothing like the air of freedom. It's stifling to be house bound." Yunbok threw in the bucket when they reached the well. "It's worst when there's nothing to do."
"Like when you had that injury years ago?" Hong-do bent to help pull up the bucket, pouring the water into the bowls they used to wash the brushes.
"That was time slow to pass." Yunbok shuddered as he thought of the days he was stuck in Suk-kwon's house, waiting for his twisted ankle to heal. How long had it taken? A month?
"It's too bad you never learned to play any musical instrument. That'll relieve some of the boredom." Hong-do threw the dirty water into the garden after swirling all the brushes in the bowl.
"When do I have the time to do any such thing?" scoffed Yun-bok. "Besides studies, painting and drawing were drilled into me daily. Would I have the inclination to pluck at a geomungo? Was I going to live the life of a Yangban?" he poured fresh water into the bowl.
"I'm surprised he didn't try to establish more cultivated aspects in you. After all, a royal court painter has to have some other talent than painting to display on important occasions ... what're you laughing at?" Hong-do demanded when Yunbok chuckled.
"I don't recall your doing anything else but paint," Yunbok said, gently drying one of the cleaned brushes with a rag.
"At the royal court, no but at literary gatherings, it's something else."
"What? Can you see me at literary gatherings?!" laughed Yunbok, shaking with merriment as he put down the brush and picked up another one, dripping with water.
"No." Hong-do worked to keep a straight face. "You're all too likely to start something untoward and I'll have to rescue you again. I do play the daegeum sometimes."
"Never seen you with it.," Yunbok shook out the water from the brush and did not see Hong-do's expression. "I thought I heard someone playing it when I was unconscious. It reminds me of Akeno," he paused as he recalled the sorrows of the young man whenever he played the flute.
"That was me," Hong-do said quietly. "Attempting to get you awake."
"I didn't know you play the daegeum."
"There was no reason to do it. I only play it when I'm alone," Hong-do picked up the bowl of dirty water again, adding before he turned away. "I wonder if that was a mistake."
Yunbok stared after Hong-do, astonished. Why was playing a musical instrument to oneself a mistake? The answer struck him a moment later. He looked away when the older man returned. Silently, he gathered up the cleaned brushes and rags. They returned to the workroom to hang up the brushes on the brush stand to dry. Yunbok moved to the windows to close them once he had finished with his, disturbed. Was not the matter settled years ago? Why was Hong-do even bringing up something that was not probable at this late stage?
"Why are you even cogitating over something that is impossible?" he said as Hong-do joined him at the windows, staring out at the gathering gloom.
"Only a thought. A curiosity, no more."
"Leave it as a curiosity," said Yunbok closing the windows before meeting Hong-do's eyes, shadowed, for they had not lit a candle. "For it cannot be answered."
"I agree," Hong-do nodded slowly. "But ..," he touched Yunbok lightly on the arm, wary of alarming him. "Let me be frank. The art of our talents brought us together and parted us ... I relinquished my claim for you have chosen but nevertheless, I cannot help but regret I did not try hard enough, never thought of trying further."
"Are you in pain?"
"A little ... seeing you, without that." He touched Yunbok's chin. "Our work reminds me of the time we painted the Immortals." His hand dropped away. "Forgive me, I'm getting old and tend to wander the past."
"Do you not love your wife?"
"She is a good wife, kind, dutiful. I can ask for no more." He could no longer see Yunbok's eyes for it was now very dark.
"Forget what I am," said Yunbok softly before continuing in a stronger tone. "I was once your student, master Danwon. Now ... now I am only your friend, your fellow compatriot in this task for the King, a painter who share your visions." His voice receded slowly in the dark as he moved in the direction of the door. "I am Seo Yong. Craftsman at the paper mill. I have a family. Kim hyeong, I am ever your friend, remember that."
The door opened and closed softly.
Kim hyeong. Hong-do closed his eyes. Seo Yong. Seo Yong. My friend ... Seo Yong.
Closing the door behind him, Yunbok sighed. It had always been a secret misgiving of his when he learned what he had to do last autumn. He thought his old master might revert to the sentiments of yore since they would be working closely on the paintings. He never thought a daegeum would be the igniting flint. A temporary setback for Hong-do, he thought as he made his way down the empty corridor to the daecheong for it would be dinner soon. Chances were his last statements were enough to settle Hong-do once and for all. Granted, those feelings between them would never be expunged, but a clearer perspective always helped in achieving a rational stance. Rational? He snorted quietly to himself as he looked to the garden at the porch. Was the unsettled matter with Song-mi making him think every single passion a folly?
"Early today eh?" a voice said heartily.
"You can try to be more sprightly," Yunbok grinned. "Tsk, I can hear you a ri away."
"What exaggeration!" Suk-kwon huffed before adding quietly. "They're setting off tomorrow. Young-joon sent a message, saying he did not understand what had happened but would carry out what you had discussed. The boy has been quiet and made no protest to returning with him."
The news that P'ado was finally leaving cut Yunbok but he remained expressionless. No message for him at all? How that hurt. When would the pain be less fresh? "Aren't you going with them?" he asked.
"No, not while there is questionable doubt here," said Suk-kwon. "Iseul will wait for us at the Sohn residence. I hear you're planning to bring Pokkot to Chinhae, we will accompany you. A trip to the sea will do us good."
"Your presence is welcomed though..," Yunbok cocked his head at Suk-kwon, "are you sure it's wise to make Iseul wait alone at the Sohn residence?" It was very unlikely she would be pleased.
"It's just a few days, when you get the matter settle then I'll get myself over there," Suk-kwon said airily.
"Get over to where?" said Hong-do as he joined them.
"Back to the Sohn residence." Suk-kwon's sharp eyes caught Hong-do's unusually awkward glance at Yunbok. The tension in the other. Did something happen? "I don't think it's time for me to go yet."
"True," Hong-do agreed. "Our young friend, Seo Yong, can use all the help he can get with this current problem and I promised to do my outmost."
Eyebrows twitching, Suk-kwon looked at the two. Funny, now they were relaxed. What was the message that Hong-do sent? Before he could probe further, their dinner arrived. Perhaps it was not a matter concerning him, he decided.
"Is something the matter?' Yunbok said to Jeong-hyang for she seemed to be moving slowly and uncomfortably when she carried the soban in with the others.
"Omoni is...," began Pokkot just as Song-mi said, "Mistress Im ..."
"Just a scald on the arm, it's uncomfortable," Jeong-hyang said, "Halmoni Jung has already treated it," she added quickly when Yunbok opened his mouth. What was that look on their faces? Song-mi turned away quickly and withdrew.
"Let someone else do the carrying and lifting," he said worriedly, "if it causes pain."
"It's just carrying the soban. I'll be fine, she'll change the dressing again later," she said before leaving with the others.
Yunbok stared after her. Was it just only a scald?
"She'll be fine," said Suk-kwon, understanding his anxiety. "Scalds are common in the kitchen."
"Yes, so they are," said Yunbok blandly and started in on his dinner without further comment.
When the meal was done, Yunbok excused himself to return to his room. Lighting the candle, he checked the medical supplies he had stowed in the bandaji and selected the items he would need. Placing them on the desk, he tidied up his belongings and took down the paegeom hanging on the wall hooks. Blowing the dust off the scabbard, he drew the sword. It gleamed brightly despite his neglecting to clean it since he arrived at the mountain retreat. Taking a clean piece of cloth, he wiped it. With no appropriate cleaning oils, he would have to wait until he bought some for a thorough polishing. Humming under his breath, he worked patiently, almost meditatively. By the time he finished with the scabbard, a quarter of the candle had melted. Just as he was about to return the paegeom to the wall hooks, the door of his room opened and closed behind Jeong-hyang.
"What took you so long?" he said, putting the paegeom on the desk.
"I have to settle Pokkot first." She put down the small pot she was holding on the desk.
"Let me see the scald," Yunbok said, taking her arm and pushing up the sleeve.
"It's not the arm, it's on my back."
"What?!" Yunbok was startled. "How did you scald yourself ...," he stopped. It was impossible unless she had fallen or was doing tricks in the kitchen. The latter a ridiculous notion for her.
"I didn't," she saw his comprehension. "It was an accident, she said."
"Show me," his eyes narrowed. "When did this happen? I heard no commotion," he said as she loosened the goreum of her jeogori. "Sit down. Left or right?" he said, moving to her back and helped her to remove the outer jacket.
"You heard nothing because I controlled the situation. Pokkot would have run to get you but I stopped her." She winced when he pulled the left sleeve. "Ouch, it's my left!"
"You should have said so earlier," he said with some asperity, tossing the jacket aside before staring with incredulity at the swathe of bandage running diagonally from the right shoulder to the left. "Just... how big is this burn?" he waited until she had taken off the linen underjacket before untying the knot at the nape of her neck.
"Halmoni Jung put some of this earlier, around noon," she picked up the pot and jumped when he snapped.
"Noon! You waited till now to tell me?!"
"You can air your anger later but please, apply this," she handed him the pot. "Liberally, on a fresh dressing."
"Did you cool it?" he demanded, his anger abating slightly when she nodded. He unwound the bandage carefully. "You should have called me," he muttered angrily when he removed the old dressing to reveal a red blistering patch the size of his palm on the shoulder blade. Picking up a fresh piece of cloth, he coated it thickly with the honey she brought, applied the new dressing and bound up the wound.
"Is that too tight? Here." He helped her into her jackets again. "This cannot be easily dismissed. We know it."
"So does she."
"She wants me to confront her?" said Yunbok. "A warning..?"
"No!" she turned around to restraint him as he was about to get to his feet. "Not if you are going to go roaring at her, no."
"Why shouldn't I?" he said furiously. "I shouldn't have waited..."
"No," she clutched at him, willing him to stay and listen. "Your delay has caused a reaction. Her behaviour has been getting erratic these few days."
"How so?"
"She has not been sleeping. Her moods seem to vary quickly, one moment she's calm, the next she's crying quietly in the corner. Yesterday, she was cleaning the storeroom and she did it twice over," she hesitated before voicing her suspicion. "I fear she is mentally ill."
"That is what I am afraid of. What I thought might have happened to her," he said bleakly, grief replacing the anger. "No one could have lived through what she did and remained sane."
"I think she knows this," she felt his start. "I've been thinking about her actions since we came here. Do you realise she has kept herself away from most of us? When she first came to us, I thought she's just very shy, fearful of strangers after what she had gone through. When there are chores to be done, she would usually take the ones that removed her presence from us. When it turned out to be her fear of her husband coming to seek her out, I thought her behaviour would change after he is taken away. It has improved but her routine remains the same. When it comes to cooking, she always says she will prepare the soban, the sujeo and so on. Never once did she attempt any meat or vegetable preparation. It is as if she's afraid of taking up a knife or ladle."
"Did she take up one of those earlier?"
"The ladle," she nodded.
"It's fortunate it's not a knife then." He hugged her tightly, unable to imagine what could have happened. "If she made a choice, somewhere in her, there is still a spark of reason." His mind flashed to the fourteen year old girl he had met years ago. "What can be done?"
"She has to have some one to watch over her. But who?"
"I think I'll have that talk with her right now," he felt her agreement.
"Yes," she broke their embrace. "You're calmer now. You know what you're dealing with. Try not to agitate her too much."
"I know. Stay with Pokkot, I'll come by later." He helped her to her feet, picked up the pot and walked with her to the anbang, lighting their way with a tunggyong. "Which room?" he looked down the passage when she pointed. It was the room at the very end, he realised. Far away from the rest.
"Lock the door," he said as she entered the room she shared with Pokkot.
He waited till she lighted the candle in the room before closing the door. He made his way down the passage to Song-mi's room. The room was dark. Was she asleep? His fingers twitched. Should he disturb her or leave the matter till the morrow. As he stood there, indecisive, he heard a faint whimper from within the room. If she was awake, she would have seen there was someone at the door.
"Mistress Na, are you awake?" he said softly. "I would like to have a word with you," he added when there was no answer. A sob. Was she crying? Should he try to open the door? Tentatively, he tried it. It opened. "Mistress, are you awake?" he pushed the tunggyong into the room as he stood outside and saw Song-mi huddled on the floor, Jinjia sleeping beside her. "What's wrong?" he said and then saw the blood on the floor. "What happened?" he rushed into the room, putting down the tunggyong beside them and hurriedly checked the boy who mumbled as he was turned over. There was no wound on him. The silver flash of the jangdo on the floor caught his eye, the blade was speckled with blood.
"Did you cut yourself?" he caught hold of her arm near the jangdo. "Why?" he said when he saw the cut on her forearm. Not a deep cut fortunately. He got up and made for the bandaji, flinging it open to find something to staunch the bleeding. He grabbed the first roll of cloth he saw and returned to her, pushing up the sleeve to bandage up the wound. He stopped in horror. There were many lines on her arm, dozens and dozens of healed old wounds. What about her other arm?
"No," she tried to wrench her arm away but he dragged it forward. It was the same.
"Why? Why?" he shook his head in disbelief before quickly binding up the fresh wound. "Why?" He put the jangdo by the door, afraid she might use it further on herself. He would have to remember to take it away later. "Get up," he said gently to her huddled form, "let's get that wound seen to." But she did not respond. "I'll get halmoni Jung here." He turned away only to be halted when she roused herself to hold on to his arm.
"No, leave me be." She let go and curled up again.
"Talk to me. Why did you do that to yourself?" he said quietly, sitting down. "Not only that, you also hurt Jeong-hyang. Why?"
Tears dropped from her eyes. "Help me," she said pleadingly.
"In any way I can."
"Then kill me," the glint in her eyes was maniacal.
"Why do you want to die?" He nearly fell backwards when she lunged at him.
"You ... you left me behind. You left me behind to suffer!"
He caught hold of her wrists as she tried to strangle him. Her strength astounded him as he forced her hands away from his throat. If he had been as physically weak as he was in Hanseong, surely he would be dead by now. Overwhelmed by her mad rage. As fulgurating as a lightning bolt, her rage vanished.
"You left me behind," she wailed as she collapsed against him. That despairing cry wrenched at him.
"Omma?" a small voice said. He looked over to see the boy sitting up, rubbing his eyes as his sleep was disturbed by the cries of his mother.
"Stay here," he said but she was caught up in her misery to care. "Here, come with ajoshi. Omma is not feeling well right now." He caught up the boy in his arms, grabbed the jando and down the passage to Jeong-hyang's room. Her door opened to his call. "Look after him," he said, handing the bewildered boy to her.
"What has happened?" She had heard a scream. Was there going to be violence?
"Later," he said. "Lock the door," he reminded her over his shoulder as she gazed after him, wondering if she should accompanied him.
Not knowing what she might do in his absence, he ran back to Song-mi's room to see her standing at the bandaji, scissors in her hand.
"No, don't!" He grabbed her hand as she brought it once more to her bared arm. "Stop this!" he fought to get her to release the scissors.
"Let me do it! You'll regret it otherwise," she cried, struggling to twist out of his hold.
"No, no more of this self infliction." Finding he was not succeeding in his attempt, he forced her against the wall. "I'm sorry," he grated and slammed her hand into the hard surface, hearing her cry of pain and the metallic tinkle as the scissors dropped to the floor. Looking down, he shoved it to the far corner with his foot before pulling her away to sit on the floor. "You've to stop this."
"I cannot ... if I stop ...," she shook visibly, looking pale and sick. Anxiously, he grabbed the quilt from the top of the bandaji and threw it over her. "I cannot stop ...cannot stop.." she repeated over and over like a chant, drawing the quilt about herself as she huddled.
"Tell me .." When she did not look at him, he grabbed her shoulders and gave her a shake. "Tell me the reason why you wish to hurt yourself."
"If I don't ... I will hurt someone .. I tried to stop ...," she sobbed. "But I couldn't ..."
"Why do you wish to hurt another?"
"I did not want to hurt her ... but ... these feelings just took over. I can't help myself ... if I want to save others, I must do it to myself." As if drawn, her head lifted. Her eyes looked in the dark corner where the scissors lay. Her lips moved silently.
"When did it start?" He pulled the quilt higher when she did not answer, eyes fixed to the scissors. Before he leave Hanseong, he was determined to get to the heart of her problems and fixed them if he could. No matter what it took. "Song-mi! Look at me," her eyes turned to him. "When did it start?" he repeated.
"I .. I don't know..," she said.
"Think!"
"I don't want to think! Leave me alone!" She threw off the quilt and tried to get up but he caught her hands and held her.
"No ... listen to me," he tightened his hold as she pulled. "You know you have a problem .. yes, you do. The scars on your arms is proof. You said you had no one who would listen to you, everyone thought you are mad. You were alone, friendless, caught in a nightmare you have never envisioned. There was no escape, you could not take your life because of your son. Yet you could not release your fears, your despair. Yes ..," he insisted when she shook her head. "You kept them in or tried to but they proved too much for you. So you find sometimes, the urge to inflict pain on those around you because they appeared callous, indifferent to your sufferings but something held you back. You find you could not inflict the pain on others so you did it to yourself. Didn't you?"
"No..," face slicked with her tears, she tried to break his hold. "Let me go!"
"Stop hiding! You will never find yourself if you continue like this..,"
"I hate you. I would never have been like this if you had not run. I hate you!" she screamed and struck out at him.
The shriek cut through the night, startling the others in the other parts of the residence. Jeong-hyang hurriedly exited her room and waited in the passage to intercept those who were sure to come to investigate the noise. Unaware of what was going on outside, Yunbok partially warded off some of Song-mi's blows, allowing some to land on his arms. How long she pummelled at him, he had no idea.
"I hate you," panted Song-mi as her strength ran out. "Why?" she grabbed hold of his jacket, staring at him before clasping him around the neck. "You did come as I dreamt you would. It is a dream.. this is a dream. I'll wake up soon and find myself in his hands again."
"No.. this is no dream." He patted her back hesitantly, feeling as if he was tossed about by the tempestuousness whirlwind of a fiery storm. "The nightmare has ended. Believe in it. It is time to stop doubting, this is the reality. Your tormentor is dead. You have a son to build a future for. I know you hate me. I hate myself too. I cannot take back what I had done but I can help you now. Let me help you. Help you find yourself."
"I cannot control these urges ..." Was he really there with her? She tightened her hold, afraid it was a dream.
"Yes you can. You found a way, a bad way to stop yourself from carrying out the desire to mete out malicious intents on others but there is another way. Talk to me ... talk to my beloved," he raised his eyes to the doorway. Jeong-hyang was standing there as he expected when he heard noises a while ago. Song-mi stiffened and turned.
"Why is she here?" Jealousy in her voice which changed rapidly as she visibly tried to beat off the negative emotion. "No..no.. I shouldn't be like this. It's wrong...wrong..," she held her head and whimpered.
"It is all right," Jeong-hyang said soothingly, shutting the door behind her before sitting down. "Express your feelings, they have been repressed long enough."
"I..." Song-mi struggled to speak.
"Let us share your burdens. But only if you want to," said Jeong-hyang. "We cannot help you if you refuse to help yourself. For your own sake, loose the chains. "
"You are stronger than I can ever be," said Yunbok. "You rather hurt yourself than hurt anyone else, not even your own son. There is no sign of any injury when I checked him earlier."
For a long moment, Song-mi said nothing but they could see she was calmer. "I would have.. I found myself standing over him and I ... I couldn't do it," she admitted softly. "But that doesn't mean I can easily restraint it. I had hurt a few others... in the village. Just as I hurt you today," she looked away from Jeong-hyang.
"Will you like to tell us about it?"
"No ...no...no, it's unfair ...no." That did not sound like she was talking to them, more like to herself. Yunbok exchanged a glance with Jeong-hyang when Song-mi suddenly burst out. "Why is it the fates has dealt unkindly? He should suffer as I have but no, he has a happy family, a loving wife, a good son, a talented daughter. It should have been mine .. I deserve it .. no, he is ... he is ..." She raised a shaking hand to her face. "I am jealous. If he had taken me away with him, I would be in your place. Your place ... it should have been mine ... no ...no."
"I understand," said Jeong-hyang gently, catching hold of Song-mi's hand. It trembled violently in hers. "That is why you struck out as you did."
"I can't ... I .. don't ... help me," Song-mi closed her eyes in despair.
"We will. I'll get something for that arm," said Jeong-hyang and left the room. The woman was in an imbroglio state, lucid in one moment, rancorous the next. She was losing control. Was the act of injuring herself a form of control? A terrible way to live. Her room was dimly aglow so she was not surprised to see someone sitting in the room when she opened the door.
"How did it go?" Suk-kwon whispered as she moved to the bandaji.
"We had to calm her down. She has injured herself so I'm getting something for her wound. But," she turned a troubled look on him. "I do not think this will be an easy matter to resolve."
"No, it won't be. It takes time, remember how it was with him?" Suk-kwon reminded her of the initial problems with Yunbok after they were reunited. "We can discuss this later, don't leave them alone." He nodded towards the door when he saw she had gathered what she needed. "He needs your support."
With misgivings, she made her way back to Song-mi's room, recalling how long it took for Yunbok to recover from the mental trauma. It would take years and years for Song-mi, provided she was able to settle down with people sympathetic to her needs. Would the arrangements Yunbok make be enough? Her footsteps slowed as she approached the door. Silently, she looked into the room. Yunbok was murmuring quietly to Song-mi. Although she knew it was only to comfort the woman, nevertheless the sight of them in close embrace was disturbing.
"Let me look at that arm," she said, sitting down and reached for Song-mi's bandaged arm.
"She's asleep," Yunbok said, gently lay Song-mi on the floor. "Just went off suddenly. Most peculiar."
"It may have something to do with her staying up for the last two nights." The cloth refused to budge for a moment before it gave way as she pulled slowly. "What are your plans?" she said without looking up from her task of cleaning the wound. The sight of the other scars were horrifying. She blinked tears away as she imagined the torment the woman were under for many years.
"She can't be sent back to the Sohn residence. Not with a breakdown like this, she needs to regain some equilibrium." He helped to hold the arm steady as she began to bandage.
"That'll take some time," she said as she tied the bandage. Yunbok covered Song-mi with the quilt.
"She won't be awake till the morrow, come." He picked up the tunggyong, took her hand as she gathered up the rest of the bandages and the pot of honey. They left the room and shut the door behind them. "Who's in your room?" he said when he saw the light at the end of the passage.
"Master Suk-kwon. He's keeping an eye on the children."
The older man looked at them expectantly when they came into the room.
"She's sleeping," Yunbok said, setting down the tunggyong away from the sleeping children as Jeong-hyang returned the pot into the bandaji. "She cannot be sent away yet," he added when Suk-kwon merely waited.
"I persumed the wall has crumbled?" Suk-kwon paused a moment at Yunbok's affirmative nod.
"There are numerous old scars on her arms," Yunbok indicated his own arms. "Wounds she inflicted on herself whenever the urge came upon on her to cause harm to others."
"That is a drastic form of control to resort to," shock in Suk-kwon's voice. "How much of her is left?"
"Wouldn't you say most of her? If she is able to withhold for so long, that speaks of a will to survive."
"What do you think, Hyangya?" Suk-kwon turned to Jeong-hyang, desiring to hear her opinion.
"I am afraid this form of mutilation might have become a dependence for her," she said sadly. "Although it has been a means to hinder herself in the beginning, but as she continues...," she trailed off.
Silence fell as they ruminated on that.
"We shall have to see how she behaves in the following days before we can decide what to do with her. Do you have any plans?"
"I have to continue with the painting, of course but I'm thinking perhaps I should spend the evenings to talk to her. The rest of the day..," Yunbok looked at Jeong-hyang who nodded in agreement at his unvoiced question.
"I'll try to get her to talk but I think the most important thing is to get the others to engage her," she said. "She has to stop hiding away from the people around her."
"Especially since she is no longer chained by her husband nor is she living amongst those who knew her," said Suk-kwon.
"The others must be informed. Without their help, she will not be able to settle to some form of normalcy," pointed out Yunbok.
"As to that," Jeong-hyang looked down at her hands. "There is one obstacle in her way. You," she saw his flash of surprise and then comprehension. "Will she be able to put you aside? You, who stood at the crux of her fate and still does."
"You make it sound as if I can destroy her with a lift of a finger," he said uncomfortably, sensing fear from her. It was not for Song-mi, it was for him. Why?
"It is when her sanity seems to hinge on you. She hates you yes and yet it is on you she focus her will to live on. The one she said she dreamt would come to free her, was that not what she said?" He did not understand her concerns, she knew but she was not ready to share them at the moment.
"Yes, she did but that is an exaggeration surely? I don't believe my actions at that first meeting could mean that much..," he said in disbelief.
"It does when you think about it," interjected Suk-kwon. "The acts of her husband carried out on her, the deliberate isolation he made her live in. No one at the village willing to lend her an ear or a helping hand. Thus your generosity became a lighthouse. You gave all you had, that's what she said. And she believes, most likely, you will do the same now."
"But...of course I will help.," Yunbok began.
"No, that is not what I meant." Suk-kwon shook his head. Did Yunbok not see it? "Comes to the worse, she may just expect you to give up everything, what you have now ... just for her."
Korean Words
geomungo - a traditional stringed musical instrument that is played with a bamboo stick plucking the strings