Victor had taken leave to come to Korea for the sake of treating Jin’s sleepwalking. Aside from her wandering the streets at dawn, Jin had seemed to feel more like herself again. She carefully edited Hong Jong-u’s manuscript and saw to its successful publication by the Guimet Museum and held a party in the salon when the book came out. Victor had Jin accompany him on his business trips, thinking a change of scenery would help cure her sleepwalking. But wherever they went, Jin rose at 4 A.M. and left their room as if called by someone. She would have no memory of anything that had happened, so it was pointless to discuss it with her. The doctor said visiting Korea might do a world of good.
The cook and the Jindo dog were the first to welcome them back. Even with the other changes in the staff, the dog still lived in the courtyard and the same cook worked for the legation. As soon as Jin and Victor entered the courtyard, the dog, on the lookout for moles, bounded toward them. It seemed to remember how it used to go running with Victor every morning, and jumped up at Victor’s face with joy, and circled Jin in a friendly, familiar manner. As the two settled down in the annex, the Jindo dog also moved to that side of the legation. Lefèvre’s young son burst into tears when the dog refused to come back at his command. Jin comforted him, saying they were not going to stay forever. But the dog insisted on living near the annex, so its hutch and food bowl had to be moved there.
It took days for Jin to recover from the long voyage.
Jin had been fine when they had journeyed to France, while it was Victor who had fallen sick. But she wasn’t fine this time. The cook made her congee for every meal. She said she hoped Jin would recover soon so they could go to the docks at Mapo to buy fish like they used to.
It was a full moon.
Victor did not fall asleep on the fourth night at the legation. He watched Jin. He had tried to watch her since the first night, but he couldn’t fight the journey’s fatigue. Blue light shone through the window. He wanted to know if coming to Korea, indeed, had done a world of good for her as the doctor predicted.
His old memories of her had flooded back as soon as they touched land. The passion he felt for her since the moment he saw her on the Silk Stream bridge. The joy of seeing her again at the banquet, his forgetting to clap for her dancing as he sat transfixed. The day Jin walked into the legation alone, his running toward her to embrace and kiss her. Her dismay at this strange greeting, and her composure despite her dismay. His anguish as he watched the light in her room from the phoenix tree during the days she awaited word from court. He had forgotten these moments when he was in France, but now they felt like yesterday. He sighed, thinking that despite the dreaded voyage back to France, it was a good thing they had come again to Korea.
Moonlight fell on Jin’s face. All was calm, aside from the occasional movement of the dog. Jin in Paris had always slunk back to the floor to sleep, but here in Korea, she had no trouble sleeping on a bed. Her face was peaceful in the blue glow. Did the return cure her sleepwalking? As the gray light of dawn broke over the fading moonlight, he felt a measure of relief. Sleep started to overtake him. He lay on his back and was about to close his eyes.
—Gillin.
Jin quietly called out Victor’s Korean name.
—Are you awake?
He turned to look at her, slipped his arm under her head, and held her close to him. Jin curled into his embrace.
—What were you thinking about so hard just now?
—You weren’t asleep?
—Thank you, Gillin.
—For what?
—For coming here with me.
—Of course, I’m here with you.
—No. You could have sent me on alone.
—Why would I send you away alone?
But he could have. He never said it out loud, but the thought had crossed his mind. Jin was always able to read his mind. It hadn’t been easy, taking such a long leave of absence. It would not have been possible if the minister, who was indifferent to Korea, hadn’t cared about Jin. Victor kept stroking her hair. There was a hint of sandalwood in her thick black hair. A scent that he had thought was lost in Paris, but now returned.
—Concentrate on feeling better. Then we can go to the orphanage in Gondangol and visit all the people you wish to see. And you must want to know how Korea has changed since you left.
Jin lifted her head and kissed him softly on the lips. Her dry lips had turned moist again.
Broken promises create more promises.
—When we return to Paris, let’s get married at City Hall. We’ll invite our friends and hold a ball. We’ll have enough food and drink for even the people we don’t know.
Jin laughed softly.
—Are you laughing?
—Victor, I don’t care about wedding ceremonies. It’s enough that you came here with me to Korea.
It was true. She had been disappointed in Victor, who ceased all mention of marriage once they arrived in France. But she changed her mind after hearing about his family’s banishment from Plancy and the scandal that had come with his name. She could almost understand his mother’s position.
—How long has it been since I’ve heard you laugh?
—Did I laugh just now?
Victor pulled her closer. Her body was warm. He slid his hand onto her breast. Jin looked closely at each feature of Victor’s face in the dawn light. She lightly touched with her fingertips his eyelids, nose, and mouth. To her, this man whose face she was touching seemed familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. Victor had always been like that to her. A man who never raised his voice and was always hardworking, thoughtful, and generous. He was a conscientious archivist when he recorded his observations, and a loving collector when he examined his books, celadon, and antiques. But she also knew him as a shrewd and level-headed strategist who would do anything to further French interests.
—Do you remember the scent pouch that I slipped into Les Misérables as a sign of my acceptance of your love?
The pouch with the red peony embroidery. How could he ever forget it?
—I’ve embroidered a lizard next to the peony. The lizard in your paper. I put it in the dresser in the Oriental Room.
That wasn’t all she had put in there. She had also slipped in the ring that Victor had put on her finger the first night they spent together.
—Your watch is in the drawer of the nightstand.
—. . .
—Don’t wear your morning coat to dinners in the winter. You looked cold.
Victor turned on his side toward her.
—Why do you speak as if you’re not going to return to Paris?
Jin stroked Victor’s chest.
—Because you never know what might happen, Victor.
Victor gripped Jin’s hand. He sat up and looked down at her.
—What on earth are you thinking of doing?
Bathed in the weak early light, Jin lay her head down on his lap instead of answering. Victor couldn’t have known. The reason she hadn’t left the legation in four days was not that she was unwell. It was her dress. She didn’t know whether she should dress as she did in Paris or change into a Korean dress or what to do with her hair . . . everything had to be thought anew.
It pained her to think that she was not the same person she had been when she left Korea.
This pain had begun as soon as they arrived at Jaemulpo.
The harbor was busier than when they had left. Everyone stared at her, Japanese, Korean, Chinese alike. It was the same when they stayed in Jaemulpo for two days and in the inns on the way to the city. She thought at first that it was because she was with Victor, but they stared at her even when she was alone. Jin was used to it, but when a little child suckling at her mother’s breast on the porch of one of the inns looked at her as if she were a foreigner, she felt more pained than ever before. She realized she was a spectacle in Korea as well as France.
Did the dog think the coming of the dawn meant going on a run? The sound of its whining carried into their bedroom
.
—Would you like to take a walk?
Victor lowered his face and rubbed his cheek against Jin’s.
—And do visit Gondangol today. You’ve missed it so much. I’m going to see Müllendorf in the morning and hear what’s gone on since we left.
Jin hesitated, but Victor managed to persuade her. The two changed and came out into the courtyard. The Jindo dog came up to them and waited for Victor to put on his shoes. When Victor came down from the porch, the Jindo dog eagerly encircled him. It was early, and the main legation building was silent. The two left by a side gate next to the annex. The scent of fresh mugwort and pine assaulted their senses. There was a hint of the overturned earth from the vegetable patch. Jin lowered the shawl around her shoulders and breathed in deeply. A breeze brushed past her earlobes. The first Korean spring breeze she had felt in four years.
—Monsieur Collin de Plancy!
They turned and saw Paul Choi standing at the main gate. Jin’s vision filled with the green leaves on the phoenix tree, the tree itself much taller since she last saw it. Paul Choi strode toward them.
—Do you always come to work this early?
—I spent last night at the legation. The change in scene made me get up early. I thought I’d come out for a walk.
The Jindo dog had bounded away from them and was looking back. Paul Choi smiled.
—They say Jindo dogs follow only one master all their lives. It must be true. It’s clearly much happier now that you’re here.
Victor grinned as he ran toward the dog. The dog must have remembered their runs after all, for it began running as well as leading Victor away from the other two.
—You surprised me at first. I thought you were someone else. Have you managed to rest a bit, my lady?
—Have I changed so much?
—Well . . . How should I say this? You seem like a different person. Perhaps it’s the clothing. Would you like your old clothes? I believe the cook stored them for you.
Would I be able to wear them again? Jin couldn’t answer that.
—Much has changed in Korea. I don’t know if it’s for good or bad. Japan’s influence has grown in leaps and bounds since you left. There are Japanese swordsmen sauntering around the fortress as if they own the city.
Jin drew her shawl over her shoulders again.
Her heart was a confused mix of familiarity and sadness as she stood there in the spring breeze. It was the same feeling she had in Jaemulpo when she watched a mother nursing her child as she sold fresh fish at the market. Before she realized it, Jin had stretched out a hand to stroke the baby’s sun-drenched head. The emptiness in her heart made her turn her gaze to the barges on the harbor and the dark seagulls that flew over them. It seemed that the King and Queen, who had tried to play the ambitions of the powerful foreign countries against each other for the sake of bringing stability to Korea, were still in a precarious position.
—A powerless country we are, being tossed to and fro at the whim of foreign powers . . . not to mention the power struggle between the Queen and the Regent, which could only end with one of them dying. Neither cares about the people, only power. There was a peasant uprising down south. It spread like wildfire.
Jin sighed deeply. Was Sister Jacqueline, who had already told her about the uprising, in Penang by now?
—The people suffer under corrupt officials and taxes. They can barely grow enough to eat themselves. The peasants of the uprising were pushing an idea of equality. That all people were the same under the sky. The people were on their side. Their leader was caught and executed, which ended the uprising, but resentment remains. Jeon Bongjun was caught by the Japanese when his subordinate gave him away, but he remained steadfast under torture. Even the Japanese were taken aback. He told them to display his head on a pike at a crossroads in the city. To sprinkle his blood on the clothes of passersby. He wanted the resistance to continue past his death . . . What a mess the country is in.
—. . .
—A man named Hong Jong-u killed Kim Okgyun in Shanghai. He preserved the corpse and brought it back on a boat. He’s a hero now. And Kim Okgyun’s body was posthumously beheaded at Noryangjin.
Jin had already heard this from Régamey in Paris. The news surprised everyone that Hong had known there. Was this why he left so suddenly? Jin felt she would suffocate. She widened her shoulders and straightened her back. She could see Victor and the dog running back toward them.
—Monsieur Collin de Plancy asked me not to tell you about Hong Jong-u . . .
Paul Choi muttered this, looking worried.
—What happened to him?
—After his return, there was an examination for selecting officials. They say it was held as a formality, just to give Hong Jong-u a position. The Queen herself conferred officialdom on him. Not to mention a house and slaves.
He hesitated before continuing.
—Things are not looking well. No one knows what the country is coming to. During the uprising, the Queen feared a repeat of the events of the Year of the Black Horse and called in Chinese troops, while the Regent, who used to hate the Japanese, befriended them . . . and they say court is nothing but frivolity and parties now.
He glanced at Jin’s face when he said this.
—The Queen favors the daughter of a Japanese woman named So Chonsil. Some say this daughter is a spy. So Chonsil’s daughter is said to have ordered several portraits of the Queen to be drawn, but to what end no one knows.
Portraits of the Queen? Jin looked back at Paul Choi in wonder. The Queen was not one to allow her portrait to be drawn. She had even objected to sitting for a photograph.
—One could hardly walk the streets when Kim Okgyun’s body was being decapitated. They say someone called him a traitor and pulled out his liver and ate it. And there wasn’t a Japanese person who did not pass by his head on display and not shed a tear. Then came a cholera epidemic, and the dead were so numerous that no one knows how many died. Quarantines were issued, and an edict went out against eating anything raw, but all for naught. Be careful out there. We live in a time where the King is being told seven different things by seven different courtiers.
Jin was silent. Before Victor and the dog could reach them again, she turned and walked back into the legation.
In the afternoon, Jin saw Victor off as he left to meet Müllendorf, before leaving the legation herself.
The woman Suh stared at Jin for a long time when the former court dancer entered the orphanage grounds. Suh couldn’t believe her eyes. The orphanage was the same, but it was clear there were more children than before. As the children crowded around Jin in her Western dress, Suh managed to wake from her trance and introduce the children one by one, each child calling out, “Here!” upon hearing his or her name. Jin thought she recognized some of them as her former students, but they had grown so much that she couldn’t be sure.
Suh shooed the children away and brought Jin to the building in the back.
—The outbreak last year brought in many children. Most of them lost both of their parents at the same time. When they first came here, they’d do nothing but sit on the branches of the date tree or the porch . . . but children will be children. Look how playful they are now.
Jin remembered what Paul Choi had told her that morning as she looked back at the children. They had already scattered and left. A disease that started with a fever and coughs, ending in two days with death.
—I heard there was cholera. Was the orphanage affected?
—Thankfully, we didn’t lose any children to that. By the mercy of God.
—Bomi is the only child I really recognize from my time.
—The ones who reached thirteen were sent to a French school by Bishop Mutel. Bishop Blanc had left a special request for the children before he passed. The plan is to educate them for a while and allow the ones who want to be priests to continue. Some of the children followed priests who were going to Japan. They promised to educate them there.
Suh’s room was as austere as Jin remembered it.
A length of white linen hung on the side of the room as a cover for her clothing; she did not even own a common wardrobe or dresser. Inside a large basket was a jacket that was being sewn. Underneath the jacket was an assortment of needlework tools. Jin looked up to see a single shelf with rolled, uncut fabric, standing in a row.
—Do you still sew all the children’s garments yourself?
—The nights are long . . . and I’ve nothing else to do.
Suh’s room made Jin feel she had truly returned to Korea. The floor, once a light yellow, was darker with age and sporting a few burnt spots. Against Suh’s protestations, Jin sat Suh down and bestowed upon her a deep homecoming bow. The floor felt warm as Jin’s forehead touched it. Had she interrupted Suh in her laundry when she arrived? When Suh approached Jin on her knees and clasped Jin’s hands, the old woman’s hands felt cold to the touch. Jin gripped Suh’s hands in return and caressed them. Suh’s palms were as rough as tree bark. Suh extracted her hands and wrapped Jin’s in hers. Bomi, who had been peering at them through the crack in the door, wiped away a tear and softly closed the door behind her.
—What has happened? Are you here for good?
When Jin didn’t answer, Suh reached out and stroked Jin’s face.
—Seeing you is like a dream. I thought we would never meet again. Have you come alone?
Suh’s moist eyes were full of concern.
—No, I’m here with him. We have to go back.
Suh nodded.
—Have dinner with us. Yeon always comes around sunset. The children love him so much. Lady Suh might come as well. She’s a sponsor of this orphanage. She comes once every ten days, and I’m sure she’ll come today.
The woman Suh still faithfully observed the proper honorifics when referring to her younger sister. Jin took a closer look at Suh’s face. It had always been a small one but now seemed smaller still. The wrinkles near her eyes seemed to almost close them altogether, and her hair was now half white.