—Do you sleep?
Jin’s heart was so full she couldn’t answer.
It wasn’t just the Queen who had changed. Jin, herself, had changed. She couldn’t rescue the Queen from the precipice she stood on, not with only the things she had seen and learned in Paris. Jin finally realized that she had been unable to send those countless letters to the Queen because she had known, all along, that she couldn’t help her.
—You must be asleep.
The Queen’s gaze lingered on Jin’s features as if examining what she really looked like.
—How alone I am.
She lamented in a low voice.
—I was fifteen when I entered court. The Regent accepted me as his daughter-in-law because, perhaps, I had no one. If I had powerful parents, he would have feared to have me near. He must have approved that I was alone. The King’s heart was elsewhere, so when I arrived at court, he did not even deign to look at me. My only pastime when I entered the palace was reading at night. I read until my eyes were tired to tears. Years passed. I was sorrowful and lonely at the time, but compared to how things are now, I was peaceful. I gave birth to a prince but lost him in five days. I made a promise to myself. To guard myself against it all. I felt I would shatter if I didn’t. When I didn’t stand up for myself, everyone praised me. But praise alone wasn’t enough for survival. The only way to survive was to give birth to another son, a crown prince. That was my beginning. No matter what, I could trust only myself. So it all began with my determination to survive. Eventually, those who once praised me as virtuous began calling me a conspirator, and those who called me wise began calling me cunning. They said that I did not inherit the Regent’s power but stole it from him. That our country is a mess because a queen dared to govern over a king. Was the Regent ever one to easily give up his power? Of course not. But no one cared about that. My only wish was for my survival to be the people’s survival. Was that so ignoble? But it turns out, my survival brought suffering to the people. Such was the Year of the Black Tiger and the uprising during the Year of the Blue Monkey. I wanted to open Korea’s doors because I thought the Regent’s isolationist policy had done real harm to the country. I wanted to strengthen Korea. But that has become a story in which I use foreign armies to kill my own people. How could the story have turned out this way? Where did I go so wrong that the path I chose was a path of thorns, the animal I chose to ride was a tiger . . . I cannot dismount it.
The Queen paused in her pained lament.
—Do you sleep?
She stretched out a hand and stroked Jin’s face.
The Queen lay down on the bedding again. She tossed and turned for hours, unable to fall asleep. Was she this sleepless every night? It was a long time before her breathing became even again. Jin lay silent and still, not wanting to disturb the Queen. Memories of the past and worries of the present came and went like waves with the Queen’s breathing.
It was dawn when Jin left the Queen’s Chambers. The events of the night before felt like a dream. She stopped at the Gate of Dualities and looked behind her. Soon, the day would break, and the Queen would return behind her cold mask, hiding the vulnerability she had shown in the night. And all would tread lightly before her.
Lady Suh’s quarters were lit despite the early hour. When an attendant announced Jin had come, Lady Suh did not invite her in but came out herself. She was already immaculately dressed, walking toward Jin in her green silk tunic and blue satin shoes.
—Hong Jong-u has an audience with the King today. You must meet with him before you leave.
—Is the situation so serious?
Lady Suh gave Jin a look.
—How could you have thought to come to court in such attire?
Lady Suh was objecting to the dress that not even the Queen had found fault with. Jin curled her toes inside her shoes and gripped the cupronickel ring on her hand.
—Do not forget that this is court.
—Did you want to say that I was once a court lady?
—You are still a court lady. Have you forgotten our laws? Even if a court lady leaves the palace, she must live under its rules. That is her fate. You still do not understand why the legate brought you back here. He hasn’t married you. What use is having lived in another world? Why, oh why, did you return? Don’t you know that the moment you did, you would revert to your old status?
—. . .
—I’ve already met with Official Hong twice. He refuses to listen to me. I don’t understand why he persists in this issue when everyone else is willing to forget you. Did something happen between the two of you? He will be asking the King to judge your situation. And Hong has the King’s ear for having killed Kim Okgyun. Hong is the kind of man who fears not even the Japanese and says that any courtier who insults the King must be executed. If he persists in questioning your status, the King will have no choice but to listen to him.
Despite the harshness of Lady Suh’s words, her hands clasped Jin’s in sympathy.
—You must meet with Official Hong. You helped him in France, so don’t you think he would cease his petition if he saw your face? If he gets his way, harm will come to the legate as well. You will have the safety of oblivion as long as no one mentions you, but if your name keeps coming up, the King will eventually have to make a decision. What will become of the legate? The only way out of this is to silence Official Hong and leave Korea immediately. The only way for you to survive is to be forgotten. I cannot stop thinking of Official Hong. He went to Shanghai and killed Kim Okgyun. Think of what he is capable of. He’s had his audience by now, and it must be ending. Let us go together.
Lady Suh led the way. Jin realized that Lady Suh had not invited her into her quarters because she wished to waste no time in taking Jin to see Hong Jong-u. She could scarcely remember Lady Suh’s smile at this point. Jin called out to her.
—I shall go alone.
Lady Suh turned and gave Jin a long look.
3
First Letter—Tangier, Morocco
When the summer started, the French legation interpreter Paul Choi brought Victor’s letter to the orphanage.
Jin,
I’m in Tangier, Morocco. I have been busy settling in since I arrived. I tried to write earlier, but I’m afraid I’m only now putting pen to paper. Not unlike Korea, the country is beset by conflicting foreign powers; you would’ve marveled at how there could be another country in such a similar situation. It rained all day. Aside from hospital visits for my laryngitis, which persists whenever I am fatigued, things are settling down. But the thought of you makes me feel as if I stand before a dark ocean at night.
You said you would never return to court, but I don’t know what has become of you since I left. I, too, think it is not right for you to return to the palace. But having come here instead of being by your side, there is nothing I can say in my defense. This was the real reason I found it difficult to write to you. How pathetic I am. I wonder what happened to you if you haven’t returned to the palace. Are you at the orphanage? I don’t know how I could’ve left you behind at the annex of the legation. I send this letter there, in hopes that someone will pass it on to you.
I spent four days in Paris before setting sail from Marseilles. They were under German influence for a long period, and it is felt everywhere. My task is to strengthen France’s standing in this country. As it was in Korea, there isn’t a day that goes by without incident. England’s influence grows by the day, making matters even more tense.
I’ve spent much time thinking about how we came to this. I brought you to Korea to cure you of your sleepwalking. I don’t understand how that led to my being alone in this place. I sometimes think you would be here in Morocco with me if I hadn’t taken you to Korea, and sometimes that you knew this would happen all along. Did you? How could you be so accepting of it otherwise, if you hadn’t?
I am sorry.
I was the one who left, but I am berating you as if you had sent me away. How strange it is. I l
eft you there, but I feel as if you banished me. This breaks my heart. I’ve begun to talk of something I could never conclude. Know this one thing. We are not finished. Wherever I may be, you are my wife, and I am only here on duty. This is the thought that comforts me. When the situation allows, I shall return to you.
Jin,
Morocco is a land of white houses, of the endless Sahara Desert, the rugged Atlas Mountains, and the blue Mediterranean Sea. Europeans mix with Arabs and Africans. Christians mix with Muslims. If you were here, your clever eyes would have so much to take in. We would’ve met new people and seen new things, and who knows, we might’ve been born anew. I sometimes think of the time we went to the Bois de Boulogne together. I recall how devastated you were to see the Africans on display. The people here sit in tiny, dim rooms, weaving carpets. Their hands are quick. The carpets are strange and beautiful. You would love them, too. Entire villages are leather-dyeing factories, and their craftsmanship is extraordinary. I bought a carpet said to have been made a hundred years ago and sent it off to Paris. You shall see it someday. My only regret is that we cannot have these moments together. Jin! Please forget how cruel I was to you before I left Korea. I could not accept our situation as easily as you did back then.
I shall work hard to succeed in my mission here. I look forward to the day we shall meet again. Be well in the meantime.
May 2, 1895
Your Gillin, from Tangier, Morocco
4
Second Letter—Please Forget Me
After she received Victor’s letter, Jin lit a lamp and wrote a reply, and gave it to Paul Choi the next day to send to Tangier.
Gillin,
I received the letter you sent from Tangier.
I had worried about your voyage, the one you took so hurriedly out of Korea, but your letter laid to rest my concerns. We parted as if we’d never see each other again, so I was grateful that you took care to write what was surely a difficult letter. Now I can truly feel at ease.
The Queen made it so that I did not have to return to court. Korea’s situation is not improving. I left the French legation soon after you did. It was not a place for me without you. I moved into the house where I grew up in Banchon. It is a typical Korean earthen house. There is a bamboo grove behind it and a kitchen with a furnace, and several rooms. I never did visit your birthplace, Plancy, but then again, I never brought you to this house. Just as I did when I first lived at the legation, I go to the orphanage during the day and teach the children to read. I also teach Korean to a few nuns from your country who wish to speak the language. If only Hong Jong-u would forget me, then I believe I could find a way to do the work I want to do.
Do not worry about me. And please read carefully what I’m about to write.
You were kind to me. You were faithful and tried not to let me go. That is enough for me. Do not blame yourself for not keeping your promises, and do not castigate yourself for the cooling of your passions. I have never said this to you before, but I know how long you waited for me to make up my mind, even after the King had allowed our union. If it were only a matter of lust, you would not have waited so. I never forgot that you waited for me. Sometimes, when I couldn’t bear to be with you, I thought of how you waited. The reason I was so accepting of your departure was that I accepted your feelings. If I did not let you go, we would be like flowing water trapped to stagnate.
I was happy to live as an “I” and not as “your servant” in your country. Even if I forget the Eiffel Tower or the Louvre, I will never forget the boisterous and free Parisians who walked the city’s streets. To see Vincent realize his dreams, to be there when our lively Jeanne realized her love, made me so very happy. I was able to see many sides of your country through Madame Planchard’s kindness and Maupassant’s wit and devastation. I learned of charity, which uses our strength to protect those who have none, and freedom, the feeling of living my life the way I want to live it. I had lived in the palace ever since I was a young girl. I was afraid to smash the things that surrounded me, to feel the me inside of it all. As exciting as it was, the suffering was also like fire to the heart.
Gillin,
You can now let go of me. I understand what you meant when you said you didn’t know if you loved me anymore. I do not misunderstand you. I do not resent you. I know your conflict and your determination not to give me up. Because that was my conflict from the beginning. I didn’t know whether I loved you or not, but I could not leave you. But that was because I was “your servant,” in a way. After you left, I greatly regretted how I refused your last wish to brush my hair. I was afraid it would make you regret your leaving. But if you didn’t even have that little of regret, what would the years we spent together have meant? I was foolish not to have thought that then. In truth, you have given me so much, but I did not give you even that. I thought you were the strong one, and I the weaker. I must’ve always had that thought in the back of my mind, that you were French, and I was Korean. When in fact, you and I, we were only a man and a woman after all.
Gillin,
Let go of Yi Jin and be free. Only then can I become free, too. I shall always worry over your laryngitis even if I never see you again. And you will always want to brush my hair, even if you never see me again.
And that is enough.
June 3, 1895
Yi Jin, in Korea
5
In the Name of Love
Someone stood underneath the apricot tree of the Banchon house.
Jin stared at the figure, who seemed to regard the dark house with interest. Jin’s face lit up. It was Soa. Despite the darkness, Jin almost immediately recognized her. She joyfully called out Soa’s name as she pushed open the low gate of the house.
—Why are you standing out here, instead of going in?
Soa, an indigo throw jacket neatly folded over her sleeve, did not move from underneath the apricot tree. She made no reply. Jin lit a lamp on the porch and turned to her friend.
—How did you leave the palace?
Soa walked over to the porch and sat down next to Jin.
When the woman Suh learned that Yeon had bought the old house in Banchon, she helped Jin move into it from her lodgings at the French legation annex. Bothered by Jin being alone in the house, she had Yeon move in with her. Suh came to the house on occasion to make the three of them meals, which made them feel like they’d gone back in time to when they lived together after Blanc had left Yeon to Suh’s care.
—You’re still in Western dress?
Jin grinned.
—Why do you keep wearing them when the legate is gone?
—I’ve no other reason, other than they’re comfortable.
Soa gave Jin a deeply worried look.
—Why, what’s the matter?
—That’s what I wanted to ask. Did something happen between you and Official Hong?
—Hong Jong-u?
—He’s made another petition.
—A petition?
—This time, it’s not against the legate but the musician Kang.
Kang Yeon. Jin was silent as she waited for Soa to continue.
—You know our laws. Even if a court lady entered the palace as a child and left before she turned ten, she is not allowed to marry. Not even court ladies who have been banished from the palace. You’ve heard these rules a thousand times before, so I won’t repeat the penalties. Official Hong is claiming that your living with the musician Kang is in violation of these rules. He’s pushing for Yeon to be punished. Lady Suh told me to let you know. What on Earth happened in Paris that he’s so determined to ruin you?
Hong Jong-u, again.
Jin bit her lip.
She remembered the time she had gone to see him. His audience hadn’t ended, so she had ended up waiting for him for most of the morning. As Hong emerged with the other officials, he spotted her and stood stock still. The other officials stared at Jin’s clothes. Hong, as if to hide something, escorted her to a more private setting. He looked her
up and down before speaking.
—Why are you wearing such clothes in Korea?
Hong himself was dressed in the red robes of the court officials. Even before Jin could mention the petition, Hong made an unexpected request. That since she’d come back, she should stay in Korea permanently. Confused by his beseeching tone, Jin could only stare back at him. Hong was so tall that he blocked the rising sun as he looked down at her. He seemed different from when she had seen him in Paris. He hesitated before adding that he had held her in his heart for a long time.
—I know nothing of what you speak.
Jin avoided his gaze and kept repeating this line. Hong had replied that he would not be so helpless about her as he had been in Paris. That as long as Jin promised she would remain in Korea, he would find a way for her to be with him. Jin sighed, wondering what the two of them had been in a past life to deserve this fate.
To some, love is war.
Jin was worried that Hong, who would stop at nothing to get what he wanted, had begun another petition. His previous petition had been effective enough to send Victor away and leave her in Korea. There was no guarantee that Yeon would not suffer a similar fate.
—Does the musician Kang not say anything about it?
Yeon had told her nothing. He hadn’t come to the orphanage, even after sundown. He usually came once his work was done at Jangakwon. The children who had played all day, sweating in the sun, would eagerly learn the bamboo flute from him when he gathered them around the date tree. He had said nothing to her when he left the house that morning. She thought she heard him play the oboe last night, right before she drifted off to sleep. Its sound was as clear as droplets of water falling on a stream.
—The Jangakwon people must’ve been informed of the petition by now . . . Why don’t we ask the Queen for help?
—Lady Suh would already have told her.
—Try again. I mean, it’s true that you and the musician Kang aren’t really sister and brother.