Jin didn’t reply. The Queen already knew that while she and Yeon weren’t related by blood, they were raised as if they were by the woman Suh, older sister to Lady Suh. The Queen was also aware that Yeon was the invisible man who had protected her during the Year of the Black Horse.
—Could the penalty forbid Yeon from playing the daegeum ever again?
—He’ll be lucky if his hands are the only thing he loses.
—What happens then?
Soa wouldn’t say.
She stood up, saying she had to go back to the palace. She could not stay out for too long without a special dispensation. She had waited a long time under the apricot tree for Jin to come home. Jin walked with her. Soa said nothing as they walked the Banchon paths and crossed the bridge. They could see the lamplight of the other houses winking through the pear trees.
—Even a nobleman who takes a court lady would be punished severely. Remember that official who was beheaded for making a concubine of a woman who left the palace at eleven years old? Sometimes they’ll look the other way, but if there’s someone determined enough to enforce the rules . . .
Hong had said himself that he had many things to do for Korea, that it was time to use what he had learned in France for the good of his own country. That only reformation could strengthen the country, and reformation could be implemented only through a strong monarchy. He’d told her that now that he had the King’s backing, all he needed was Jin’s support to be invincible.
—Remember that official who was banished for having a drink with a court lady?
Jin gripped Soa’s hand in the dark. She meant for her to stop talking about it. The two paused and faced each other at the entrance to Banchon. Soa returned Jin’s firm grip. Jin could feel the heat of the summer night on Soa’s palms.
—It’s good that you’re not back at court. Nothing scares me more than being in the palace. We scarcely sleep at night. All we do is wait for the day to break. I think we’ve caught the Queen’s insomnia.
Jin gripped Soa’s sweaty palm. Soa spread out her indigo throw jacket and covered her head, with only her face showing. When she looked back after walking a distance, Jin waved. Soa was only returning to the palace, but for some reason, Jin felt Soa was going somewhere far away. She stood there long after Soa had completely disappeared into the dark.
Jin stood on the bridge and waited for Yeon to return.
It was the same wooden bridge on which Yeon had waited for a young Jin to return, carried on the back of Lady Attendant Lee. Since then, Lady Attendant Lee had risen to the rank of senior court lady. But Jin could still remember being carried by her and watching Yeon as he ran like the wind toward them from the bridge.
Living in the same house with Yeon was against the law?
Jin’s face was flush with anger at Hong Jong-u. She could hardly think of him as the same man she once knew in Paris. Hong had been rough at times, but he was clearly of good learning and devoted to his country. This was what led to his assassinating Kim Okgyun, whom he perceived to be an enemy of the King. He would brook any humiliation if it were for the sake of his country. This was why she had spent so much time with Boex, going over the translation he had left behind. “To those who love, distance does not exist.” Editing his French translation of this line had almost moved her to tears. But what was it that made Hong act so irrationally now?
Jin realized it with a jolt.
Was this the heart of a man who had been rejected? The very sound of the stream below her seemed to go silent. She had known Hong’s petition was not the only reason Victor had left without her. Jin was aware that the biggest reason for that was Victor’s change of heart. In Paris, she had felt that she was getting in the way of his ambitions as a diplomat. And her life in Paris had taught her that nothing, not even love, managed to escape the realities of change.
The urgent thought that she needed to send Yeon back to the orphanage made her look harder down the other side of the bridge.
If there was one thing that never changed in this world, it was Yeon’s love for Jin. Jin ached at this realization. She was appalled at the prospect of his never playing the daegeum again because of her. Yeon without his music was unimaginable. Soa did not have to explain to Jin what awaited a man who was said to have an attachment to a lady of the court.
A little while later, she saw Yeon’s shadow approach.
Jin hurried toward him. Yeon stopped at the sight of Jin almost running toward him in the dark. She came to a halt.
—Go back!
Yeon could hardly make her out in the darkness.
—You have to go back to the orphanage!
Jin tried to block his path to the house. The two stood there, listening to the sound of the stream below. Yeon stepped around her and continued to walk home. The crescent moon shone on the stream.
—I told you to go back!
Jin was now shouting at Yeon.
—Please!
The strength left her body as she collapsed on the bridge. The only way for you to survive is to be forgotten. Lady Suh’s words pierced her heart. She finally realized what she really meant. She cursed Lady Suh in her heart for sending her into court as a child. A thought that had never crossed her mind before, even when she sent Victor away. Yeon saw her fall and came back for her. He picked her up from the ground.
—Listen to me. If you don’t go back, they will destroy you.
Yeon slowly embraced Jin. Jin listened intently to the sound of his breathing.
Yeon’s firm arms showed no signs of letting go. She could feel the length of his daegeum underneath his robes. She knew the sound of his playing, the way one knows the footfalls of one’s beloved. To Jin, the daegeum was Yeon’s voice itself. She realized another thing. That that was why the sound of his daegeum brought her dancing to such ecstasy that her feet hardly touched the ground.
Waves of sadness made it impossible for Yeon to let her go.
He had become a court musician because this woman had become a court dancer. It was the only way to be near her. He had refused to follow Blanc’s advice to go to Japan and learn to be a priest, refused Homunmok when he offered a new life as a swordsman for the common good. He only wished to end his days by the side of this woman. But that would never be. The moment she left court to live in the French legation, Yeon had to fight the persistent urge to fall on his knees. When she left for France, he played the daegeum to any audience he could find—people, animals, the very air. He took care of the things that were left behind. This was not only because of the woman Suh’s teaching, that it was his duty as a human being to love and care for others. It was more of a prayer of sorts that his good deeds here would somehow bring goodness to the woman who had gone so far away.
Yeon released her from his embrace and gently cupped her face with his hands.
Then, as if accepting something he could not change, he let her go and began walking away. Jin stared after him for a bit before running to close the distance between them.
Yeon was sitting on the porch when Jin came through the low gate. He took his notebook and pen from his bag. Yeon stared at an empty page that seemed as wide as an expanse of desert. Then, he wrote something and handed it to Jin. Jin lit a lamp and brought the words close to her face.
Once I go to the Jangakwon tomorrow, I’m being taken to China.
China? Jin looked at him inquiringly.
I’m going with an elder musician.
—What for?
Jangakwon business. We’re buying Chinese instruments.
Jangakwon business? Chinese instruments? Jin stared at Yeon. She recalled Soa’s worried face.
—It’s because of me, right?
Was this exile? She dared not ask him.
Think of me as going to perform my music.
Jin’s face broke.
I’ll come back someday. Like you did.
Jin became angry. Yeon gripped her wrist.
It’s no use. It’s done. At least I was told befo
rehand, so I had time to say good-bye.
The ink drops from his pen were like drops of his blood. Yeon seemed to know that Jin had wanted to petition the Queen on his behalf. Jin tried to pull her arm away, but Yeon only gripped tighter. Jin buried her face on his knees.
She remained there, still.
Only a moment ago, she had wanted to run to the palace to see the Queen or even Hong Jong-u. But now she could think of nothing. Her heart was fit to burst, but no tears came to her eyes. She was swept up in a feeling of metal dust blowing in a dry wind.
How long did they remain so?
Yeon gently helped Jin up and onto the porch.
Please dance for me.
Dance? Jin looked at him with eyes that seemed to have lost all their light.
If only you could see yourself dancing.
—If only I could? Then what?
You’re like a butterfly. Like a cloud. A flower.
Yeon smiled. She found it extraordinary that he could smile at such a moment. She stood up from the porch. She went to her room, and from the bamboo shelves took down a package wrapped in blue satin. Inside was the yellow dancing costume from her court dancer days. It also had the lotus crown inside. Soa had given them to her when Jin had left for Paris. But Jin had not taken them with her. The legation cook had kept them for her, and Jin had brought them with her when she moved into the Banchon house. Jin took off her dress and rearranged her hair so the crown would sit better. She slipped on the yellow silk, tied the red belt tight, and inserted the extended seven-color sleeves. She stood for a moment, wondering when she had last worn the costume.
Yeon rose when Jin entered the courtyard.
She stood with her back to the apricot tree. Yeon took out his daegeum. Without the sound of the bak, Jin listened only to Yeon’s music as she took her first steps.
There was a time when she tried to become steel with this dance. To become the wind, and clouds. Tears began to flow, tears she hadn’t shed for Victor when he left Korea, or onto Yeon’s knees when he told her he was leaving for China. Yeon’s eyes were also wet as he played his daegeum. Both were sweating as one danced and the other played music. Why was Jin remembering the Queen’s words, her urging for Jin to release herself from her bonds, to learn as many new things as possible, and to live a new life? Jin danced as if she were building a high tower, as if she were plucking flower petals from the air. Yeon’s music to her had the rhythm of breathing. Her tears ceased. She concentrated entirely on the form of her hands, her feet.
Daylight seeped faintly through the paper-screen door.
Jin bolted upright from a dream of being run over by a carriage while walking the streets of Paris during the Paris Carnival. Her forehead was drenched with sweat. She rubbed her ankles, which ached as if they had been run over by a carriage wheel. Jin looked down at the other side of the bedding.
Yeon wasn’t there. In his place were only his notebook and fountain pen.
The tears Jin shed the night before when she danced to Yeon’s daegeum were for pity. What was she to do about Yeon now? As she danced for him alone, and not for the court as she had done in his presence countless times, she had been caught up with the urge to run away and disappear with Yeon forever. And yet, while they’d been raised like two lost fawns in the arms of the woman Suh, Jin’s heart had answered Yeon’s love only with pity. The years of her pretending not to know how Yeon felt had disintegrated like a waking dream.
When Jin had returned to her room to take off her lotus crown and dancing costume, she took out her Korean clothes for the first time and put them on. Then she went to Yeon’s room. It was the one where Blanc had once taught her French. The room where Yeon had once played the bamboo flute for them. Yeon lay there with the lamp still on, and Jin climbed into the bedding next to him. Yeon stretched out an arm for her to rest her head. They lay there like two cucumbers hanging from the same vine. Then Jin sat up and asked Yeon to brush her hair. Yeon brushed her long, black hair for a long time. Before they knew it, they were touching each other’s faces. Then, they lay facing each other, running their hands down each other’s backs. They hugged each other tightly as if they would never part from that moment on. They fell into a deep sleep.
Jin, in her sleep clothes, slid open the door to the room.
Yeon was not in the courtyard. Neither was he in the kitchen or the bamboo grove. Already? Jin walked out to the low gate and looked out as far as she could. She couldn’t see him anywhere. She paced underneath the apricot tree and came back to the room and picked up his notebook. The pen slid from the pages and fell on the bedding.
Silverbell,
To see your sleeping face this close . . . it’s like a dream.
I remember the first day I came to this house. You were on the back of a court lady, and your eyes widened at the sight of Bishop Blanc. Do you remember? Mother heated water and bathed me in an earthen jar. That was my first day here. I couldn’t follow Bishop Blanc because you were here. You made me stay. Live here with us . . . you said. From that moment on, I kept your words in my heart. I had always followed my father, who was forever running from something, until he drowned in the pond of a village that has since faded from my memory. Now I’ve only a bamboo flute to remember him by. What I feared the most in those days was the night. I didn’t know where to spend the nights, those nights that would return relentlessly. A good night was when I could find a pile of hay to sleep on or shelter by a furnace that still had some embers glowing in it. That was my life until I met you. Live here with us . . .
Silverbell,
Last night I . . . became. I became everything I could become. I hope you realize your dream of creating a school where you can teach children. Hong Jong-u will help you. I met him yesterday and begged him to help you. Just as Mother did before us, maybe you can start in this house by teaching the children of Banchon. I wanted to be by your side to help you. I’m only sorry that I can’t. I wanted to be by your side no matter what, but I couldn’t follow you across the ocean. I couldn’t even protect you when you came back to Korea. And that is the regret that will haunt me to the end of my days. That all I could do for you was to play my flute.
Silverbell,
I want you to find strength by thinking back to when life was even harder than it is now. And one more thing. No matter what you hear, do not look for me. I will be in China. For my sake, do not ask after me. I know this will be hard, but please do this. Do this for me. Know that any other thing you do for me will only harm me in the end.
Tears gathered in her eyes as Jin turned the rest of the pages of the notebook. Nothing was written on them. Jin reached out and swept Yeon’s side of the bedding with her hand and bit her lip. Know that any other thing you do for me will only harm me . . . These were his last words to her.
A realization come too late is bound to strike the heart.
It took four days for Jin to learn that Yeon did not go to China. Jin had gathered the orphans on the porch to tell them the story of The Hunchback of Notre Dame, which she had first read in Paris. The children forgot the heat as they listened to Quasimodo’s story. Jin was too bereft by Yeon’s departure to teach the children how to read. But even the children who were bored with learning were excited by the story. The children, despite the heat, sat close to Jin and clung to her skirt with their little hands, their eyes shining. The Hunchback of Notre Dame was not only a story for children. Yeon had also listened with so much concentration when she told the story of the hunchback to him that she could not stop telling it. When she told it, she felt she was herself sinking deeper and deeper into the narrative. Jin and Yeon were both angry at the cruel archdeacon. They wanted so much for the hideous but pure Quasimodo and the beautiful dancer Esmeralda to love each other that Jin briefly considered changing the ending of their story from Victor Hugo’s. There had been such days.
Jin tried to stop the story, but the children refused to be dismissed, so she ended up finishing the story in the dark. Almost hoarse, Ji
n was about to go back home to Banchon, when the woman Suh called her into her room. When had Suh’s back become so bent? Suh took out a linen package and put it before Jin on the room floor, knocking her lower back with a fist to alleviate some pain there.
—What’s this?
Suh didn’t answer, prompting Jin to unwrap the package. Jin watched Suh’s eyes as she undid the knot, uncertain of Suh’s thoughts. A dread overcame her, rushing her fingers to reveal what was inside. It was Yeon’s daegeum.
—Sometimes, I think about what will happen after I die. Do not be alarmed. It’s just my time to think about such things. I feel weaker by the day. After the children are bathed and fed, I close my eyes and hope I never have to open them again, but it isn’t my choice to die when I want to. I don’t want to have kept anything when I die. The only thing I shall have when I go will be these clothes, washed clean.
Suh had already sold, upon Blanc’s recommendation, anything she had of any value when she moved from Banchon and donated the proceeds to the orphanage. Everything she owned was in this small room.
—This is yours.
—Why is this here? If he doesn’t have his daegeum . . . How will he survive in that faraway place without it? Why did he leave it behind?
—He can’t play it anyway.
—He can’t play it?
Suh’s tired eyes looked into Jin’s.
—Didn’t you know?
—Know what? He’s not in China?
—China?
—China . . . That’s what he told me.
—I tried to make him stay until his severed fingers healed, at least, but he wouldn’t listen to me.
Jin gripped the daegeum, her face turning into a grimace. Then she turned pale.
—Severed fingers?
She remembered him asking her not to do anything for him. Was his punishment not exile but the loss of his fingers? Was that why he left behind his notebook and fountain pen? And his daegeum . . .
—What else do I not know!
Jin grabbed Suh’s hands and shook them. They severed the fingers of a man who couldn’t speak. How could she have been so oblivious? How could she not suspect he was lying about going to China? How could she have accepted his explanation about buying Chinese instruments? No matter what you hear, do not look for me. That was what he said. Jin felt she was suffocating. She couldn’t scream. She struck her chest with her fist and buried her face in the woman Suh’s knees, writhing in pain. Then she abruptly took to her feet.