Beasts of a Little Land(42)
Dani threw her bare arms around the Judge and pressed her soft body into his old, bony chest.
“Thank you . . . I will never forget your generosity,” she whispered.
“Oh and one more thing, Dani,” said the Judge. “I do like that diamond necklace on you. When I saw it, I knew you would be just the right woman for it. There is such a satisfaction to seeing something valuable find its rightful owner. That’s why I bought it for you. And when I saw you for the first time, I thought the same thing about you belonging to me. I should like to think that you’d wear that necklace only for me. Don’t put it on for other people . . . even cousins.”
“Of course, I would never do anything to displease you,” Dani said, smiling luminously and pretending to not understand. She wrapped both her hands around his and reverently brought them to her lips.
*
EACH TIME MYUNGBO LOST CONSCIOUSNESS, the blackness overtook him more completely than before. This time, he’d been lashed with a studded whip and then confined in a body-tight niche carved into a wall for three days. When he woke up, he was in a different cell with a barred window set high on the wall. Without turning his head, he scanned the room and noticed a chamber pot in the corner. Still moving only his eyes, he looked down at his body, which had been bandaged and given clean clothes. He was even lying on a thin mat, although any comfort that may have afforded was obliterated by the excruciating pain that exploded from every part of his body. He did not even have the mental clarity to process his improved situation before blacking out once more.
*
HE OFTEN OPENED HIS EYES to a bowl of water and some thin porridge next to him. Then without wondering how many days had passed, or what time of day it was, he gulped down the water first and spooned the porridge into his mouth. After that, he relieved himself and went back to sleep.
Time was a winter fog—gray, shapeless, indifferent to his existence. It passed on its own like a ship that sails without passengers. Or perhaps it was a ship that was carrying everyone else except MyungBo. Being left outside the world of time was a special kind of torture that said, You mean nothing. He was reminded he was still living only by feeling how much his beard had grown.
At some point, MyungBo was strong enough to stay awake for the arrival of his caretaker and to ask whether he could get some paper and a pencil. To his surprise, the guard brought those things the next day with the water and food. After drinking some water and leaving the porridge untouched, MyungBo crawled to his mat and began to work on a letter.
In the flashes of consciousness that were allowed him during his incarceration, MyungBo’s thoughts had turned to his two mistakes. The first one was that he was wrong to resent his wife’s pragmatism while falling for Dani. For months leading up to the protest, he’d longed to see Dani and to talk to her about almost anything that came to his mind. At first, he’d chalked this up to simple admiration for a beautiful and intelligent woman, but his jealousy upon seeing SungSoo by her side forced him to admit that he was in love with her. Since he had long looked down on his friend’s womanizing, he had been all the more confused about his attraction to Dani. But it all felt so faded and tarnished now. Upon thinking of her for the first time since his arrest, he only felt ashamed. Love was defined by how much one could suffer for another, by what you were willing to do to protect this person. It was a question of choosing the person with whom you’d like to hold hands on your last train ride. Now he knew the one he truly loved.
“To my beloved son HyunWoo,” he started writing.
How have you been? How is your mother? I hope that you two stayed warm and healthy over the winter. It’s colder here, but thinking of you and your mother makes me feel better.
You just turned four, so you must be getting bigger now. I wish I could watch you grow up. I think often of the days when you were very little, and we three were together every night. You probably can’t remember anything, but we were very happy back then. HyunWoo, listen to what your mother tells you. And when you’re older, be the kind of person who is courageous in the face of the powerful, and generous toward the weak. That’s all I wish for you.
I miss you both very much. I’m always watching over you.
—Your father
MyungBo had started writing in small letters, thinking that he would fill up the whole page. In the end, however, he could fill no more than a third of the paper—it was too hard to say all that was in his heart. The guard, who had been under new orders to attend to the inmate’s needs, mailed the letter to MyungBo’s father’s house, where it was forwarded to Shanghai by his younger brother.
The second and worst mistake of MyungBo’s life was that he had put his faith in unarmed resistance. Like the other signers, he’d believed that they would gladly die if that could bring them closer to independence. But he now saw that the death of so many people was wasted. With both the leadership and civilians annihilated, progress had not only stalled but even taken several steps backward. Nothing could change without force in the face of such inhumanity. MyungBo didn’t know if he could get out of jail alive; in addition to his wounds, which kept reopening and festering, he had contracted tuberculosis. But if given another chance, MyungBo vowed he would win back their freedom at any cost—life for life, blood for blood.
When MyungBo’s conditions stabilized against all odds, he was called into trial for treason and received a light sentence of two years. In prison, MyungBo was sometimes favored with a warm comforter or better food. He was even allowed to read a few books. Oblivious to the true reason for his special treatment, MyungBo now recalled Dani as he did SungSoo and his other schoolmates—infrequently and with a vague sense of embarrassment.