“What is that boy doing here?” Suwol’s mother rose from the floor, brushing her skirts smooth. Junja stood as well.
Suwol limped toward the two women while dragging a tiny boy who was clinging to his right leg. Suwol nodded to Junja, before addressing his mother. “Did you eat well, Mother?”
“As well as you did.”
“Then you must have eaten very well indeed.” Suwol rubbed his belly and belched.
The small woman laughed, hitting her son’s arm. “You should be with the men, not here playing with the children.”
Suwol bent over to peel the child off his leg. He placed the child on the ground and thumped his bottom. “I’ll play with you later, Little Pup. After Big Auntie and I finish talking.”
As Suwol stood, Junja noticed a long lock of hair fall into his eyes. He brushed it away while talking to his mother. “A monk stopped by with news from Seogwipo. He asked if the girl carrying the large pack got here safely. I wanted to make sure he was talking about the same person.” Suwol turned to Junja. “Did you meet a monk on the way here?”
Junja nodded. “He gave me his seat on the farmer’s cart. His kindness allowed me to arrive here on time.” She wished she could thank the man again. “Is he still here?”
“No, he isn’t.”
Suwol’s mother interrupted with a frown. “What kind of news from Seogwipo would compel a monk to stop by at this time of day?”
The tall boy shrugged. “Nothing very interesting. I think he just wanted to make sure that Junja got here safely.”
Suwol’s mother looked at her son sharply. Suwol was shushing the tiny boy, shaking his head and holding his finger to his mouth. The explanation was entirely plausible, so she relaxed. “Well, that was very kind of him. Next time, make sure you invite him in to eat something. Men! When will they ever learn some manners!”
Suwol ignored his mother’s admonishment. Instead, he allowed himself to be dragged out of the courtyard by the little children. Suwol had overheard his father urging the monk to join the family for the evening meal, but the man had declined with regret. He explained to Suwol’s worried father that he needed to return to the temple as swiftly as possible, because the news he was bearing could not wait: hundreds of Jeju citizens were being rounded up and jailed, on orders of the US military. People needed to be warned. They needed to be ready.
* * *
Junja sighed with pleasure as she stroked the soft quilt, recollecting the day that had led her here, to a bedroom with silk blankets in a nobleman’s compound. All the food at dinnertime had been served on wooden dishes, instead of sea shells. At the end of the meal, Suwol’s mother had passed out lacquered cups of omija berry juice, chilled with pieces of ice that Suwol and his uncles had brought back from the lake at the top of the mountain. It had been Junja’s first time trying the mountain berry famous for tasting like all five flavors at once, and everyone had laughed at her mystified expression.
The patriarch of the Yang family, Suwol’s grandfather, had insisted on bringing out a large wooden box to show the visitor. Inside lay a curved sword, made from steel that had been layered a thousand times. It was a relic from the court, a gift from the last true king of Joseon to the most trusted member of his royal guard. The old man shed a tear as he described how all the loyal guardsmen were banished before they could be murdered by the Japanese. Junja had knelt on the floor to bow to the old man, who was delighted by the pretty girl’s show of respect.
After Junja helped the women clean up the kitchen, Peanut had led her to the pigsty, where they fed the scrapings from dinner to the grunting piglets. The little girl had pointed out her two plump favorites, promising one of them to Junja, who had begun yawning.
Peanut had been leading Junja back to the main house when they ran into Suwol outside in the main courtyard. He was taking a break from his studies for some fresh air. His fingers were smudged, and a streak of ink stained his shirt over his heart. The three of them had gazed at the glittering sky together, searching for constellations. While Suwol and Junja were confessing that they shared the same favorite, the seven stars of the Big Dipper, Peanut kept tugging at Junja’s arm, eager to show her the guest room.
The little girl had refused to sleep with her parents, insisting on keeping Junja company. Her two playmates, Princess and Baby, had begged to be allowed to sleep with the guest as well. Junja found herself telling the three little girls the story of Sim Cheong the beggar maiden, who sacrificed herself to the sea king so that her blind father might see again.
The girls, who already knew the tale, had pressed Junja for details about the palace under the sea. The end of the story disappeared into descriptions of crabs hiding behind curtains of sea grass, dolphin teams pulling giant conch carriages, and octopuses trailing after their owners like dogs trotting after humans.
* * *
The crickets grew louder as the night deepened. Junja, who was accustomed to the lull of the surf, found it difficult to fall asleep in that din. On her final trip to the outhouse, she noticed an illuminated window in the main house. Perhaps that was Suwol’s room, where he was studying.
Junja slid the door to her room shut and crawled back onto the sleeping mat. She pulled the silk blanket back over herself, marveling once again at its lightness. She had expected such a thick quilt to be heavy, but it rested on her like a pile of feathers. Beside her, Peanut and her two little cousins were a tangle of snores.
The crickets seemed to rise in volume, growing more shrill. Junja pulled the quilt over her ears and shifted position. She wondered if Suwol had fallen asleep yet, then chided herself for being silly. Someone studying to be a baksa would be studying late into the night, surrounded by lanterns. He was probably consulting books and writing on rice paper with a long wooden brush. Most likely he was grimacing in concentration, the wings of his black hair kept out of his eyes by a band of cloth around his forehead.
* * *
The next morning, one of the aunties roused Junja, who had finally fallen into a dreamless sleep after much tossing and turning.
“My apologies for oversleeping! I didn’t even hear the roosters crow!” Junja was mortified about appearing so inattentive and lazy. She started rolling her bedding. The little girls were nowhere in sight.
“The mountain air makes people sleep deeply,” said the auntie. “A good thing, because you’ll be well rested for your walk back. I brought more salve and new bandages for your feet. When you get home, soak them in seawater and dry them in the sun. There’s porridge in the kitchen, in one of the small pots. Help yourself. Peanut will bring your piglet to you.”
“Thank you for your hospitality.” Junja bowed to the woman, who smiled as she left with the bedding, which would be aired out in the sun and beaten before being returned to a camphor-scented wooden trunk.
The kitchen was empty, except for Boshi, who was curled in a small hollow near the stone hearth. The dog stretched, the ridge of his fur bristling as he arched, before scampering over to Junja. He wagged his tail and placed his paw on Junja’s knee.
The dog’s dark eyes followed every mouthful she took. When Junja finished, she ran her finger around the bowl and held it out for him to lick clean.