by A. J. Low
“I understand,” Officer Siva said. Then he turned to me, “Let me know when you’ve beaten her.” He and Eliza walked back towards the exit and left.
“One down, Supper Club,” Bok Joo continued. “Only four contestants left. Please take the four envelopes from the ajumma and open them in the van that’s waiting for you outside. Your second clue to my whereabouts is: food.”
She vanished again.
“That’s really annoying,” Wendy said. “And Eliza’s right: that’s not a clue at all.”
“Maybe they go together,” Mom said. “So it’s ‘food shopping’.”
“Like a food market, maybe,” Dad said.
“While I very much like where this line of thinking is headed,” I said, “I think it’s too early to start thinking about where Bok Joo might be hiding.”
Inspector Lestrade took the four envelopes from the auntie, but not before looking her over and tugging at her hair to make sure it was real. The auntie did not appreciate this and pulled the inspector’s hair in return.
“Excellent! You also are looking for disguises,” Inspector Lestrade said. “This is very smart of you.”
She saluted the auntie while the rest of us tried to leave as quickly as possible before the auntie took her revenge.
CHAPTER FOUR
We piled into the van and opened the envelopes. Each one contained a card with an image on it: a Classical statue, a crown, a bird and musical notes, and a comics word balloon. Each envelope also contained a small notepad. I supposed it was so that we could write down notes as we were trying to figure the puzzle out.
“I assume this is a puzzle we have to solve to know where the next game is,” I said. “Which is why our driver hasn’t started the car yet. So let’s start thinking, Supper Club.”
“Master Watson happens to have some Khong Guan biscuits in his secret storage compartment,” Moran-in-Watson said. “Would anybody care for some while you attempt to figure this out?”
We raised our hands. I could certainly get used to a more polite Watson. “Maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing if we can’t put you guys back into your respective bodies,” I said.
“Would-you-and-Nazhar-like-to-swap-bodies-for-a-day?” Watson-in-Moran asked.
“I think that would be okay,” I said, with a grin. “Right, Nazhar?” I looked up at him and saw the horrified expression on his face.
“What’s that face for?” I said.
“But…you fart so much,” Nazhar said. Wendy and Jimmy burst out laughing.
“Alright, let’s focus on these cards,” I said. I did not fart that much. Anyway, according to a doctor, expelling gas up to 40 times a day was still considered normal. Though she did stress that 15 times was the average, and that I should strive to be average in this respect. I refuse to be average on principle, however.
“Well, this is clearly a statue,” Wendy said, holding up the statue card. “It’s the Discobolus, or Discus Thrower, by the Greek sculptor Myron.”
“And this is a crown, but could it really be that simple?” Nazhar asked.
“This could be ‘birdsong’,” I said, holding up the card with the bird and musical notes, “but maybe they’re supposed to signify something else. Something related.”
“So this isn’t a statue but…a sport?” Wendy said.
“And this one isn’t a crown, but a king!” Jimmy said.
“It doesn’t help that we don’t know what order they go in either,” I said.
“I got it!” Nazhar said. He took the cards and rearranged them so the crown was first, followed by the word balloon, the bird and the musical notes, and finally the statue card.
“See?” he said.
The rest of us just looked at him. Even Mom, Dad, and Inspector Lestrade looked confused. Moran and Watson looked like they always looked.
“King Sejong Statue!” Nazhar said triumphantly.
When he heard this, the driver started up the van and we began moving.
“I guess that means you’re right, Nazhar,” I said. “But how did you get that from these cards?”
“Yah,” Wendy said. “I see King and Statue, obviously, but how do these two cards mean ‘Sejong’?”
“The word balloon is something used in comics to signify when someone is saying something,” Nazhar said, looking at me with a grin.
“Say!” Jimmy shouted.
“Right!” Nazhar said.
“And this is ‘jong’ because this isn’t just any bird,” Mom said. “It’s a jay. ‘Jay’ plus ‘song’ for the musical notes equals ‘jong’, sort of.”
“Exactly!” Nazhar said. “I admit I had to work that out backwards after hearing you guys say ‘king’ and ‘statue’. But then I remembered reading about the very famous statue of a king in Seoul from the tourist guide I got at the airport.”
“So, who is King Sejong?” Inspector Lestrade asked. “Was he Korea’s first king?”
“No, but that’s not a bad guess,” Nazhar said, going into scholarly mode. “He was the fourth king of the Joseon dynasty, and he’s considered great for many things, including encouraging scientific advancements and improving prosperity, but mostly for overseeing the creation of Hangeul, the official alphabet of Korea, in the mid-1440s. Before Hangeul, only the very educated Koreans used Chinese characters and called it Hanja. Most people couldn’t read or write Chinese script.”
“Ha!” Wendy said. “See, Mom. The whole country thought Chinese was too hard so they invented an easier language.”
Mom tried very hard to look disapproving but failed miserably. Dad was outright guffawing.
“Well, not the whole country,” Nazhar said. “There were a lot scholars who wanted to keep using Hanja instead of Hangeul, and there was a later king, King Yeonsangun, who outlawed it. So, Hangeul wasn’t used on official documents until 1894. And it wasn’t standardised to its current state until 1946, so it’s a relatively young language.”
“Isn’t there a city in Indonesia that uses Hangeul?” Dad asked. “I read that somewhere...”
“Yes!” Nazhar said. “The city of Baubau speaks Bahasa Ciacia and in 2009, they tried to teach the language using Hangeul instead of Roman letters. They still use it in schools and on signs.”
“I certainly hope the next game is about history, Nazhar,” Wendy said. “Because if so, you’re going to run rings around the rest of us.”
“That would be super cool,” Nazhar said, beaming.
I was less enthused. History had never been my strong suit. That’s why Nazhar was such a valuable member of the team.
Just then, Bok Joo’s holograph appeared, projected from Watson’s single eye again. I positioned myself behind Moran-in-Watson and studied it as best I could, hoping she wouldn’t notice.
“Well done,” Bok Joo said. “You figured that out much more quickly than I thought you would. I may have to make my other puzzles more difficult. See you at the statue.”
She disappeared again, but not before I was able to figure out an important clue.
“Miss Wendy is correct,” Moran-in-Watson said. “It is very annoying when I am unable to predict when Miss Bok Joo will appear or disappear.”
“I-will-definitely-be-updating-all-my-defensive-suites-once-I-am-back-in-my-body,” Watson-in-Moran said.
“As will I, Master Watson,” Moran-in-Watson agreed.
We arrived at the King Sejong Statue and got out of the van. The driver once again drove away.
“Maybe there isn’t any parking available where he drops us off?” Inspector Lestrade said.
The statue was of the king seated on a throne, and quite large. It was in a huge square between two streets that had traffic moving in opposite directions. In front of the statue were a celestial globe, a rain gauge and a sundial. These were things that King Sejong was supposed to have invented, according to Nazhar.
“I’m sure you’re wondering what it is you’re going to do before the greatest king in Korean history,” Bok Joo said, suddenly app
earing. “It’s simple, really. You will have a chicken leg fight.”
“A what?” Wendy asked.
Nazhar’s expression fell. He probably didn’t know what a chicken leg fight was either, but if he was thinking what I was thinking, then he was pretty sure it had nothing to do with history.
“A chicken leg fight is when you lift one of your feet and hold it up towards your waist. You then hop around on your remaining foot, using the knee from your raised leg to knock your opponents off-balance. Go ahead, everybody give it try.”
Wendy and Jimmy lifted their feet with acrobatic ease. I barely got my right foot up to my waist, but Nazhar was having a lot of trouble just trying to balance on one foot.
“I bet Eliza would have been amazing at this,” Nazhar said, putting his foot back down, grimacing.
“Very good,” Bok Joo said, ignoring him. “We’ll play three rounds. The winner of the first round won’t have to play in the second or final rounds, and the winner of the second round won’t have to play in the final round. The loser of the final round gets to go explore the city with the adult of their choice.”
She smiled widely. “Ready?”
We grabbed our feet again.
“Go!”
Wendy was ruthless. I knew we had to make it seem like we were playing for real, but my sister’s competitiveness was unexpected. It was also pretty awesome—her Wing Chun training was paying off. She immediately went after Nazhar, knocking him over. Jimmy was making his way towards me as I tried to hop away when Wendy suddenly appeared in front of me and knocked me over backwards.
I watched as Jimmy put up a decent defence, but Wendy’s height and skill ultimately beat out Jimmy’s determination, and he fell over.
“Excellent!” Bok Joo shouted. “Wendy wins the first round. Girl power!”
Wendy ignored her and bent down to help me up. She whispered, “Sorry, but we have no choice. You should be able to beat Nazhar and stay in the game.”
“Fine, be that way,” Bok Joo said. “Pick yourselves up, boys. It’s time for the second round. Go!”
Jimmy rushed me again, and this time he caught up with me and quickly knocked me over. This was not good.
“Oops! Sorry, Sherlock!” he said, wincing. “I don’t know my own strength sometimes!”
I gave him a thumbs up. I knew Jimmy didn’t have a choice either. We had to play for real.
Nazhar mostly hopped in place, trying to keep his balance, but all Jimmy had to do was jump over and nudge him slightly for our resident history expert to fall over.
“Jimmy wins round two!” Bok Joo shouted. “And now, it’s just the two of you left, Sherlock and Nazhar. I’m rooting for you, Sherlock. But remember, Nazhar, if it looks like you’re letting Sherlock win, the game will be forfeit.”
I ignored her as well, but I knew I had to beat Nazhar. I had to stay until the end. Luckily, it looked like it was taking all of his strength just to stay upright, so as long as I didn’t trip as I made my way towards him, I would be okay.
“Round three!” Bok Joo shouted. “Go!”
I hopped carefully towards Nazhar, who was again frantically hopping in place trying not to fall over on his own.
“I’m sorry, Nazhar,” I said. I nudged him slightly and he immediately fell over. Anyone watching could see that it wasn’t an act—he just had terrible balance, almost as bad as his sense of direction.
“Hurray!” Bok Joo shouted. “Sherlock stays in by a hair! This means Nazhar gets to enjoy the rest of his day in Seoul. In fact, you’ll probably be very interested in visiting Gyeongbokgung Palace, just up the street. You can see it from here.”
“Come, young Nazhar,” Inspector Lestrade said. “I will take you so that you may cheer up. Perhaps I can discover more things to dress up as.”
Nazhar waved goodbye as he and Inspector Lestrade walked towards the palace.
“Two down, Supper Club,” Bok Joo continued. “Only three contestants left. The van will be back shortly, and I will give you a riddle for your next location, but first, your third clue to my whereabouts is: water.”
She disappeared again.
“Shopping, food and water,” Mom said. “These clues are so vague, they’re basically meaningless. They could refer to anywhere in Seoul.”
Mom was right, but I was pretty certain Bok Joo was still playing fair. After all, there was no point in playing a game of your own design if you were just going to cheat.
Right?
CHAPTER FIVE
I did a headcount of who was left as we waited for the van to return to pick us up. It was just Jimmy, Wendy and I who could participate in the games. Mom and Dad were still with us, as were Watson and Moran. I deduced there must only be two games left, as only two more people could be eliminated. Still, there was a chance that there was a third game to eliminate the last player, which would make sense. There had to be a way for Bok Joo to win as well.
Unless, of course, my plan to circumvent all that came to fruition.
As we stepped into the van, the driver gave us three slips of paper—it was the next quiz that we needed to solve before we would be allowed to go to our next destination. Each one had a mathematical inequality expression:
“Two of these are wrong,” Dad said. “Zero is not greater than two, and two is not greater than five.”
“I’m sorry, Dad, but you’re not supposed to help us,” I said. “It’s against her rules.” I scribbled some notes down on my notepad from the previous riddle.
“Oh, right, sorry, sorry,” Dad said, looking sheepish. “Forget I said anything.” Mom pecked him on the cheek and hugged his arm.
Jimmy had started counting on his fingers.
“Dad’s right, though,” Wendy said. “You don’t need to be a maths genius to know that zero is smaller than two, and two is smaller than five.”
Of course it was true. It was possible that in some alternate dimension these two expressions could be correct, but it certainly wasn’t in this one. I wasn’t even sure what we were supposed to figure out here. The driver remained as tight-lipped as ever.
“I got it!” Jimmy said. He held up his right hand with two fingers up and his left with five fingers up. “Get it?”
“Okay, that’s two fingers and five fingers,” I said, “but I don’t see how that helps us, Jimmy.”
“No, don’t look at the fingers, look at the hands,” Jimmy said. He was smiling from ear to ear. He certainly seemed to think he had something, but like Wendy, maths wasn’t his strong suit.
“Jimmy, I’m sorry,” I said, “but it doesn’t matter what your hands look like. Two is never going to be bigger than five.”
“It is when you do this!” He started moving the two fingers on his right hand like scissors, cutting the five fingers on his left hand.
“Oh my gosh, Jimmy,” Wendy said. “You’re brilliant!”
“What?” I said.
“It’s Scissors-Paper-Stone!” Wendy said.
“Yeah!” Jimmy agreed. “The two is scissors and the five is paper!”
“And the zero is stone,” I said, finally understanding their logic. When looked at like that, it made perfect logical sense:
5 > 0 was true because paper covers stone.
0 > 2 was true because stone crushes scissors.
2 > 5 was true because scissors cuts paper.
I marvelled at Jimmy’s ability to think outside the box. I would never have figured this out on my own. I wouldn’t have bothered to count on my fingers, and even if I had, I wouldn’t have seen the shapes my hands made like Jimmy did. It was possible Jimmy was the smartest among the three of us and it was also why we worked better as a team. I knew Eliza and Nazhar’s presence would be sorely missed.
The driver grunted and started driving, which meant Jimmy was right. But unlike the last time, we still didn’t know where we were going. I ripped my hastily scribbled note from my notepad and handed it to Mom.
It turned out we didn’t have long to wait. Th
e driver stopped five minutes and two turns later. We got out and Wendy immediately began to squeal for some reason.
“It’s Insa-Dong!” she said. “It’s like art central in Seoul!”
Mystery solved, I thought, smiling to myself.
I could immediately see why she was so excited. The street we were on was lined with shops and galleries displaying and selling traditional Korean arts and crafts as well as more modern works.
“Can we visit the Hakgojae Gallery?” Wendy asked, looking straight at Moran-in-Watson who was right in front of her. “And the Gana Art Space?”
“Wait a moment, Wendy!” Bok Joo said, suddenly projecting out of Watson’s eye. “You’re not here to have fun. Well, not your own fun, anyway. You’re here to have my fun.” She smiled.
“Though, you are right, Insa-Dong is very famous as the arts neighbourhood in Seoul, so maybe I should give you some time to look around. Insa-Dong is also famous for its pajeon, so even Sherlock will enjoy it.”
“Or-perhaps-we-could-focus-on-putting-me-back-in-my-body,” Watson-in-Moran said. I could tell he was getting increasingly frustrated with the situation.
“Let’s just begin the next game,” I said, though I really did want to eat Korean pancakes. I hoped Watson would appreciate the sacrifice I was making on his (and Moran’s) behalf.
“Fine, but don’t complain later that I didn’t offer you guys a break,” Bok Joo’s projection said. I saw Mom and Dad position themselves behind Watson’s body. Dad took out his phone and grimaced slightly.
“We will be having a very special ddakji competition here in Insa-Dong,” Bok Joo continued. “You will each have to make your own ddakji using whatever material you can find in Ssamzigil, and then we’ll see which ddakji will reign supreme.”
Jimmy raised his hand immediately. Mom and Dad had started to discuss something.
“I know you’re probably wondering what ddakji is, so I’ll tell you,” Bok Joo continued. Jimmy’s hand stayed up. “It’s a children’s game where a player tries to hit other players’ ddakji on the ground and flip them over with their own ddakji. If your opponent’s ddakji lands on its reverse side, you win. However, if the ddakji flips over multiple times in the air and lands on its original side, then that does not count as a flip and you have to keep playing.”