The Mermaid from Jeju

by Sumi Hahn

  “It feels like the top of the world here, doesn’t it?” Suwol’s cropped hair was ruffled by the wind.

  Just like blackbird feathers, Junja thought.

  The boy turned around to grab a bucket wedged into a rock cleft beside a small stone well. He hefted the wooden lid off the well and tossed the bucket, which was tied to the lid by a length of rope, into the darkness below.

  “Everyone else uses the new pulley well over there,” Suwol motioned with his head as he pulled the rope, hand over fist. “I prefer the old well. The view’s better here.” He placed the brimming bucket on the ground next to Junja, who had already taken off her straw shoes and socks.

  The girl dipped her cupped hands into the bucket to drink. “Oh! That’s sweet!” She soaked one of the cloth strips to wipe her wounds.

  Suwol kept his head turned to give the girl some privacy as she tended to her feet. He squatted nearby, picking at a blade of grass as he talked. “The shrine’s a few steps from here. If you think you can go further, I could take you all the way to the temple. It’s just an hour’s walk.”

  Junja studied her feet with regret. “I don’t think I should walk too much more today. And I should be helping out with dinner soon.” She wished she could say yes. “Maybe you could take me another time.”

  “Does that mean you’ll be visiting again?” The boy asked his question so quickly that Junja became flustered.

  “I don’t know. That would depend on my mother. She was supposed to come, but I convinced her to let me take the trip instead. I’ve never been to Hallasan before.”

  “You’ve never seen the Five Hundred Generals up close?” Suwol pointed toward the distant ridge of craggy boulders that seemed to be gazing out to sea.

  This was the first time Junja had come close enough to see the rock pillars guarding Jeju’s southern coastline. Grandmother often told stories about them, claiming that the boulders housed the spirits of the warrior sons of Jeju’s creator, a giantess who formed the entire island in just seven bursts of effort. The giantess had died while cooking her sons one final meal. When the sons learned of her sacrifice, their grief had hardened them into stone. Junja bent her head toward them in respect.

  “The monks say that the Five Hundred Generals aren’t warriors at all, but sages who reached full enlightenment.” Suwol knew that Junja was thinking of the story that every child on Jeju grew up hearing. “That’s why they built the temple up there, because they consider the area sacred.”

  “My grandmother says that every family has their own story about the stones, but that they’re all similar enough to be the same.” Junja, who had finished wrapping her feet, stood up. She walked next to the boy for a better view of the rock pillars.

  Suwol looked at the girl beside him. Her eyes were shining, and the brightness of her smile made him grin. “Whatever the truth is, there’s definitely something unusual about them. I’ve climbed up to see them many times and met people with strange and wondrous stories.”

  “What kind of stories?”

  “Some people have heard the pillars talk. Others have seen faces appear, or felt warm tears on the surface.”

  Stones, Grandmother had taught Junja, housed all sorts of spirits, usually benevolent. “Do people really travel all the way up there?” After the distance she had walked, Junja found it hard to believe that some people went even further.

  Suwol nodded. “Lots of people—not just the monks. There’s a meditation hut near the peak that the monks allow everyone to use. The view up there is even better, but it’s another half day’s walk from here.”

  A buzzing whine interrupted their conversation. Both Junja and the boy shielded their eyes and squinted.

  A gray airplane hung low in the sky, trailing a line of dirty smoke.

  Suwol suppressed a curse. “That’s the second one this week.” He frowned as he watched the plane’s passage toward the water.

  “Is it Chinese?” Until a few years ago, all the war machines had been Japanese.

  The boy shook his head. “American.”

  The plane cast its shadow on the sea, a black twin that rippled on the water.

  “What’s it doing?” Junja felt chilled by the sight.

  “Searching.”

  “For what?”

  “For something that isn’t there.”

  Suwol glared at the airplane until it dipped under the horizon. He stayed silent for so long that Junja decided to make her way back to the house, to ask about helping with dinner. Just as she took a step away, Suwol remembered himself.

  “Come, let’s go to the shrine.”

  * * *

  The mountain shrine was a smooth ledge protruding from a mossy seam of rock that looked like it had been cleft in two by a giant’s ax. Junja could hear water running below the surface, under jagged boulders piled atop each other as though they had tumbled from a great height. Tendrils of vine and fern fell from both sides of the gully, like green waterfalls spilling from rocks. Sunlight beamed through the trees, illuminating every tiny insect and mote in the air.

  “This is the same spring that feeds our wells,” Suwol said, confirming Junja’s guess. “The water comes close to the surface here before diving back deep underground.” Suwol bowed toward the ledge in respect. “When it rains, or if the goddess is moody, the shrine is hidden behind a waterfall.”

  “I’m fortunate the mountain is making it easy for me today.” Junja bowed to the shrine before reaching into her waist bag. She pulled out the small handful of rice and dried jujubes Mother had given her for an offering. She placed the delicacies on the ledge, next to a small indentation filled with sand.

  “Did you bring incense or candles?” asked the boy.

  Junja shook her head as her cheeks flushed. “I was carrying too much.” Though she knew that the gods didn’t insist upon such niceties, Junja wondered if her gifts were too meager for this impressive shrine.

  “Every drop of sweat spent to climb the mountain is worth a stick of incense.” The boy spoke formally, as if making a pronouncement.

  “Who told you that?”

  “I read it somewhere.” Suwol reached into his pocket and pulled out a candle. “Unlike you, I haven’t already proven myself by climbing up this far, so I brought this along.” The boy settled the candle into the small mound of sand. “May I join you in paying my respects?”

  “Of course.”

  Suwol lit the candle and knelt next to Junja in front of the altar. They pressed their palms together in front of their chests and closed their eyes, to offer their private prayers to the god of the mountain.

  With her eyes closed, Junja sensed the shrine’s peaceful massiveness. Fluttering leaves stirred the air, mixing the richness of damp earth with the sparkling scent of water. As she repeated the mantra of gratitude under her breath, she imagined the old man of the mountain holding a wooden staff, companion tiger by his side, their eyes bright as flames. Mother, who had seen the god in all her forms, had told Junja that the mountain spirit might also make her presence known as a white-haired woman with a white stag.

  The boy and the girl ended their prayers by prostrating themselves on the ground three times. They bowed in all four cardinal directions before thanking the sky and the earth.

  As they turned from the altar, Junja waited for Suwol to break the silence. She cleared her throat, but when the boy still didn’t speak, she blurted out a question, unable to contain her curiosity. “What did you use to light the candle? Was it a lighter?” Suwol had not used a match, but a small object resembling a lighter that belonged to one of the men in her village. The man was so protective of his American-made Zippo that he never let anyone touch it.

  Suwol pulled a slim cylinder out of his pocket and held it out. “You want to try it?”

  Junja gingerly lifted the brass lighter, which surprised her by being cool to the touch. “I thought it would be hot. How do you make a flame with it?”

  “You have to pull the flint wheel back to mak
e a spark.” Suwol demonstrated.

  Junja ignited the lighter on her second try and gasped in delight. “How clever! Where did you get it?”

  “It was made by Austrian soldiers, from an empty bullet cartridge. The lighter used to belong to a Japanese general before it became my father’s. He gave it to me when I turned eighteen.”

  The small object suddenly seemed to burn Junja’s hand. She hastily returned it to Suwol. Her words were careful. “Was the general someone your father knew?”

  Suwol raised an eyebrow. “Are you asking if my father was friendly enough with the Japs to be given a gift by one of their generals? The answer would be no. The lighter was left behind when the dog Hirohito pulled his troops.” He spat.

  Junja breathed out in relief. Everyone in her family loathed the Japanese, refusing to touch anything that once belonged to the bloodsuckers. The traitors who had collaborated with them were lower than thieves. “I’m glad they’re gone.”

  Suwol nodded. “I am too.” His face darkened. “But their replacements may be just as bad.”

  Junja, who had been warned not to talk about the political situation, changed the subject. “Could you show me the way back to the house, please? I don’t want your mother to think I’m avoiding my duties in the kitchen.”

  Five

  Dinner that night resembled a village feast, with as many dishes of banchan as there were people. Suwol’s mother, as the wife of the eldest son, wore her authority lightly, issuing soft-spoken orders to all the women in the kitchen with a gracious smile. A diminutive, plump beauty with dimples and the fairest skin Junja had ever seen, she was obviously not from Jeju, a difference that was underscored by her soft, undulating accent.

  “Little Auntie, could you bring out more of your bean sprout soup? It’s so good that I don’t think one pot will be enough.”

  “Won-Bin’s Mother, that batch of chive kimchi may be a tad past its prime. Could you taste it, please, before setting it out?”

  Because the spring weather was so mild, the menfolk, including Suwol, were eating outside in the main courtyard, while the women and children ate in the kitchen courtyard.

  Suwol’s mother offered Junja a bowl of gosari. “We pick these ferns from a special spot on the mountain, where they taste the best. It’s your mother’s favorite food to eat whenever she visits. Try!”

  Junja hesitated, feeling guilty. She understood now why Mother made the yearly trip up the mountain to visit her friend. The two of them had met when the small woman first came to Jeju as a young bride; they had been close ever since. Though Suwol’s mother had welcomed Junja warmly, her disappointment had been obvious. “At least you resemble your mother enough for me to pretend you’re her.” As Junja helped prepare dinner, the small woman had peppered Junja with questions about her mother’s health, disposition, and work.

  Suwol’s mother held out the bowl of gosari and urged Junja again. “Go ahead! Eat!”

  Junja took a small taste to be polite. The meaty brown tendrils were tender and earthy. “Delicious!”

  “Then you must have more.” Suwol’s mother dropped a fat clump of fern into Junja’s rice bowl with her chopsticks.

  “This is far too much!” Junja gasped at the amount, which could have been shared by her entire family at dinnertime.

  “Your mother could eat twice this amount!” The small woman’s dimples winked as she smiled. “For folks on the mountain, gosari is as commonplace as seaweed is to folks on the shore.” She gestured to Junja’s bandaged feet. “Do your feet feel better now? That honey salve is very effective.”

  “They don’t hurt at all, thank you for asking. I think the water helped too. Your mountain spring is the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.”

  Suwol’s mother laughed. “Suwol’s father always says that too. I, however, want to stand in my kitchen courtyard and pump water straight into a pot. That would be far more beautiful than lugging around heavy jugs of water, don’t you think?”

  “Oh, that would be so nice.” Junja sighed. It was her duty to keep the earthenware pots filled with water from the village well. She made that trip twice a day, staggering under the urn strapped to her back.

  “The world is changing very quickly.” Suwol’s mother patted her hand. “Someday every house in the village will be connected to the well by a pipe. When that happens, I promise, your mother will be first in line!”

  A ruckus in the kitchen courtyard distracted the women. Suwol was being swarmed by a group of little children led by Peanut, who were all clamoring to be picked up and tossed in the air.

  “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 w
as 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.