The Mermaid from Jeju

by Sumi Hahn

  Next, the general barked at Constable Lee, nostrils flaring in disgust. “Constable, it does not befit a Nationalist officer to accept bribes. We are here to aid our countrymen in Jeju, not profit from them. You will not accept any payment from these women. As a reminder of your duties, you will escort this group back to whatever village they came from. Make sure they stay there.”

  The general did not deign to look at Grandmother as he spoke. “It is my sincere hope that we never see any of you again.”

  With that last comment, the general brushed his sleeve and walked away.

  Twenty

  Leaving Jeju City was a sorry crawl. Suwol, who was limping, walked more slowly than Grandmother. The constable kept up his drunken charade, drinking from his flask, singing, and weaving from one side of the road to the other. When Junja tried to speak, grandmother held up a warning hand. She kept Junja close, far away from the boy.

  Several hours later, the forest began to grow sparse, giving way to open fields. The constable announced loudly that he was going to take a piss as he ducked behind a tree. When he returned, he was walking briskly, all pretense dropped.

  “Thank you, Junja, for giving me the idea that saved our necks back there. I’m curious, though: How did you and the guard know each other?”

  Junja frowned. “I don’t think I was that obvious, sir.”

  The constable laughed and addressed Junja’s grandmother. “She inherited your cool head.” He turned back to Junja. “The guard gave it away, not you. As luck would have it, General Kim never looked at the young man. Who was he, and how did you know him?”

  Junja described the motorcycle ride that she and Suwol had taken from the mountain pass to the village. Grandmother clucked over how precarious the situation had actually been.

  The old woman stroked her granddaughter’s hand. “You did well, Junja. Remarkably well. If I had known about the guard, I would’ve been too terrified to think straight.”

  Suwol, who had kept silent, tried to speak. “May I—”

  He was halted by the constable’s raised hand. “Not a word in my presence. I’m so angry at your stupidity, I could’ve shot you myself.”

  The constable looked back at the road they had just traveled. “Best to keep going as quickly as you can. From here it’s another four or five hours to the turnoff. If you hurry, you’ll make it to the next forest before sundown. You can sleep there and continue on to the village in the morning. I have to part ways with you now.”

  Grandmother looked concerned. “Is there a problem?”

  “Just a few minor adjustments because of what happened with Suwol. I’ll join you at the village in a day or so, with the additional soldiers I warned you about.” The constable addressed Suwol next. “Now would be the time to act like a true hero. Tell your family to leave the mountain as soon as possible. Yesterday would have been better, but no later than the end of the week.”

  With that enigmatic remark, Constable Lee ran back into the forest. Grandmother, Junja, and Suwol watched him disappear as they resumed their trudging.

  Suwol grimaced. “I don’t trust anyone in a Nationalist uniform. He’s probably going to shoot us in the back.”

  Grandmother’s lips curled. “Use your head. Why would Mr. Lee go to such lengths to free you, only to shoot you on the road home?”

  Suwol glanced at Junja, who refused to look at him. “How did the constable know that I had been arrested?”

  Grandmother’s reply was curt. “The answer should be obvious.”

  “He’s been following me?” The boy swore.

  “You know very little about the constable or his motives.” The old woman shook her head. “Don’t judge him when you know less than nothing.”

  “Do you know for certain that the constable was following me? Or are you speculating?”

  “How else could he have known?” Grandmother glared at Suwol. “You’re not in a position to be asking us for answers, young man. If you want to know why the constable was following you, perhaps you should tell us why you were jailed in the first place. How did that fellow put it? ‘Found in a rather compromising position?’” The old woman laughed.

  Suwol shut his mouth. Grandmother pulled Junja to her side. She wanted the boy to reflect, undistracted. Had Junja’s concern for the boy not been obvious to everyone, Suwol would still be incarcerated, or worse. Of that she was certain.

  * * *

  The threesome had been walking for several hours when a clatter from the road ahead halted them in their tracks. A horse-drawn cart, raising a cloud of dust, rattled around a bend. Suwol, Junja, and the old woman stepped aside to let the cart pass. As it drew closer, Suwol squinted.

  “That looks just like—”

  “Suwol? Is that you?”

  Suwol whooped. “Father!”

  Grandmother beamed. “What excellent timing. Never has a horse smelled so lovely.”

  After introductions and bows were exchanged, Suwol and Junja were given the task of turning the cart around. Mr. Yang explained how he had left the mountain as soon as he heard that Suwol had been arrested.

  The old woman startled everyone with the bluntness of her question. “What kind of kinship exists between you and Mr. Lee to make a Nationalist constable keep an eye on your foolhardy son?”

  Mr. Yang’s face remained blank at first, before creasing into a grin. “Mr. Lee told me to be careful around you. He said you were as clever as his mother and as good a cook. He also said that if the Nationalist army had twenty men like you, we wouldn’t be in this terrible situation, where blood is pitted against blood.”

  The flattery failed to distract the old woman. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  Junja and Suwol listened with growing astonishment. “Did you know that your father knows Constable Lee?” Junja whispered to Suwol, who shook his head.

  Mr. Yang rubbed his chin. “Simply put, Mr. Lee is Suwol’s first cousin.”

  Suwol interrupted his elders with a shriek. “A Nationalist constable is my cousin? How is that possible?”

  “He’s your mother’s elder sister’s only child.” Suwol’s father shrugged.

  “Mother has an elder sister?”

  “Half sister. In Seoul. Your mother’s mother was the second wife, not the first.” Mr. Yang turned to grandmother. “Apologies for my son’s rudeness. I’m sure you understand why he doesn’t know much about this part of the family tree.” He gestured to the horse cart. “May I offer you a ride, Auntie?”

  The old woman took his offered hand and climbed into the cart. Mr. Yang clambered up after her. When Junja and Suwol tried to climb on as well, Mr. Yang held up his hand.

  “The horse can’t pull all of us. This road’s much too steep. You two can cut across the hill and catch up with us at the pass.” Mr. Yang rummaged under his seat and pulled out a carefully wrapped bundle. “Mother packed some food. Should be enough for both of you. Don’t dally and be careful.”

  When the dust from the cart settled, Suwol opened the cloth bundle. He took out two rolls of bing-tteok and gave one to Junja before taking a large bite. “They hardly fed us.” He wolfed down another mouthful.

  Junja nibbled and chewed slowly to make her roll last. She was hungry too, but she knew that Suwol was hungrier. When he offered her another roll, she declined, telling him that he could have the rest.

  When he finished eating, Suwol gulped water from the gourd and belched. “I feel almost human again.” He tried to reach for Junja’s hand, but the girl held it out of reach.

  Junja crossed her arms. “Why don’t you tell me what kind of errands you’ve been running to get yourself arrested in Jeju City?”

  Suwol looked away. “Just some pig-related business for my father. It was all a misunderstanding.”

  The girl sighed. “No wonder they put you in jail. You’re a terrible liar.”

  “Actually, I’m pretty good at lying. But it’s really hard lying to you.” Suwol tried to take her hand again, but Junja shook
him off.

  Suwol sniffed the air. “Do I smell that bad?”

  “Stop changing the subject. Why is everything such a big secret with you? Just tell me what you’ve been doing.”

  The boy sighed. “I’ve made oaths. I don’t want to break them.”

  “I saved your life.” Junja started walking faster. “I think that’s worth more than some oath.”

  By some trick of light, the blue of the sky found its mirror image in the ocean, which was now visible on the horizon. The sudden breeze that ruffled the surface of the water swept the hair off their faces. Junja looked up, sensing the airplane before she could hear it. She watched it approach, mesmerized by its speed.

  The machine roared overhead, so low she could read its numbers.

  Junja ducked with a cry, and Suwol reached for her hand.

  “You’re safe. It’s gone.” His arms closed around her.

  “I’ve never seen one come so close.”

  “They fly down low like that when they’re on search missions.”

  “What are they searching for?”

  “Communist rebels.”

  Junja raised her eyebrow. “Did they see one?”

  Suwol didn’t answer.

  The plane flew out to sea and then turned, forming a large arc in the sky. It headed back toward land, winging toward the mountain.

  “They’re not looking for individuals, but large encampments.” Suwol felt a prick of worry.

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because I do.”

  “What about Cloud House Farm? Do they go there too?”

  “Every day. And every day the planes fly lower.”

  “That can’t be good.”

  “It’s not.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “There’s been talk of moving to the shore, like my Nationalist half cousin recommended.” Suwol’s tone veered on sarcasm.

  “Maybe he knows what he’s talking about. You could stay in my village.”

  “Would you like having me closer?”

  “That depends on whether you trust me enough to tell me the truth about what you’ve been doing.”

  The boy kicked a stone from the path. “You’re beginning to sound like my mother.”

  Junja walked faster, annoyed. Her irritation wasn’t with the boy, but with herself and her unruly pleasure in being near him. She thought about the men in the marketplace and the young American who bought her dinner. She had been flattered by their attentions, but they aroused no feelings in her. Suwol, however, affected her in ways that made her blush. She wanted to touch him so badly that she had to clench her hands to keep them from reaching out.

  The silence stretched out. When Suwol finally spoke, his voice cracked. “If I tell you what you want to know, would you at least look at me?”

  Junja stopped walking. The boy’s face lit up.

  She took his hand. “Tell me everything. Especially the part about you lying naked with another man.”

  Twenty-One

  Junja’s grandmother kept her perch atop the narrow wooden seat by gripping its splintery sides. The motion of the cart on the uneven dirt road pained her, but she was grateful not to be walking. Suwol’s father was trying to explain the complicated history that had led to his son being secretly shadowed by his wife’s nephew.

  Mr. Yang had grown up on the mountain with Kim Dal Sam, one of the alleged leaders of the Communist party on Jeju. A cabbage farmer’s son, Mr. Kim had been known for his precocious intelligence. A neighboring nobleman sponsored the young man, sending him to study in Seoul. There, Mr. Kim had met Constable Lee, in a noodle shop popular with students. The two of them became friends over an argument about which kind of meat made the best broth. Their paths had diverged until they unexpectedly crossed again on Jeju, this time on opposite sides of a simmering conflict that neither man had ever imagined would turn bloody.

  “And yet blood has been spilled,” the old woman murmured, thinking of her daughter.

  “It’s as if some kind of madness has seized the government in Seoul,” exclaimed Mr. Yang. “Jeju has always gone its own way. How does acting as we’ve always done turn us into Communist rebels?”

  “You keep calling Kim Dal Sam a rebel leader.” The old woman was trying to make sense of this new information. “Is he a Communist after all?” If the man had attended university in Seoul, the idea was not as far-fetched as she had first thought.

  “Kim Dal Sam is leading a group of starving peasants with pitchforks. He’s a thorn in the US military’s side, so they’ve labeled him a Chinese spy and Communist rebel. Now, he’s a legitimate target.”

  How horribly familiar this sounded to the old woman. This was how the madness began, with lies that swallowed individuals before devouring an entire country. “It started like this with the Japanese. They showed up on our doorstep, ordering us around and demanding our allegiance. No one took them seriously at first—it was too outrageous.”

  Mr. Yang thought of his father, who had served in the royal court and witnessed what happened there. “It’s a convenient excuse, to blame everything on the invaders. But the kingdom was corrupted from within.”

  “Of course, it was. The royal court has always attracted the greedy and the unscrupulous. Many of the nobles were traitorous thieves who only cared about themselves and grabbing as much as they could. If the Japanese hadn’t been our ruin, then the Chinese would have been. Korea is now playing the bone again between two dogs, this time Russia and America.””

  “Selfish brutes. We should have killed all the collaborators, every single one of them.”

  The old woman had to disagree. Anyone who believed that violence could be justified had already succumbed to the madness of war. She remembered what it was like, emerging from that delirium, realizing what she had done when she killed those Japanese soldiers. “You would think a rabid beast like war can’t sneak up on you, but it does. Knowing who’s gone crazy—that’s the trick.”

  Mr. Yang confirmed what Grandmother Goh had already guessed: Constable Lee was a man who held fast to his moral bearings. Upon his deployment to Jeju as a Nationalist officer, he had contacted Kim Dal Sam, who agreed to meet despite their conflicting circumstances. Mr. Yang, as a relative by marriage to one man and a childhood friend to the other, had been asked to host the secret gathering. It was the first time Mr. Yang had met his wife’s half cousin. Constable Lee appeared to be a man of unusual intelligence and empathy.

  “Yes, you’re right. Mr. Lee possesses a great deal of jeong,” said the old woman.

  Suwol had been eavesdropping on that clandestine meeting. When Mr. Lee left the room, the boy emerged from his hiding place to pledge his loyalty to Kim Dal Sam and his service to the rebel cause.

  “My wife didn’t know whether to faint or to beat our son when the boy made his rash promise. She was pulling him away by his ear when Mr. Kim stopped her. He said he could use a good messenger, one familiar with the mountain paths and who wouldn’t raise suspicions.”

  After learning of the arrangement from the boy’s distraught mother, Mr. Lee had offered to watch Suwol to make sure he didn’t get hurt. The situation was more fraught than Suwol’s mother knew: Constable Lee would be playing a double game to justify his movements. He told his Nationalist superiors that he was following Suwol because he believed the boy might lead him to rebel leader Kim. The gambit gave the constable access to privileged information and additional resources but doubled his risk.

  The old woman sighed. “That’s how the constable knew Suwol had gotten into trouble in Jeju City. And why the general and the constable seemed to know each other.”

  Mr. Yang nodded, mouth grim. Constable Lee was walking a perilous path indeed.

  The old woman looked thoughtful. “Why didn’t Suwol recognize his cousin if he’s met him before?”

  Suwol’s father coughed. “How do I say this? The man has a knack for disappearing into his work. He has quite a talent for disguise, one tha
t might have served him well in different circumstances.”

  A plane roared over the cart, halting their conversation and startling the horse, which reared with a whinny. Mr. Yang jumped down to calm the beast, clucking and stroking its neck. The plane made a slow wide turn over open water before doubling back toward the mountain.

  As he climbed back onto the cart, Mr. Yang watched the plane with a troubled expression. “The sooner I get home, the better I’ll feel.” He turned to the old woman. “My wife will want to thank you for what you did. Perhaps I could persuade you and Junja to join us for a visit? You would be our guests, and I could take you back to the village tomorrow morning.”

  The old woman considered. She would be able to assess the Yang family’s situation while taking the next step in the scheme that she and Mr. Lee had devised. If the plan succeeded, Suwol’s safety would be bolstered alongside Junja’s security. Two birds with one stone, as the constable liked to say. She wished she could consult him about this last-minute change in plans, but decided to take advantage of the unexpected opportunity. How much of a difference would a night on the mountain make anyway?

  The old woman nodded. “I accept your generous invitation. Let’s make sure we get to the pass before the children do.” She clasped her hands in her lap and hoped that the constable would approve.

  Twenty-Two

  Back in the forest, Constable Lee gathered pine cones and fallen branches. When the pile of kindling was large enough to last through the night, he built a fire. As the flames roared, he took off the smelly oversized jacket and stained pants that kept people at a preferred distance. Next, he unwound the bindings around his torso that held his spare clothes in place like a pot belly. He spat out the wads of wool that padded his cheeks and threw them into the fire along with the filthy uniform he had just removed.

  He went to the creek and removed his underclothes and boots. He polished the boots with leaves and laundered everything else in the water, taking care to scrub out stains against the rocks. As the heat from the fire dried his clothes, he took out a small mirror and a pair of scissors. He stood on the bank, completely naked, as he cut off his long bushy hair and most of the bulk from his beard. He heated a tin of water over the fire and soaked his silk handkerchief before wringing it out and placing the steaming cloth against his face. He unfolded a razor and started shaving, taking care not to nick himself. Finally, he trimmed the hair on his head, peering into the mirror to make minute adjustments.