Chapter 12
Is this the first time you've seen someone who actually wants to help?
To achieve enlightenment, one must resolve their regrets. Isn't it the café staff's duty to help with that?
From Jeongjikhan's perspective, refusing to help would mean abandoning his responsibility.
"Every employee who's worked here until now has been like that. Serving coffee with dead eyes and half-heartedly listening to complaints. None stepped up earnestly like you, Jeongjikhan."
"Maybe because I'm new."
"Quite the opposite. Newcomers usually tremble when we speak to them, terrified as if we'll devour them. They cling to the delusion of immortality, blind to life's final sprint."
Sookhee spun her mug idly, chin propped on her palm.
Jeongjikhan sat facing her and ventured carefully,
"Sookhee... What's your relationship with the team leader?"
"Team leader? Which one?"
"Team Leader Cha Seungpyo."
"Team 1's Cha Seungpyo? He oversees Yongsan-gu and Seongdong-gu. Why?"
Sookhee vacillated between casual and formal speech, uncertain of their dynamic.
Jeongjikhan broke the tension first.
"Just speak comfortably. This back-and-forth is confusing."
"Hmm... Let's settle it this way. I witnessed Korea's modernization firsthand, though my lived years are fewer than yours."
"But having witnessed that history, doesn't that make you my senior? I only know these things through textbooks."
"Then... I'll speak plainly."
"Please."
Sookhee averted her eyes, suddenly self-conscious.
When Jeongjikhan smiled encouragingly, she stole a glance at him and continued:
"Team Leader Cha? We're merely old acquaintances. No deep conversations - just passing greetings over decades."
"Really? I assumed you were close since he knows about your... final moments."
"Knows? He works in the afterlife department. Probably just skimmed my profile."
Oh.
I thought you shared a deeper bond.
As Jeongjikhan's smile turned strained, Sookhee wet her lips and pressed on:
"Curious about how I died?"
"If you're willing to share."
She swallowed thickly, tension lining her face.
Was this embarrassment?
No.
Unlike Kim Jinseong's resignation, anticipation thrummed beneath her words.
She's hoping.
Having witnessed Kim Jinseong's resolution, she clung to the possibility of her own redemption.
"My father headed Gaeseong's largest trading company."
The revelation surprised Jeongjikhan - Sookhee's death during the Korean War demanded a different prologue. But interrupting felt wrong when she finally opened up.
"Gaeseong? That's... in the North now?"
"Correct. The Gaeseong Industrial Complex? You've heard about its recent demolition?"
He nodded, recalling news footage of dynamited buildings.
"Now it's history forgotten."
"I want to hear it."
As Jeongjikhan leaned forward, Sookhee sipped her coffee.
"Seven merchant clans ruled Gaeseong then - the Chilseonghoe. Our Samseong Sanghoe led them."
"Sa-Samseong?! Not the modern Samsung...?"
"Different characters. Ours was 三聖 (Three Saints), not their 三星 (Three Stars)."
Jeongjikhan nearly choked. Given Sookhee's era, her family's enterprise predated Japanese occupation.
"Think we collaborated with Japan?" Sookhee smirked at his startled expression.
"No! Never-"
He waved frantically until her faint smile stopped him.
"Trading companies were... creative then. Father sold furs to Japanese troops to fund Soviet firearms."
"Guns? Through a trading company?"
"Lawless times. Guess where those weapons went?"
"To... independence fighters?"
Jeongjikhan gaped. Selling to occupiers to arm rebels?
"But how? Where's the profit?"
"Furs were one product. We traded spices, silk, grain..."
"Ah."
The revelation hung between them - history's gray morality preserved in coffee-scented air.
"Of course, my father, who was a merchant, also traded with the independence fighters."
"What kind of trade?"
"He asked them to escort the caravan when it traveled."
"Providing weapons in exchange for escort services?"
"It’s hard to imagine such a story today."
Sookhee shrugged her shoulders and continued.
"You know Somali pirates, right?"
"I do."
"Imagine those kinds of people appearing every ten miles."
"......"
"It was an era when Japanese troops, Chinese troops, and bandits infested the caravan routes. We passed through Primorsky Krai on our way to the Soviet Union. Can you fathom how much turmoil unfolded there?"
True, we now live in peaceful times, but Sookhee’s childhood was stained with the bloodshed of World War I and World War II.
Sookhee folded her arms and went on.
"My father always carried a rifle and wore a tiger pelt when traveling far. Quite different from the merchants you see on TV, no?"
"It’s unimaginable. A merchant trading with independence fighters and clad in tiger pelts."
When picturing merchants, one envisions hanbok-clad figures riding carriages—yet Sookhee’s description completely颠覆Jeongjikhan’s assumptions.
Sookhee gave a faint smile, sipped her coffee, and said,
"People oversimplify things."
"Oversimplify?"
"Even when discussing independence fighters, they split them into extremes: purely good or purely evil."
This was a perspective only Sookhee, having lived through that era, could offer.
As Jeongjikhan listened closely, Sookhee continued.
"Some independence fighters genuinely dedicated themselves to the nation. Others were bandits disguised as fighters, pillaging villages."
"......"
"That’s why everyone’s memory of them differs. Over generations, stories warp, and history lessons reduce them to fragments—how could anyone grasp the full reality?"
"......"
"I even met the White Tiger gentleman. He sent a congratulatory letter for my wedding."
At the word "wedding," Jeongjikhan noticed the jade ring on Sookhee’s finger.
She toyed with the ring as she spoke.
"He was... remarkable."
"How did you meet?"
"While leading a caravan with my father through Primorsky Krai, we encountered bandits. That man saved my life."
Sookhee’s gaze softened with memory.
The gentle curve of her lips betrayed the smile her husband’s memory evoked.
Enthralled, Jeongjikhan leaned in as Sookhee continued.
"My husband was an independence fighter from a tenant farming family."
"Your father didn’t object?"
"I was a headstrong girl. Few in that era would’ve favored someone like me."
"Haha..."
"But he... saw me without judgment. Respected me as I was."
Sookhee’s eyes glistened.
A century’s worth of longing—Jeongjikhan couldn’t fathom its weight.
Sookhee exhaled sharply, cradling her mug.
"That’s why I joined every caravan trip. Just hoping to see him again."
"Did you?"
"Fate connects who it will. Coincidences stacked up. We exchanged letters, vowed to marry after liberation, and swore to survive until then."
She smiled bitterly, sipping her coffee. Jeongjikhan drank from his water glass.
"Liberation finally came when we’d stopped expecting it. But when I returned to Primorsky Krai, he wasn’t there."
"Oh..."
"Yet that’s how I learned we’d been yearning for each other."
"What do you mean?"
"I went to Primorsky Krai for him—he’d gone to Kaesong for me."
A story more cinematic than any film.
Jeongjikhan hung on every word. Such raw, desperate love seemed alien in modern times—a passion born at life-and-death crossroads.
"Years after liberation, we pledged our lives together."
"So that’s when you got the jade ring."
"Yes. But happiness was fleeting."
A few years post-liberation meant...
The Korean War’s outbreak.
As Jeongjikhan listened solemnly, Sookhee recounted:
"Flags flooded the land. The North Korean army enforced their ideology—disobedience meant the sword."
"......"
"Wealthy households? They aimed guns first."
"......"
"My parents... shot by a North Korean officer. Our family erased in moments."
Jeongjikhan struggled for words. To him, history; to her, living nightmare.
"That night, I fled holding my husband’s hand. My three-year-old brother too."
"Without escaping..."
"We’d have been executed."
"......"
"Terrifying. We crossed hills empty-handed. Tears wouldn’t stop. Bloodied hands, scratched face, swollen toes ready to burst."
"......"
"I nearly gave up. But watching my husband climb ahead, gripping my hand... and my brother, soaked in tears..."
Her composed retelling twisted Jeongjikhan’s heart.
"Descending meant gunfire. Checkpoints everywhere. We drifted between hills for days, eating berries. My husband’s rare successful hunts brought fleeting joy."
"......"
"That era... was madness. Liberation’s suddenness left pent-up rage unmoored. So they turned blades on同胞 with different ideals."
"......"
A truth only Sookhee could voice.
Her lower lip quivered briefly before she steadied herself.
"Eventually, even mountains weren’t safe. They burned hills to ‘purge reactionaries.’ We kept moving north."
"......"
"Freezing. Exhausted. Starving. Each night I massaged my brother’s limbs, fearing he’d freeze. My husband gave his own clothes to warm him."
Jeongjikhan’s eyes welled. He marveled at her resilience through such torment.
"Then came news—South Korean and U.S. troops landed at Incheon. Our chance arrived."
"Chance?"
"To reach the land of freedom. South Korea."
Jeongjikhan nodded. Sookhee stared into her coffee.
"An exceptionally... cold winter. The sea then—murky as this brew."
