After meeting her father like that, Yeongchae was seized by a guard and led back to the waiting room. This guard was different from the one who had held the rope earlier—he was very kind and tried to comfort her. He sat her down on a bench in the waiting room and said earnestly, "Don't cry. Your father will be released before you know it." But Yeongchae was not foolish enough to be fooled. She knew those were just words to console her. She threw her head back and wept for a long time. The guard, unable to soothe her, finally said, "Stop crying and go home now," and left for wherever he was needed.
At that moment, a man sitting nearby—his head shaved, wearing a woolen overcoat—asked her very kindly, "Why are you crying? Did someone come to visit you?" Yeongchae told him everything: that her father and two older brothers were in this prison, that they were innocent, and that she had come all this way alone just to see her father. She thought that if she told him this, he might take pity on her, let her visit her father more often, and perhaps even feed her for a while.
When the man heard this, he comforted her with the most sincere and affectionate words. "You poor thing. Stay at my house and wait for the next visiting day. They only allow visits once a month. Come stay with me for a month, then see your father again before you go home," he said.
Hearing that she would have to wait another month to see her father again made her heart heavy, but she could not express how grateful she was for his kindness. When she had first set out from home, she had thought that once she reached Pyongyang and found her father, she would be able to stay with him forever. But now that she had actually arrived, she realized she couldn't even be with him—she could only see him once a month. On top of that, she had no money and knew no one in Pyongyang. She had to worry about where she would sleep and eat, starting that very evening. It was already past the twentieth day of the eighth month, and the mornings and evenings were turning chilly. The cold wind seeped through her thin cotton jacket and ramie undershirt, and without anything to cover herself at night, she would curl up her limbs and still be unable to sleep.
Last night she had huddled in the upper corner of some house outside Chilseongmun, shivering all night without a wink of sleep. From morning her stomach had started to ache, and she had suffered from diarrhea three times before even meeting her father. Exhausted from the many days of grueling travel and hardship, and crushed by the sorrow and disappointment of seeing her father today, she had no strength left in her body, no will to take a single step.
Just then, this man appeared and offered to take her in with such kindness. Amid her grief, Yeongchae felt some relief. Still, remembering how she had been deceived by a shaved-headed man at an inn in Sukcheon, she wondered if this man might be the same kind of swindler. She studied his words and actions closely. But unlike the man in Sukcheon, this one was well-dressed and had a dignified face. No matter how she looked, he did not seem like an evil person. And even if he tried to trick her, she thought, she could always bite his nose and run away. For now, she wanted warm rice to eat, and she longed to sleep under a blanket in a heated room. She figured that if she went to his house, he would surely give her delicious food and a blanket to cover herself. Someone dressed as well as he was must have a comfortable home.
So Yeongchae followed him as he had suggested. Even on the way, he held her hand and asked her various questions kindly. She answered weakly, lacking energy. His house was inside Namdaemun. They arrived just as Yeongchae was so exhausted she could barely walk. The house was not very large, but even at first glance it seemed clean. On the gate hung a nameplate that read "Kim Unryong." Yeongchae thought the calligraphy was quite good.
Inside, the courtyard and rooms were immaculately clean. There was a pretty young woman and a girl. Yeongchae assumed the woman was the man's wife and the girl his sister. Why was there no mother? She thought perhaps his mother, like her own grandmother, had grown old and died. Everything matched her expectations, so Yeongchae felt completely at ease. Especially because there was a girl who seemed to be his sister, and no other men around—that made her even more comfortable.
Everyone in the household was fond of her. That evening, just as she had hoped, she ate delicious rice with beef soup for the first time in a long while. After the meal, the man went out somewhere, and Yeongchae sat with the woman and the girl, lighting a lamp and chatting. The girl, who thought Yeongchae was a boy, did not speak much, but the woman asked all sorts of questions about Yeongchae's circumstances. When the woman affectionately stroked her hair and touched her hand, Yeongchae was so moved that she told her whole story through tears. As she explained how she had disguised herself as a man and run away from her maternal home to find her father and brothers, and how she had suffered all sorts of hardships along the way, the girl's eyes grew wide, and the woman sobbed as she patted Yeongchae's back and embraced her neck.
After hearing everything, the woman wiped her tears with her skirt string and said, "I thought your face looked like a girl's—I wondered why." Then she opened a chest and took out a newly made set of clothes. Yeongchae declined a few times but eventually put them on. From then on, the three of them grew even closer, laughing and talking. The girl, who had been sitting there pretending not to know anything, suddenly burst out laughing and held Yeongchae's hand, speaking warmly.
For a time, Yeongchae even forgot about her father and brothers. She felt as happy as if she had returned to a home she had lost. Late that night, the man came back and was astonished to hear from his wife what Yeongchae had told her. Then everyone laughed. Days passed like this, and Yeongchae wished for the month to hurry by so she could see her father again and tell him about these great benefactors.
When you wait, a month can feel terribly long. Gradually, Yeongchae began to think of her father. She started to recall his terribly gaunt and haggard face, his sunken eyes, the yellow-dyed prison clothes, the bearded guards, and the men who carried waste buckets with iron chains around their waists. Every time she looked at the fine, warm clothes she now wore, and every time she ate the delicious food morning and evening, she saw her father's pitiful image before her eyes.
Yeongchae grew less and less cheerful. She stopped eating well and would often sit alone and cry. The woman and the girl still comforted her kindly, but that comfort lasted only a few days. When she sat alone without the woman or the girl, tears would flow naturally. Why couldn't she save her father and two older brothers? Why couldn't she get them out of prison? Even if she couldn't get them freed, couldn't she at least send them clean clothes and good food? She had heard that in the prison they ate rice mixed half with beans. Her father had become so emaciated—perhaps it was because the old man wasn't getting enough food.
She remembered stories in old books about maidens who sold their bodies to save their parents from punishment. If only she could do the same. One day, Yeongchae told the man about this intention. He praised her resolve, then looked at her face and said, "If you had money, you could send food in, and you might even be able to get them out." Yeongchae recalled the old tales. When she had first heard about the maiden who sold herself to ransom her father, Yeongchae had been less than ten years old, and she had wept and wished she could do the same. Now, hearing the man say that money could provide food or even secure a release, she thought about doing it herself.
When the man added, "But you'd need the money," and smiled as he looked at her face, Yeongchae thought: Ah, this gentleman is also encouraging me to do what that maiden did long ago. If I follow her example and sell my body, I can get the money, and then my father and brothers will be released from prison. Once they are free, they will praise me. The world will call me a filial daughter. I'll be recorded in books like that maiden, and countless other girls will read about me, cry, and praise me. But if I don't sell myself to save my parents and brothers, this gentleman and everyone else will mock me as an unfilial woman.
She also thought about what she had seen in this house: the woman had originally been a gisaeng, and the girl was currently training to become one. The gisaeng who came to visit every day all had beautiful faces, wore fine clothes, and seemed kind-hearted. Yeongchae concluded that gisaeng were all good maidens. Moreover, seeing how well they could write and how much they knew of literature, she decided that gisaeng were all well-educated girls. So Yeongchae made up her mind. She said to the man, "I have decided. I want to become a gisaeng too. I have learned to read and write a little. With that money, I intend to save my father." She felt an inexplicable joy and a kind of pride.
The man patted her back and said, "How remarkable. Truly a filial daughter. I will arrange everything as you wish."
That was how Yeongchae became a gisaeng. She had never wanted to become one. She had done it in the hope of saving her elderly father. In truth, not only did the money from selling herself fail to rescue her father and brothers, but the man who had promised to arrange everything took the two hundred won she earned, abandoned his house and wife, and ran off somewhere. Moreover, when her father heard that Yeongchae had sold herself to become a gisaeng to free him, he stopped eating and killed himself. But Yeongchae had not chosen to become a gisaeng—she had done it solely to rescue her elderly father and her brothers.
Yet who would understand this? Heaven and the spirits might know, but ordinary people who eat cooked rice—how could they know? Even if I told Hyung-sik now, would he believe me? He would probably think that my conduct had been loose and that's why I became a prostitute, and now that I'm older and tired of the gisaeng life, I'm trying to deceive him. He might mock me instead. When I visited the prison two or three months after becoming a gisaeng, my father flew into a rage as soon as he heard I had become one. "You wretch! You've disgraced our illustrious family! What seducer got to you so young that you've already defiled yourself?" He assumed I had become a gisaeng due to immoral behavior, and in the end, he killed himself. If even my own parent thought that way, how could Hyung-sik possibly trust my words? This morning, when I resolved to find Hyung-sik, I intended to tell him everything that had happened. But now that these thoughts have come, that resolve has dissolved completely. All that remains is grief and resentment surging in my chest. Ah, is there truly no one in this world to hear my true feelings?
Thinking this, Yeongchae let out a deep sigh, wiped her tears, and looked at Hyung-sik and the old woman. Hyung-sik was gazing at her face with affectionate eyes, waiting for the rest of her story. The old woman was stroking Yeongchae's back and blowing her nose.
"So what happened after you escaped that villain?" Hyung-sik urged her to continue.
Yeongchae gazed at him for a long moment, then wiped her tears and stood up.
"I will tell you another time."
"Why are you leaving?" Hyung-sik tried to stop her, but she ignored him. She did not even answer when he asked where she was staying. She took the young girl's hand and left.
Hyung-sik and the old woman looked at each other.
"What was that about?" they said.
Watching Yeongchae suddenly stop speaking and leave in a hurry, Hyung-sik stood there dumbfounded for a long moment, then ran out the door without even putting on his hat. But among the countless passersby, he could not find where she had gone. He regretted not following her out immediately. He paced up and down the street for a while, then returned home in despair. The old woman was still sitting there, tears streaming down her face.
Hyung-sik leaned against his desk, alone with his thoughts of Yeongchae. Why had she cut off her story in the middle and left so hastily? Why had she wept so bitterly and then stopped? No matter how he thought, he could not understand the reason. Had he done something displeasing to her? No, he had listened to her words with the utmost sympathy and sincerity. When she had fixed her eyes on his face earlier, he had looked into those tear-filled, clear eyes and felt an overwhelming love for her. Yeongchae must have seen that look in his eyes, so why had she broken off her story and left so abruptly? It seemed there must be some deep secret she couldn't bear to tell him. But what kind of secret? When she came to find him, she must have intended to tell him everything, no matter what it was. So why did she stop and leave?
Ah, the old landlady had said, "She's dressed like a schoolgirl, but she really looks like a gisaeng to me." Perhaps it was true. She had come to Pyongyang alone and had fallen into the trap of some wicked man or woman and ended up becoming a gisaeng. She had been working as a gisaeng in Seoul and somehow heard through the grapevine that he was here, so she came to find him. If so, what was her purpose in seeking him out? Had she come just to see an old childhood friend, out of longing? Then, when she met him, memories of the past overwhelmed her, and thoughts of her parents and brothers made her cry, and she started pouring out her troubles? And then, afraid that he would think ill of her if she admitted she had become a gisaeng, she stopped short and left?
If that were the case, then she truly had become a gisaeng. The daughter of that benevolent Mr. Park had actually become a gisaeng. The devoted daughter of that passionate man who had given his body and soul for the world had now fallen to worldly temptations and become a plaything for dissolute men. Perhaps she had an appointment with some playboy this evening and had only stopped by to see him briefly before the appointed time. Or perhaps she had simply dropped by his house on her way to meet that playboy. That explanation seemed plausible. When he had gone out onto the street after her earlier, he had seen a tall man and a woman walking arm-in-arm past the Gyo-dong police box. Could that have been Yeongchae? If so, she was probably sitting in some restaurant right now, holding hands with some debauched man, embracing and leaning against him, sharing a single cup of wine, singing lewd songs and speaking obscene words to seek filthy pleasure. Those eyes that had shed tears here a little while ago were now casting seductive glances to lure men. That mouth that had spoken of her tragic circumstances was now uttering foul words too vile to repeat. Or perhaps at this very moment she was wrapped in some man's arms, indulging in base pleasures.
These thoughts made a wave of disgust rise in Hyung-sik's chest. All her pitiful display earlier had been nothing but a facade. She must have laughed internally at him and the old woman as they wept at her story. Ah, what a detestable woman. So Yeongchae had become a cast-off woman after all. She had become a filthy, rotten gisaeng. She had forgotten her parents and brothers, succumbed to temptation, and become a body as dirty as dog shit. Mr. Park's household was utterly ruined, he thought.
Hyung-sik lifted his head and gazed aimlessly around the room. He picked up the fan on his desk and flapped it vigorously in front of his flushed face, then went out to sit on the wooden veranda. Somewhere, the sound of a motion picture orchestra drifted over, and from Gyo-dong Street came the jingle of rickshaw bells. Unable to collect his scattered thoughts, Hyung-sik paced the narrow courtyard for a while, then went back inside and lay down on his bed, still fully clothed. He closed his eyes quietly. But before his eyes, the image of Yeongchae sitting and crying remained clear, and the story she had told flickered around him like a magic lantern show, like a motion picture. He saw himself holding Yeongchae when they left Mr. Park's house in Anju, saying, "I'll never see you again." He saw Yeongchae running away from her maternal home alone in the moonlight, accompanied by a dog. He saw Yeongchae being seized by some villain at an inn in Sukcheon. He saw Yeongchae in her male clothes, cradling the dead dog by a lonely road at dawn, weeping. But then the motion picture stopped dead. For a long while, it was pitch black. Then he saw Yeongchae holding a janggu drum, sitting among dissolute playboys, her face lewd as she sang obscene songs. And flashing before his eyes was the image of her lying asleep with her head on the same pillow as some man.