Chapter Text
It’s the end of another long and tiring day when he shows up at her doorstep with an invitation — does she want to go to a bar?
She tells him she’s not sure, she’s kind of exhausted from the train ride and moving in.
He insists. It’s no fun drinking alone, and what is she going to do in a house full of strangers anyway?
Drink some tea and go to sleep, she tells him, but he isn’t taking no for an answer. She groans and rolls her eyes, but goes inside to get her coat and purse.
“How can you want to be outside in this cold?” she asks, shivering, as they step from the courtyard of the guest house out onto the street.
“A few drinks will warm us up.”
“My blankets and the hot tea I was going to make would’ve warmed me up.”
“Come on now, the night is young,” he says to her, playfully elbowing her in the arm.
“But I’m not,” she grumbles while pulling her scarf tighter around her neck. “I’m not fit for tomfoolery like this at my age.”
“You talk as if you were a shriveled up old lady when you’re only thirty-four.”
“Well, maybe when you’re my age, Yoo Jae-ha, you’ll understand.”
“Yeah, yeah. Thanks for the reminder.”
Yeon Kyung laughs at his pouting face and shoves her hands into her coat pockets. “Where exactly are you planning on taking me, anyway?”
“Just a little place a couple blocks from here.”
“It sounds dreadful. Do they serve soju, at least?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Well, that’s something.”
“But enough about the bar,” says Jae-ha, quickening his pace in order to face her as they walk. “How was your train ride over?”
She shrugs. “Eh, you know. It was a train ride. Cramped. Nauseating. Frequently delayed.”
“Sounds like one of your better experiences.”
“Compared to the last one, yes. God, it was hot that time. I was sick for three days straight afterwards.”
“I know it well,” he chuckles ruefully.
She shudders at the recollection. “So compared to that, I suppose it was all right.”
They’re silent for a minute after that, focusing instead on moving as quickly as possible to their destination.
“You know,” speaks Yeon Kyung at last, “much as I hate Tokyo, it sure is infinitely better than being at the outpost.”
“Isn’t that the truth,” he agrees.
“Surrounded by all those dreadful Japanese men.”
“Yes.”
“Constantly in fear of being kidnapped and sold into the slave trade.”
“Sleeping with one eye open, I suppose.”
“With two!” she corrects him, laughing sardonically. “In Tokyo, it’s with one, but out there… oh, my. When they canceled my leave in October, I thought I was a goner for sure.”
“And yet, here you are now. Five months really is too long to be kept from your home.”
“Nearly half a year.”
Jae-ha nods. “Indeed— Though you really should be grateful for what you have. Millions of our people have no freedom whatsoever, and you get to come and go and have a paying job and live in relative peace when you're not at the outpost.”
Her pace slows at this. “That's true. Although the fear is always there, now isn't it?”
“Well, not right now,” he proclaims, quickening his pace to encourage hers. “You're in Tokyo! You're out on the town! Not a soldier for miles! You get two whole weeks to do whatever you want!”
“Yeah. I guess I'll drink to that,” she grumbles.
“That's the spirit! And perfect timing,” says Jae-ha, signaling toward a run-down building across the street. “We’re here.”
“Oh, my, it looks even more dreary than I expected.”
“Never mind that, in we go!” he cheers, gently pushing Yeon Kyung along.
The bar is dimly lit, empty save for a couple chatting quietly in the far corner, and smells faintly of water damage, but a fireplace crackling comfortingly in the back warms the whole place, and the large bartender stands polishing some glasses in front of a surprisingly large assortment of wines, beers, and sake.
“I don't see the soju you promised,” mutters Yeon Kyung.
“All right, just hang on a second. Lee Doseong, how about a bottle of soju for the lovely lady?”
The bartender looks up, and his face brightens. “Yoo Jae-ha! Welcome, welcome. Coming right up.”
Jae-ha grins at Yeon Kyung. “See? Go on, sit down.”
“Okay,” she sighs, sliding onto a barstool and smiling her thanks as Doseong the bartender hands her a shot glass and pulls a soju bottle out from under the counter.
“I'm going to stop by the washroom,” Jae-ha tells Yeon Kyung, heading for the door in the back of the bar. “Save me a glass.”
“Yep.”
She downs her first shot of soju and sighs, letting it sink in. Out of the corner of her eye, she notices that the man that was in the washroom before Jae-ha has sat on the barstool next to her. He acknowledges her with a quiet “annyeong,” and she gives a tight-lipped smile in return.
Doseong notices her gloomy air. “Rough week?”
“Exhausting,” she sighs. “But at least I get to rest for two weeks now.”
He nods. “Rest is good.”
“Lee Doseong-ssi,” asks Yeon Kyung, pouring herself another glass, “how long have you lived in Japan?”
“Since the occupation began,” he answers. “Thirty-four years now.”
Her eyes widen when she hears the number. “Dear god. That’s my entire life. It must have been difficult.”
“It was at first,” he agrees. “Very difficult. It was already hard to be working at the factory — they weren’t exactly treating me well, as you can imagine — and I missed my family like you have no idea. The days and years really bear down on you, living like that.”
Yeon Kyung winces. “I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you. But as you can see,” he answers, gesturing around at the bar, “things got better. Eventually. I suppose, in retrospect, I’ve been luckier than most.”
“Yes.” Luckier than most. The words ring in her head like an accusation as she nods slowly. “Maybe Yoo Jae-ha was right.”
“What about?”
“He says I should stop complaining about my job at the outpost and be grateful I'm not in a factory — or chained up in some camp as a ianfu.”
“Ahh. You work at the outpost?"
“Yes. I’m a nurse. Or, well, that is—” She pauses and considers. “Well, for simplicity’s sake, then yes, let’s just say that. I'm a nurse at the outpost.”
He whistles. “That’s not an easy job — even in peacetime, but much less now. You’re perfectly welcome to come here and complain anytime you feel like it.”
Yeon Kyung smiles, genuinely, for the first time that night. “Thank you, Lee Doseong-ssi.”
Two more customers enter just then, and Doseong moves to greet and attend to them, so she turns her attention back to her soju glass and lifts it to her lips.
“He's right, you know,” chimes in another voice, and Yeon Kyung stops mid-sip to look at the man sitting on her right. “What you suffer is what you suffer. No one can tell you not to feel exhausted, or sad.”
“Or scared,” she adds, almost unconsciously. “Being surrounded by men like that all the time is terrifying. It’s essentially a miracle that I haven’t been… well. You know.”
“Yes,” he answers softly.
The conversation lulls, and Yeon Kyung shifts self-consciously, her cheeks flushing red. “Ahem— sorry. That might’ve been a bit too much.”
“No need to worry,” he says reassuringly. “It seemed like you needed to let that out.”
“Yes, perhaps I did.” She offers an apologetic smile. “Thank you. It is good to talk about it. And Jae-ha isn’t the best person to complain to.”
“This Jae-ha doesn’t work at the outpost, I presume?”
“No,” she says, reaching once again for her soju. “No, he works at an oriental clinic here in the city.”
The man nods. “I see. Well, then, do tell your friend to be a little more understanding and let you talk about your troubles more freely. I dare say you’ve earned it.”
“I dare say I have,” grins Yeon Kyung from behind her glass before emptying it.
“Noona,” comes Jae-ha’s voice from behind them, “is this guy bothering you?”
Yeon Kyung jumps slightly as she turns to look at him.
“No, not at all,” she answers, pushing her hair behind her ear. “We were just talking.”
Jae-ha seems somewhat unconvinced, like he wants to say something more, but he only eyes the stranger briefly, then nods and sits down on the barstool to the left of Yeon Kyung.
“Here,” she tells him, shoving the bottle of soju into his hand. “Lee Doseong-ssi, can I get a glass for Yoo Jae-ha?”
As if her words are a cue, the man on her right downs what remains of his wine glass and sets it down. “I believe I’ll get going,” he says — partly to Yeon Kyung, partly to himself. She nods at him in acknowledgement.
“So this is Yoo Jae-ha,” says the man under his breath, eyeing Yeon Kyung’s companion, and her cheeks turn a shade of pink as she hears him.
“Did you say something?” asks Jae-ha, turning to look at him, but the man reassumes his smile and shakes his head.
“Just talking to myself,” he grins, reaching for his coat on the rack by the door. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss…”
“Choi Yeon Kyung,” she answers, dipping her head slightly. “And you were…?”
“Heo Im,” he introduces himself with a similar gesture.
This gets Jae-ha’s attention. “Heo Im?” he questions, turning once again to face him. “Like the famous Joseon physician?”
He laughs shortly. “Yes, just like that. Good night,” he bids them, ducking out the door before any more can be said.
Yeon Kyung and Jae-ha watch as the stranger leaves an empty doorframe in his wake, both uttering the same opinion — “how interesting.”