“That’s enough,” Dani snapped. “Luna didn’t die, did she? Many, many people did die and I almost did as well. Now leave me alone, I need to rest.”
While she recuperated, Dani was absorbed only in waiting for the Judge. A week later when he finally came to her house, she was wearing her most becoming outfit, a dress from Paris decorated with jet beads. A necklace of diamonds glittered at her throat, and a single magnolia was pinned to her chest. Her skin gleamed like marble under the black velvet; her red lips had the look of suede.
“You look pale,” the Judge said in Japanese upon seeing her. Dani smiled her most deferential smile, reaching out and taking his mottled hand. She raised it to her lips for a kiss, then pressed it against her décolletage.
“I haven’t been myself lately, as you know . . .” she replied. “Still, I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.”
The Judge merely looked back at her, and Dani filled the void by pouring his sake. Next to the lacquered serving table, she’d put the rest of the earliest magnolias into a late eighteenth-century vase, knowing that would please her patron. With his cloudy eyes, the Judge saw and noticed everything and formed his conclusions quietly and precisely.
A faint yet voluptuous scent of the magnolias filled the room. But more than the flowers’ beauty and fragrance, the Judge appreciated that the tree outside was stripped bare of its first blossoms for his sake—and that Dani knew exactly how his mind worked. That was what he had always found most attractive about Dani: he admired her looks and poise, but was seduced by her singular ability to communicate beneath the surface. It was an elegance of the mind.
“You see, I have two friends who are still in custody. They are just as innocent as I am,” Dani began speaking again.
“One is my maid, Hesoon, who has served me faithfully over the years. She was only accompanying me on errands when we got caught up by the crowd. They put her in a different cell with all the commoners, so I don’t know how she could be doing, the poor girl. She knows nothing, understands nothing, and can be guilty of nothing,” Dani explained.
“The other is a cousin of mine. I don’t know his whole story, why he was arrested . . . But I am sure he is also innocent, as he is not in the least political. As far as his family background goes, it is of the best: his father is a wealthy landowner down in the country, and his great-uncle is a former finance minister with a famous Jongno mansion that has ninety-nine rooms. He went to university in Tokyo, as well. His name is Lee MyungBo.”
“Lee MyungBo? Your cousin?” the Judge asked with eyes lowered over his sake.
“Yes.”
“I did not know you had Lee cousins. On your mother’s side, I assume?”
Dani blushed slightly, before replying, “Yes. On my mother’s side.”
The Judge sighed. “Lee MyungBo is one of the thirty-three signers who were arrested at MyungWol. Even I can’t just release him. But I can try to mitigate his sentence, and in the meantime, make him a bit more comfortable in jail. As for your maid, that should not be difficult.”
Dani threw her bare arms around the Judge and pressed her soft body into his old, bony chest.
“Thank you . . . I will never forget your generosity,” she whispered.
“Oh and one more thing, Dani,” said the Judge. “I do like that diamond necklace on you. When I saw it, I knew you would be just the right woman for it. There is such a satisfaction to seeing something valuable find its rightful owner. That’s why I bought it for you. And when I saw you for the first time, I thought the same thing about you belonging to me. I should like to think that you’d wear that necklace only for me. Don’t put it on for other people . . . even cousins.”
“Of course, I would never do anything to displease you,” Dani said, smiling luminously and pretending to not understand. She wrapped both her hands around his and reverently brought them to her lips.
*
EACH TIME MYUNGBO LOST CONSCIOUSNESS, the blackness overtook him more completely than before. This time, he’d been lashed with a studded whip and then confined in a body-tight niche carved into a wall for three days. When he woke up, he was in a different cell with a barred window set high on the wall. Without turning his head, he scanned the room and noticed a chamber pot in the corner. Still moving only his eyes, he looked down at his body, which had been bandaged and given clean clothes. He was even lying on a thin mat, although any comfort that may have afforded was obliterated by the excruciating pain that exploded from every part of his body. He did not even have the mental clarity to process his improved situation before blacking out once more.
*
HE OFTEN OPENED HIS EYES to a bowl of water and some thin porridge next to him. Then without wondering how many days had passed, or what time of day it was, he gulped down the water first and spooned the porridge into his mouth. After that, he relieved himself and went back to sleep.
Time was a winter fog—gray, shapeless, indifferent to his existence. It passed on its own like a ship that sails without passengers. Or perhaps it was a ship that was carrying everyone else except MyungBo. Being left outside the world of time was a special kind of torture that said, You mean nothing. He was reminded he was still living only by feeling how much his beard had grown.