ON AN UNUSUALLY COLD APRIL day, as Dani was cleaning the last remaining snow in the garden, the Judge’s driver returned Hesoon to the house in a small wooden reliquary. The Judge hadn’t found her in time. The two younger girls cried unceasingly for three days and nights. Luna, who had always been soothed by Hesoon’s sturdy presence, named her daughter Hesook in her memory.
Dani, who looked down upon public tears, didn’t grieve in front of the girls. It was all the more important to her that she stay resolute, because she believed that she was the reason Hesoon was dead. She’d brought her maid along to the March, and she’d failed to immediately call on the Judge for help. Instead of indulging in her pain, Dani did two things: not knowing how to reach Hesoon’s family in Jejudo, she vowed to go to the South Sea one day to scatter the ashes herself. Then she applied herself with renewed energy to various projects around the house and appeared keen to forget everything that had happened. She had always been lively, but now she seemed to believe something dreadful would catch up to her if she slowed down even for a minute. She dressed as impeccably as ever, and tried new creams to hide the fact that she never slept through the night. She bought clothes and toys for Hesook and made nourishing postpartum soups for Luna. When it was warm enough Dani launched into spring cleaning, wiping down every corner of the house, putting away winter clothes, opening the drawers and airing out the linens.
“It’s strange,” she said, throwing her hands up in front of the paulownia-tree chest. “I can’t find my favorite comforter—the one with peonies. It took my seamstress two months to hand-embroider the flowers with real gold thread.”
Dani questioned the housekeeper, who swore she knew nothing. Unrelenting, Dani ordered all the wardrobes in the house to be opened and their contents laid out. At that point, Jade stepped forward.
“It was me, I’m so sorry,” Jade said, staring down at her feet. “I should have told you, but my friend JungHo was sleeping out in the cold . . . I just wanted to help him.” She began crying.
“What friend?” Dani asked in confusion.
“The same friend who fetched the midwife for Luna.”
“And this friend sleeps outside on the streets?” Dani closed the chest and walked toward Jade.
“Yes. He doesn’t have a home,” Jade said. She’d barely finished answering when something exploded on her face. Dani had slapped her.
“Do you realize what you’ve done? You stole from me. That comforter was worth more than what Silver paid to buy you from your mother. Do you understand that?” Dani stared unblinkingly at Jade, whose face was streaming with hot tears. She nodded.
“Your value depends on how men see you. When they realize you spent time with some beggar boy, do you think they’d pay even a penny for your company?” Dani snorted. “Did you let him touch you?”
“No!” Jade said, indignant.
“You’re to never, ever speak to that boy again. If you either steal anything else or talk to him, you’ll be turned out of this house—and you’ll find out for yourself how cold it is to sleep on the streets.”
SINCE THE NIGHT LUNA GAVE BIRTH, JungHo had come by every afternoon hoping to meet Jade outside the house. He brought over the dog to cheer her up and, occasionally, pretty pebbles he’d found walking along the canal. But now she never came out of the gates.
One day he finally got up the courage to knock on the door. He heard light footsteps crossing over the courtyard and was bursting with excitement that it was Jade herself like last time. He was startled when a beautiful older woman opened the door, glaring at him sternly.
“You’re the beggar boy hanging around my Jade?” she said. Without waiting for an answer, she disappeared for a moment and then returned with an envelope. She pressed it into his hand.
“That’s for helping Luna last time. It’s more money than a grown man makes in a week—you’d have enough food for a month at least. Take it and don’t ever bother us or Jade again.”
“I don’t need this,” JungHo managed to say, pushing the envelope back. “I just wanted to be her friend.”
“You’re a bold little thing, aren’t you?” Dani snorted. “You can’t mix with someone like Jade. She’s going to be a courtesan, possibly the best one I’ve ever trained. And you, you’re nothing but a nameless orphan.”
JungHo wanted to tell her his name, but thought better of it and turned around. He could already hear Dani stepping back inside and bolting the door behind him. He still couldn’t believe that Jade would not even say goodbye to him, that this was the end. He thought that if she knew how much he wanted to talk to her, she would find a way to meet him. So he came by every day and threw a pebble over the wall into the courtyard. Once, he tossed in a smooth, green sea glass that reminded him of her name. That was as clear a message as he could possibly send. But Jade never came out to meet him, and after a very long time, he stopped coming to her house for good.
Part II
1925–1937
11
Jungho Speaks
1925
MY NAME IS NAM JUNGHO. YOU CAN’T START A STORY WITHOUT SAYING your name. When I arrived in Seoul that was the first thing someone asked me. “What’s your name, country bumpkin?” That was Loach by the way, who is still annoying as hell but I can’t forget the fact that he is the oldest friend I’ve got.
I told my underlings that I was named after a legendary tiger in my village in the mountains. It’s a story my older sister used to tell me and my younger sister before falling asleep. There was once a poor woodsman who lived alone with his mother. One evening as he was going back home after chopping wood in the mountains all day, a giant tiger appeared in front of him. Just as the tiger was about to pounce the woodsman started crying, saying, “Oh, my older brother! It is you! I have been waiting to meet you for years and years!”