Beasts of a Little Land

Occasionally, however, Ito became interested in others almost in spite of himself. Jade had completely changed since the last time he’d seen her. It wasn’t just that she was wearing a Western dress or that she’d cut her hair and curled it with tongs. Even her features looked quite different and somehow more captivating. Yet he’d recognized her by her immutable essence, a certain halo around her physique. He wanted to study her up close.

“It’s been a very long time since we last saw each other,” he said as he sat down next to her in the booth. She glared at him with eyes that seemed even brighter than before. Her friend, fashionably dressed but unquestionably homely, also looked insulted by his overture. He paid her no more attention than to a piece of counterfeit antique.

“How have you been? I’ve noticed your films,” Ito said, his gaze fixed on Jade.

“Colonel,” Jade said in slow and measured Japanese. “I’ve no doubt there are plenty of women here who would be happy to talk to you. I’m not one of them.”

“But they don’t interest me. Look, do you know what it’s like when one has everything?”

“Can’t imagine,” Jade said sarcastically; nevertheless, Ito knew she was being pulled in.

“I have wealth, youth, intelligence, power, women . . . There’s nothing I lack. I never have to try very hard. It starts to become very dull—even the company of pretty women. It’s so rare to see something that genuinely piques my interest, as you do.”

“Why?”

Ito rested his chin on one hand and looked into Jade’s lovely black eyes. Her skin was lucent and velvety, from her cheeks all the way to the marble-like décolletage above her V-shaped neckline. She was at her peak radiance as a woman and was not even aware of it. It almost gave him pain.

“I will tell you if you dance with me,” he said at last. “Don’t refuse. You’re a dancer and this is a terrific waltz.”

He stood up and extended his hand. People were watching them out of the corners of their eyes: the handsome Japanese millionaire, newly made a count, who had just bought gold and iron mines from a French businessman; and the famous actress in all the movies. She took his hand.

Everyone watched them dance. The normally well-trained café girls stopped serving the guests and stood off to the side to whisper to one another. The count and the actress made a brilliant pair.

Yamada observed the change in his friend with quiet fascination. Ito moved with easy confidence, drawing the woman’s waist close to his body with one arm. Yamada had never danced before in his life. For a moment he imagined it was himself whose arm encircled the beautiful woman in the middle of the dance floor. Ito had been right about her—she was exceptional. It was not just her face and body, which were both imperfect, but the quality of her presence and movement that drew one’s eyes.

The couple parted when the song ended, and Ito walked over to Yamada’s table.

“She wants to leave, and I said I’ll give her a ride back. Will you be okay taking a cab?”

“Of course.”

“I’ll see you soon. Tell Mineko I said hello.”

LOTUS AND JADE WALKED OUT together and Ito followed, putting on his coat one sleeve after the other; he opened the car door himself for them and got in on the other side. By the time the car stopped in front of Lotus’s house, misty streaks had turned into a heavy, icy downpour. Jade hugged her friend goodbye, but sensed that the wall between them had returned, even more impenetrable than before. It made her feel uneasy and depressed, and she kept her face turned resolutely to the window on the way to her home. The car was silent save for the metallic patter on the roof and the wheels churning over the mud like paddles of a boat.

“You can stop right here,” Jade said in front of her house, and the driver pulled over. “Thank you for the ride.”

“Wait.” Ito grabbed her hand. “Can I come in?”

Jade shook her head.

“Come now, we had a nice time tonight. You can’t still be mad at me for behaving roughly all those years ago.”

“You might seem nicer now, and you’re no longer in the military, but you’re still the same. I will never like you.” As Jade spoke, the image of Ito in her dressing room flashed before her eyes and reminded her of his true essence—his casual brutality.

“Liking has nothing to do with anything. My wife and I have never liked each other and we have the best marriage.” Ito smiled contemptuously. “There is no love such as the ones you see in novels and films. Between a man and a woman, the only thing that matters is the exchange of what each one needs from the other . . . Indeed, a bit of dislike can add to the passion, I find.” He pulled her wrist toward him and leaned in to kiss her neck.

“I need nothing from you,” she said, pushing him away.

“Giving some chase is fine but don’t be stupid. I hate stupidity,” he said savagely just before she shook herself free of his grip, opened the door, and dashed out.

She made a run for her house before Ito could catch up with her. Over the din of the downpour, she thought she could hear his car door opening.

There was a man in a newsboy cap and a neat overcoat under the eaves of her front gates, waiting for the rain to pass. She realized that it was JungHo and ran straight into his arms.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she said, embracing him for the first time.

“Jade!” JungHo said in a low voice, then craned his neck around her to glare at the black car. “What’s the matter? Whose car is that?”

Jade knew that JungHo would do anything to protect her, or even just to defend her honor. “It’s no one,” she said.

“You know, if anyone ever tries to harm you, all you need to do is say a word.” JungHo clenched his jaw, shooting deadly glances at the car. He looked back into her eyes as though begging for the chance to prove his loyalty. Jade was beginning to fear that Ito would get out of the car and the two men would come face-to-face, when the maid finally heard the bell over the downpour and opened the gates.

Jade said with relief, “Come inside. Let’s have some tea.”

*

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