“But you said it.”
“Well, it was crap. And believe me, it wasn’t the only crap I spouted tonight!”
“I’m sure you were excellent.”
“The only reason I survived at all tonight was because of you. So . . . thank you, from the bottom of my heart. And I really do mean that.”
“Fine. You’re welcome.”
Mia broke free from his grip and walked resolutely toward the exit.
Back at the hotel, Mia fell straight asleep. On the other side of the bolster, Paul lay with his eyes wide open, trying to make sense of the day’s bizarre developments. Failing to do so, he began worrying about what the next day would hold.
17
Mia was awoken by the creak of a door. She opened her eyes. Paul was pushing a room-service cart into the room. He went to her side, saying good morning.
“Coffee, freshly squeezed orange juice, pastries, hard-boiled eggs, and cereal. Would the lady care for anything else?”
He poured her a cup of coffee.
Mia sat up and arranged the pillows behind her back.
“To what do I owe all this special treatment?”
“Nothing special about it. Now that I’ve fired my assistant, I’m going to have to do everything around here myself,” Paul replied.
“That’s strange, I heard she resigned.”
“Well, she had the right idea. I would much rather lose an employee and keep a friend. Sugar?”
“Yes, please.”
“And as I am now my own assistant, I took a few liberties this morning. All of today’s appointments have been canceled. Our only obligation is the reception at the embassy. The rest of the day is free. Seoul is ours to explore until this evening, so let’s make the most of it. Every last moment.”
“You canceled all your appointments?”
“Postponed them until tomorrow. I said I was coming down with something. After all, I can’t let Murakami monopolize the flu. It’s a question of status.”
Mia caught sight of the newspaper lying folded on the breakfast table and quickly made a grab for it.
“Your photo’s on the front page!”
“I know. They didn’t get my good side. Awful. Looks like there’s about ten pounds more of me than there should be.”
“Come on, you look good. Have you called your press officer to ask her to translate the article for you? A front-page photo—that’s a big deal!”
“For now, I have no way of knowing if the coverage is positive or negative, but I do have a creeping suspicion the whole thing might actually be about Murakami’s latest novel and not mine.”
“Where did this obsession with Murakami come from? That’s the second time you’ve mentioned him in the past five minutes.”
“There’s no obsession. Although, after last night, I’d have good reason to be obsessed.”
“What do you mean?”
“I half wish you had watched the thing. It was so surreal. Getting interviewed by a journalist who hasn’t read my books is one thing, but nothing could have prepared me for an interview with someone who was mixing up my book with somebody else’s!”
“What in the world are you talking about?”
“Last night! The moron kept asking me questions that were obviously intended for . . . I’m not going to say his name, or you’ll accuse me of being obsessed again. There I am, alone on the set, sitting across from the host. ‘So, what led to your interest in the fate of the North Korean people? How did you find out so much information about the lives of those oppressed by Kim Jong-un’s regime? Why are you so committed to this cause in particular? Do you think the days are numbered for the dictator’s reign? In your opinion, is Kim Jong-un a puppet leader appointed by an oligarchy or is he really, truly in control? Are your characters inspired by reality or did you invent them?’ Et cetera, et cetera . . .”
“You can’t be serious!” said Mia, unsure whether to laugh or show sympathy.
“That’s exactly what I said to the interpreter talking to me through that stupid earpiece. Those things really do itch, you know. I thought it might be some kind of prank. That seemed like the most logical explanation. At first, I told myself I wasn’t going to let them put one over on me, not that easily, but after twenty minutes, the joke was getting pretty stale. Except it wasn’t a joke. Those jackasses somehow got their authors mixed up, and the interpreter was too scared to tell them.”
“That is flat-out crazy,” Mia replied, covering her mouth with her hand to suppress the laughter she could feel welling up inside her.
“Go ahead, laugh it up, I haven’t stopped laughing since we got back last night. I mean—this is the type of thing that could only happen to me. Only me.”
“But how could they have made such an outrageous mistake?”
“Stupidity has no bounds. Let’s not waste our day on that,” Paul said, grabbing the newspaper from Mia’s hands and tossing it to the other end of the room. “Finish your breakfast and let’s head out for a walk.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Oh, I’m fine. I only made a complete fool of myself in front of hundreds of thousands of viewers. Somebody must have told the TV channel about their screwup, which is presumably what that article is all about. So if anyone on the street bursts into laughter when they see me, let’s try to pretend we can’t hear them.”
“I’m so sorry, Paul.”
“Don’t be. Let’s move on. You said it yourself: no one cares about that TV show. And look what a beautiful day it is outside!”
Paul persuaded Mia to leave the hotel through the back parking lot, in case Ms. Bak was waiting for him in the lobby. He planned to spend the day alone with Mia, and the last thing he wanted was the added encumbrance of a guide.
They spent the morning visiting Changgyeonggung Palace. Walking through Honghwa Gate, Paul attempted to pronounce all the names he saw, and his guttural exaggerations had Mia in stitches. Standing on Okcheongyo Bridge, she admired the ornamental pond and the beauty of the historical surroundings.
“That’s Myeongjeongjeon, the throne hall,” said Paul, pointing to a small single-story building. “It was opened in 1484. All the houses you see are facing south, because the ancestral shrines of the royal family are located in the south, but Myeongjeongjeon faces east, going against Confucian tradition.”
“Did Kyong teach you all that?”
“What? Who’s this Kyong? No, I picked up a brochure when I was buying the tickets. It was my attempt at impressing you. Would you like to see the botanical garden?”