Hansu turned to Sunja and smiled.
“They said they are sorry. In Japanese, of course. Would you like them to apologize also in Korean? I can have them do that. I can have them write you a letter if you like.”
Sunja shook her head. The tall boy was now crying.
“Would you like me to throw them into the sea?”
He was joking, but she couldn’t smile. Sunja managed to shake her head again. The boys could have dragged her somewhere, and no one would have seen them go. Why wasn’t Koh Hansu afraid of the boys’ parents? A Japanese student could get a grown Korean man in trouble for certain, she thought. Why wasn’t he worried? Sunja started to cry.
“It’s all right,” Hansu said to her in a low voice and let the tall boy go.
The boys put the melon and the bones back in the baskets.
“We are very sorry,” they said, bowing deeply.
“Never ever come around here again. Do you understand, you shit-for-brains?” Hansu said in Japanese, smiling genially to make sure that Sunja did not understand his meaning.
The boys bowed again. The tall one had peed a little in his uniform. They walked in the direction of the town.
Sunja put the baskets down on the ground and sobbed. Her forearms felt like they were going to fall off. Hansu patted her shoulder gently.
“You live in Yeongdo.”
She nodded.
“Your mother owns the boardinghouse.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m going to take you home.”
She shook her head.
“I’ve troubled you enough. I can go home by myself.” Sunja couldn’t raise her head.
“Listen, you have to be careful not to travel alone or ever be out at night. If you go to the market by yourself, you must stay on the main paths. Always in public view. They are looking for girls now.”
She didn’t understand.
“The colonial government. To take to China for the soldiers. Don’t follow anyone. It will likely be some Korean person, a woman or a man, who’ll tell you there’s a good job in China or Japan. It may be someone you know. Be careful, and I don’t mean just those stupid boys. They’re just bad kids. But even those boys could hurt you if you are not cautious. Do you understand?”
Sunja wasn’t looking for a job, and she didn’t understand why he was telling her any of this. No one had ever approached her about working away from home. She would never leave her mother, anyway, but he was right. It was always possible for a woman to be disgraced. Noblewomen supposedly hid silver knives in their blouses to protect themselves or to commit suicide if they were dishonored.
Hansu gave her a handkerchief, and she wiped her face.
“You should go home. Your mother will worry.”
Hansu walked her to the ferry. Sunja rested her baskets on the floor of the ferryboat and sat down. There were only two other passengers.
Sunja bowed. Koh Hansu was watching her again, but this time his face was different from before; he looked concerned. As the boat moved away from the dock, she realized that she had not thanked him.
5
As Koh Hansu was putting her on the ferry, Sunja had the opportunity to observe him up close without distractions. She could even smell the mentholated pomade in his neatly combed black hair. Hansu had the broad shoulders and the thick, strong torso of a larger man; his legs were not very long, but he was not short, either. Hansu was perhaps the same age as her mother, who was thirty-six. His tawny brow was creased lightly, and faded brown spots and freckles had settled on his sharp cheekbones. His nose—narrow, with a bump below a high bridge—made him look somewhat Japanese, and small, broken capillaries lay beneath the skin around his nostrils. More black than brown, his dark eyes absorbed light like a long tunnel, and when he looked at her, she felt an uncomfortable sensation in her stomach. Hansu’s Western-style suit was elegant and well cared for; unlike the lodgers, he didn’t give off an odor from his labors or the sea.
On the following market day, she spotted him standing in front of the brokers’ offices with a crowd of businessmen and waited until he could see her. She bowed to him. Hansu nodded ever so slightly, then returned to his work. Sunja went to finish her shopping, and as she walked to the ferry, he caught up with her.
“Do you have some time?” he asked.
She widened her eyes. What did he mean?
“To talk.”
Sunja had been around men all her life. She had never been afraid of them or awkward in their presence, but around him, she didn’t have the words she needed. It was difficult for her to stand near him even. Sunja swallowed and decided that she would speak to him no differently than to the lodgers; she was sixteen years old, not a scared child.
“Thank you for your help the other day.”
“It’s nothing.”
“I should have said this earlier. Thank you.”
“I want to talk to you. Not here.”