World Chapter 4.4

“……”

Without arguing, I got up, washed my face, and changed my clothes.

This may be random, but I’m the type who always eats breakfast. Even when I lived with the ghosts, I always made sure to eat breakfast. I recognized it as the act of eating that illusion. In reality, it was just the feeling of my stomach getting full.

In any case, I was the type of person who had to eat breakfast. But Hanse was not the leisurely sort to devote time to breakfast.

As soon as I finished changing, he thrust the bag into my chest and hurried to get ready to leave. Clutching the bag to my chest, I asked.

“You’re not eating breakfast?”

“…Are you asking me to cook for you now?”

“I have to eat breakfast…. Grains are important for people…”

My voice trailed off. He looked at me as if he was dumbfounded, and on the other hand, as if he was troubled, then glanced at the watch on his wrist. Hanse let out a sigh of resignation and rummaged through the refrigerator.

“Hey, come and help.”

Following Hanse’s chin-jerk, I stood with him in front of the sink. When I just stood there blankly, holding the ingredients he handed me, Hanse looked at me pitifully and said.

“Just go sit down. You’re just getting in the way.”

Hanse quickly made some food. Sitting at the small table, I watched his busy back.

No way…, he’s not making fried rice, is he?

I thought, no way, but it was indeed that no way.

Hyungjo had also made me fried rice. Hyungjo’s son, just like Hyungjo, was making me fried rice. My appetite suddenly vanished.

As I was staring blankly at the rice bowl, Hanse nagged me about something. I slowly picked up my spoon and forced it down. I felt like those damn tears were going to come again.

He dropped me off in front of the school. He said it was on his way, but the Central District Prosecutors’ Office in Seocho-dong and my school were not in the same geographical area.

Was his kind and affectionate nature also because he was Hyungjo’s son?

As soon as he dropped me off, my gaze followed Hanse’s car as it drove away without a goodbye. His attitude of taking care of me affectionately while grumbling with his mouth was quite different from when I saw him at Hyungjo’s wake.

Back then, his eyes were cold as if he wanted to kill me, and now…

Watching the receding car, I shook my head vigorously.

I had no classes today. Since I had nowhere special to go, I went up to the school library.

I looked for traces of Hyungjo. I opened a graduation album and searched for Hyungjo’s face, and I also meticulously read old school journals, wondering if Hyungjo might have left a trace in them. Then, while flipping through a page absently, I discovered an article by Taewan. My heart sank.

It was an article titled ‘Reflecting on the 2nd Semester Student Movement…’

[Our movement, taking the opportunity of the annual general meeting being held in Seoul in early October, denounced the “Three-Anti” regime, thereby strongly raising the issue of the military dictatorship’s comprador nature and the economic subjugation by the United States.]

The article, which began like this, was a call for reflection and urging regarding the entire student movement of the previous semester, which had been lackluster. The face of Taewan, who had vented his anger at his own powerlessness, saying his comrades had died, naturally came to mind.

Did Taewan hyung die? If so, how, where…

Did Taewan hyung self-immolate? Or was he kidnapped by the fascists?

The image of him with his hands trembling as he smoked a cigarette flickered in my mind. His unshaven, bluish jaw seemed like a symbol. Suddenly, Che Guevara came to mind. Was it because they were both revolutionaries?

Che became a symbol and meaning for Cuba. He realized his ideals, leaving a distinct mark on history to the point of being called the warrior Christ.

Taewan hyung…

My heart grew heavy, as if lead weights were piling up.

This time, I looked for materials on the Sammin Struggle Committee. I was able to find Taewan’s name in the Sammin Struggle Committee materials as well. He was listed as an executive of the National Council of Student Representatives (Jeondaehyup).

I scanned through the history of the Sammin Struggle Committee. Something was strange. Back then, Taewan had definitely said he was nominated as the chairman of the Sammin Struggle Committee. He had also said it was an unavoidable choice because no one else would step forward. Sungjoon, worried and concerned for him, had thrown a fit, trying to stop him.

While skimming through the names of the chairmen from the time of Jeonhangnyeon (National Federation of Student Associations) before it was renamed Sammin Struggle Committee, I was startled.

In the year they disappeared, the chairman’s name had changed three times, and one of them was Heo Seok. But Taewan’s name was not there. I couldn’t erase my doubts, but separate from that, I was happy to see Heo Seok’s name.

Hyungjo had been a real person, Heo Seok had been a real person, and Taewan had definitely been a person who lived in that era.

The day the severed finger was left in Sungjoon’s room.

Taewan and Sungjoon had been about to confirm their love for each other. The clothes stripped off on the bed were proof of that. The last thing they tried to show me.

Someone kidnapped them. I should have seen it. Who took them, and who cut off Sungjoon’s finger.

It was definitely Sungjoon’s finger. The yellow paint stuck under the nail of the long, white finger was still vivid in my mind. When I picked it up from the pool of blood without any hesitation, the first thing that caught my eye was the neat fingernail with yellow paint under it.

I was about to search more of the graduation albums but felt hungry and left the library. I went to find Professor Ahn, thinking I’d ask him to buy me a meal.

The professor happened to be there, and we went to a nearby restaurant. For some reason, it felt like everyone was looking at us, which made me a little self-conscious. It was because all the students who knew me thought I was crazy.

“Your complexion looks much better. Are you doing well?”

“Yes, Professor. You met my father when he came last time, right?”

“Mm, he looks at least ten years younger than me. It seems living in a place with good air is good for you.”

“Even a young guy like me finds it hard to live here.”

“You grew up in the countryside, so it must be hard. The phrase ‘getting used to it’ isn’t a very pleasant thing to hear either. The city is a heartless place.”

“……”

His face, perhaps because of my mood, looked somewhat lonely.

“Professor, do you by any chance know someone named Lee Taewan? He went to university with you.”

I asked cautiously. He crinkled the fine lines around his eyes for a moment and smiled. As if I had stirred up a pleasant memory he had forgotten.

“How do you know him?”

“So you do know him?”

“A martyr… is that expression a bit much? He was a brilliant student. He led our Jeondaehyup at the time and was a leader in the student movement. He was cheerful, bright, and fearless. He was tall and strapping, but his convictions were even taller than he was. Your father and I went to study abroad right after, so I don’t know what happened to him after that. He was a person with the power to draw people in.”

“So you don’t know if he’s dead or alive?”

“Mm, that’s right. That era was like that. There are still many people who are missing. Probably… he might have died, a sad thing, but. But there isn’t even a record, even though in a way he was someone who rewrote the country’s history.”

“……”

Sungjoon’s wistful face, comparing Taewan to the sun, came to mind.

What happened to Sungjoon hyung?

“Professor, by any chance, do you know someone named Ji Sungjoon?”

“Ji Sungjoon? Hmm, I’m not sure I know him.”

“He was an art student.”

“Why are you asking about such things? Are you perhaps very interested in the student movement?”

“No. They’re people I knew, so I was curious.”

“They’re people from before you were even born.”

“…I just happened to get to know them.”

I avoided the professor’s gaze and ate my rice.

What happened to Seok hyung?

In that era, many people disappeared like that. For participating in the student movement, for participating in the labor movement, for opposing the regime, for seeking freedom, they were chased by the police, became political criminals, were put on wanted lists, and then died. It was an era that yearned for true democratization, where many died such unjust deaths.

Somehow, I envied them. I found it romantic. They were intoxicated by the romance of freedom. By its fiery allure.

After parting with the professor, I sat on a quiet bench that students didn’t frequent.

The afternoon sunlight was soft. Sitting on the bench, I rummaged through my bag, planning to look at Hyungjo’s notebook again.

“Huh?”

My rummaging hands grew urgent.

“It’s gone?! That son of a bitch!”

I bit my lip, stood up, and walked at a near-run.

I took a bus and arrived at the Central District Prosecutors’ Office. The prosecution building stood imposing, as if it would repel any external pressure.

I went inside without a moment’s hesitation. To enter the prosecutor’s office, I had to get a temporary pass.

“Which office are you looking for?”

“Huh? Uh, Prosecutor Kim Hanse’s office.”

“Prosecutor Kim Hanse…? Ah, it’s room 1015. Are you here for a witness interview?”

“…Ah, no. I have an appointment with the prosecutor.”

At my words, the prosecution office employee finally looked up from his monitor to look at me. I stood awkwardly, blinking my eyes.

“Please wait a moment.”

He picked up the receiver and made a call somewhere.

“This is the lobby. A visitor says they have an appointment with Prosecutor Kim Hanse. This is Jung Hyunwoo. Yes, please confirm.”

He glanced at me while holding the receiver, waiting for the other party’s response.

“Ah, yes. I understand.”

He said.

“Leave your ID and go in.”

I left my resident registration card and received a temporary pass. I took the elevator up to the 10th floor and looked for room 1015. Knock, knock. I knocked and opened the door.

“Ah, this guy!”

Hanse, who was about to bring down what looked like a thick file to hit someone’s head, stopped his motion and stared at me.

It wasn’t just one prosecutor inside the office. Hanse’s desk was in the middle, and on either side, two or three people were sitting at their own desks.

Two rough-looking men were sitting in front of Hanse. Hanse finished his curse and slammed the file he was about to hit their heads with on the desk loudly.

“Hey, you guys teamed up with the Guro-dong and Dokki gangs to screw us over, didn’t you!”

The two rough-looking men, even while being berated, turned to look at me.

Feeling awkward under the many gazes, I considered closing the door again, but contrary to my thoughts, I took a step forward.

Hanse, panting with anger, threw the file somewhere on his desk, plopped down in his chair, and raised his gaze to me.

“What can I help you with?”

A woman who seemed to be an office worker asked me. Hanse stood up and said.

“Clerk Kim, please take over. It seems these guys have decided to keep their mouths shut. You guys, trying to protect your higher-ups, you don’t even think about getting jail time yourselves. You morons.”

He walked from behind his desk, grabbed the wrist of me who was glaring at him, and dragged me out of the office. As the door closed, a burst of noisy shouting mixed with curses flowed out from inside.

“Did you come for the notebook?”

“You said you’d give it to me, so why did you take it? And secretly, at that!”

“When did I say I’d give it to you? I said I’d give it to you if you told me.”

“Give it to me now!”

“Don’t shout. Do you know where you are?”

“Prosecutor Kim, what’s going on over there?”

A man who came around the corner of the quiet hallway spotted us and gestured arrogantly with his chin. Hanse quickly turned his back. I was pressed so close against him that my face almost touched his back.

“Good morning, Department Head.”

“I heard you had a firearm misfire incident yesterday? What are you going to do, a young person so full of hot-headedness? If you’re going to be like that, you should’ve been a detective. Go to the police, not the prosecution. Why are you acting like a prosecutor and tarnishing the prosecution’s dignity? Do you know what the police say about you? They say you’re a spy they planted. I’m just speechless. If you keep acting like that, you could be sent off to the countryside. Do well while you’re here, while you’re here.”

Hanse bowed his head, and every time the arrogant man turned, Hanse agilely bowed his head and shifted his position to keep the man from seeing me.

Hanse watched until the grumbling department head disappeared down the end of the hallway.

Looking at his back, I scratched the back of my head. The firearm misfire was my fault. Hanse turned to me, who was feeling sorry, without showing any particular emotion and said.

“I was about to go out for fieldwork anyway, so wait.”

I somehow managed to get into his car, but I couldn’t bring myself to talk about the notebook.

I thought that being a prosecutor meant he would be living high and mighty. But seeing him being openly berated in a hallway full of people, I couldn’t easily bring myself to speak. I felt even more sorry because it was my fault.

The afternoon sun was blazing. Hanse frowned at the sunlight and took out his sunglasses to wear. As he turned the steering wheel, he asked.

“So, where were you headed? Ah, you came because of the notebook.”

“……”

“I’m starving. I was called in by the deputy chief prosecutor during lunchtime and got an earful. You ate, right? You seem to be very particular about your meals.”

“……”

“What, did you suddenly change your strategy to not talking?”

“I ate.”

He looked at me, dejected, with a puzzled expression, then finally laughed, saying, “Ah.”

“You do know you should be sorry, don’t you? Don’t worry about it. When you hear that kind of scolding, you just sing a song in your head. Though the only song I can remember is the national anthem.”

“……”

“It’s bad for your mental health if you care about and take in every single thing.”

“Still, it’s my fault. You got yelled at because of me.”

“Hahaha, you were brave. Honestly, if it weren’t for you, I was at a loss as to how I would have held out until the backup arrived.”

“……”

“Wait a minute.”

He pulled the car over to the side of the road and ran into a convenience store. It seemed he was telling the truth about being hungry, as he came out with a sandwich, milk, and a newspaper tucked under his arm.

As soon as he sat in the car, he tore open the sandwich wrapper and shoved it into his mouth aggressively. The way he opened the milk carton was funny. He opened it with one hand, then used his teeth to pull open the spout.

I looked at him pitifully as he hastily devoured the milk and sandwich.

It felt strange to see him doing that with Hyungjo’s face. It felt like Hyungjo had become a different person.

Hanse, eating in a hurry, finally choked, thumping his chest hard while chugging the milk.

He opened the newspaper out of habit. I shifted my gaze from him to the newspaper. There was nowhere else to look.

“…Huh?!”

I was startled and snatched the newspaper he was holding. My hands started to tremble.

“What is it? Is there some kind of article?”

Hanse, who had his newspaper suddenly snatched, grumbled. I stared intently at the newspaper.

I thought he was dead…?!

An eternity. Another person who had leaped over those years.

“Why? Did your school get blown up or something?”

“…Heo Seok.”

“What?”

“Seok hyung…”

The man shaking hands with a foreigner and staring at the camera was definitely Heo Seok.

He was definitely not in the school graduation album when I looked for him, or did I miss him?

Just as I had recognized the older Hyungjo at a glance, he too had only gained wrinkles on his face, but his cold expression was the same. His eyes were much more brilliant than they were in those days.

[Assemblyman Heo Seok, a leading candidate for the next presidential election, met with the U.S. Secretary of Defense, who was visiting Korea on the afternoon of the 15th to attend the annual ROK-U.S. Security Consultative Meeting, and exchanged opinions on matters of mutual interest, including the future of the ROK-U.S. alliance and the situation in Northeast Asia and the world.]

“Assemblyman Heo Seok?”

Hanse muttered.

Ah, right. I remember hearing that name. I vaguely recalled hearing that name on the news.

Heo Seok is alive. Alive and… aged, like Hyungjo.

Then who was the Heo Seok I met?

Does he remember me?

Does he still remember Lee Taewan and Ji Sungjoon?

“Let me, meet this person.”

I jabbed my finger at Heo Seok’s face in the newspaper.

Hanse stared at me blankly for a moment, then looked back and forth between me and Heo Seok in the newspaper as if troubled and said.

“How can a mere rank-and-file prosecutor arrange a private meeting with the opposition party’s floor leader? What is it, what’s going on?”

“It’s related to Hyungjo, no, the professor.”

“So what is it about?”

“There’s something I want to ask.”

“Something you want to ask…”

“Let me meet him.”

“Tell me what it’s about.”

Hanse said with a firm expression. It was a threat that there would be no reward if I didn’t speak.

I hesitated. He wouldn’t believe me even if I told him, and if I did tell him, I would just be treated like the crazy person I was treated as at school.

“He’s someone I knew from before. The professor, me, and Assemblyman Heo Seok.”

“Do you even know who this person is?”

“I know. Seok hyung, Heo Seok…”