The Gathering
On Wednesday evening I was climbing the hill to Yunchae's House. The sun had already set, and the streetlights were on. I didn't mind the situation anymore. I liked that I could see Yunchae, and I liked talking to people. It was even better when those people actually listened, and better still when my words moved them or gave them a chance to rethink something. Who they were hardly mattered.
I opened the gate and stepped inside. It was quieter than I had expected. Wondering if something had gone wrong with the arrangement—or if the whole thing had been canceled—I opened the front door with a small knot of disappointment already forming. Then I was a little startled.
Yunchae's House had always been steeped in the smell of incense, and the lights inside were kept dim, so neither the scent nor the gloom put me off. What completely threw me were the people clustered together in the living room, all facing one direction. The aunties I had expected to greet me with warmth and chatter were sitting with almost painful composure, heads bowed. They looked like people who had been brought there against their will. Caught off guard by the strange tableau, I stopped where I stood. Footsteps approached, and Yunchae walked toward me. Looking at her, I was surprised all over again.
Yunchae was wearing something like a hanbok. I say "like" because the fabric was unmistakably that of a hanbok, yet the cut was different. It resembled the clothes she had worn a few days earlier for the ritual of offering herself to me, only the upper garment was longer, and it was not sheer. It reminded me of the costumes in Goguryeo murals—and of the robes priestesses wore in films.
"Jisin has arrived."
Roughly eight aunties bowed their heads. Still bewildered, I stepped up into the living room. Yunchae guided me to the front of where they sat. The women raised their faces and looked at me. Plenty of people freeze or tense up when they have to stand before an audience for a presentation or a speech. I was the opposite. When people fixed their attention on me like this, I felt calmer, freer. Maybe it came from experience. Or maybe I had simply been born with it.
"Thank you. I can see that each of you has come here today carrying a little of the weight on your hearts."
At my first words, understanding already began to soften the aunties' faces. After all, who in this world was free of burdens?
"Today, let's set those burdens down for a moment beside us. Let's look a little deeper into ourselves, and talk about the things we have walked past—the things we have lived our lives forgetting."
The aunties filed out of the house in a murmur of conversation. I sat on a kitchen chair with a glass of water Yunchae had poured for me, wetting a throat left parched by passionate speech. After locking up behind the last of them, Yunchae came carefully toward me and held out an envelope.
"The aunties left this for you. Please take it."
I was startled both by the sudden formal speech and by the envelope she offered.
"Why… why are you suddenly being so formal?"
Yunchae knelt in front of the chair where I sat and spoke in a low voice.
"The closer we become, the harder it will be to speak to you this way. I do it because it's easier for me, so please don't say anything. At school, when other people are around, it would only make Jisin uncomfortable—so then I'll speak casually."
I smiled and rested a hand on her shoulder.
"Jisin? Why do you keep making this so awkward? You're joking, right?"
Yunchae did not lift her head.
"That, too, is because I feel I should address you that way. Please just let me."
It didn't seem like a joke. Unable to hide my discomfort, I glanced at the envelope on the table. Even at a glance it looked thick.
"And what's this money?"
Still looking down, Yunchae answered.
"It's money the aunties collected. They put it together of their own free will, as a token of gratitude."
I felt awkward, as if they might think I had done all this for money. I didn't even touch the envelope.
"You handle it, Yunchae. I didn't talk to those women to make money."
She bowed her head lower.
"I know that very well. So do they. They did it voluntarily, from the heart. If you refuse it, they will only feel more hurt."
She paused, as if thinking, then spoke again.
"If it truly makes you uncomfortable, I will manage the money myself. The next time they come, I can at least offer them some refreshments."
I said nothing. The extreme deference in Yunchae's manner felt alien to me. I bent forward and asked,
"Do you really believe your Jusin has been transferred into me?"
Yunchae still did not raise her head. After another moment of thought, she answered.
"That doesn't matter. Ever since I first met you, every time I see Jisin, awe rises in me unbidden. Every time you speak, I feel with absolute certainty that you are someone I must serve. And I feel deeply honored that you accepted me."
Hearing that, the image of Yunchae's bare body rose unbidden in my mind. I swallowed hard and drank some water. When I stood up from the chair, she finally lifted her head and looked at me. I felt a little mentally drained. Wanting to lie down, I glanced around, and Yunchae watched me with a look that asked what I was searching for.
"I just want to lie down for a bit…"
She nodded and hurried into the room. With quick hands she spread out the bedding. I went in and lay down. Yunchae, beside me, said,
"Do you… need me?"
I looked at her. Of course I needed her. Everything I was doing was so I could come see her. Holding that thought, I neither spoke nor moved—only watched her. Yunchae rose at once and began to undress. I had no reason to stop her. I watched with expectant eyes.
Under that Goguryeo-mural robe she wore nothing. Fortunately the fabric had not been sheer, so nothing had shown before—but once the clothes came off, Yunchae's pure white body was fully revealed. Heat flooded through me at once. I sat up, stripped, laid her down, and settled over her.
It felt like a dream. I could hardly believe that the woman I had longed for was mine to hold whenever I wanted. It was a long way from the romantic, fluttering love I had once imagined alone—but that no longer mattered. As long as I could be with this woman, anything was fine.
As Yunchae frowned at my entrance, I asked,
"Does it… hurt?"
She opened her eyes a little and looked at me with a faint smile.
"It does hurt… but strangely, even when it hurts, I want you to keep going."
Now she even seemed cute. The way she spoke so formally made me feel years older all of a sudden. I held her, and she held me back.
After that day, the gathering was held once a week. The number of aunties who came grew a little with every meeting. In about a month—by the third or fourth gathering—roughly twenty people were showing up. The living room of Yunchae's House was beginning to strain under the numbers. Hot summer was not far off, and a house without air-conditioning would never manage.
Somehow we got through this meeting, but the problem quietly began to weigh on me. I was eating lunch alone in the student cafeteria, lost in thought, when Senior Yongjin set his tray down across from me.
"Why the face full of worries?"
He spoke as he spooned soup into his mouth. To me, Senior Yongjin was the only person I could open up to completely, confide in, and lean on. With no siblings and no real friends, he was my one friend and brother. I told him everything that had been happening lately. I had already spoken to him before about what had happened with Yunchae, so he wasn't shocked—but even he seemed surprised at how quickly things had changed.
He barely touched his food while he listened with real seriousness, frowning with me, worrying with me. I hadn't come looking for answers, so the simple fact that he shared the weight of it moved me and made me grateful. When he had heard everything, he chewed a mouthful of rice. I thought he probably had no idea what he was even chewing.