Chapter 58
Over the past few weeks, the Nutflix production team had thrown the full weight of headquarters behind the search.
Working through the night, they had turned every network they could into a live wire.
The International Red Cross, Jewish synagogues across the world, British consular archives, and even the major Jewish communities of the globe.
They had mobilized countless hands to dig up every scrap of information they could find.
And then—
"Haha! Mr. Kim Si-woo, the appraiser, we finally found it."
Yang Dong-seok, his shirt dark with sweat, came back waving a document from the 1940s: the International Red Cross refugee transfer records from wartime Britain.
And there, Anna’s trail stood out clearly.
— 1946, arrived in London, England.
There was even a record listing a London address, along with her guardian, Margaret Harrison.
Yang Dong-seok, triumphant, flicked to the next page on his tablet.
On the screen was an official cooperation letter stamped with the British government’s seal.
"Haha, we formally requested assistance from the British Home Office and a Jewish welfare foundation. Since the stated purpose was finding the family of a wartime survivor, even those notoriously fussy British bureaucrats were willing to move."
Si-woo looked stunned.
This is Nutflix’s power?
It was the kind of coordinated force only a global company could pull off.
If he had tried to track all this down by himself, there was no telling how long it would have taken.
Yang Dong-seok continued.
"Of course, there were privacy hurdles, but the legal team at Nutflix’s London branch contacted Sophia Thompson, Ms. Anna’s granddaughter and legal representative. The moment we sent over the photo of the bird box you found, she practically begged us to come in person. We also secured a written agreement consenting to the search and filming of their family history."
"Really? That’s a huge relief."
But Yang Dong-seok’s expression wasn’t entirely bright.
He looked as though he were swallowing something difficult to say.
"However..."
He hesitated and fell silent for a moment.
"We got word from the United States. They say they’ve traced Joseph Weiss’s movements."
Si-woo’s eyes changed.
"Anna’s father?"
"Yes."
Yang Dong-seok manipulated the tablet and brought up another screen.
A black-and-white photo.
A street in New York in the 1940s.
A middle-aged man standing in front of a watchmaker’s workshop.
Joseph Weiss.
He had aged a little, but it was unmistakably the face Si-woo had seen in the bird box.
The father who had handed that bird box to his daughter at Vienna Station.
"Joseph Weiss left Vienna in 1939 and arrived in New York, America. With his skill as a craftsman, he found his footing there quickly."
Si-woo listened in silence, but a slow unease began to creep in.
"Once he had settled, he began searching for his wife and daughter. He contacted the Red Cross, reached out to Jewish refugee organizations, and sent letters to Jewish communities in Shanghai and Hong Kong."
Yang Dong-seok explained in a low voice.
"But those were the days of war. The letters never arrived, and the records were all tangled together."
The memory from the bird box came back to him.
Joseph Weiss shouting at Vienna Station.
This isn’t a forever goodbye. We’re only being apart for a little while!
How hard must Joseph have fought to keep that promise?
"Even after the war ended, he kept looking for his family. But just as it was hard for us to find them, it must have been the same for Joseph Weiss. And in those days, even more so."
One mistaken name could block the search for a family.
And there was no way to know whether the letters sent at the time had ever arrived properly.
"And whenever he had time, Joseph Weiss was said to linger in front of the Empire State Building."
Yang Dong-seok let out a short breath and went on.
"On December 24, 1951—Christmas Eve—he went there again. He must have thought his daughter might remember the promise and come looking for him."
It felt as if his heart had stopped dead.
Joseph’s voice from inside the bird box came back to him.
One day, let’s meet again in New York. In front of the Empire State Building.
Joseph Weiss had kept that promise.
For twelve long years.
"That night, too, Joseph was waiting in front of the building when he was hit by a car on the way home."
There was a wetness to Yang Dong-seok’s voice.
"It was a heavy snowfall that night. The driver didn’t see him in time... Joseph was taken to the hospital, but he never made it."
Silence settled over them.
Si-woo couldn’t say a word.
Joseph Weiss.
A father who waited twelve years to find his daughter.
A man who waited for her at the place they had promised.
And, tragically, he had died right in front of that place.
"There was a letter among his belongings."
Yang Dong-seok said.
"It was one he wrote for his daughter but never got to send. The Jewish History Museum in New York had it in their collection."
He pulled out an envelope.
An old, faded envelope.
On the front, in German, were the words:
Meine liebe Anna
To my beloved Anna.
"The original is in the museum, and this is a copy. The museum kindly cooperated with us."
Si-woo took the copy.
Dense German handwriting filled the page.
He read slowly, using the German he had learned through Anna’s memories.
To my beloved Anna.
You didn’t come again today.
But that’s all right.
Daddy can wait as long as it takes.
No matter when you come, I’ll be here.
Always, at the place we promised.
If you ever read this letter, I want you to know something.
Daddy never forgot you, not even for a single day.
From the day I saw you off at Vienna Station, my heart has always been by your side.
Do you still have the bird box with the singing birds?
Just as the birds in that box never stop singing, my waiting will never stop either.
One day, when we meet again, there are so many things I want to do with Anna.
Until that day comes, I’ll keep waiting here.
Forever your father, Joseph.
As he read Joseph’s letter, tears had already begun to spill down his cheeks.
He could not begin to imagine the heart of a father who had waited every night in the snow-swept streets of New York for his daughter to return.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
London Heathrow Airport.
As they emerged from the arrivals hall, the gray English sky unique to Britain greeted them.
It felt as though that overcast sky mirrored Si-woo’s own heart.
As he got into the car prepared by Nutflix, he glanced down at the special case resting on his knees.
Inside it lay the bird box, treasured and protected.
We’re almost there.
He murmured it under his breath.
The end of the journey was finally in sight.
It had been a short trip, if judged only by time, but the weight it carried was heavier than anything he had ever known.
London’s streets swept past the window.
Red-brick buildings.
Double-decker buses.
Black cabs.
Before long, they arrived in a quiet residential district overlooking the Thames.
The car stopped in front of a two-story house smothered in ivy.
The garden had been lovingly tended, lush with roses and flowers of every kind.
The front door opened, and a woman who looked to be in her fifties stepped outside.
Brown hair, golden eyes.
"You must be Kim Si-woo. I’m Sophia Thompson, Anna’s granddaughter. Thank you for making such a long journey."
"Not at all. If anything, thank you for accepting our request, even though it may not have been easy for you."
Sophia’s gaze fell to the case in Si-woo’s hands.
"Could that possibly be the bird box Grandmother used to talk about?"
"Yes. It’s the item she left behind in Hong Kong a long time ago."
"Grandmother used to tell me about that bird box all the time. The box her father gave her. She said it was a box where birds sang. She always said she’d never be able to find it again. She said it was her fault. Oh, and instead of standing around like this, why don’t we have some tea over there and talk?"
Sophia turned and pointed to an outdoor table set up in a corner of the garden.
A white lace cloth covered the iron table, and a tea service had been laid out on top.
It was a cozy little space beneath an arch draped in rose vines.
"Let’s talk there. Grandmother always liked having tea there on nice days."
The gloomy weather had somehow given way to warm sunshine.
As they took their seats, Sophia poured the black tea she had prepared in advance.
Warm steam rose in curling wisps.
"Grandmother used to talk about the bird box often."
Sophia set down her teacup as she spoke.
"Especially at night, when she couldn’t sleep. She said it was a precious gift from her father. That when you wound the spring, a bird would sing. She said it was the most beautiful sound in the world."
Si-woo listened quietly.
"But..."
Sophia’s expression darkened.
"Grandmother lost her memory of where she hid it."
"She lost her memory?"
Si-woo echoed, startled.
"Yes. Life in the camp was far too harsh for a child back then."
Sophia let out a deep breath.
"From the shock of losing her mother, to the hardship of camp life, she suffered from hunger and disease."
He listened silently to Sophia’s story.
"The problem was that Grandmother even lost the memory of her father’s name, where she hid the bird box, and even what his face looked like. Because of the fear from that time, she couldn’t even bring herself to go to Hong Kong, where her mother was buried."
"It was that severe?"
"According to her doctor, it was due to extreme trauma. The shock was too much for a child to bear. Her mother’s death, the hunger, the terror. All of it piled up, and her brain erased the memories to protect itself."
Sophia’s eyes turned red at the corners.
Only then did everything make sense.
Why the bird box had remained buried in that place in Hong Kong for more than decades.
Why Anna had never been able to reconnect with her father.
"There’s something Grandmother used to say."
Sophia looked out over the garden as she spoke.
"She said, ‘I lost the bird my father gave me, so Father won’t be able to find me.’"
Si-woo’s chest ached.
"Oh, look, Grandmother’s coming."
At that moment, an elderly woman in a wheelchair, guided by a tall young man, was coming this way.
Sophia lowered her voice.
"Grandmother has had dementia for the past three years. Lately she’s had so little energy she can barely do anything. She doesn’t even recognize family anymore."
Si-woo gave a heavy nod.
The wheelchair drew closer.
Anna, the child in his memory, had aged and come to the twilight of her life before they met again.
Slowly, Si-woo knelt before her and opened the case.
The radiant bird box appeared before them.
The birds on the enamel gleamed in the sunlight of the setting sun.
And then—
Something long absent stirred within Anna’s blurred gaze.
Her gaunt hand lifted slowly.
Trembling fingers reached toward the bird box.
So earnestly. So desperately.
He brought the bird box close to her knees.
Her wrinkled fingertips touched the enamel surface.
She traced the outlines of the birds.
Caressed the ridges of the branches.
It was the touch Anna had longed for all these years.
Carefully, Si-woo wound the spring.
Creak, creak, click—
As the bird emerged from the mechanism, a clear song spilled through the garden.
Chirp, chirp, trilling in bright cascades—
Anna’s lips trembled.
Tears began to run from her eyes.
Everyone watching the scene fell quiet.
In Anna’s eyes, the past was rising again.
The warm touch of her father’s hand as he gave her the bird box.
The promise that they would meet again.
All of it came flooding back.
Sophia, watching her grandmother like that, covered her mouth and began to sob.
"Grandmother... Grandmother is crying..."
Sophia’s voice shook.
"I’ve never seen her cry before..."
Si-woo said nothing.
He only stood beside her and watched.
Anna drew the bird box into her arms and held it to her chest.
Like a child clutching a doll.
Just as she had so long ago, when her father gave it to her at Vienna Station.
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