A Sleeping Face
The steam locomotive jolted and strained far more than the subways or bullet trains I used to ride. That said, having an entire passenger car to just the two of us was a considerable advantage. Except…
"I'd really appreciate it if you'd sit across from me, if at all possible."
I turned my head sharply toward Huiyoung, who was glued to the seat right beside mine. We had a whole car at our disposal—she could have gone into a separate compartment entirely without it being a problem. But that would have felt too cold and impersonal, so I wasn't about to go that far.
Still, even sharing the same car, surely sitting in the opposite seat was possible? It was the same discomfort as sitting at the very edge of a subway seat and having someone bypass every other empty seat to plop down right next to you. And if it ended at simply sitting close, fine—but when the other person was a woman I'd known for two days, one who'd taken an inexplicable interest in me for reasons I couldn't fathom…
"…You don't like it?"
I found it hard to say a flat yes, I dislike it. Sly woman. If she'd asked is it uncomfortable?, I could have answered plainly, Yes, it's uncomfortable. But when she asked if I disliked it, the matter changed entirely. She was a woman. No visible sign of the excitement I couldn't hide had surfaced just because a pretty woman was pressed against me—or nothing of the sort, at least.
Besides, it wasn't merely a matter of visual indicators—this body was producing hormones from the brain as well. The feelings were different from what I'd known as a man. But still… she was beautiful. A little frightening, and hard to read in a way that made me wary, but if she asked whether I disliked having her close, I honestly didn't know what I'd say.
"No answer, hm? I'll take that as a yes."
And even that presumptuous declaration, I couldn't bring myself to flatly refuse.
"Leaning on me is still a bit…"
"Ah. Well. Okay."
Huiyoung looked mildly disappointed as she lifted her shoulder from my body and slid sideways, moving all of about five centimeters away. Aside from the international pages, the newspaper's articles held little of interest—mostly stale or frivolous fare. There was a lengthy editorial opposing Hong Sa-ik's appointment as Minister of Military Affairs, too. Its argument ran that while it was admittedly unavoidable to bring officers with actual combat experience like Hong Sa-ik into the work of nation-building, considering the symbolic weight of a government that had won independence from beneath Japan's heel, appointing such a man as the first Minister of Military Affairs was inappropriate.
"Well, at least they're not calling for a purge outright…"
I ran my fingers over the newspaper, straining to find even a sliver of something positive in what I'd just read. Huiyoung shook her head skeptically.
"The editorial writer just wanted to keep his distance from the communists, that's all. They're the ones always arguing that officers with Japanese military backgrounds should be barred from the Party, or persecuted at the very least. He simply didn't want to look like one of them."
"Why would the left feel that way?"
"Simple. They want to build the nation around the Eighth Route Army as its core. And that same Eighth Route Army is so desperate just holding out against the Republic of China right now that it could collapse any day…"
"So they want to seize control of the military and turn the country into a communist state."
"Do you hate communism, ma'am?"
The question came out of nowhere, and I was briefly at a loss for words. I would need to tread carefully.
"What about you, Conductor Choi?"
"I don't care for it much. I'll admit it's an interesting idea. But I don't have any premonition that it will end well, not in any form. Because… it's red. It reeks of blood, and I hate that."
"I agree."
I said it sincerely. Communism had already failed in Japan, after all—if anything, it would have been unnatural for me to feel any warmth toward it. I'd already guessed that Huiyoung leaned close to right-wing figures if you pressed the point, but given that she was a subordinate of Yo Un-hyung, who had moved in socialist circles, I'd merely kept a momentary guard up.
Once I'd read every worthwhile article the paper had to offer, there was nothing left to pass the time. I was just thinking I should have packed a baduk board or a janggi set with my luggage when Huiyoung suddenly yawned behind her hand.
"I'm sleepy. Must be that big lunch."
"Go lie down on the opposite seat. If you fall asleep now, you'll only end up leaning on me."
"Aw, can't I lean a little? What are we to each other, after all?"
"Colleagues from work who've known each other two days."
"Just… coworkers?"
"Coworkers of two days' acquaintance."
I said it in a roundabout way to make clear we weren't close enough to sleep leaning on each other. Grumbling, Huiyoung nonetheless did as I said and moved across to the opposite seat, stretching out her legs. The car's seats were long enough to seat three comfortably, and the cushions were decently plush, so she seemed able to lie down without trouble.
"Then I'll get some sleep. Wake me if anything happens."
"Sure. Though this is an express—it'll only stop once anyway."
As I picked the Dong-A Ilbo back up, I watched Huiyoung sink into sleep. I thought about rereading the articles I'd already finished, but my interest had run dry. At some point I found myself staring, unblinking, at the sleeping face of the military conductor.
She fell asleep with astonishing speed. She'd yawned a moment before, yes, but she hadn't looked drowsy enough to be unable to fight it. And yet the instant her eyes closed, I could see every muscle in her body go slack, the movement of her pupils stopping.
It was the exact opposite of me—when I was exhausted to the limit, even lying down, it took me at least ten minutes to fall asleep. Feeling a petty flicker of envy as I quietly watched her, I gradually began to sense the same fatigue closing over me.
With Huiyoung gone from beside me, generous space had opened up on my side as well. I was a bit taller than she was, but not so tall that I couldn't stretch out and lie down. Nothing to see out the window, no books to read, no newspaper left…
I was sitting there blankly when I dozed off and thumped my head against the wall. It made me uneasy. A creeping anxiety that if I fell asleep and she woke first, something would be done to me.
But… look at it however I liked, my uniform was buttoned tightly to the collar, and my belt was cinched firm. Not exactly the kind of outfit in which anything could be done to me without my noticing.
Eventually I took off the garrison cap I'd been wearing, set it down, and lay back against the seat. I stole a glance toward Huiyoung, but she was still sleeping in her relaxed pose. If I just emptied my head a little longer and settled in comfortably, I thought I might be able to drift off too.
The train was still swaying, but it didn't make me queasy. I lowered my eyelids, and the swaying ceiling vanished from before my eyes.
And so, comfortably—for how many minutes I couldn't say, comfortably—I lay there sensing that no one around me stirred, until at some point my consciousness simply cut out.
I didn't dream. I knew I'd fallen asleep and woken not when I opened my eyes, but before—while my eyes were still shut, I felt my consciousness return to reality. How many hours had passed? I couldn't begin to guess. But the train was still swaying, and little seemed changed from when I'd lain down against the seat.
And yet something was different.
Something was in front of me. The moment I opened my eyes now, there would be something there.
Feeling that animal instinct, I opened my eyes slowly.
At a distance so close our noses nearly touched, she was looking straight down at me. I whispered quietly.
"You startled me."
"The Japanese slipped out first."
Huiyoung said it without pulling her face back a single inch. I couldn't move, pinned by the panic that if I lifted my head now I'd collide with her. Her breath touched my nose, but she had no bad breath. It was I who had to ask cautiously, worrying whether I was the one breathing staleness at her.
"What do you mean?"
"It felt unnatural—that in a moment of shock, Korean came out second."
"Well, I'd already guessed you'd be there before I even opened my eyes."
I deflected the awkward question with practiced ease. Only then did Huiyoung draw her head slightly back from me and smile.
"To be fair, your eyes were moving before they opened. You woke up, I realized, and you were keeping them shut on purpose."
"What is this, exactly?"
"Staring at the sleeping face of someone you like—isn't that just a natural desire? Didn't you stare at my face, ma'am?"
"Not from that close."
"So you did like looking, either way?"
I didn't answer. Instead, I asked about the one thing nagging at me.
"You didn't… steal a kiss or anything, did you?"
"I didn't. I didn't touch you at all."
"Really?"
When I asked with open suspicion, Huiyoung stuck out her tongue in exaggerated wounded innocence and raised her voice.
"I really didn't! And for good reason—you made me promise to ask permission, remember? For anything like that."
I had said something like that, hadn't I. Not that I'd expected her to honor it so scrupulously.
"No one's ever seen your sleeping face before, I bet. It's true I thought about stealing a taste of your lips, but."
"You really can't restrain yourself, can you."
I sat up from the seat, smoothing down my disheveled hair and checking my clothes. There was no sign anyone's hands had been on me.
"That's right. I can't. If it comes to a falling-out with you over something trivial, I won't stand for it. Compared to all the time we'll spend together from now on, one stolen look at your sleeping face is a trivial thing. Which is exactly why—now that you're awake—there's something I'd like permission for. May I kiss you?"
"No."
I said it firmly. Just then the train began gradually to slow, then came to a halt. An express train stopping could only mean we'd arrived. Apparently I'd slept quite a long time.
It was Busan Station.