The Atmosphere of Busan
Busan was a big city. Judging purely by its vitality, it would be no exaggeration to say the place looked livelier than Kyeongseong. But could this really be called vitality? It was a city where the scent of Japan lingered even more thickly than in the capital.
Of course, if you judged the atmosphere by architecture alone, I would have said that today's Kyeongseong was the more Japanese of the two. Those strangely hybrid modern buildings — not entirely committed to European design principles, yet not merely copied from Europe either — bore the unmistakable composition of architects intent on building a little Tokyo on the peninsula. Japan was violent, but it was also an experimental nation. Its engineers and explorers loved to test their schemes on the newly acquired territories of Korea and Manchuria. Busan, however…
Busan felt less like a design laboratory and more like the very last toe Japan kept pressed against the Korean peninsula. Japanese patrolmen in their black uniforms still roamed the streets. Several months had passed since the country's liberation, yet the citizens of Busan seemed unable to feel the fact of the People's Republic of Korea's independence in their own skin.
In the name of protecting its historical interests in the port, Japan had clung to various pretexts and refused to withdraw its police force from the city.
"Where's the local People's Committee? It seems better to go there first and explain what we're here for."
I had casually suggested to Hui-yeong that we slip into the city. Wearing a single navy-blue uniform while everyone around me was dressed in grimy black patrol gear felt strange. And the fact that those black uniforms were the very clothes I myself had been wearing until recently only made the feeling stranger still.
"I'll handle that later by phone, so don't worry yourself over it. Our government's local influence barely functions out here."
"So the Gyeongsang branch isn't here, I take it?"
"It was supposed to be headquartered in Busan, of course. But… you can see the situation for yourself. The Japanese are deliberately tightening their grip, as if they've set their minds on colonizing Busan alone. They'll all withdraw soon enough, but for now the branch had to relocate to Masan. It should actually be convenient for you, Unni — you can still pretend Busan is just another piece of colonial Korea."
"Hmm. Maybe convenient if I were still wearing the black."
I tapped the epaulettes on my shoulders.
"In Japan, the police are regarded as the heirs of the samurai. And for a samurai, what matters is not where you came from but whom you serve now. Right now, I'm thinking of myself as a police officer commissioned in Korea. It's uncomfortable. It feels like crawling into someone else's territory."
It wasn't flattery — I meant it. Hui-yeong gave a soft laugh and asked, "The samurai? The samurai I know were ambitious schemers who committed betrayal as casually as eating rice…"
"Lu Bu's existence in Romance of the Three Kingdoms doesn't mean the Three Kingdoms era had no loyalty at all. You could say I've already switched lords once, I suppose… but honestly, I don't consider that my fault. Ignoring a master who calls you unnecessary and attaching yourself to the one who says they need you — that's its own kind of loyalty."
"And yet you won't change your nationality."
"I merely said I'd consider it. Abandoned though I may be, I wasn't actually deported from Japan, and if I'm going to work anyway, the ideal arrangement is something like a foreign advisor."
"You're not confident our government will succeed, are you? You're sharp enough, Unni — you can't actually accept this precarious state of the People's Republic, can you?"
"I'd like everyone to work hard enough that I can."
I deflected her point with a roundabout expression of agreement. An independent government where socialists held more than half the seats, yet which possessed neither a proper army nor a proper police force. Yes — I had no real conviction that this newborn Korea, the one Choi Hui-yeong had thrown herself into, would survive the tide of history.
The conscripted soldiers, the forced laborers, the comfort women — even the city of Busan itself. None of them were being properly reclaimed. If this place was in this state, the situation down on Jeju Island didn't bear imagining. It was enough to draw a small sigh.
She told me we could make our phone call once we reached our hotel near the pier. If any situation arose demanding our urgent attention, it would surely come from the direction of the sea — and so, she said, she had deliberately booked a hotel close enough to Busan Port that we'd hear the steamships' whistles blaring right outside our windows.
Evening had already slipped past dinnertime and I was beginning to feel peckish, so we decided to grab a simple meal as we walked toward the harbor. Our footsteps came to a halt in front of a tavern. Hui-yeong spoke.
"There are times I do wish I could share a cup of makgeolli with you, Unni…"
"We're on the clock."
"Would it be all right if we weren't? You always said you avoid alcohol because your work demands your body be kept in shape."
It was true that the past three years had been all but a strict abstinence. But honestly, keeping fit had only been the excuse…
"It was because I had no one to drink with, that's all."
"Well, I suppose so — your colleagues were all Japanese male patrolmen. That would be a bit much, wouldn't it?"
"The Korean women I suspect are gunning for me are also a bit much, but…"
That was when it happened. One of those 'old colleagues' of mine suddenly called out to us.
"Oh! Sergeant Ajisai! So you're here! I knew it — you're headed back to Japan too, aren't you, Sergeant?"
It was Honda. Wasn't it just yesterday that this man had chased me down to my home, clinging and spouting nonsense? Setting aside the fact that being courted by a man was uncomfortable in itself, he wasn't exactly a paragon of a person. He'd come to Korea because he couldn't hold a police job in the home islands — hardly a promising talent — and his character left much to be desired as well…
"Ah, Honda. I thought you were heading home. Still here?"
I answered offhandedly.
"Ah — my ship's departure hasn't come up yet. Oh, but Sergeant, your uniform…"
He seemed to have only just noticed that the color of my uniform was different from usual. I tried not to look in Hui-yeong's direction as I replied.
"I was commissioned in Korea. It seems I won't be going to the home islands with you after all. Sorry about that."
"No — that can't be…"
His face fell in a way that was impossible to miss. Honestly, I didn't mind losing a bit of time in an unexpected place. But I genuinely wanted this dim-witted man to back off right where he stood.
Because I could feel something like a thick, clinging darkness gathering at my back.
"Even so, if you'd just reconsider… I — I really can do the job well. If I think of this as my last chance, I will!"
At that moment, Hui-yeong gave me a slight shove and stepped forward, speaking in flawlessly fluent Japanese.
"Patrolman Honda, is it? A pleasure to meet you. I am Choi Hui-yeong, Vice Minister of Military Affairs of the People's Republic of Korea. Knowing it would be proper courtesy to step aside and let old acquaintances share a meal together here in Busan, I would gladly do so — but we are in the middle of urgent official business. Might I suggest you return to your current post? I understand you've been assigned to patrol the city until your ship arrives."
"Official business? A Korean, here?"
Oh, wonderful — out came the word Chosen-jin. Of course, he probably just meant 'a Korean' without any particular weight behind it.
"Yes, official business. This is Republic territory too. Is there something strange about Korean police doing police work?"
"But I have business with the Sergeant as well…"
"You're an eyesore. Get lost."
It had been a cold day to begin with. The icy chill radiating from beside me made me wrap my arms around myself and shudder involuntarily. Honda, too, seemed thoroughly frightened.
"Ah — uhh…"
I gathered my courage and turned to look at Hui-yeong. Her two black eyes felt darker and deeper than the night itself, yet again.
"Go easy on him. He'll be heading back to Japan soon anyway."
I said it in Korean. This man almost certainly couldn't understand a word of it.
"If you say so, Unni. Now — shall we go get our own dinner? There should be a decent fresh-fish place near the hotel. I looked into it before we came."
"Premium catches are beyond my wallet's pay grade."
"Oh, come now — what kind of national dignity would a Vice Minister and an Investigation Squad Leader have if they couldn't manage a proper meal at a market fish stall? My treat. Order whatever you like."
"Well, then… I won't refuse. I haven't received a single paycheck from my new job yet, so I really am broke. Even if you bill me later, I'd have no way to pay."
Hui-yeong laughed in high spirits, as if asking whether I really thought she couldn't shoulder her own words. The pitiful patrolman who had been courting me was left frozen in place, while the two of us walked side by side toward the harbor, picking up the pace. I acted as if the man simply wasn't standing there at all, hoping my companion hadn't registered his existence in the slightest.
For one moment, I thought Hui-yeong glanced back at him — but I hoped to God she wasn't plotting anything. She had already shown him more than enough of what she was capable of. There was no need for anything further.