Meeting Light and Darkness
The door swung open with a clatter. The man who strode in, all of five feet three, wore a face warped with fury that stood in stark contrast to his crisp, immaculate suit.
Bang!
He slammed the door behind him with more irritation than the gesture warranted, then stalked into the study and dropped into a chair.
"Goddamn it all."
Just as he was muttering under his breath and yanking loose his tie, a soft knock came at the door, and a young boy slipped in with a glass of cold water.
"Thank you."
"Is something not going well, sir?"
"...Nothing ever goes well in the first place."
He let the last of the tension drain from his body, slumping bonelessly against the backrest of the chair.
"The country is sprinting headlong toward a cliff, and I seriously doubt the high officials have anything at all between their ears. As for the king sitting on that throne of his—of him I'm certain. He has nothing up there."
"Are you sure it's wise to talk about the king that way?"
"What's Yi Myeongbok going to do about it? I'm Philip Jaisohn—an American. The man didn't even dare avenge his own wife after the Japs tore her apart with their army; he just turned tail and fled in terror to the Russian Legation. You think a coward like that has the nerve to shoot an American dead?"
"Of course not. But unlike you, Mr. Seo Jae-pil, I—"
"...My mistake. For a moment I forgot that 'that blockhead' might take his frustrations out not on me, but on the countryman standing next to me."
"Hahaha."
The man, who had lost his entire family to Gojong, patted my shoulder gently.
"Forgive me. My grievance against 'that blockhead' runs a little too deep, I'm afraid. Whenever it comes up, I find myself choking on it without meaning to."
"Not at all, sir. I understand completely."
Philip Jaisohn.
Seo Jae-pil, Philip Jaisohn—a holder of American citizenship and a physician's license, head of the Independence Club and founder of The Independent.
And a great independence activist who would, in later years, be posthumously awarded the Order of National Foundation.
Ever since the day I had turned up at the American Legation, I had been working as Seo Jae-pil's attendant and personal secretary.
Which meant, in practice—
"Well? How's the suit? Fits all right?"
"Fits like it was made for me."
"And the food? Western meals must take some getting used to."
"I was born a beggar, sir. I'll eat anything you put in front of me."
"Sleeping well?"
"I've always been able to sleep anywhere."
One stroke and he'd solved clothing, food, and lodging all at once. Magnificent.
The comfortable life is the best life.
Given that I had pulled off the feat of telling Gojong to his face—'Try killing me, you son of a bitch'—to dodge conscription, and given my free access in and out of the American Legation, the post of Seo Jae-pil's attendant was an enviable sanctuary of ease and security.
The things Seo Jae-pil occasionally wrestled with and tossed my way were, for the most part, questions about how ordinary 'Joseon people' would react to the speeches and campaigns he was planning to run.
And I would answer him, sifting through the shallow knowledge I carried from textbooks, dramas, and films.
"Tear down Yeongeunmun? The Gate of Welcoming Grace?"
"That's right. What 'rites of the Son of Heaven' does a nation that lost to the Japs owe to some colonized barbarians? Rip the thing down, and raise in its place an Independence Gate proclaiming Joseon's sovereign independence."
"...Sounds good to me?"
"What? Establish a national assembly?"
"Yes. Only when the people rise up and demand their own suffrage will this country ever stand upright. I'm giving a speech tomorrow—what do you think?"
"...I don't think it'll work?"
"Damn it. Why do the people of this country insist that holding the leeches of Gyeongbok Palace up above their own heads is some kind of virtue?"
As just now, though, my responses to Seo Jae-pil's questions leaned far more negative than positive, and each time he would sigh and drift into idle talk with me.
"Whew. So, is the studying coming along?"
"As it happens, I stopped by Mr. Homer Bezaleel Hulbert's home today."
"Good. He's a first-rate educator."
Homer B. Hulbert—another man who would one day receive the Order of National Foundation.
For now, he was pouring his strength into The Independent alongside Seo Jae-pil.
And the reason this man came up at all was this—
"The reason I took you in, Tae-oh, is of course because I pitied you. But more than that, letting your mind rot away would be a great sin—no different from squandering a talent the Lord above handed down to you."
Seo Jae-pil polished his glasses and went on in a low murmur.
"What do you think this country of Joseon needs most? A great warship? Cannon? Tens of thousands of the latest rifles? No. What this country needs right now is the enlightenment of its people."
He tapped his own temple with his index finger.
"A yellow monkey who couldn't speak a word of English clawed his way past those pale-faced honkies and earned a medical license. That, in itself, is proof that we Joseon—yellow monkeys though they call us—are not inferior to anyone."
His voice swelled, gathering heat.
"What the Korean people need is enlightenment and awakening! The moment they drive out those leeches squatting in Gyeongbok Palace and wake from their slumber, they will spread their wings like butterflies emerging from the chrysalis."
For a moment that future seemed to burn so vividly in Seo Jae-pil's eyes—until my own face was reflected in them instead.
"You, Tae-oh, are the brightest of all the gems I've unearthed. A prodigy. So study hard, learn deeply, and one day lead this country."
He was, I suspected, projecting the Korean people as a whole onto me.
Thump, thump.
Just then, a servant's call sounded from outside the main gate, accompanied by knuckles rapping on the door.
"I'll go see who it is, sir."
"No need. Those are the men I was expecting. The gate's open—show them in!"
When Seo Jae-pil called out toward the veranda, two figures I knew all too well soon walked through it.
Two faces I had grown thoroughly familiar with in the pages of history books.
"Good day to you, sir. I trust you've been well?"
"It's been all of a few hours since we parted. What ill could possibly have befallen me, you rascal? Haha!"
The youngest-looking of the three, a young man, gave me a quick, sweeping glance and spoke.
"And who might this be, sir?"
"Ah. A boy I keep in my private employ."
"I see. Pleased to meet you. My name is Woonam Rhee Syngman. I work under the professor here."
I clasped the hand of Rhee Syngman, who was wearing a warmly friendly smile on a face that had not yet fully shed its boyishness.
Yes—as a man flung down into this era, I had always assumed that someday our paths would cross.
But you... you I never expected.
"Pleasure's mine. Tae-oh, was it?"
"A remarkably bright boy. Someday he'll be the timber that carries this Joseon's future."
"Joseon's future, you say... Heh heh. Then it seems wise for me to make his acquaintance early."
The middle-aged man with the very familiar face extended his hand to me with an easy smile.
"Minister of State Councilor—Yidang Lee Wan-yong, at your service."
There was not a bone in my body that wanted to shake that hand. Son of a bitch.
"Hahaha!"
Seo Jae-pil roared with laughter, thumping my shoulder again and again.
"I've never laid eyes on a high minister of state before, so I suppose my nerves got the better of me."
"Oh, come now. That's perfectly understandable."
Lee Wan-yong gave a cynical nod and took his seat.
I half expected him to start breathing vengeance at me—'How dare a green Korean whelp refuse my handshake?!'—but instead—
"Tae-oh, be a good lad and fetch three cups of coffee."
"Yes, sir."
I scurried out of the study, shut the door behind me, and instead of brewing coffee, pressed my ear against it.
'Yidang. What is the king saying?'
'...His Majesty's will seems to lean toward cooperation with Russia.'
'Russia? Ha. I can't tell whether that's truly the king's intent, or whether he's simply buckled under Russian intimidation. After all, as things stand, he can't so much as step outside the legation without the Russians' leave, can he?'
'Haha, you two are both getting rather heated. Perhaps we ought to cool our heads for a moment—'
There was my opening.
I pelted back—not scurried this time, outright scrambled—loaded the coffee pot and cups onto a tray, and returned.
'...Russia won't do, no matter how I turn it over. Wouldn't it be better to counsel the king to draw in Britain or America instead?'
'Britain seems to have already made Japan its lapdog. If we come courting at this late hour, I doubt they'd welcome the attention.'
'Japan, you say.'
The voice presumed to be Lee Wan-yong's rumbled low.
'If it were Japan—fellow yellow men, after all—surely they would come to Joseon's aid?'
No. You devil of a man!
Bang!
"Your coffee!"
"Eh? Ah—"
"R-right. Thank you, lad."
I kicked the door open and strode in, cutting the conversation dead.
"Ahem. Well, since the coffee's here, let's leave business at that and have a pleasant chat instead."
"Yes, Professor."
"Of course."
The three men traded small talk for a while longer before parting ways.
And then—
"Tae-oh. Come here and sit down."
"Yes, sir."
I knelt with my head bowed low, bracing myself for a scolding.
In a way, I'd failed at even the simplest errand in front of guests—surely I was about to get it good.
Ah, ah. The memory came flooding back unbidden: the time I'd botched a kick playing football at the orphanage and put my foot clean through the director's office window.
I spent that entire day doing nothing but an exhaustive survey of the floor tiles. The director's office had round ones, too, which made my eyes spin in circles—
"You."
"I'm very sor—"
"Did you do it on purpose?"
I lifted my head just enough to look at Seo Jae-pil.
His eyes were perfectly calm and settled.
"...N-no, sir."
"Don't lie to me. I've circled this world—Joseon, Qing, Hawaii, America—and seen every kind of human being there is to see. Negroes in southern Arkansas, coolies in western California, the Ku Klux Klan besides."
He leaned forward slightly, folding his hands.
"...If a yellow monkey is to survive on a new continent crawling with men of that stripe, he'd best learn to sort people carefully. You follow me?"
"......"
"I'd rather you told me the truth before I throw you out. Nothing irritates me more than a man who keeps his mouth shut even when asked directly."
The Independence Club.
All I truly knew of them was that they had published The Independent and fought for the independence of Korea.
Yet for all their efforts, the Korean peninsula had ended up in Japan's grasp.
Judging from everything I had seen and overheard at their side these past weeks, these great independence activists had still not managed to let go of their ideals.
Even Seo Jae-pil and Rhee Syngman—the sharpest minds this Joseon had to offer—looked upon Japan not as an enemy, but as something closer to a fellow Asian nation, a partner.
Their illusions would probably only die after Japan began baring its fangs in earnest and the shock of the Eulsa Treaty landed like a hammer blow.
So if I spoke up now—if I told them Japan must be watched—could history bend toward something better?
"......If you don't mind my saying, sir—I don't understand why you and your guests this afternoon look upon Japan so favorably."
"Well, they're the only yellow nation in a world where these white monsters run rampant."
"Is there any actual basis for assuming shared race means shared allegiance? If so, why does Britain plunder Ireland so mercilessly—another white nation?"
"!!!"
When my words ended, silence hung in the room for a long moment.
"...Did Hulbert tell you that?"
Saying no would have looked strange, so I nodded promptly.
"I'm nothing but a beggar's son, I know—but perhaps that's exactly why I can't make sense of it. Why would the Japanese, who can barely speak a word we understand, lift a finger to help us Koreans? Our own countrymen spit and turn away in disgust at the sight of a beggar crawling up to them."
"......"
"So if I were a Japanese high official—having crushed Qing and seized sole dominion over Korea—I believe this would be the very moment to start stuffing this country into my mouth."
I held his gaze.
"Japan has broken Qing. What it lacks now isn't prestige. It's a colony to squeeze dry. Isn't that so?"
He rested his chin on his hand, staring hard at something far away, then drew out a cigarette and lit it.
"Whew. There's sense in that. The possibility is real."
Seo Jae-pil crossed the room to me and ruffled my hair.
The acrid smell of tobacco stung my nose at close range.
"Sharp lad. It seems we grown men have been looking at the world too hazily, too optimistically. And in this world, nothing comes free."
"Ayayaya."
"It seems I'll have to hurry my plans along."
"Your plans, sir?"
"If all four corners of this Korea are infested with packs of wolves, then we cannot go on half-paralyzed the way we are now."
Flames kindled in Seo Jae-pil's eyes.
And before long, I would come to regret having stirred them.