Scene 1. Vacuum
Yeonhwa's chest was not moving.
Lee Kang's eyes were fixed on that chest. The thing that had risen and fallen. The thing that had risen and fallen, faintly at least, for days. It was stopped. On the cot. Beneath the kerosene lamp's yellow light. The small chest. Was not moving.
The strength left Lee Kang's hand.
The hand that had gripped the doctor's throat. The hand that had pinned the doctor to the earthen wall. Those fingers loosened one by one. Slowly. It was not Lee Kang who loosened them. They loosened of themselves. Because Lee Kang's brain had forgotten what it was his hand had been gripping. The doctor, the rage, the suspicion that the medicine had been ruined. All of it lost its meaning in an instant.
The doctor's body slid down the earthen wall.
He sank to the floor. The doctor coughed. Clutching his throat. Hacking. Drawing air into a strangled throat. The doctor's eyes looked up at Lee Kang. Stricken with terror. Not knowing what would become of him the next moment.
Lee Kang did not look at the doctor.
Lee Kang's body turned. Toward the cot. His feet dragged the earthen floor. One step. Two. Not steps that lifted but steps that dragged. Not the soundless step of a beast at the hunt. A step that had lost its center of gravity. The step of a body that did not know where it was going, hauled toward one place.
Between Lee Kang and the cot were the partisans.
Rifles raised. Aimed at Lee Kang. Dozens of muzzles. Lee Kang passed between them. Between the muzzles. One partisan cleared the way. Another cleared it. Those who had grasped that Lee Kang was not looking at them. Those who knew that in Lee Kang's eyes they were not visible.
In Lee Kang's eyes there was only the cot.
The muzzles, the partisans, the bunker, the earthen walls. All gone. They were air. Lee Kang walked between air. Toward Yeonhwa. Toward the stopped chest.
The leader stood frozen, pistol in hand.
The leader's eyes followed Lee Kang. The monster that, moments ago, had pinned the doctor to the earthen wall and growled go ahead and shoot. Now it had become a husk that saw nothing, walking toward the cot. The killing intent was gone. The rage was gone. In their place there was nothing.
The leader started to open his mouth. Closed it.
Because he did not know what to say.
Lee Kang stood before the cot.
Yeonhwa was there. On the cot. With blood and yellow medicine hanging at the corner of her mouth. Eyes closed. Chest stopped. Her face still turned to the side as he had left it.
Lee Kang's knees buckled.
Beside the cot. On the earthen floor. Without a sound.
Scene 2. Clinging
Lee Kang laid his ear to Yeonhwa's chest.
Slowly. Lowering his head. He set his ear over Yeonhwa's chest. To listen. For the sound of her heart. The thing that had beaten, faintly at least, for days. Lee Kang's ear met Yeonhwa's chest.
Nothing could be heard.
There was no sound. No beat. That faint sound that had been heard for days. It was not there. Inside Yeonhwa's chest was quiet. Lee Kang's ear heard that quiet. If hearing quiet is possible. Lee Kang heard it.
Lee Kang raised his head.
He laid his fingers beneath Yeonhwa's nose. To feel for breath. That minute movement of air that had been felt, faintly at least, for days. Lee Kang's fingers met the underside of Yeonhwa's nostrils.
Nothing could be felt.
There was no movement of air. Air neither warm nor cold. No—there was no air at all. There was nothing going in and out.
Lee Kang's fingers began to shake.
Faintly. Beneath Yeonhwa's nose. His fingertips trembled so that even feeling for air was difficult. Lee Kang withdrew his fingers. Laid them again. They shook so that he could not lay them properly. Lee Kang's whole hand was shaking.
Beneath his sternum, something rose.
It was the truth. The thing Lee Kang had held back for days. The thing he had covered with the scent of lilac. The thing he had veiled with the sound of the silver bell. It was rising. That Lee Kang himself had fed her the medicine. That with his own hand he had stroked Yeonhwa's throat and sent the poison down. That the ingredients Lee Kang had gathered. The people Lee Kang had killed. The blood Lee Kang had drunk. That all of it—all of it—had been for killing Yeonhwa.
That truth struck Lee Kang's brain.
Each time it struck, his hands shook worse. Lee Kang tried to stop it. He could not. Because the scent of lilac no longer came. Because the sound of the silver bell no longer rang. Because everything that had covered Lee Kang was gone.
Lee Kang's hand met Yeonhwa's cheek.
Cold. Like ice. Not the cold of a living person. Lee Kang's palm felt that cold. Yeonhwa's blood came off onto his palm. Cooling blood. Cold bloodwater.
Lee Kang's mouth opened.
"Breathe."
His voice was cracked. It was not a beast's growl. Not a scream either. It was a child's. Mixed with weeping. Cracked. A sound hard to believe had come from a throat that, for days, had torn people apart and killed them.
"Breathe. What's wrong."
Yeonhwa did not breathe.
"You took the medicine. You took it, so you have to get better."
Lee Kang's hand gripped Yeonhwa's shoulder. He tried to shake her. As if shaking would wake her. But his hand shook so that he could not shake her. He held, just held. Trembling. Yeonhwa's shoulder was small in Lee Kang's hand. A shoulder of nothing but bone.
"Why won't you wake up."
Lee Kang's head dropped onto Yeonhwa's chest.
He laid his brow against Yeonhwa's chest. Against the stopped chest. As if to find the sound there again. Lee Kang's cheek met Yeonhwa's breast. Cold. Bloodwater smeared onto his cheek. Lee Kang did not wipe it.
Scene 3. Erasing
Lee Kang raised his head.
He looked at Yeonhwa's face. The blood at her mouth. The stain of yellow medicine. It was soiling Yeonhwa's face. Lee Kang's eyes saw it.
It had to be erased.
Lee Kang's hand took the coat's hem. The blood-soaked coat. With that hem he began to wipe the corner of Yeonhwa's mouth. The blood. The yellow medicine. He rubbed. The coarse cloth rubbed Yeonhwa's lips. Rubbed her cheek.
It would not erase.
The yellow medicine was lodged where it had dried. The blood was caught in the seams of her lips. Lee Kang rubbed harder. With the coat's hem. Yeonhwa's cheek chafed against the cloth. Lee Kang stopped. Because if he rubbed too hard, Yeonhwa would hurt.
Yeonhwa did not hurt.
Because Yeonhwa felt nothing.
Lee Kang's hand stopped before that fact. Stopped, and moved again. More gently. This time carefully. The hand that had been rubbing Yeonhwa's cheek became a hand that stroked. A hand afraid she would break. Different from the tenderness of feeding the medicine. Then there had been certainty. Now there was fear. That Yeonhwa would break. Would break more. That he would break further the thing already broken.
"No."
Lee Kang said.
Wiping Yeonhwa's face. Erasing the yellow stain.
"No. No."
As if erasing it would bring her back to life. If he erased the stain completely. If he wiped all the blood away. If Yeonhwa became clean. Then, as if she would open her eyes again. Lee Kang's hand wiped Yeonhwa's face and wiped it again. The coat's hem stained yellow and red.
The yellow stain at the corner of Yeonhwa's mouth would not erase.
Because the dried medicine had sunk into the skin. However he rubbed. That yellow was there. The color of the medicine Lee Kang had fed her. The color that Lee Kang had killed. It remained at the corner of Yeonhwa's mouth as a mark that would not erase.
Lee Kang's hand slowly stopped.
Gripping the coat's hem. Over Yeonhwa's cheek. It stopped. That it could not be erased. That it could not be wiped away. Lee Kang's hand—the trembling hand—had come to know it. The hand knew first. Before the head.
Lee Kang's breathing slowed.
The breathing that had been labored slowed. The hyperarousal was draining out. In its place, numbness filled in. It was as if his nerves were being severed one by one. The nerve that had felt pain. The nerve that had felt rage. All of them. Being severed. So as not to endure the unendurable. His body was severing its own nerves.
The expression drained from Lee Kang's face.
The rage. The despair. Even the sorrow. All of it drained out. Only an empty face remained. It was not the face of the monster that, until days ago, had torn people apart and killed them. The amber eyes were losing their light. What had blazed was cooling. What remained in its place was—an ordinary face. The face of an ordinary boy who had lost the world.
The bunker was quiet.
The partisans holding rifles were watching that face. The thing that, moments ago, had been an enemy. Had been a catastrophe. Had been a beast. Breaking. Breaking with a human face.
Scene 4. The Rope
The leader lowered his pistol.
Slowly. The muzzle to the floor. The gun that had been aimed at Lee Kang. He had understood that Lee Kang was no longer a threat. That the killing intent was gone. That the rage was gone. That the will to fight was gone.
The leader gestured.
To two partisans. A gesture to bring rope. A gesture to bind this monster. A dangerous beast that had to be kept bound while it lived. But a beast that could, for now, be bound.
Two partisans approached with rope.
Carefully. Smothering their footsteps. Behind Lee Kang's back. One step at a time. Afraid Lee Kang would turn. Afraid Lee Kang would turn back into a beast.
Lee Kang did not turn.
With Lee Kang's hand stopped over Yeonhwa's face. With Lee Kang's eyes fixed on Yeonhwa's face. The rope drawing near behind him. The footsteps drawing near. Lee Kang did not hear them. Heard, and could not process them. Because all of Lee Kang's nerves were with Yeonhwa. Because there was no nerve left to process anything else.
Lee Kang gathered Yeonhwa into his arms.
Lifted her from the cot. With both arms. Held her to his chest. Let Yeonhwa's head rest against his shoulder. As when he fed her the medicine. But different from then. Then it had been a hand that hoped the medicine would go in. Now it was a hand that could hope for nothing.
Lee Kang laid his brow against Yeonhwa's brow.
Cold. Yeonhwa's brow. That cold met Lee Kang's brow. Lee Kang closed his eyes. With their brows pressed together. With the two heads touching. Lee Kang went still. Completely. He did not move.
The rope met Lee Kang's wrist.
Coarse rope. A partisan wound the rope around one of Lee Kang's wrists. The arm with which Lee Kang held Yeonhwa. Carefully. One loop. Two. Lee Kang did not resist. Even feeling his wrist being bound. Even not feeling it. Lee Kang did not move.
The other wrist was bound too.
The rope bound Lee Kang's two wrists with Yeonhwa held between them. The arms holding Yeonhwa were bound. So that he could not let Yeonhwa go. The bound arms were fixed around Yeonhwa. It was not what the partisans had intended. But that was how it came out. Lee Kang was bound holding Yeonhwa.
Lee Kang might have wanted it.
Not having to let Yeonhwa go. The bound arms holding Yeonhwa forever. Whether such a thought rose in Lee Kang's head, there was no telling. What remained in Lee Kang's head, there was no telling. Because it was an empty face. Because they were empty eyes.
In a corner of the bunker, something was floating.
A place where water had pooled. Water that had flowed in from the drain. On it, a small thing was floating. A scrap of wood. The broken half of a pipe. The thing Doctor Jang had let drift away. How it had drifted this far. Carried down the drain to reach the bunker's puddle.
Lee Kang's eyes did not turn that way.
Lee Kang did not see it. That a scrap of Doctor Jang's pipe was floating there. That Doctor Jang might be alive somewhere. The only person who knew the secret of the true yellow medicine. The person who knew what Yeonhwa's true life had been. That a trace of that person was floating there.
Lee Kang did not see it.
With his brow against Yeonhwa's brow. With his bound arms holding Yeonhwa. Staring into empty air. The monster that, until days ago, had torn at the heart of the Empire. The beast that had chewed and swallowed human flesh. Now sat bound, holding a dead girl. Without a single resistance. With empty eyes.
The kerosene lamp swayed once.
The bunker's shadows wavered over them.
No one could open their mouth.