The Line Between Us: Part II

Chapter 3: The Han River Bridge Disaster

She held her gaze in the mirror and spoke softly, her voice steady and resolute-

"이제부터... 너는 최순호야."
("From now on... you are Chae Soon-ho.")

Hours passed.

Out on the street, Sun-hee walked alone-her boots striking the pavement, hands stuffed into the pockets of her loose trousers. A black jacket hung over her frame, and a low palos cap shadowed her eyes. She moved with the sure, careless swagger of a young man-shoulders squared, head up, gaze unwavering.

Up ahead, the street was crowded with military trucks and jeeps, engines idling, their canvas covers flapping in the breeze. Soldiers in dusty uniforms moved through the crowd-some barking orders, others blocking the way, scanning faces for any boy old enough to fight. The conscription was in full swing, relentless, swallowing up every boy and young man in sight.

At the edge of the chaos, two soldiers leaned against the back of a parked jeep, deep in quiet conversation, doing their best to look busy while staying out of the real work.

Sun-hee approached them, slowing to a stop. Her voice, low and measured, betrayed nothing.

"저기요."
("Excuse me,") she called, her tone deep-convincing, utterly masculine.

The soldiers turned, giving her a quick once-over.

"징집한다는 얘기 들었어요."
("I heard about the conscription,") Sun-hee said evenly.

One of the soldiers nodded.

"그래. 몇 살이야?"
("That's right. How old are you?")

"스무 살입니다."
("Twenty,") she answered, a hint of a smirk tugging at her lips.

"억지로 끌고갈 필요 없을 겁니다. 내가 직접 자원해서 빨갱이들이랑 싸울게요."
("You won't have to force me. I'll volunteer to fight the Communists.")

The two soldiers exchanged a look, impressed despite themselves by Sun-hee's boldness. One of them let out a small chuckle, nudging his friend with an elbow.

"야, 이젠 우리가 찾아다닐 필요도 없겠네. 직접 오는 놈들도 있잖아."
("See? We don't even have to look for them anymore-some are coming to us on their own,") he said, grinning.

"트럭에 타."
("Get in the truck.")

Sun-hee just smirked and strolled off toward the waiting truck, her footsteps slow and steady.

Far from the chaos of Seoul, the coast of Yeongdo remained quiet-untouched by the violence, for now.

On the deck of the boat, sunlight glinted off the water and bathed Jin-woo and Min-jae in gold. Both wore rolled-up long-sleeved shirts, sweat beading on their brows as they sat across from each other on battered wooden stools. Between them, they sorted the morning's catch: mackerel and pollack in one pile, crabs and shrimp in another. Jin-woo tossed the smaller fish back into the sea, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.

Min-jae glanced at his father, hesitant at first to speak. Gathering his courage, he finally asked,

"아버지..."
("Aboeji...")

Jin-woo paused, a mackerel still in his hand, and turned to look at his son.

"아버지, 들었어요... 대한민국 군이 서울에서 젊은 남자들을 징집하고 있대요."
("Aboeji, I heard... the Republic of Korea Army is conscripting young men in Seoul.")

Jin-woo's brows drew together, but he kept sorting the fish.

"그래서 뭐?"
("So what?") he said, his tone guarded.