"So much has changed in Seoul, but I'm really glad to see you again, Seri."
Smiling at the handsome visage walking by her side, the Governor's daughter nodded, her hands demurely clutching her handbag in front of her.
They'd just had dinner together at a small local eatery, and were taking a slow stroll along the streets of Seoul before calling it a day.
"As I am, Sang Woo. Thank you for asking me out to dinner."
"It's always my pleasure. Besides, when things are more settled, we'd have to start talking about the wedding. You deserve the most glamorous and extravagant wedding that I can give, Seri."
Those words caught her by surprise. To be honest, with the country being ravaged by war, a wedding had been the last thing on her mind.
Her betrothed, Cha Sang Woo, who was not only a promising young man at twenty-four, but also her father's political ally. His father, Cha Woo Sang, was a prominent lawyer and a good friend of Seri's father.
Widely regarded as a rising star for the cabinet in future, the younger Cha had received an overseas education in the West, returning only to South Korea at twenty-one, months prior to the Korean War breaking out.
That was also when their respective parents had decided on their children's marital plans at a gathering, resulting in the betrothal taking place when Seri was at seventeen.
"It's also very nice to be back here again, Seoul has gone through so much. How dare they attack us, again and again...it is nothing short of inhumane and heinous..."
Seri could only nod out of courtesy.
For someone like herself who had voluntarily stayed behind in Seoul to help as a nurse until the day when artillery strikes, hand-to-hand combat and bombings were taking place, Cha Sang Woo's words were disgustingly empty.
Mistaking his betrothed's nod for agreement, the young bureaucrat continued agitatedly.
"Isn't it such a joke, that the seemingly infallible Western forces weren't able to hold off the North and their allies? We are talking about the United Nations...whoever would have guessed they were so...incompetent?"
That got Seri turning to look at him in growing disbelief— how hypocritical was that?
Hadn't he been educated in the West, and had always spoken highly of what he saw during his time there?
"Casualties were heavy on both sides, the United Nations and the US forces did their best..." She tried to get through to him, but to no avail.
"Also, not forgetting our own troops...hearing news of how the 1st division almost got decimated came as a shock to me. Weren't they supposed to be our elites? They were such a letdown—"
That struck a raw nerve.
She could have tolerated Sang Woo's earlier rants, but not this.
Not when her mind was filled with mental images of a towering man from said division, a man who now walked with a limp.
Stopping dead in her tracks, effectively taking the young bureaucrat by surprise, the governor's daughter said icily.
"At least they fought to the end. You weren't here," True to her nature, Seri didn't mince her words. "When this city needed you."
You weren't here, during the worst.
You weren't here even when the worst was over.
You weren't here when I needed you as a fiancé to show concern and evacuate together.
You left.
You left on the first train out of Seoul. We only got wind of your departure from your housekeeper two days after you left.
These words, as true as they were, couldn't possibly have been uttered without repercussions. Her father's political career also depended on her wisdom in knowing her place; acting rashly wasn't an option.
Simmering with agitation, Seri closed her eyes momentarily to collect her thoughts.
"Seri, I cannot believe you said that. What could I have done as one person to help the situation?" Sang Woo's tone held incredulity, his handsome features wearing genuine perplexity.
"As you know, I am the secretary to the Minister of Finance. I can't risk dying; I am not one of those men whom you can conveniently send to the front line."
That came as a greater shock to Seri; it was one thing if Sang Woo had used status as an excuse to run for his life, but entirely another when he seemed to truly believe himself to be a cut above the rest.
Were we not supposed to fight as one people against the adversaries?
Eventually, silence was the only response she saw fitting to her betrothed's words— seeing no logical outcome from persisting, she opted for stony silence.
The conversation was going nowhere. If there was one thing she knew, it was how Cha Sang Woo would certainly be heading home with a black eye if she didn't end this night on time.
Sensing Seri's obvious displeasure for what it is, the Finance Minister's secretary had tried to explain his stance further, only to be stopped by her.
"Sang Woo. I'm tired. Please take me home."
The rest of the dinner date went by awkwardly, with the governor's daughter no longer willing to engage in discussions about the war and Seoul's recovery.
Instead, she drew the line at basic conversations revolving around his work, and common topics like food, weather and whatnot.
It wasn't until twenty minutes later when Sang Woo's car stopped outside her house, did Seri realize just how relieved she was to escape this situation and return to the comfort of her own home.
"Thank you for dinner, and for the ride home. Please send your parents my regards, and thank your mother for her homemade kimchi. I will be sure to visit her one day in person to thank her."
"No problem, Seri. See, earlier on, I--" He was still trying to explain, but she no longer had the capacity to engage him in this conversation. Shifting further in her seat, so that he had no chance of initiating further contact, Seri unbuckled her seat belt.
"Goodnight, Sang Woo."
With that, she opened the car door on her side and walked out, standing by the sidewalk with a faint smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
Bowing politely as the car slowly rolled away into the poorly-lit streets, Seri straightened up when the vehicle eventually turned the corner.
Greeting her housekeeper Wol Suk at the gate, the governor's daughter quietly entered the house, closing a door with a barely suppressed sigh when a familiar male voice called out to her.
"Seri, you're back. How was your outing with Sang Woo?" Yoon Jeung Pyeong asked from the dining table where he was seated, eyes still glued to stacks and stacks of paper, files and documents in brown envelopes.
For a moment, her unhappiness lingered at the tip of her tongue— Seri was so close to telling her father that she didn't have a good time.
On the way back, she realized that all this time, she had only seen this young man at his best, during planned dinners and scheduled meetings.
She wanted to say, while she still enjoyed Sang Woo's humor, things seemed to have changed, and she couldn't find it within herself to respect this man as she did before.
The fatigue in her father's eyes made her bite her words back.
Seoul remained in a tragic state of shambles and the governor had been working tirelessly on pressing matters and tasks like job creation, crime rate control and rebuilding of residential areas, among others.
Her personal affairs were too minor by any form of comparison.
"I wasn't expecting you to still be up, Father. It was alright. It's nice to know that Sang Woo and his family are safe and well." Seri smiled, placing her handbag and a small porcelain vat down on the table. "His mother has kindly shared some homemade kimchi with us as well."
Looking up, nodding in approval, Jeung Pyeong smiled at the kind gesture, "That's very nice of the Cha family. Seri, I sincerely believe we have found you a very good match. Sang Woo is a promising young man with a bright future, his father and I go all the way back and his mother is generous. There can't be a better arrangement than this, my child."
Not knowing what else to say, Seri pressed her lips into a thin line and nodded. Her betrothal was the last thing she wished to speak about at this point; there was another question that weighed far more heavily on her mind.
"Can I ask you a question, Father?"
"Of course."
"...do you remember Ri Jeong Hyeok, the Captain who had attended the party you hosted for some members of the 1st Infantry Division?"
Yoon Jeung Pyeong's knitted brows eased when recognition eventually came to him, before replying wistfully, shaking his head.
"Ah. The tall, young lad with a limp. The lieutenant colonel said he had been a promising young man, and would have certainly done well in the military, if not for the injury."
Silently, Seri weighed her father's acquaintance's choice of using past tense in describing Jeong Hyeok.
The words were so heavy, despite having been uttered with the absence of a heart.
The young man had sacrificed for the country, for the greater good. Yet now that the worst seemed to be over, he was being callously tossed aside.
Five months after the armistice had been signed and the fighting put to an end, the country still remained in a state of shambles.
Post-conflict economic reconstruction was underway, but it would still be a long time before the state had further capacity to take care of those who could, for the lack of a better term, no longer contribute effectively to society.
Disability compensation, pension, education and training, health care, housing subsidies, rehabilitation and employment...all these were unavailable to Jeong Hyeok and others like him.
"Captain Ri helped me back then, when we were evacuating. Is there any way we can offer him some form of commendation, or assistance?"
"Seri, I am not too sure about that. In fact, I was told he had requested to leave the armed forces, and that he had turned up at the party despite being told he could miss out on it," The elder Yoon's voice was laced with helpless, detached sympathy. "He probably wished to experience as much as he could before his departure. It's a shame. Go wash up and have an early night."
The news of Jeong Hyeok having quit the military threw on another layer of discomfort in her chest; it was good after all, that he had decided to attend the party organized by her father earlier.
Nodding, she smiled with a 'goodnight', turning to leave in the direction of the bathroom.
There was something else, just one more thing, that she would wish to ask.
Hopefully, it wouldn't seem too much.
"Father! I have one more question."
"Yes?"
"Do you, by any chance, know how I can contact Captain Ri?"
——————————————————————
In another corner of Seoul, a lonely heart was beating alone.
This loneliness was like a vice on his abused heart, squeezing with just enough pressure to be a constant pain.
"I've decided to leave the military, Brother." Holding a crumpled sepia photograph against the oil lamp by his bedside, Jeong Hyeok ran the pad of his thumb over Mu Hyeok's smiling visage. "There's nothing more I can do for this country...not as a cripple."
He had fought hard, and now, he was weary to the bone.
Mu Hyeok was still smiling; frozen in time as nothing more than a memory.
"No matter how badly you are broken, the world doesn't stop for your grief." His late brother used to say that.
But Jeong Hyeok's struggle to remain and seek purpose in the present, was killing inside him the past and the future.
How could he live, when he no longer had a taste for anything, a wish for anything, a love for anybody, a desire for anything whatever, any ambition, or any hope?
There was a point in time when Jeong Hyeok had thought Korea would see reunification, and he would be able to meet his family again, but that dream was getting more distant by the second.
He had initially thought, if he were to survive the war, he could continue serving as a military man or pursue his interest in music with his brother by his side.
"Shall we open a music school for war orphans one day? You can teach the piano, and I—" Mu Hyeok mused one night during a brief break that the soldiers were given, sharing a distant dream.
"You? What do you plan to do?"
"I can sing! I think I'm pretty good at it."
Chuckling, Jeong Hyeok threw a piece of fallen leaf at his brother, which the latter ducked good-naturedly. "If it's what I recall hearing in the bathroom years ago...let's just say this music school isn't ever going to make it."
"Don't be a wet blanket! Okay, I'll be responsible for administrative affairs like admissions, recruitment and such."
He should have shown Mu Hyeok more enthusiasm back then; he should have given his brother all the reasons in the world to be happy when he could.
He had only been joking, he too, wanted to start that music school one day, but without Mu Hyeok, there was no longer motivation in doing so.
Apart from such dreams, Jeong Hyeok had once thought, maybe one day, he will meet a nice girl, marry her and build the world's happiest little home.
But who would voluntarily marry a cripple?
A disabled man with a faltering, unsteady, gait?
Silently, his hand trailed down to where the injury had been— blood, exposed bone and mangled flesh was no longer, but neither was sensation and function.
Closing his eyes, exhaling shakily, Jeong Hyeok shed a tear beneath what the rest of the world could see.
It was going to be yet another long, agonizing night for the ex-military captain.
Fragment by fragment, memories of 1951 fell through the gaps of the barbed wires surrounding his heart to torment his soul.
The sounds of commands, screams and artillery being fired wrapped around his mind before actual memories could even appear; deep in his head he could hear Mu Hyeok again, and smell the stench of gunpowder, blood and death.
After successful major counter offensives known as Operation Thunderbolt and Operation Killer were launched in late January and fought till early March 1951, Operation Ripper was immediately launched by the United States' Eighth Army.
He was so fatigued, so numb.
The only comfort Jeong Hyeok remembered during that period of relentless warfare was the warming weather, the bloodstained victories and oddly, the eye-smile of a girl.
A girl he had saved, and the who had told him, "Stay safe. I will remember you."
He would sincerely like to be her friend, to be in the same space as her again.
It was a grueling and bloody battle, one that he had been prepared to lay his life down for.
Losing wasn't an option to Mu Hyeok and Jeong Hyeok, not with their parents still in the North. The elderly Ri couple had been visiting and staying with some of their relatives further up north in Hyangsan when Korea was divided in August 1945.
The boys didn't even know if their parents were still alive; communication wasn't possible, especially amid widespread chaos and poverty under the Soviet Union rule.
For the brothers, the only way towards a family reunion would be to battle for the reunification of Korea.
They could only fight, and fight, and fight as members of the ROK army, alongside the United States and the United Nations' forces against the North and the Chinese.
On 4 April, the United Nations and their allies had successfully reclaimed Seoul.
This would mark the fourth conquest of the city in a year's time, leaving it in near-complete ruin.
The 1.5 million pre-war population in Seoul had dwindled to 200,000 amid heavy casualties and mass evacuation, and people were suffering from severe food shortages.
It was an open graveyard, where the living were suffering so much; some would have envied the dead.
The war was still far from over, but amid chaos, widespread suffering and destitution, came one piece of good news to Ri Jeong Hyeok.
The Governor of Seoul, Yoon Jeung Pyeong, had returned to the battered city with his wife and daughter in tow.
So Yoon Seri did manage to find her mother, and reunite with her father after all, Jeong Hyeok thought.
That was good news.
But on 22 April 1951, the temporary peace came to an abrupt end once again, when the Chinese forces started the fifth battle of Seoul, in a campaign which would be known as the Chinese Spring Offensive of 1951.
Hopes of reprieve from the endless fighting were instantly dashed, and the captain once again found himself embroiled in ferocious battle.
Some days they had victories, some days they faced failure. They celebrated some wins, and mourned their loss.
Everything had become almost routine, if he could even describe war as that.
Until that incident took place at the eastern outskirts of Seoul, and life was irrevocably changed.
His memories hit a block; excruciating sadness drained through his system, coursing through every vein in his body to emerge in the form of tears that fell with a vengeance from his weary eyes.
Was this what people called despair? He wouldn't know, he had never known it till now, but it sure felt like it.
In the silence of the night, accompanied by pale moonlight and forgotten lullabies hummed in a raspy, broken voice, Ri Jeong Hyeok was revisited by grief and agony from losses he could never replace.
A brother, who could have been alive...
A leg, which would still have been functional...
...if not for momentary carelessness in his emotionally-influenced haste, to defend the last line at the eastern edge of Seoul against the KPA's 8th Division's advances.
The last line— across which within Seoul, located less than fifteen kilometers away, stood a building that housed the Governor, his wife...
...and the girl with the eye-smile.