JANUARY 1954

 

He was vaguely aware of the fact that the train had stopped moving. The bumping and jerking motion of the locomotive had eased into a stillness, the hum of the passing countryside was replaced by the rustling of passengers retrieving their bags. The cold air that had whistled through the poorly sealed train car windows was no more, the biting chill hanging in the air still and unmoving.

Chanyeol dragged his hand through his hair, put his palms to his face and rubbed vigorously. He hadn't planned on falling asleep, he wasn’t particularly tired. Yet he had found himself drifting off as they left Seoul behind, falling asleep to the quiet conversation of the woman and man across the aisle from him.

When he glanced over the couple were gone, the passengers of the train car having left to the platform and their next destination. Except for him of course. With a quick stretch of his arms he stood up, groaning as his legs cramped from sleeping in the small space. He grabbed his duffle bag off of the seat next to him. He tossed the bag over his shoulder and made his way to the exit.

The train platform was far from bustling when his beat-up black boots hit the concrete. He recognized a handful of people he had seen on the train making their way across the platform, a few American soldiers stood near the ticketing window, and a woman with a large cart full of scrap traversed the space. Having come from Seoul this place was positively deserted. He had left behind the throngs of American soldiers, the never-ending stream of refugees, and the stark contrast of destruction and survival.

Yet this place wasn’t untouched. He noted the large crack that ran down the middle of the platform. One glance at the concrete pillars that supported the station roof and he could see the telltale chips caused by bullets. It wasn’t an unusual site anymore, unfortunately. There was hardly anywhere on the peninsula, it seemed, that didn’t bear the scars of war.

He pulled the piece of paper out of his jacket pocket, the address scrawled out in his professor’s messy handwriting. He had never been to Namwon before, in fact he hadn’t really been anywhere other than Busan and Seoul. The address had little meaning for him. Was it far? Was it close? He had no idea.

There was an elderly man begging outside the station, his breath visible in the winter chill. Chanyeol slipped him a few won and then asked him where he could find the location written on the paper.

The man smiled, revealing a nearly toothless mouth. “That way, but it’s a long walk. Outside of town, past the stream, and you’ll come upon it.”

Chanyeol thanked him. “I like to walk,” he said cheerfully. The man frowned. Chanyeol pursed his lips. With a small bow of thanks he left, walking towards the path the old man had pointed out.

 

 

It was cold, bitterly so. The surrounding mountains were snowcapped, the white blanket of frozen snow creeping over the hilly landscape – dusting the trees and the buildings. As he walked down the paved road, which morphed into a dirt road as he neared the edge of town, his nose and ears began to freeze. He put his gloved hands to them, rubbing as he walked. His older sister had insisted he take gloves, shoving them into his pocket as he departed Seoul. She had been right, as usual.

Namwon wasn’t anything like Seoul, he realized the more he walked. The biting cold air was cleaner, the spaces wide open. The destruction was still there – the shelled out remains of buildings, the telltale signs of battle– but even the ruins were less dense. Chanyeol in a deep breath as he widened his strides. The sooner he was there, the sooner he could put down his bag.

His sister had scolded him for packing too much, but he knew that he had to at least take enough for the first month or two of teaching. He wasn’t sure what Namwon would have in terms of educational supplies and he wasn’t going to show up empty handed. This was, in many ways, his redemption after all. He wasn’t going to mess it up.

He estimated he had been walking for at least forty five minutes before he saw the first rice paddy, the few inches of water that remained in the field after the fall harvest frozen solid. It wasn’t a large plot, but sizable enough. An old woman was walking around the edges of the field, a large pack of charcoal on her back. Chanyeol watched her for a second before passing on, debating whether he should help her or not. I said I would arrive today, I should probably be on time. He passed the woman, bowing to her slightly as he continued on his way. She didn't seem to notice him, or if she did she didn’t pay him any mind.

The mountains that loomed in the distance when he had arrived in Namwon grew closer with every step, the path grew more winding and uneven as the altitude increased. He passed small farms, little houses that couldn’t be called more than shacks in some cases- their walls leaning in, threatening to collapse at any moment. Frozen rice paddies dotted the land, giving the terrain an unusually uniform look as the bunds formed square borders as far as the eye could see.

He looked for addresses, markers, anything to tell him he was on the right path. He began to panic when he saw nothing, the farms getting further and further apart. When he rounded a corner in the road and spotted the familiar dark green color of a military jacket he grew hopeful. The man who was wearing it disappeared into a building, thick smoke rising from the chimney of the structure.

When he got closer to the house he realized the person had went into a hutch attached to the small building, likely where the heating stove was. Chanyeol felt awkward following someone like this, but he would rather impose than die frostbitten on a country road in North Jeolla.

He found the man bent over, shoveling coal into the stove with a small tool. He was on the small side, and at first Chanyeol thought it might be a teenage boy.

“Excuse me, sir, I’m sorry to impose but I–”

The man startled at the intrusion. He tried to look behind him but lost his balance, falling to the ground in the process. The shovel went flying, clanking into the side of the hutch. Coal dust rose in the air in a plume, causing Chanyeol to cover his mouth to muffle his cough.

Chanyeol muttered an apology the moment he could breath. “I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to scare you.” He reached to help the man up but was met with resistance and a large pair of very angry eyes.

The man stared up at him, his wide eyes the deep black of coal. His lips were set in a line, a look of anger or perhaps disgust. His face was streaked with coal, his unevenly cut black hair sported its own fine dusting. He looked old and tired, Chanyeol thought.

The man pushed himself up, refusing Chanyeol’s help. When he got to his feet he immediately tensed and felt his left leg, his hands smoothing down the thigh.

“I’m terribly sorry. Are you injured?” Chanyeol bit his bottom lip, worried.

The man looked up at the newcomer, scowling. “I’m hurt, but that isn’t anything new,” he spat.

Chanyeol bowed deeply, apologizing again and again. When the man told him to stop he pulled out the address, still needing to find his way.

“Do you know where I can find this place?” Chanyeol shoved the crumpled piece of paper at the man, hoping he could get a quick answer and be on his way before causing any more trouble.

The man looked at the paper for a few seconds before looking up at Chanyeol. The man was smaller than him, to the point that he had to, at this distance, actually tilt his head slightly upwards to make eye contact. “That’s here.”

Chanyeol swallowed. “Here?” he repeated.

“You must be the new teacher.” The man looked him up and down, the most unnerving and judgmental appraisal Chanyeol ever received.

“Uh, yes. I’m Park Chanyeol, nice to meet you.” Chanyeol bowed again.

“You have the rent money?” The man asked.

“Yes.”

“Good. If you go in the house my older sister will help you get settled.” The man narrowed his eyes. “Stay out of the fields and don’t break anything.”

Chanyeol nodded.

“Now go.”

Chanyeol left immediately, not wanting to bother his new landlord any more than he already had. It was only later that he realized he hadn’t even gotten the man’s name.

 

 

 

Chanyeol stood in front of the door, preparing to knock. As he left the hutch and made his way around the structure he immediately noticed that the house was larger and less rundown than the other farmhouses he had passed during his long walk. It was old, a covered traditional porch wrapping around the front. A curved tiled roof that looked well cared for topped it off. Hanji windows, darkened slightly by grime and soot, faced out towards the front of the building.

Chanyeol moved his hand towards the door, taking a step back when it was suddenly thrown open. A child rushed out of the house, almost smacking into him. If he hadn’t moved back there would have been a collision.

When the boy realized there was someone standing there he paused, blinking at the stranger in curiosity. His black hair was a mess, and there was some unidentifiable food smeared on his left cheek. His eyes were bright, full of mischief – a look that Chanyeol knew well from being around his young nephews and nieces.

“Mom!” the child called, not looking away.

A woman appeared in the doorway. The first thing that Chanyeol noticed about the woman– in fact the only thing he could notice at first– was what she was wearing. She was dressed in formal hanbok, her garment neatly pressed. It was a startling contrast to the house, to the boy and his food stained cheek. To the man who was covered in coal dust.

She bowed deeply, which Chanyeol repeated.

“You must be the boarder.” Her voice sounded distant, soft and emotionless. Her black hair was pulled into a neatly tied bun. She looked to be in her thirties, Chanyeol guessed, with a thin face that showed signs of a youthful beauty weighted down by a hard life.

“Yes. I‘m Park Chanyeol.”

“Please, come in.” The woman stepped aside. The child pulled on boots and ran off towards the frozen fields, seeming not to care who the man was now that his mother was there to handle it.

Chanyeol slipped off his boots, setting them at the edge of the porch as he entered through the low doorway. The room he stepped into was a good size but cluttered. There was a wood table on the floor, threadbare cushions near it. A faded decorative room divider sat behind the furniture, the greens having long ago faded to a murky yellow color.

Exposed wood beams lined the walls, broken up by earthen and straw packed walls that were painted the traditional white, which like the screen had faded into a cream color. The floor was polished to a high shine, it was evident that the home – despite the clutter – was well cared for. Boxes sat in one corner, a wooden chest with deep scratches in another. There was an old blanket laying on the floor, alongside a small metal toy plane.

At the far end of the large room was the kitchen, Chanyeol spotted a gas burner and small stove in the corner, pots and pans were stacked nearby and a tall cupboard sat pushed against the wall. A radio was sitting near the cupboard, the antenna broken in half and hanging.

“Your room is here.” She gestured for Chanyeol to follow her to a small hallway on the western side of the room. She stopped in front of a door, which creaked and stuck as she tried to push it open.

“If you need more blankets tell me.” She left the door half open and retreated. Like it was an afterthought she turned back to him and bowed. “I’m Ji Hyo.” With that she was gone, entering the large living area and leaving him to face his new accommodations.

Chanyeol stared into the dark, cramped quarters. The house smelled of food, of fish and something he couldn’t place. It was musty and very different from his parent’s house back in Seoul or his dorm in Busan. In many ways, he thought, he liked this better already.

 

 

 

 

 

The sun was setting when the woman knocked on Chanyeol’s bedroom door. He had spent the afternoon organizing his things, getting lost in the little details of the books he had brought with him.

“Dinner,” she called, not bothering to wait for Chanyeol to open the door.

He pulled his thickest sweater over his head, unsure of what to expect when he left the small room. It was surprisingly warm in the main living area, the heated floors and enclosed area keeping in the warmth.

When he stepped into the living area he found the table was already set. There were several small dishes set out, some that he recognized and some he did not. The child he encountered when he arrived was seated at the table, glancing from his mother to the food as he covertly snuck bites behind her back. When Chanyeol caught his eyes the boy looked away, his face rife with guilt.

Ji Hyo walked from the kitchen with a large pot, setting it in the middle of the table. “Loach soup,” she explained. She was no longer dressed in the formal hanbok, her attire now was the dull grey hanbok that Chanyeol would have expected a farmer’s sister to wear.

Chanyeol had never had loach soup. He eyed the dish with suspicion before taking a bowlful.

“Is there anyone else joining us?” Chanyeol asked, thinking back to the man he had met when he arrived.

“Perhaps,” Ji Hyo answered, scooping the soup into a bowl for the child.

“My name is Baekhyun!” the child suddenly perked up, staring at Chanyeol expectantly.

He smirked, returning the greeting. “I’m Park Chanyeol. It’s nice to meet you.” Chanyeol chuckled as the child instantly turned shy and hid his face in his mother’s hanbok.

“I’m older than you, I’m guessing,” Ji Hyo mused. Her voice sounded clearer now, less burdened. “I was born in the year of the rooster.”

“Ah, yes. I’m the year of the Monkey.” He sipped the soup, surprised at how savory it tasted.

Chanyeol felt strange asking about it, but their short chat had seemed to ease the strange atmosphere a bit. “Is the man that was outside– is he, is he your brother?”

Ji Hyo nodded. “My husband’s younger brother.”

“Ah, I see.” Chanyeol tried to imagine how old her husband was to have the man he saw as a younger brother. He had looked ancient, his face stained with coal dust.

“You’re going to build a school?” “Baekhyun asked suddenly, coming out of hiding and earning a reproving look from his mother.

“Yes, I am.” Chanyeol was happy to talk about his purpose for coming to Namwon. “Will you be attending?”

“I would like–”

A door clanged shut. Chanyeol glanced towards the sound of the noise while Ji Hyo and the child ignored it. The man from before, Ji Hyo’s brother-in-law, walked towards them. His limp was pronounced, as though he was dragging his leg. Chanyeol wondered if he had acquired the injury during the war of if perhaps it was an older wound.

“No, he won’t be attending. Not unless you give me another person to help harvest the rice come autumn.” The man’s expression was dark, grim even.

Chanyeol noticed that Baekhyun’s lip jutted out, a frown forming as he looked at his Uncle.  He didn’t argue, however, staying quiet he returned to sipping his soup.

“I’m Chanyeol,” he introduced himself again. He stood up and bowed deeply to the man, hoping to perhaps at least get his name.

“Hm, so you said.” The man limped over to the unoccupied side of the table, lowering himself slowly to the floor. Ji Hyo began fixing him a plate as he carefully wiped his hands with a wet rag.

Chanyeol felt foolish standing there, his greeting ignored. He sat down quickly, returning to his dinner.

Chanyeol chanced a glance at the man, noticing that now his face wasn’t covered in grime his features were much different than Chanyeol had first thought. The wide eyes remained, of course, but the wrinkles that Chanyeol had seen were no more. He wasn’t middle aged or even old, his face was youthful, his cheeks still retaining a good deal of baby fat. He couldn’t be, Chanyeol guessed, much older than himself.

His skin was tanned, likely from the sun. His hair was cut short and a little uneven, like a military cut that was finally given the chance to grow out. He had a few scars on his right cheek, small little marks that were barely noticeable. His lips were full. He was, Chanyeol supposed, unconventionally handsome - if a rude farmer were your thing, of course.

“You’re from Seoul,” the man grunted as he shoved a spoonful of rice into his mouth.

“Yes,” Chanyeol confirmed.

“Did you stay, during the war?” The man asked through chews, a few grains of rice falling onto his faded plaid shirt as he spoke.

Chanyeol swallowed. “No, I was evacuated to Busan with the rest of the students.” He stared at his bowl of soup, the guilt creeping back. It had been there for the last year, replacing what had once been a misplaced sense of relief. He hadn’t fought in the war, he had been exempt due to his position as a student at Seoul National University. For three years that didn’t make him feel anything other than lucky, that was until he went back to Seoul and realized what had happened - the death and destruction he passed engraved in his mind. And he had done nothing to help all that time, sitting and taking classes as others his age fought and died. He was, he realized, a coward.

What made it worse in his opinion was that he wasn’t even a consummate scholar. No, he had only gotten into university thanks to his father’s money. He didn’t even deserve to be exempted because in the end he couldn’t even profess to have the educational prowess that had earned an exemption.

That is how he had started on this journey to Namwon. A sense of guilt, a declaration of his own cowardice, and some advice from his professor. He would, in his own little way, do what he had avoided - he would help his country. When he learned Namwon no longer had functioning schools after the war, all destroyed in the fighting, he offered to go down and set one up. To help. To do the little that he could even if it wasn’t enough in the grand scheme of things. He could start small, and work to bigger things– he needed to redeem himself.

The farmer, it seemed, shared his general assessment of his actions. “You took the easy way out, didn’t you?” The man looked disgusted as he gazed at Chanyeol.

“Yes, I did,” Chanyeol agreed.

The man raised his eyebrows, apparently shocked at his agreement. “You're a coward,” the farmer stated, with a bite to his words. “I hate cowards.”

Chanyeol stared down at his soup, unable to form a response.

They ate in silence for the rest of the dinner, Chanyeol excusing himself to go to his room after the man limped out the front door.

 

 

 

 

Chanyeol woke up before the sun rose, the land still dark, the cold still bone numbing with the lack of light. He dressed and milled about his room, pouring over a few of his books until he heard someone up in the other part of the house. He planned to walk back into the village that day, he had someone to meet regarding the construction of the school. He meant to leave mid-morning, but now that he was wide awake he considered leaving earlier and taking a stroll around town before his meeting.

He found Ji Hyo in the kitchen, clicking on the small gas burner. When she heard him she turned around and nodded in greeting.

“Do you need any help?” Chanyeol asked, feeling listless.

“You can bring in some more gas, it is outside near the shed.” She instructed. Chanyeol walked to the door and pulled on his jacket. He was about to open the door when heard the sound that he now recognized as the farmer walking, his injured leg dragging with each stride forward.

“I can do it,” the man grunted. He already had a thick padded jacket on, his pants tucked into his boots as he headed for the door.

Chanyeol stepped aside, watching him silently.

“Don’t mind Kyungsoo,” Ji Hyo called once the door had slammed after the farmer. “He’s a good man.”

Kyungsoo. It was the first time that Chanyeol had gotten a name. He walked to the kitchen, standing near the cupboard he folded his arms across his chest. He watched as Ji Hyo opened a sack of vegetables. He was slightly surprised at the amount of food they seemed to have, considering the shortages that were rampant. He found some consolation that they were well fed.

 After a few minutes he asked a question that was eating at him. “Is there anything I can do so he doesn’t hate me?” It was probably to blunt of a question considering he was staying in their house. Yet he felt like Ji Hyo wouldn’t take offense.

“He doesn’t hate you.” Ji Hyo answered, pulling a few onions out of the sack. “He’s had a lot happen to him, as we all have. He isn’t keen on trusting anyone at the moment. His words can be blunt and sound mean, but he doesn’t mean it. Not really.”

Chanyeol knew that he had reached his limits on what was suitable to ask about, even if his previous query was bordering on rude. “I’m going to go into the village.” Chanyeol muttered, pulling on his jacket and heading out.

 

 

 

He heard the truck before he saw it. He wasn’t well versed in mechanics but from the sheer volume of the vehicle he guessed the muffler wasn’t functioning properly.

It was a rusty blue truck which looked like it had seen far better days, moving side to side as it drove over the rough country road. Chanyeol stepped away from the road and onto the snowy ground, not entirely confident the road was wide enough for both a vehicle and a man.

He shoved his gloved hands in his pockets, and put his head down to brace himself against the wind. It was a biting cold day in the countryside.

The truck got louder as it approached, finally sounding like a small tank as it passed by him. Chanyeol didn't realize it had stopped until he was side by side with the truck. He looked over to see who the driver was. It was his landlord, his hands gripping the big black steering wheel in the 2 and 10 position. He nodded for Chanyeol to get in which took the other man by surprise. Why would Kyungsoo willingly stop to pick him up?

A strong gust of chilling wind stopped Chanyeol from wondering any longer. He opened the truck door and scooted in, slamming the creaking metal door after him.

“‘I’ll give you a ride into town.” Kyungsoo shifted the truck back into gear, not bothering to look over at his passenger.

“Thank you,” Chanyeol replied, turning his head to look out the window. They were silent for the rest of the drive.

 

 

Kyungsoo stopped his truck in what Chanyeol assumed was the center of town, near a marketplace and numerous storefronts.

“I will be back in an hour.” Kyungsoo got out of the truck, seemingly indicating that if Chanyeol was back in that time good, if not it wasn’t his concern.

Chanyeol opened the creaking truck door and alighted the vehicle. He was once again tasked with finding an address, though this time around he hoped it would involve a lot less walking. His professor had told him that another recent graduate was in Namwon helping with the rebuilding efforts, a man by the name of Kim Jongdae. Chanyeol had never met him, but already felt a kinship with him on the basis they were both from SNU and both in a new place doing what they could.

He needed to find Jongdae, but more importantly he needed to meet with the village head. “Eun Ji Won,” Chanyeol repeated. That was the man he needed to see.

He walked down the road towards the marketplace, passing by soot stained buildings displaying a wide variety of structural integrity. A few of the stores were nothing more than a shell, others had boarded up windows while some looked– aside from bullet holes– remarkably unscathed.

When he reached the end of the road he found himself in a throng of people, young and old, going about their business. He saw the familiar ration boxes, the cheap food that the Americans had provided so the population wouldn’t starve. After years of war, food, especially nutritious food, wasn’t always easy to come by. He scanned the area, hoping to see some sort of city hall. When he spotted a metal sign with the characters painted on he headed that way.

Namwon’s city hall had the telltale marks of the Japanese occupation– a starkly western inspired design sticking out like a sore thumb next to the more traditional buildings. It was probably built during that time, Chanyeol thought, wondering how long the building would end up standing. He saw numerous buildings of the sort torn down in Seoul and Busan in an effort to get rid of such painful reminders of the crushing occupation.

When he walked inside he paused for a moment, scanning the roughly written list of suites in the building. He found Eun Ji won’s name and followed the signs to his office. Three knocks on the door later and he was face to face with the village head, a man in his fifties with a youthful expression and a hearty laugh.

“Park Chanyeol, sir.” Chanyeol bowed deeply. “Professor Kim Junmyeon sent me. I recently graduated from Seoul National University. I’m here about the school.”

The village head gave Chanyeol the once over before inviting him in. “Aren’t you young to be a teacher?” He remarked as he rounded his desk, taking a seat and gesturing for Chanyeol to do the same.

“I’m 22, sir,” Chanyeol responded, shifting in the hard wooden chair.

“Ah, well yes, I suppose if you can die for the country why can’t you teach for the country.” Eun Ji Won smirked.

Chanyeol nodded, grasping his hands together tightly.

“So what business do we have to work out?” The village head began digging in a stack of paperwork that was perched precariously close to the edge of his desk.

“Professor Kim told me to meet with you regarding the construction.” Chanyeol recalled his professor giving him the information the last time he saw him, right before the middle aged man gave him a big pat on the back and told him good luck.

“Right, right.” The man pulled a paper out of the stack, scanning it before pushing it across the desk towards Chanyeol. “The location of the school will be at the northern edge of the village. I have a local construction team lined up to start building. Funds are coming from the reconstruction amounts ceded to the city not that any of that matters to you. You will help the team with the construction. I think our timeline for completion is…” Eun Ji Won glanced at the small calendar on his wall, “June, classes to start In August. Now I know that not having a school for eight months might give you ideas about teaching the children elsewhere for the time being, but don’t consider it. We need all the hands we can get to rebuild at the moment, children included. They’re plenty busy for the next few months without sitting down to learn their characters.”

Chanyeol nodded to show that he understood.

“Do you know where this is?” The man tapped the paper. When Chanyeol said no the village head sighed. “I suppose I can take you over there. That other student – Kim Jong...Jongdae I think it was should already be there.”

Chanyeol thanked him, waiting patiently as the man went to grab his jacket and a wool fedora.

As they walked through the village, Eun Ji Won talked nonstop– pointing out people, stores, or houses, each with a story. Chanyeol respected how much he seemed to love the village, proud of every square foot of the place. He listened intently, wanting to know as much about the place he would teach at as possible. This would, for an indefinite time, be his home after all.

“You’re staying at the Do farm, aren’t you?” The man asked as they began a hike up a steep dirt road. He didn’t wait for Chanyeol to answer before he remarked, “Well of course you are, I set that up with that professor of yours! Forgive this old man.” He winked at Chanyeol.

Chanyeol smiled, beginning to like the playful side of the older man.

“How is it, staying there I mean?” Ji Won asked.

Chanyeol wasn’t sure what the right response was. Well the owner is an angry man and I have no idea what to do seemed to be inappropriate. Thankfully Ji Won started talking without waiting for Chanyeol’s answer.

“If Kyungsoo seems rough around the edges, don’t pay him any mind. After what happened to his parents and what he saw in the war he came back a changed boy.”

“What happened?” Chanyeol asked, following it up with, “If you don’t mind telling me, sir.”

“Ah, sure you have noticed that limp. His leg was almost taken off by a bullet. When he got home he found the farm half destroyed, fields ruined, and his parents dead. That sister of his, how she managed to survive…” Eun Ji Won shook his head as if he couldn't even fathom it. “Namwon was a tug of war, back and forth it was occupied and then freed. The last time we saw the commies they left a lot of remnants if you know what I mean. By the time the Americans pushed up from Busan half the village was working the other side. Turned out they thought the Dos were too, arrested them and hung them before anyone could say anything to prove otherwise. Happened to a lot of people in these parts.”

Chanyeol couldn’t imagine the pain of losing his parents in such a way, not to mention sporting his own injury due to intense fighting. Thinking about the horrors that Kyungsoo had probably seen sobered him, made him think of the man in a slightly different light.

“They’re a proud family. That farm of theirs– one of the only farms around here owned by the people who farm it. Has been for generations. That pride, I think it makes it worse for them.”

Chanyeol might not know a lot about farming but he, along with most people in Korea, knew that the majority of farms in the country were not owned by those who worked the land. Most farmers were tenants, paying rent to an absent landlord in the form of money or produce. The fact Kyungsoo’s family owned the farm was, in many ways, impressive.

“His brother, he died early on. I would say his story is unique but it isn’t, half the city lost someone and if they didn’t they at least lost everything they own.” Ji Won exhaled sharply. “It makes you wonder - if this place is doomed. How long has it been for this land to go unscarred? How long has it been…” he trailed off, sadness in his eyes.

Chanyeol changed the subject, wanting to alleviate some of the man’s sorrow. “How many students are there?”

The village head paused for a moment before answering. “A few thousand, maybe more.”

Chanyeol hadn’t realized there were so many, yet in a way it made sense. Namwon seemed to be a lot smaller than Seoul, but it wasn’t miniscule either. A mid-sized village, with enough households to produce that many students. He had learned before coming here that there had been half a dozen schools before the war. In time, Chanyeol presumed, there would be just as many rebuilt. But for now, as a start, one school building would have to suffice.

“Ah, here we are.” Ji Won pointed down the road. Chanyeol spotted some men moving about, a pile of lumber sitting near the edge of the dirt road. “If you need anything, don't hesitate to come see me. I appreciate what you’re doing for the city.”

Chanyeol thanked him before heading off towards the site. When he arrived he found half a dozen younger men working on laying out the boards, pencils tucked behind their ears as they chatted about measurements and plans. Chanyeol introduced himself as the new teacher and their brand new helper. A few of the men gave him looks that were outright suspicious.

“Are you sure you can sling a hammer?” One of the men questioned him, raking his eyes up and down the newcomer as if he was appraising his abilities by sight alone. The man was shorter than Chanyeol, with longer black hair that was parted in the middle. He had high cheekbones and expressive eyes. If the word mischief could be equated to a set of features, this was it.

“I shall do my best, “Chanyeol promised.

“You look like one of those snobby college kids, never saw a day of hardship in your life.” The man put his hands on his hips. Chanyeol heard a few of the men snicker, when he looked towards them they looked away. This was going great, he thought, wonderful start. He stood tall, hoping to at least convey a sense of confidence even though he was falling apart inside.

“I’m dedicated to building the school,” Chanyeol said firmly.

The man sighed, then turned around. More snickers from the men. Chanyeol startled when the man turned around suddenly, a wide smile on his face. He laughed loudly, walking up to the newcomer and slapping his arm. “I was just kidding! Kim Jongdae by the way. Nice to meet you.” He held his hand out in greeting. Chanyeol looked at it dumbly before taking it.

“Sorry, we um, thought it would be funny to haze the new guy.” Jongdae laughed. “You should have seen your face.”

Chanyeol was pretty sure he was bright red by now, his cheeks warm as he tried to imagine what kind of first impression he had made– looking so serious and depressed. “Very funny.” Perhaps humor in kind would help.

“It really was,” Jongdae agreed.

Chanyeol sighed. He had a feeling that his time with Jongdae and the rest of the building crew would be interesting, if nothing else.

 

 

 

A few hours later Chanyeol headed back to the farm, having spent the preceding time learning about basic construction equipment while fending off Jongdae’s sarcastic nature. He found that the more time he spent with Jongdae the more he got to like him, finding his humorous personality to be refreshing. They had gone over the plans, though Chanyeol couldn’t claim to totally understand them. Jongdae pretended like he did, earning a few stares from the lead carpenter when he offered suggestions.

As they broke for the day, Jongdae invited Chanyeol to have dinner with him– soon. “Just not tonight, because the landlady said she is making Samhap and I don’t want to share.”

Chanyeol chuckled. He couldn’t imagine what it was like to have Jongdae as tenant. His fellow recent graduate was staying with an older woman in the village, part of his room and board came with helping her around the house after he got back from working on the school.

“And you don’t help on the farm you’re staying at?” Jongdae asked, raising an eyebrow.

Chanyeol stuttered a response that he didn’t, earning a punch to the arm from Jongdae. “I was just joking. Geez, so serious.”

After three hours with Jongdae, Chanyeol felt energized by his humor. He would have liked to have seen more of the man, but it was time to return to his temporary lodgings. He pulled his jacket tightly around him and slipped his gloved hands in his pockets, preparing himself for the long walk back to the farm.

When he passed through the market he was surprised to see a familiar figure, unmistakable due to the limp. The farmer was coming out of a building that operated as a bank. Chanyeol watched him for a moment before realizing if Kyungsoo was still in town that meant he could get a ride. Without further ado he jogged through the market, reaching the rusty blue truck before the farmer.

When Kyungsoo arrived at the vehicle he looked surprised to see Chanyeol waiting, but he didn't say anything. He wordlessly got in the truck, waiting for Chanyeol to do the same.

Once again their drive was accompanied by silence.

 

 

 

Chanyeol found that his new routine was relatively easy to fall into. Perhaps it was his unabashed eagerness that made all the pieces fit so seamlessly. He woke up early, before the sun rose. After a quick meal and a chat with Ji Hyo he would set off towards the village, arriving just as the other workers did. He spent the day learning the building trade and trying (somewhat unsuccessfully) to not mess anything up. In the evening he made the return walk, exhausted and starving. After eating a quick dinner– usually swallowed fast enough to allow him to avoid Kyungsoo’s arrival, he would slump into bed and start it all over the next day.

After the first six days of working, his routine firmly set, Chanyeol found himself with a day off. “We don’t work on Sunday, believe it or not,” Jongdae had informed him as they cleaned up the day before. “Which means it is an excellent day to come to town and hang out.”

Chanyeol had agreed to meet Jongdae that afternoon, which gave him something to do for at least part of the day. The morning, however, was free. He attempted to sleep later than he normally did, but that didn’t work. Not when his body clock had gotten used to his new schedule. He was up before the sun rose, the sound of Ji Hyo moving about the kitchen telling him that breakfast was being made.

He pulled on a sweater and left his room, having grown used to the morning chats he had with the woman. They were never that in depth, or about anything in particular, but it was still a nice bit of companionship that he could look forward to.

“Up early on your day off?” she called over her shoulder, knowing full well who was up. She was bent over a heavy iron pot, stirring the contents with a wooden spoon.

“Yes, I guess I don’t know how to sleep late anymore.” Chanyeol dragged his hand through his tangled hair, yawning. He walked over to the small table and sat, leaning his back against the wall he relished in the feeling of the heated floors.

“What are you planning on doing today?” Ji Hyo asked, still focusing on the soup as she spoke.

“I’m going to town this afternoon,” Chanyeol answered. “Not sure about this morning.”

The pitter patter of feet got Chanyeol’s attention, it was unusual at this time of morning. Baekhyun came running out from the hallway that sat at the far end of the room, his hair a complete mess, his shirt askew, and his face puffy from sleep. “You can play with me today if you aren’t busy!”

Chanyeol laughed at the child’s boundless energy. “What are you doing up so early?”

“Um…” Baekhyun looked sheepish. He turned and ran to his mother, tugging at her skirts to get her attention. When she bent down he whispered something in her ear.

“Again?!” Ji Hyo sounded upset.

Baekhyun nodded, before turning and running towards the small table. “I wet the bed!” he announced, as though it was something to be proud of.

“Did you?” Chanyeol tried not to sound too amused by it, lest Ji Hyo turn her glare on him.

“Yup.” Baekhyun rubbed his eyes with his tiny fists. “Can I call you uncle? Uncle, can we go play outside?”

Chanyeol looked to Ji Hyo helplessly. She wasn’t paying any attention.

“Um, yes if your mother says it is alright.”

“She will because she loves me!” Baekhyun leapt up and ran to ask his mother. Sure enough, she said yes. Chanyeol couldn’t help but smile at how Ji Hyo’s anger dissipated the moment her son was standing next to her, telling her that she was his favorite person and she should really let him go play with uncle since he didn’t mean to wet the bed. It almost made him feel homesick until he remembered his childhood was not nearly as affectionate.

 

 

 

“Do you think she likes me?” Jongdae whispered across the table, doing his best not to stare at the waitress. Chanyeol turned around to see the woman, having not paid her much mind as she had taken their order. “Don’t look!” Jongdae hissed, reaching out and forcefully turning Chanyeol’s head away.

“Um, I don’t know.” Chanyeol shrugged.

“I think she does.” Jongdae sat back, a smug look on his face. They had decided to eat at a little restaurant in town, one famed for its loach soup and even more renowned for remaining intact throughout the battles that raged around it. The menu was light, the food full of canned alternatives – no meat in sight. But it was something, it was somewhere that made it almost feel like it was before the war.

And Chanyeol couldn’t complain, the rice was delicious. He shoved a spoonful of it into his mouth, earning a punch to the arm from Jongdae. “You’re no help!”

“What am I supposed to say?!” Chanyeol barked, rice falling out of his mouth.

“I don’t know, tell me to go for it or something,” Jongdae reproved.

Chanyeol rolled his eyes. Jongdae could be exhausting. “Go for it or something.”

“Fine, I will.” He got up from the table and approached the waitress, who was busy collecting dishes. Chanyeol couldn’t hear their conversation nor did he particularly care. He went about eating his rice, only stopping when Jongdae returned a couple minutes later with a dejected look on his face.

“She has a husband,” Jongdae sighed. “I guess it wasn’t meant to be.”

“Do you think you have time for a girlfriend right now?” Chanyeol asked, knowing he most definitely didn’t have time to date anyone at the moment.

“Chanyeol, we are in the city of lovers. Does it matter if I don't have time?” Jongdae shot him an annoyed look.

“City of lovers? Isn’t that Paris?” Chanyeol had read as much, or at least he thought he had read as much during one of his literature classes back at University.

“Please don’t tell me you’re ignorant of the story of Chunhyang?”

Chanyeol recognized the name. It was a pansori, a folktale that...he couldn’t recall. “I’ve heard of it,” he shot back.

“Right, which is why you look so confused.” Jongdae clucked his tongue, “And you call yourself a Korean.”

“I don't remember it!” Chanyeol protested, slumping over his rice bowl.

“Well, it took place in Namwon, hence this is the city of love. There is a bunch of romantic mumbo jumbo, a token of love, but the most relevant fact is it happened here. We are, my friend, in the perfect place for love.”

The waitress returned at that moment with their soup, stopping Jongdae from speaking any further about love. HIs face turned bright red as he averted his eyes, looking away until she retreated. The rest of their dinner was spent talking about subjects that Chanyeol found far more relatable. Love was, and for the most part, always had been the furthest thing from his mind. In fact he often thought it was impossible for him.

 

 

 

It was midway through January when the snowstorm hit, the biggest snowfall that had occurred since Chanyeol had arrived. It made his daily walks nearly impossible, giving him anxiety over how he would end up working until the snow was cleared.

“Kyungsoo can give you a ride,” Ji Hyo volunteered her brother in law, giving Chanyeol pause. He had successfully avoided the man for the last couple of weeks, always finding an excuse to retreat to his room if he happened to hear Kyungsoo approaching.

He would have turned the ride down if he could walk, but that wasn’t a possibility. Unless he wanted to stay at the farm it was his only shot at getting to the village.

When Kyungsoo limped into the room for breakfast Ji Hyo informed him that he would be giving a ride to Chanyeol. The farmer eyed Ji Hyo with disdain before sitting down, neither confirming nor denying if he would comply.

Chanyeol snuck glances at the man as he ate his breakfast, the first time since he had arrived he had actually taken the time to savor it instead of scarfing it down so he wouldn't have to see Kyungsoo. The farmer looked dazed, tired– and angry. He always looked angry.

“I’m leaving in ten minutes.” It was the only thing he said before pushing his half empty bowl of rice across the table and getting up.

Chanyeol went to retrieve his boots and jacket. A loud noise sounded, which Chanyeol belatedly realized was the truck backfiring. He jumped, looking back to see Ji Hyo frozen in the middle of the room, staring towards the door. She turned around and went back towards the kitchen, leaving Chanyeol to get ready.

When he emerged from his room a couple minutes later he found the woman standing in the kitchen in her formal hanbok, having changed in the time he was busy getting himself ready. When he told her goodbye he was met with silence, the usual cheery goodbye nowhere to be found.

He debated asking Kyungsoo what the hanbok meant during their drive, but he thought better of it when the man pointedly ignored him yet again.

 

 

It started to snow again that evening. The roads weren’t cleared and Kyungsoo had made it clear the ride he had given Chanyeol was one way only.

“You can stay with me,” Jongdae announced, throwing his arm over the taller man and trying to drag him into a friendly headlock. So began a four day stint sleeping in the small room Jongdae rented in town. It was, Chanyeol thought, one of the noisiest times he had ever had.

Jongdae liked to stay up late– how he managed to work the next day was a mystery to Chanyeol. He would listen to his small radio, chatting and playing cards until the wee hours of the morning. Chanyeol slept little, unable to fall into slumber with Jongdae crooning the words to the newest trot song.

Still, it wasn’t all bad. Having someone to talk to beyond Ji Hyo and Baekhyun was nice (even if Jongdae like to talk about some odd things sometimes). By the third night, Chanyeol had started to pick up a theme, and that was Jongdae was most definitely looking for a girlfriend. The time back at the restaurant hadn’t just been opportunistic, it had been Jongdae on a long and well thought out mission.

“So you want to get married yesterday?” Chanyeol stared up at the ceiling. He was lying flat on his back, Jongdae lying a few feet from him. “You just graduated. Are your parents that eager for grandkids?”

“Ah no.” Jongdae didn't sound depressed when he explained, “My family died during the war. I’m the last one left. I suppose I should carry on the family line and all that.”

Chanyeol felt like for ever having laughed at Jongdae chasing women.  I shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, Chanyeol repeated in his mind as he drifted off to sleep, the strains of a trot song playing softly on Jongdae’s radio. The image of a certain farmer invaded his mind. “People shouldn’t judge me so quickly either,” he whispered.

 

 

 

The first person Chanyeol encountered when he returned to the Do farm was Baekhyun. The child was running across one of the snow covered rice paddies, his nose running and his cheeks flush from the cold. When he saw Chanyeol walking up the road he waved and ran for him.

Chanyeol had wondered how everyone was doing in his absence, seeing Baekhyun as lively and playful as ever offered some relief.

“Uncle! Uncle!” Baekhyun rushed right into him, hugging Chanyeol’s legs (much to his surprise). “You came back!”

“Of course I came back.” Chanyeol ruffled Baekhyun’s hair. “Have you been good while I was gone?”

“Yep.” The boy detached himself from Chanyeol’s legs and then grabbed for his hand. He began tugging the teacher towards the farmhouse. “Mom made treats now that she’s better!”

“Was she ill?” Chanyeol wondered out loud.

Baekhyun stopped tugging on Chanyeol’s hand long enough to look up at the man and give him a sassy stare. “She was sick again, like before, but she’s better now.”

Chanyeol didn’t like the sound of that. To be sick and stranded in a snowstorm had to be horrible.

“Was it the cough?” Chanyeol wasn't sure why he was asking the child, it wasn’t as though he wouldn’t see Ji Hyo in a moment and have the opportunity to ask her himself. Perhaps he sought the honesty of the child, who wouldn’t hide anything from him.

“No, no. Like before.” Baekhyun stomped his foot in frustration. “You know, how she is. When she thinks Dad is back and she wears that fancy hanbok.”

Chanyeol remembered seeing her put on the formal hanbok the morning he had left. So it was something that was tied to this illness– which by all accounts sounded like some sort of trauma induced episode. Something that dwelt in her mind. But as the village head had said when Chanyeol first arrived, there were very few people anymore that didn’t bear the scars of war in some way. Ji Hyo’s scars, it appeared, were in her memories, the pain coming back to haunt her.

Chanyeol let Baekhyun drag him the rest of the way to the farmhouse, only stopping the boy when they arrived at the porch. “Go in, I need to take my boots off,” Chanyeol instructed. Baekhyun opened the door and bounded in, calling out that Chanyeol was back.

Chanyeol found it strange that after having only been in Namwon for a matter of weeks he was already feeling like this place was home, like this farm somehow offered a comfort nowhere else in the city did. Or maybe spending a few nights not sleeping due to Jongdae’s blabbering had finally gotten to him. He walked up on the porch and was about to toe his boots off when he heard a noise. He looked to his left, towards the hutch that contained the coal stove. It was muffled, whatever sort of sound it was. Faint but noticeable.

Chanyeol crept towards the sound, curious if there was an animal that had gotten into the hutch. He imagined that Kyungsoo would probably beat the thing dead if it had tampered with the stove or any of the equipment. He was about to enter the hutch when he stopped, ducking back around the corner.

The noise he had heard was crying, the low and muffled sound of a man sobbing into his scarf. That man was Kyungsoo.

Chanyeol returned to the porch as quietly as possible, slipping off his boots and heading inside, pretending like he hadn’t seen or heard a thing.

 

 

 

Chanyeol found the photograph by accident. He had been helping Ji Hyo one evening, collecting the vegetable waste as she put together a stew. He went to throw the contents into the compost pile at the back of the house, which had him passing by the hutch. He spotted something lying on the ground and forever curious he bent down to pick it up.

It was a black and white photograph, probably at least five years old judging by how aged it looked. It was of two men. Chanyeol was certain one of them was Kyungsoo, the other must be his older brother, the resemblance was too uncanny to ignore. They were standing in front of the farmhouse, wide smiles on their faces. It was definitely taken before the war.

Seeing Kyungsoo look so happy was slightly disorienting. The smiling teenager in the photograph bore little resemblance to the hardened man that Chanyeol encountered on a daily basis. In many ways Chanyeol felt guilty about finding the photograph, like he was intruding in a memory that he had no place in. He set the picture back down on the ground and hurried to the compost pile. When he walked back to the house the picture was still there. The next morning it was gone.

Later that evening Chanyeol thought about his own photos, the dozens of formal pictures his parents had made him and his sister sit for over the years. Did he ever look that genuinely happy? Was he ever as genuinely happy as Kyungsoo looked in that single photo?

He didn’t think he ever was. Not truly happy. Perhaps carefree, but happiness and a lack of stress are two different things.

One thing was for certain, the picture didn’t leave his mind for many days. In a strange way it only made him want to know more about Kyungsoo. And the way he was starting to think about the man like a puzzle to be solved slightly scared him.

 

 

 

It was the last day of January, a frigid and dry day that had Chanyeol hesitant to leave his warm bed in the morning. Eventually his sense of responsibility won out, dragging him from his warm cocoon and into the main living space of the farmhouse. After down breakfast in an attempt to avoid Kyungsoo, he found himself tensing as he heard the familiar sound of the farmer’s walk.

“You should give Chanyeol a ride home since you will be in town today,” Ji Hyo told the man as he walked towards the dining table.

“When is Chanyeol going to pay me for gas?” Kyungsoo spat, lowering himself to the floor.

If it was any other day (well, aside from during a snowstorm) Chanyeol would have muttered he didn't need a ride and left, setting out on his long walk. But this day was not one to make him motivated.

“I can pay you for the gas,” Chanyeol stated, earning a reproving look from Kyungsoo.

“I’ll be by the market at four,” Kyungsoo mumbled, not bothering to make eye contact.

 

 

 

They were halfway home when the truck began to chug, jerking unnaturally before stopping altogether. Kyungsoo tried the ignition two times but the thing wouldn’t start. Finally he started beating on the steering wheel in frustration.

Chanyeol felt useless, his limited mechanical knowledge combined with the fact Kyungsoo was driving him home giving him an extra sense of guilt.

“The engine probably froze,” Kyungsoo opened the rusty truck door and jumped out, swearing under his breath as he walked around to lift the hood.

Chanyeol opened the door and got out, feeling guilty sitting in the semi warm vehicle while Kyungsoo was out in the cold fiddling with the engine.

He walked around to peer at the metal block– hoses and belts and cylinders that were as much a mystery to him as the man who was banging on them.

“Looks like the carburetor is shot,” Kyungsoo hissed. He hit the rod that held the hood up, letting the heavy metal plate fall into place with a bang.

“Is that something you can fix easily?” Chanyeol asked, not sure what a carburetor was or what went into making sure it was working.

“No.” Kyungsoo glared at the taller man for a moment before pushing past him, limping down the dirt road.

Chanyeol pulled his green jacket around himself, the fabric sporting a few new rips courtesy of working on the jobsite that day. He would patch them later, for now they were one more thing to add onto the cold.

He jogged to catch up with Kyungsoo, walking a few steps behind him as they trudged along the road. The sun was starting to set, but the land was not yet dark. Thankfully they had some light, a walk home in the pitch dark freezing temperature would be even nastier than their current situation.

They had been walking for about ten minutes when they passed a farmhouse, a curl of grey smoke rising up from the chimney. Chanyeol noticed how Kyungsoo looked at the building a little longer than he had looked at anything else they had passed.

“Kyungsoo!” A woman called the farmer’s name, making Chanyeol squint to see where she was. He hadn’t seen anyone around the farmhouse.

A younger woman rounded the corner of the house, her body wrapped tightly in an oversized coat. She had chubby cheeks, small eyes, and a wide, uneven smile. And– Chanyeol was most certain of this– she looked absolutely ecstatic to see Kyungsoo. She bounded over without a care for the snow or the ice that she travelled over.

Chanyeol glanced at Kyungsoo, noticing how the farmer looked away and let out a heavy sigh.

“Kyungsoo! What are you doing here? It is too cold for you to be out.” She stopped in front of the farmer, not even sparing Chanyeol a glance.

“My truck broke down.” Kyungsoo’s tone was flat.

“Oh no! I can see if Papa can give you a ride or maybe he can fix the truck for you!” She had turned around, ready to presumably run off to wherever her father was, when Kyungsoo reached forward and gripped her arm to stop her.

“It’s fine, I can manage.” Kyungsoo’s words came out gentler than before.

“I don't like you walking in this cold. You need to take care of yourself.” The girl seemed to realize there was someone else there, peering behind Kyungsoo towards Chanyeol. She gave him a suspicious once over. “Who is this?”

“This is my boarder, Park Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol bowed deeply, the girl did as well.

“I’m Seungyoon. I have known Kyungsoo forever, we have a bit of long relationship.” She emphasized the last word, there was possessiveness in her speech.

“Ah, so you’re the girl that he’s always talking about!” Chanyeol shouldn’t have done it, not really. But something about the way Kyungsoo was squirming, looking deeply uncomfortable while his face turned bright red made Chanyeol want to joke.

“You talk about me?” Seungyoon looked at the farmer, veritable stars in her eyes.

“Um, no. I– that is someone else.” Kyungsoo coughed. “We must be going now, have a nice day.”

Kyungsoo walked off as quickly as he could. Chanyeol hurried to catch up, glancing back one to see the girl watching them, her bottom lip downturned in a pout.

After walking for a few minutes, when they were well out of sight of the girl, Kyungsoo Chanyeol and punched him in the arm. “Why did you do that?!”

The punch hurt, but it was no match for the humor that Chanyeol found in the situation. He burst out laughing, remembering the look on Kyungsoo’s face and the way he so coldly shot the girl down. “You’re so cold, you charmer.”

Kyungsoo sighed, then relaxed. He muttered, “She had it coming.”

“It was funny,” Chanyeol admitted.

“Yes, it kind of was funny, wasn’t it?” Kyungsoo’s lips twitched, like he was fighting against the humor in the situation. When the farmer broke into a small smile Chanyeol felt his chest tighten. It was like the photograph, but a thousand times better.

It was like the simple expression changed everything about Kyungsoo. His eyes lit up, his youth, which wasn’t done any favors by his normally hard expression, was now more than apparent. And, while Chanyeol had known Kyungsoo was handsome in some way, he could recognize he was quite beautiful when he wasn’t scowling.

As January turned to February, Chanyeol realized how much he liked to see Kyungsoo smile.