Chapter 1 The Butcher's Son

1902

He startled awake, his whole body drenched with sweat, shaking, a scream still hung, half-trembling, moist upon his tongue.

It was the same old nightmare again, the same nightmare that had plagued him every single night, every single tormented night for the past twenty years. Every single night, it came to him, sinuous, wrapping its tentacles around his heart, choking him, ridding him of breath, tormenting him, making him scream out in agony, forcing him to relive the horror again and agan, every word, every image stark and clear and horrific, searing itself upon his anguished mind, repeating, replaying over and over again, images of the two people he had loved the most in the world, beaten to death, trampled upon, in front of his eyes, making him weep, deep, loud racking sobs, wrenching his guts out, twisting his insides with the remembered pain and the grief, their screams of agony, their moans in the final throes of death, ringing in his ears, as loud, as clear, as real, as if it were happening right now, in the silent room, reverberating, echoing in the ashy beams of the breaking dawn.

1882

He had been a child then, ten years of age, tall and strong for his age, the only son of a butcher, a creature lower than the lowliest, an animal, to be scorned and despised and ridiculed, a mindless creature, unfit to mingle with decent people, unclean, dirty, an abomination, a stain upon the pristine world. He learnt early to walk quickly, to avoid the crowds, to keep his eyes on the ground, to keep out of trouble. He learnt that the correct thing to do, the only thing he could do, was to kneel before the good people, head bowed low in humility, bracing himself for the inevitable slap, or kick, or blow, or the occasional deluge of filthy, faeces-laced water. He submitted, and endured early, but his heart burned with resentment, the rage making him grit his teeth silently, clenching his fists secretly upon the dirt and gravel.

He remembered that day very clearly, a beautiful day, cloudless, the sun warming him with its glow, a slight chill wind stirring the leaves. He watched his mother hang out the laundry, spreading out the big white sheets, beating them with a big stick.

Thud, thud, thud.

Her brow was furrowed in concentration. How beautiful she was, even in that old, stained, worn hanbok.

She caught his eye and smiled at him. She put down the laundry basket  and hugged him to him. He breathed in her essence, her love; it enveloped him, its warmth seeping in, momentarily soothing the pain in his soul, lightening the darkness in his heart. He breathed in her scent, the loving scent that had assauged every pain, every hurt he had suffered at the hands of the good people on the hard, dirty, grimy streets of the cruel, savage, unfeeling world he called home.

"My son," she murmured, carressing his face, his hair. "How tall you are. Soon you will be taller than me, taller than your father."

"And what use would that be, Mother?" he retorted, the sting of bitter tears prickling  his eyes. "Nothing would change. I would still be a butcher's son. And I would still be a butcher when I am big, like Father."

He pulled away from her embrace, the tears spilling over, falling on her hanbok, causing a big dark stain to appear on it.

"Can't we leave this place, Mother? I hate it so much, " he cried.

"We have nowhere to go, Dong Mae. At least here, we have food on the table, and we are alive." She passed a hand wearily over her forehead.

"We are alive, and that is all that matters," she repeated dully, her eyes bleak, dead.

"But they hate us, everyone hates us. Why do they hate us?"

"Hush, my son," she held him close, her eyes b with tears. "It's just the way things are, in this world, in Joseon."

"Then I hate this world, I hate Joseon," he cried. "When I grow up, I will leave this world, this hateful, hateful world, and I will take you with me, Mother, and I will take Father with me, too. We will go far far away, to a good place, to a new world, where everyone likes everyone, where everyone is free - " He could not go on, the tears choking him, making it difficult to breathe.

She smiled at him, tears in her eyes.

"I will wait for that day, my son. Your father and I, we will wait for that day, for you to grow big and strong, to take us away to a far away place, a good place, a new world. We will be happy in that place, my Dong Mae, my son. The three of us, we will be happy there."