Chapter  18  The Appointment

Hina was drinking at the bar when Dong Mae walked in.

He sat down beside her.

Hina looked at him through half-closed eyes.

"My protector. We meet again," she raised a glass drunkenly toward him.

Turning to the bartender, she said, "Fill it up again."

He laid his hand gently over hers, stilling it in mid-air.

"Stop," he said, taking the glass from her. "You are drunk."

He looked at her, and frowned. "Why are you drinking? What ails you?"

"Is it your father? Has he been bothering you?"

"My father," she laughed. "That man has taken everything from me - my youth, my mother, my name."

"My name is Lee Yan Hwa," she said, tears in her eyes.

"It is a beautiful name," he smiled gently at her. "It suits you."

He wiped away the tears on her cheeks.

"Do you know that I am older now than when I last saw my mother?" she said, the tears flowing down her cheeks. "I have put up sketches of her face everywhere, every year, but it is to no avail."

"I stopped looking for her today," she said, her eyes filled with unbearable grief, and hopelessness.

"I hurt so much," she said, "after all these years, after all this time, I still hurt so much. The pain never gets less, the pain never goes away."

He carried her on his back, walking slowly through the dark alley.

She was crying.

It was as if she could not stop.

He let her cry.

Finally, she stopped.

"Perhaps, I should get down, and walk," she said. "I am almost sober."

"Perhaps, you should," he said, but he continued to carry her.

"I am still a bit giddy," she said, snuggling deeper into his back.

He smiled, and walked on. 

She lay her cheek upon his back, and closed her eyes.

"I drink to stop time from passing so fast," she said drowsily, the rhythm of his tread lulling her into a safe, quiet place, so that all that was left was the warmth of his back and the strength of his hold.

"I drink because the time cannot pass fast enough," he said, smiling ruefully.

She did not answer, but gave a deep sigh.

He trudged slowly, one foot after another, carrying her safe and snug upon his back through the dark night.

It was the fifteenth of the month.

It was finally here, the day that she would come to pay her debt to him.

It was the day that he had been waiting for for the past few weeks.

He could barely contain his excitement.

He had hardly slept the night before.

Was she as anxious as he was, was she willing the time to pass quickly so that she would be able to keep her promise to him, to meet him, to settle the debt that she owed to him?

Would she be cold and disdainful, and look at him as if he were the vilest, most disgusting creature that she had ever seen?

Or, would she be kind and gentle, and bestow a smile upon him?

He thought that the latter was highly improbable.

He laughed to himself.

It mattered not whether she was cold or kind; it was enough that she come, so that he could gaze upon that beloved face, that dearly loved face, every inch of which he had memorized, the face that filled his dreams, and his nightmares, the face that filled his waking hours, day and night, the face of the woman that made it more bearable to live, that made it easier to live in this cruel, hard, unfeeling world.

He went early to the dojo.

He was in fine form, and parried every move, and deflected every attack by his practice opponents. 

He had just thrown a man on his back with ease and swiftness when he saw her shadow framed against the paper screens that bordered the length and breadth of the practice area.

He knew that it was her straightaway  even before his man led her in, bowed, and said, "Sir, you have a visitor."

He straightened, and looked at her, his face flushed with exertion, and exhiliration, that she had come, that she was here, as she had promised.

There had never been any doubt in his mind that she would come; she was fearless, and brave, and earnest, and that was why he loved her so much.

"My lady," he said, bowing. "What a pleasure it is to see you again."

"Why did you go to the temple to kneel at my parents' mortuary tablets?" she asked. "The nun wrote a letter to me, saying that a man in a kimono and carrying a sword had gone to the temple to kneel at my parents'  mortuary tablets."

He smiled.

"I wanted to know why you did what you did. I did not understand why you would become a fighter and risk your life. I had to know your background, to understand you, to know you a little better."

She frowned, and looked confused.

"Did you bring the payment?" he asked, so that she would not pry further.  

She drew out a red pouch from her skirt, and threw it upon the floor.

It landed at his feet between them; he bent down and picked it up.

He drew the string open, and peered inside.

It was filled to the brim with coins. Very carefully, he selected a coin, tightened the string, and handed the pouch back to her.

She stared at him in surprise.

"I need just one coin, " he said, "but  my condition is this: on the fifteenth of every month, you will meet me, and I will take another coin. That way, the maid stays safe, and the person whom she gave the document to, stays safe."

Her eyes flashed with anger.

"Am I to pass my days like this for the rest of my life? Am I to meet you for the rest of my life?" she said, her voice shaking.

"If need be," he said, " but, remember that if anyone asks me whether you are that blackbird that I shot at at Jemulpo, that day on the rooftop, I will say that I was mistaken; and if anyone says otherwise, I will kill him."

"As long as I live, I will protect you. That is my oath."

He stared intently into her eyes, his eyes serious, his voice ringing with passion and sincerity.

Her eyes fell. She looked away, her cheeks flushed.

She knows, he thought. She knows how I feel about her.

She knows, and she is uncomfortable.

But she is aware of my feelings, and she is aware of me.

He felt his heart surge with that foolish hope again.

She did not say anything.

He bowed to her, and when he straightened, she was gone.