Chapter  19  The Missionary

Joseon was abuzz with the latest news; an American missionary by the name of Joseph Stenson had been murdered, shot by an unknown assailant, and his body found sprawled in an alley in Jemulpo, a territory that was under the control of the fearsome Gu Dong Mae, skilled swordsman, infamous killer, and hired protector of Minister Hayashi of the Consulate of Japan.

"Did the killing take place in our territory?" Dong Mae asked.

"Yes," Yujo answered, looking worried.

"Investigate, and find out if any of our men were involved," Dong Mae said.

He would not be surprised if Hayashi or Wan Ik, or both of them, had decided to work on a plan to point the finger of suspicion at him. He had antagonized both of the men, and perhaps, they had decided that it was time to teach him a lesson for crossing them.

Dong Mae did not have to wait for long to have his suspicions confirmed; the next day, a  group of burly policemen surrounded him as he was on his way out. He was led to the police detention centre with his hands tied securely with rope behind his back. A huge crowd gathered, and no one was surprised; Gu Dong Mae had done terrible things, and there were some who thought that he had got what he deserved.

Hani almost spilled her coffee when a maid came with the news that Dong Mae had been arrested, and brought to the Joseon police detention centre, to be questioned on the murder of an American missionary. That missionary, the maid said, was the adoptive father of the black-haired American, Eugene Choi, residing in Room 304. He had been seen distressed and weeping over the bloodied remains of the missionary.

Dong Mae had been beaten and tortured, but he had refused to admit to the killing of the missionary. 

"I did not kill the missionary," he said, through bleeding lips. "If I had done it, he would have been beyond recognition; he would have no face left to identify who he was."

The prison guards swallowed.

Late in the day, Dong Mae had a visitor.

It was Hina, and she looked at him with shock in her eyes.

"I am sorry that I look so dishevelled," he laughed. "I am not a pretty sight."

She leaned forward across the table and squeezed his hands, bound many times over with rope.

"Stay strong," she said urgently. "I have spoken to the American, Eugene Choi, and he is working to set you free."

"How can I trust him?" he said. "He could be lying to you."

"Because I trust him," she said simply.

He looked at her.

"Will you trust him?" she asked.

"I trust you," he said.

She smiled.

Evening came.

The door to the cell opened. The Chief of Police walked in. He sat down opposite Dong Mae, and placed a sheet of paper in front of him.

"This is your confession," he said. "Sign it, or your men die. Every day, I will shoot one of your men, until you sign it."

"You killed the American missionary. You did it, under the instruction of Lord Go Sa Hong. Admit it, and sign the confession if you want to save your men."

The door opened with a loud clang, and Eugene walked in with a group of American soldiers.

"Release him," he said. "The missionary was an American, and the American Consulate will take over. Release this man into our custody."

"At once," Eugene stared at the Chief of Police.

Dong Mae laughed.

"Stay here. You will be safe," Eugene said, leading Dong Mae to a room.

"It seems that I have exchanged one prison for another," Dong Mae smiled.

"Why did you search the room of Kim Yoon Jung?" Eugene asked.

"He was observing the whereabouts of Lady Ae Shin, and behaving suspiciously."

"I see," Eugene said, looking thoughtful.

"That man, the missionary - he was your adoptive father?" Dong Mae asked.

"Yes," Eugene answered.

Neither of the men said anything for a while.

"Losing one's parent is a grief that no human should endure," Dong Mae said, and his eyes were gentle. "I am sorry for your loss."

"I will find the man who did this," Eugene said, his eyes blazing with a sudden fury, "and if you are innocent of the crime, you will be freed." 

Eugene left the room, leaving the guard to lock the door behind him.

Hina was surprised by a visitor to the Glory Hotel that night.

It was Hotaru, who waa crying, and seemed desperate.

"Stay here," Hina said, looking at the weeping girl with eyes that hovered between exasperation and pity. "You will be safe here."

She led the girl to a room, and indicated the bed.

"Sleep, and rest," she said.

The girl was still weeping. She was beautiful, even with her face streaked with tears, and her hair unkempt and wild, as if she had not washed for days, as if she had been frozen in a nightmarish world of waiting, waiting, waiting, for the news that he had been released, praying, praying, praying that he would not be killed, had stayed alive, somehow; trapped in her silent world where the words she spoke all went unheard, where her only release were the stricken pain of unbearable loneliness in her eyes, and the tears of worry and fear and desperation and despair that flowed like rain, unstoppable, uncontrollable...

Hina stopped at the door, and turned.

"Do not be a burden to Gu Dong Mae." She lifted her eyes and held Hotaru's gaze. "Let him breathe, let him draw breath. I fear that he will suffocate, because a man, even a swordsman, can only bear so much."

She closed the door with a soft thud, leaving Hotaru alone.

Hina leaned against the closed door, her eyes closed, her heart beating fast, her lips moving in silent prayer: please let him be all right, please let him live, please let him be alive.

Joseon was agog with yet another new development.

Someone else had been arrested for the murder of the American missionary, and Gu Dong Mae had been freed.

The killer was Kim Yong Joo, who had been arrested earlier, and released on the day of the killing. Kim was a drug addict and had recently returned to Joseon, where he had taken up abode at Room 205 of the Glory Hotel.

Why he had shot the missionary, nobody knew, nor cared; what mattered was that Gu Dong Mae had been freed, and was now on his way to the Glory Hotel. The townsfolk sighed; the swordsman was back, and life had returned to normal again.

Hina stood at her window, and watched as Hotaru flung open the doors of the Glory Hotel, and ran, a beautiful, ethereal being, a bright streak of sunshine, hair loose and flying, uncaring of the gaping faces of the spectators; she flew down the steps at the entrance of the Glory Hotel, so swift, so fleet of foot, it was if she had invisible wings on her dainty feet lending fairy speed to her flight, glowing, luminous, with joy on her face, so much joy and love that it blinded Hina for a moment, standing there alone by the drawn curtains of her room, looking down on the beautiful girl with tears streaming down her cheeks, running down so swiftly to the tall, lean man in the kimono, making a little leap, and flinging herself into his strong arms, her arms around his neck, leaning into him so closely that their bodies were moulded together, separate and alone in a world where only he and she existed. 

Hina watched, as he enveloped her in a deep, deep hug, with such sweetness, and such care, as if she were the most precious, precious treasure in the world; he drew her in, and let her cry, and her hair, and lay his cheek against her head, and it made the woman, standing watching up there, from her room with the drawn curtains, feel a loneliness so heavy, so unbearable that it brought tears to her eyes.

Never had she felt so alone.

But then he looked up, as if he knew that he was being watched.

He saw her.

He nodded at her, his eyes filled with warmth and gratitude, and gave a half-smile, as if to say, I am back, and you are not alone. 

It cheered her immensely, that nod, that half-smile, the warmth in those eyes.

She inclined her head in acknowledgement, like a regal and dignified queen, detached and unfeeling, and not prone to emotion or fits of self-pity, and stopped herself from giving a little wave. That would never do.

She felt the heaviness dissipate, and the loneliness lighten, and the gladness slowly filling, chasing away the darkness, keeping the shadows at bay.

She had not realized, until this moment, how much she had missed him, how much she had missed that tall, lean frame, that long hair that fell in an unruly, untamed wildness over his eyes, that dark stubble, that cynical smile, that could change to such gentleness, and such warmth in the most intimate of moments, those eyes that could chill with their fury, and yet kindle to mischief and laughter in the most carefree, the most unguarded of moments.

She was overjoyed that he was back. She savoured the feeling of joy and gave up the fight to stay remote, detached, unfeeling.

She might as well admit the truth to herself; she could never, ever stay remote, detached, unfeeling with a man like Gu Dong Mae.