Chapter  21  The Eclipse

It was raining.

Dong Mae stared out of the window, and played with the coin in his hand.

He rubbed it between his thumb and his forefinger, and felt the cold, metallic hardness against his skin, vaguely; he could not feel much in both of his palms, because they were filled with scars and calluses, collected from years and years of wielding a sword, so many that it was impossible to count, and keep count, torn and ripped skin that had healed with ugly scars, mementos of his violent past and violent present, trophies of mindless rage and senseless fury, etched permanently on his hardened, thickened flesh, as if he had grown an extra layer of numb, unfeeling, dead skin.

He willed himself to feel the cold, metallic hardness of the coin, because it had been hers; she had touched it, had held it, had dropped it into the pouch.

It had belonged to her, and now, it belonged to him.

And so he willed himself to feel the coin, clasped between his thumb and his forefinger, rubbed it between his dead thumb and his dead forefinger.

She had been so careful not to touch his warm flesh, but had dropped the pouch of coins at his feet. He had selected the coin himself, and had returned the pouch to her. She had snatched it from him, taking great care not to touch his hand.

He imagined her dropping the coin into his open palm, only for him to close his fingers over hers, and tug her toward him. What would she have done? Would she have recoiled in fear, and pulled her hand out of his grasp? Would she have berated him, her breath coming in gasps, her eyes open wide in shock? Or would she have pulled her hand out of his warm, tight clasp, and struck him a blow across the face with the same hand? She would probably have done that, he thought ruefully, and remembered how hard she had struck him across his face when he had yanked at the maid's hair.

He rubbed his chin, and laughed.

The dojo had felt like a different place ever since that day when she walked in; now, he saw her in every nook, every corner of the room. Where once it had been nothing but a place to train, to expel his rage, and his anger, now it had become a room filled with her, her beauty, her essence, her lingering presence; he saw her everywhere, and breathed her everywhere. A slight shadow on the screen, and his heart would jump, that foolish heart, that hoped, even though it knew the futility of that hope, that perhaps, she had come again, that perhaps, she had not said all that she had come to say that day.

How happy he had been that day.

Gazing upon her face, he had felt his heart fill, and surge with pure, unadulterated joy. For a brief, fleeting, transient moment, he had been fiercely, gloriously happy.

The fifteenth of the next month was a long way away, and it would be hard for time to pass; he felt heavy, sluggish, at the thought, but until then, he would keep this precious coin in his drawer, where his pile of treasure - her shopping lists - lay. He opened the drawer, and, very carefully, placed the coin on top of the pile of shopping lists. It glittered in the light cast by the lamp, another addition to his sad, pathetic treasure, a sole coin, the first of many, beckoning to him with the promise of more meetings, of more opportunities to gaze upon her face, another memento of her that he could lay claim to in secret, another token of the foolish hope that lived in his foolish heart, this heart that continued to beat, that remained steadfast, that refused to let go.

The solar eclipse darkened the whole of Joseon on the same day the news spread of two events that had happened within the palace: first, Captain Eugene Choi, the black-haired American, had been appointed by the King of Joseon as the instructor of the Royal Military Guard, defenders of the King of Joseon; and, second, Lady Go Ae Shin had been summoned to the palace by the royal concubine, Lady Um, and had been escorted to the palace by a host of royal ladies-in-waiting, and riding in the royal palanquin, no less, through the streets of Hanseong, leaving crowds of common folk gawking at the majestic spectacle. There was talk that the royal concubine had shown special interest in Lady Ae Shin's English Language classes, that she had taken on her own initiative from the English Language school set up by Miss Stella, an American in Hanseong. There was more talk that the royal concubine was contemplating the setting up of an English Language School for Ladies on the grounds of the palace.

The tongues wagged, but the eclipse put a stop to this almost at once; the eerie, creeping darkness cast by the eclipse drove the crowds indoors, and the superstitious barricaded themselves in their houses, and covered their windows. They shivered, feeling a sense of dread, and uneasiness at the darkness in the middle of the day; no good could come of such an unnatural occurrence, and the only thing that the good people could do was to pray, and hope that the shadow would pass soon, and Joseon return to nomalcy again.

And so they stayed in their homes and prayed, and took part in special rituals to appease the gods, until the shadow passed, and the sun shone bright again.

Ae Shin and Hina were sitting down to coffee and cake at the French Bakery.

It was cool, and pleasant inside, and there were tables and chairs set up for those who preferred to drink coffee and taste the myriad buns and breads, or sample the wide assortment of delicious-looking cakes in the cosy ambience of the shop, from which wafted a delicious aroma of freshly baked delicacies from the kitchen located at the far rear of the shop.

Hina watched, as Ae Shin proceeded to cut the pink rectangular cake. She had said, "I will do it," and Hina had let her, for Ae Shin was the reason for their meeting, and the role of hostess fell to her.

Ae Shin sliced the cake in a horrific assortment of sizes and shapes; she had valiantly managed to carve a cylindrical shape, a triangle and an oval out of the cake in a very short time, but Hina could not bear to watch the slaughter of the cake any further, and stilled her hand, forcibly taking the fork from her, and saying, rather faintly, "I will do it, my lady."

Ae Shin looked rather offended, but gave up the knife to Hina, who swiftly, and expertly, sliced the remaining cake into small cubes, all perfectly shaped, and of the same size.

Hina forked a cube and offered it to Ae Shin.

"Thank you," said Ae Shin, and plopped it into almost at once.

Hina leaned back and stared in amazement as Ae Shin forked four more cubes of cake, in quick succesion, stuffed them into , so that they bulged against her cheeks, and chewed in a most unladylike fashion.

"That was wonderful," sighed Ae Shin. "I was hungry."

"Yes, you certainly were," said Hina.

"Thank you for meeting me today," said Ae Shin. "Did you find out the reason for Gu Dong Mae's trespass into my house, and what the letter was?"

"I did," Hina said. "He did it to save your grandfather, and you. The letter was written by your grandfather, calling on other noblemen to defend Joseon, and the King of Joseon against foreign enemies - who I believe to be Japan."

Ae Shin was silent.

"But why?" she asked, after a while. "Why would he help us?"

"Because he loves you; he has always loved you, and if you are not aware of it, then, you are blind, and he is a fool."

Hina rose, and said, "I have to leave now. In return for my kind deed today, could you do something for me, a small favour for me?"

Ae Shin nodded. "Anything."

"Be kind to him. It takes so little from you to make him happy," she said, and walked away, leaving Ae Shin staring after her, confusion in her eyes, her breath coming fast.

It was the fifteenth of the month.

Dong Mae woke up early.

She was coming to the dojo today.

He walked with light steps to Hotaru.

"What does my tarot card say today?" he asked, smiling. "Something good, no doubt."

She flipped the cards, and stared at them, her face whitening.

Taking her notebook, she wrote something, and showed him.

DEATH

One word, simple and stark.

She placed her hand on his arm, and shook her head.

She wrote again on her notebook, and showed him.

DO NOT GO

He laughed.

"I have to go," he said, and leaned down,  her hair gently. "She is coming today; that is what I have been waiting for, all this time, all these weeks."

He walked out, leaving her staring after him dully.

He paced up and down the dojo, waiting for her in a fever of impatience.

And then he looked up, and she was there.

She looked different, somehow.

Her face was soft and gentle, and her eyes were earnest, and grateful.

"You came," he said simply.

"Yes," she answered. "I came, to pay you, as I promised."

He extended his palm.

She took out a coin, and pressed it into his open palm.

But this time, she did not snatch back her hand in a hurry. Instead, she curled up her fingers, lingering over his open palm, so that their hands touched, and he could feel the warmth, and the softness of her hand, and then slowly drew it back.

"I found out from Madam Kudo Hina what you did, to save my grandfather and I, and what the letter was, and that you came that night to warn us."

"I will be forever grateful to you, I will be eternally in your debt."

"I thank you from the bottom of my heart," she said, and bowed low to him.

"I will come on the fifteenth of next month, and the fifteenth of every month thereafter, to pay my debt to you. This is my promise to you, for as long as I draw breath."

She raised her eyes to his; they were b with tears.

"Why do you risk your life for me? Are you not afraid of what will happen to you when they find out?" she cried.

"I want to protect you, All that I have always wanted is to protect you."

"You are all that matters to me," he said, in a whisper. "I began with you, and I will end with you."

"All my paths lead to you; I have tried to take a different path, but it is no use, because everywhere that I turn, every step that I take, every path that I tread, they all lead me back to you."

"I do not fear death."

"I would embrace death for you."

"I would die for you."

"You are my one, my all, my everything."

He looked into her eyes and his eyes were blazing, on fire with love for her.

He would not hide his love for her anymore; he refused to hide it anymore.

"Do you know that they are talking about you, that you have ended your betrothal, that you are a failed woman?"

"You have ended your betrothal, and the only thing that matters to me is that you have taken one more step further from me."

"I know that, and I accept it, but like a fool, hope still lives, here," he clutched at his chest where his heart beat.

"Tell me that I am a fool to harbour that foolish hope," he cried.

She was crying, the tears streaming down her cheeks.

"I will be here, on the fifteenth of next month," she said. "Stay well, sir."

She bowed to him, and walked away.

He walked past the bakery, and stopped.

"Candies for you, sir?" the shop owner said nervously.

"I believe that I will have some candies," Dong Mae smiled.

The shop owner swallowed.

He handed a bag of candies to Dong Mae.

Dong Mae selected a candy, and popped it into his mouth.

"I was mistaken," he said, thoughtfully. "They do not leave a bitter taste; it is more a...a lingering taste of something, I am not sure exactly how to describe it, but it makes you long for more, it makes you yearn for more."

The shop owner stared at him in confusion.

Dong Mae walked on; he felt as light as a feather today.

She had thanked him, her eyes soft and gentle, and filled with gratitude.

He had told her what he felt about her, and she had not told him to give up on hope, to stop hoping.

He could still hope.

She had cried, worried about his safety, fearing that he would be killed.

She cared about him.

The thought gladdened him, filling every pore of his being with joy.

Dong Mae popped another candy into in his mouth, and was chewing it with contentment, when a shot rang out, from high on the rooftop, and he stumbled; a shot rang out again, and he fell heavily, blood oozing out from the side of his chest, and spreading rapidly, a red stain that grew and grew, dampening the kimono, soaking it, until it clung to his side; and still, the red stain grew. Another shot rang out, but he had crouched down behind a metal container, and sprawled beside it, awkwardly.

Dimly, he saw through a thick fog, Hee Sung's shocked face, and his mouth opening and shutting, and saying something, he knew not what; with his remaining strength, he grasped the lapels of Hee Sung's coat, and rasped, his words coming out in shuddering breaths, "It was not her; for a moment there, I feared that it was, but it was not. I...am...thankful...,"

Darkness swallowed him.