XXI

Yongsun manages to forget her Theory of Life when she is in Moonbyul’s company. They talk about steel plates during the day and reminisce about their stolen childhoods at night. Yongsun finds Moonbyul too easy-going, perceptive and selfless to be a sergeant in the military, she shudders when she thinks: how many has she killed? How many has she murdered? 

In the act of killing, there is a certain feeling, a dangerous feeling, one can feel (Yongsun knows this because some soldiers have died at her hands). The Theory of Life is supposed to protect her from that feeling, from the pain (and the pleasure). Understand this: the Theory of Life is composed of two opaque sentences and is full of mistakes and loopholes. The theory is destined to be disproven, to be destroyed, that is what makes it so frighteningly beautiful.

The sergeant wears a ghost of a smile nowadays, Yongsun sees through Moonbyul’s white lies when she asks if the sergeant is all-right. Moonbyul gives an affirmative nod, like an obedient soldier. Yongsun notices the slight changes in Moonbyul’s persona but does not ask, she keeps to herself and then suddenly remembers the past; the end, the beginning.

Moonbyul’s smile is a digression, Moonbyul’s hands are insignificant, Moonbyul is a minor detail that can be ignored, if she falls, if she dies, if she is ‘decorated’ — don’t feel, don’t feel, don’t feel, don’t feel.