XXXV

When Yongsun wakes up again, she sees Moonbyul reading in the chair beside the bed. «How have you been, Moonbyul? Well, I hope.» Yongsun asks tentatively, fearing that the former sergeant will recoil at the sound of her voice. Moonbyul closes the book, puts it down and rubs her hands together. The former sergeant shakes her head, Yongsun’s heart sinks. 

«Does the war bother you, even though it’s over?» Moonbyul whispers. Yongsun ponders, not on the question but on the answer, what should she say to a human (yes, human, Moonbyul is still that,) who seems to have lost everything? Tell them that the world continues marching onwards while they are left behind? Or perhaps Yongsun should tell Moonbyul the truth and say that all will settle eventually but the trials of the past will still follow.

Moonbyul drags the chair closer and places her hand on the sheet, looking down at Yongsun’s hands as she fumbles with her own. «It’s okay,» Yongsun says and gently takes Moonbyul’s hands in her own. They sit together in silence, watching each other’s faces, seeing the light from the battlefield flickering in their eyes. Yongsun mutters a breathless apology, Moonbyul asks why and what she is apologising for.

Yongsun admits to feeling guilty for ‘decorating’ severely wounded soldiers, including Moonbyul, even though she did not take part in the former sergeant’s operation. Moonbyul gazes at Yongsun, eyes scanning the engineer’s face, Yongsun feels heat rising to her cheeks. Moonbyul chuckles and squeezes Yongsun’s hand saying she has nothing to apologise for, at least not to her. They stay like that, hands intwined, talking softly. Yongsun smiles to herself, to Moonbyul, to the world: this is the end, this is the beginning, this is the in-between — this is everything.