11

Through The Glass, Darkly.

(It is not all happiness, but nothing on earth is)

The story is set five years after the previous chapter.

"Dear Mother,

I was struck by what you said in your letter about having been to Nuenen. You saw everything again, 'with gratitude that once it was yours' —- and are now able to leave it to others with an easy mind.

As through a glass, darkly — so it has remained; life, the why or wherefore of parting, passing away, the permanence of turmoil —- one grasps no more of it than that. For me, life may well continue in solitude. I have never perceived those to whom I have been most attached other than as through the glass, darkly."
 

-Letters of Van Gogh

Life.

The sound of parting, unless it is an action that requires no sound.

The kind of action that leaves one breathless in its necessity.

And life as one knew, all at once, was finished. There was no past, but one finds it a little difficult to be sure of the future. It's all about the process of accepting the mechanism of a 'future', or rather the uncertainties it provides.

The possibility of experiencing it for a lifetime does give a particular sense of numbness. Jumping jacks, circular stars spinning most absurdly and there's no way to confirm whether this is a--

dream.

Byulyi's lids fluttered open, followed by a numb neck and a similar sensation in her right arm. It's just the bad position of sleeping that will leave her sore for the rest of the day. A certain heaviness trampled on her chest at every attempt to pull herself up, a paralysis that almost pushed her soul to jump from the bed. Succeeded after the fifth try, at least she can pull herself together now.

Byulyi puts her feet on the floor, the coldness seeps in and she power walks to the curtain, slightly trembling fingers pulling it to reveal the shot of rising sun that counters her face suddenly. The woman remains unfazed, reveling in the warmth engulfing her face and drowning in a mood. A mood to just go back to bed and forget the whole routine that never stops for the past three years.

The mood was soon forgotten as she took slow steps backward, approached the antique cabinet, and swung it open to sets of hanging wardrobes. She's about to reach for the color detector near the bed before deciding against it, instead of picking a certain set of clothes that she never failed to wear for five days straight before.

Several more calculated steps lead her into the bathroom.

--

It's the slowest morning somewhere in NYC. The slowest morning that deserves its share of tea time: two teabags and milk fused in two mugs filled until the indicator beeping, the slathered cheese slices and pickles on a piece of bread, Byulyi hummed in the kitchen when the water boiler alerting her of the eggs inside the pan, and she fished them out with a strainer each.

Byulyi put the eggs in a tiny cup and place each set of breakfast inside both trays; that way it would be safe to be transported straight to the dining table. In a bold move, she put both trays in her hand and placed them on the dining table at the same time when another door swung open.

"Good morning, unnie-- Hey."

The second occupant of the studio apartment catches the other tray in time, straightening a cup of milk tea that almost topples. She tiptoed slightly and placed it safely on the table. "I thought I'm in charge of breakfast today."

Byulyi shrugged both shoulders. "It's fine. Just in the mood to do it, Hyun-ah."

Listening to how Byulyi called her real name lightly, Seori clicked her tongue. "It's Seori, unnie. Never mind that… Why are you wearing that combination again?"

Lined, collared shirt with brown vest combined with black pants, the educator tilted her head at her roommate.

"You've been wearing the same set for five days." Seori picks a new slice of bread and spreads a copious amount of butter on it before slapping it on the one that Byulyi has prepared. "I can help you separate the content of your cabinet before I go to work." The offer received a ghastly look from the other woman. "I like this combination simply because it's convenient, Seori-yah."

More like laziness, but Seori commented nothing on it; the arrangement that has been going nicely for three years since the first time they met. Byulyi reaches for the set of condiments nearby, rubbing the braille engraved on the lid and shaking the pepper on the perfectly boiled egg, crushing it to mush with the teaspoon.

One of the points in the living arrangement is to have breakfast together, no matter how busy they are at any moment, just for the sake of checking on each other. The aspiring artist/freelancer was hitting the jackpot when they first met; just at the right time for Byulyi to find a roommate for her studio apartment in New York. It's a necessity because she wouldn't be allowed to do it if someone else wasn't there with her, or at least that's what Seori heard.

Seori (and she bet Byulyi as well) thinks that they fit each other well in not minding each other's businesses too much.

"What time is it now?"

Byulyi touches her smartphone to activate the AI's voiceover, exclaiming the current hour in a robotic tone. Seori cursed. "I'm late!"

Byulyi bid her good day before disappearing steps nullify into a silence. Byulyi takes her time munching bits by bits, thinking of placing another bagel in a slicer but shaking her head afterward, choosing to sip the milk tea. This will do.

--

On her way to the underground station, the steps are always too fast. Byulyi extends her cane on time and waits for the green light only to be dragged together by the swarming crowd of busy walkers. For the first time in the Big Apple was a witness to how many times she had been dragged back and forth in a zebra cross. Anyway, that's when she's still a student.

Fortunately, her pad is not far from the nearest station. She puts her cane in the middle and starts click-clacking as it taps on each stair, determining the steps as she walks forward. By the time she's behind the yellow line, special assistance for the disabled is already prepared for her to proceed into the train, taking the subway for the day. A crowd of passengers disembarks past Byulyi as she waits patiently for her turn.

The door has opened, you can walk five steps to the front. Mind the gap, please.

Byulyi did exactly as she was told, taking her 'assigned' seat in the corner as the train started moving.

--

After a trip around the block by bus, she arrived in front of an office building. The plaque Moon Corporation is written in golden cursive as she walks past it, entering the revolving glass door.

"Good morning, Miss Moon."

The sound is from a fair distance as far as Byulyi can tell, but there's no doubt about who the owner of the sound is. "Good morning Mrs. Lee." She gives a short nod and the middle-aged woman fixes her glasses. "You don't need to greet me every morning like this."

"It's the Chairman's order, so it can't be helped." She is her father's right-hand woman; a position that is strangely paired with being Byulyi's secretary. She led Byulyi to the elevator and the ride upward filled with silence.

"I won't ditch it if that's what he meant."

Mrs. Lee fixes her glasses again, having this conversation for the umpteenth time. "You're holding the crucial task in this company, so this kind of treatment is given. Also, Miss Moon is not in a position to be capable of--"

Another silence filled the space when Mrs. Lee closed , realizing that she had overstepped her bounds. "I apologize, Miss Moon. I didn't mean to." Byulyi let out a chuckle.

"Don't be." Her tone is light. "That's what he always thought, anyway."

--

Behind the stacks of videotapes and writings that had been converted into audiobooks, Byulyi is about to put the first tape before a crinkle decorating her forehead. She exhaled and turned to the back.

"Is there any need to sit there all the time," she asks. "Mrs. Lee?"

The secretary pressed her pen and made notes behind Byulyi. "I was ordered to keep an eye on you because you always push the job to your subordinates when the working hours' nearly finished." The woman groaned. "That was one time, besides--"

"Miss Moon!"

One of the seven subordinates under Byulyi brings another set of videotapes as Byulyi fast-forwarded into every single document, making notes as they go. After studying all the current issues of the company, Byulyi calls another staff member.

"Ask Min-sang to prepare Room A1. Schedule a meeting as soon as possible. Make sure everyone brings their materials."

--

"It won't match. Please redo the concept from the beginning. I expect results by dawn."

"Can you use a different tone for this one?"

"I am sorry, but at this rate, it's not presentable enough for public viewing next week."

One by one junior, followed by seniors and interns alike queueing out of the conference room with hung heads, getting into their respective desks, and starting with the corrections that cannot wait any longer. Right after the last staff closed the door behind her, Byulyi exhaled a breath, pushing the tension of the three-hours meeting aside. That sure is quite an amount of input considering that she's only listening to descriptions of each material the whole time.

A light tap on her watch proclaims the current time. It's about time for her second job of the day. "Mrs. Lee. I have to rush to college." The woman clapped her binder shut. "Miss Moon, I don't get why you still have to work as a lecturer when Mr. Moon is this close to entrust the matters of this company to you…"

"Only until Moon Corp. can get back on its own feet and knows how to proceed from there." Byulyi pinches the bridge of her nose, leaning heavily against the ergonomic chair. "It's a deal if father wants to keep me in this…" But Mrs. Lee is already past the hearing. "Miss Moon, your subordinates have the same level of respect for you; wish you didn't forget that."

Byulyi let out a short laugh. "Just seven of them." She shrugged, signaling the end of the conversation. "Let it go, Mrs. Lee. And I'm kinda late now." The 'secretary' let out a sigh. "I will arrange the car…"

"No need." Byulyi shook her head vehemently. "There's still time to catch the bus."

The woman gives her a look like she's mocking her ancestors, it doesn't matter if Byulyi can see it or not. "You just have to watch my back until I'm out of this building, Mrs. Lee."

Looks like there's not much choice," Mrs. Lee mumbled, a reluctant affirmative.

--

"There's a gap in front of you, so take a wide leap, but not too wide."

The blonde steps inside the bus, tapping the card before taking her seat near the window, at the right corner and behind, the spot that should be safe from prying eyes. She raises her cane as a sign of gratitude to Mrs. Lee, pretty sure she will see it because the woman will never take her eyes off her even just for a second. It's heartwarming and unnerving at the same time. Maybe she will notify someone about this later.

--

"Alexander The Great met Diogenes and asked him for whatever he wanted, for he would be able to grant it."

Students at the front taking notes in the night class conducted in this small college that took quite a distance from Byulyi's apartment. The white noise mostly consisted of pencil scratches and a collective silence at the back (Byulyi assumes that they are mostly falling asleep) so Byulyi clicked the remote to move on another slide.

"All of you know the answer to that. Diogenes is a free-spirited guy who prefers to sleep on the street than take shelter and bathe in luxury. When someone asked what to do with his body if he were to die, he preferred to be cut in pieces and fed to the dogs."

The assistant stood up and gave a light tap on her shoulder. "Professor Moon." He whispered, his eyes fixated on one raised hand in the middle of the rows. Byulyi gets the hint and takes the mic, one of the pairs that have been given to the respective student as well.

"Professor, if Diogenes thinks that there's no use in pondering over values that have been determined by the society in general, isn't that an act of undermining the reason why rules are conducted in the first place?"

Even in the middle of the students that got (for some reason she can't comprehend) excessive, Byulyi can still identify that one person who attempts to look like one of her students, sinking into her seat like that was enough to make herself unnoticeable, giving death stares to snoring students around her while morphing into curiosity by the time she looks forward. The spilling long, black hair and tan skin will always stand out no matter what.

"Professor Moon?"

Byulyi is the last one to realize the long pause. She clears before raising the mic closer to .

"Let's try to dissect the meaning of "society rules'', shall we?" She put her right hand in the air. "Dissecting how cynics work their brains will provide, maybe, an interesting insight into how it affects society and the formation of rules in the first place."

—

In the lecturer's lounge, it is almost devoid of people when dawn breaks. The remaining lecturers bid their goodbye, rushing to spend their Friday night; a start to the weekend. Byulyi rewinds the recording of the class assignment that has to be checked that day, simultaneously working on marking and the feedback, whispering, and intent listening through earphones.

1 Message Received.

Father.

Message read.

Her attention is barely on the spoken message, but still twitches to a slight frown. Another weekly dinner that she must attend.

–

MARC FORGIONE

TRIBECA

8:20 PM

"How's the fish?"

Byulyi cut into the meal with calculated movement, slightly reminded of how her mother offered to cut the fish for her; an offer that she has to refuse for obvious reasons.

"My secretary did not make a reservation on time, so we're stuck here." Moon Dongjin looks around at the rustic decorations of twigs and bent steel that she knows are not up to her father's taste. Like eating at somebody else's obscure farm, he always said. "The shabazi swordfish should be at least edible. I can just ask the chef to redo the whole menu–"

"No, father." Byulyi put a forkful of zucchini closer to and stared blankly. "It's just as good. You can try some."

Dongjin nods and starts digging into his meal, maybe a little too noisily that his wife tugs at his sleeve, telling him to eat slowly. Nevertheless, Byulyi only imagined the last part.

Another round of silence beside a tinkle of knives, forks, a gulp of orange juice.

"I heard the sales went up a notch today."

The only response she can give is a nonchalant shrug. "That's good news." What else can Byulyi say, anyway? Dongjin rubs his chin. "I always told you to stop teaching and start focusing on the company. But you never take my words quite well…"

Byulyi went through the fish between the words.

"A deal's a deal, father." The professor stirred a glass of wine in her right hand before giving it a sip, tasting the dull sting coating her tongue. Her mother looks at Byulyi and then back to Dongjin, back and forth and back and forth.

Byulyi felt a lightweight covering her hand.

"We know, Byul-ah. You always want to teach." There's her mother, always the kind mediator, loosening things up between her and Moon Corp's founder. Ever since she asked her to stay after an eye operation years ago, she's the one who helped convince Dongjin about the night-time teaching agreement. Even when Byulyi chooses not to tell the reason to her mother, simply because there's none. "We'd always be grateful for your help at the company, your father too."

As far as everything has gone so far, Byulyi cannot describe their relationship as any shape of animosity. They still respect each other's spaces, and after the eye op., she's about to leave in a jiffy if not finding out the current situation of Moon Corporation.

Still trying their best to revitalize it until it looks nice.

After all, she has run away once and is finding her way back here, having a lukewarm weekly dinner with her parents, exchanging small talk, and keeping a semblance of a family. She does care about their well-being, just like any good daughter did.

"You have to consider resigning, Byulyi. I can have classes arranged during your spare time. I can—"

Byulyi drops her fork against the rim of the plate, creating a sharp clink that jolts them both.

"I have experienced firsthand the things you can do, dad. As I was saying, we do have a deal. You know I choose to teach more than anything anyway."

"And you know whatever in blasphemy will happen if Yooa doesn't convince you to have that operation here." He's talking with an edge. "If you can stop being so obstinate instead of showing even a speck of gratefulness–"

"Dear."

Dongjin bites his lip, a little too close to say something that he may regret, loosening his collar while maintaining a neutral expression.

Another hand covering hers. It's supposed to be a consoling gesture. Her mother meant well. It always is.

"We always want the best for you, Byul-ah. You know that."

The educator pulls a line around her lips, anything that resembles a smile. She tilted her head to the right, where her mother's voice came from.

"Yooa is not the one who convinced me, but I'm always grateful." She concluded. "There was never a day when I thought otherwise, mom."

—-

Here she is, standing at the entrance of this rustic American restaurant crafted by a Michelin-star chef, reaching into her bag and straightening her cane after sending her parents off.

"Are you sure you don't want us to send you to your apartment?"

Byulyi shook her head.

"That's fine, mom. I can take the bus."

"But…"

In another bout of silence, her father didn't say a word before exclaiming. "It's fine. She didn't want to go home with us, anyway."

Consoling words come across her mind, whether to tell them it's not true, that she just wants to be alone sometimes, but again it is too much of a hassle so she stays mum. She's not sure what kind of words they want to hear anyway.

They are just fine. This kind of distance is fine.

She pondered around some more before deciding that she's in the mood to take the train. Her cane's tapping as she walks along the empty street, strolling down the stairs to go to the subway. The station's almost empty, save for people who just got back from a late-night shift, drunkards knocking on the vending machine vigorously, and Byulyi chooses to take the nearest bench, waiting.

A light tap on the shoulder.

"It's me, unnie." Even without the name, Byulyi knew.

"I thought you were already home, Seori?"

"The gang wants to busk some more." The younger woman shrugged, taking a seat beside Byulyi as she scooted over. "And I happened to see you entering the station."

Byulyi knew it's not true because no music band in their right mind prefers to busk until midnight for no reason. "You can just go home, Hyun-ah… Ouch!" She rubbed her elbow, the exact spot where Seori pinched her and twisted. "Don't call me that."

"Really, what's your problem?" Seori crossed her arms and didn't care.

"Why are you here, anyway? I messaged you that you didn't have to pick me up today." It's a bit of an embarrassing arrangement, to be picked like she's some baby bird in the kindergarten, but give that two years and everything ease into a rhythm.

"You're meeting your parents tonight."

"I'm meeting my parents every week." She raised an eyebrow.

"I don't know. You're taking too long, whatever." The aspiring artist frowned. "I just thought I would have to pick you up today, unnie."

"It's practically tomorrow because it's already…" Byulyi taps her phone. "1 AM, so…"

"Unnie!"

The older woman laughed. "I really want to hug you now, Seori-ya! Since when are you this sweet?" The woman made a gagged sound. "Don't you dare." It's always fun to scare someone who hates skinship with so much of it.

These days, Byulyi is about to forget.

–

"Thank you for visiting, unnie."

"How's the baby?"

In one of the cafe shops around Manhattan, Yooa puts her hands on her tummy, giving it tentative rubs that are intended for a calming effect. "Reaching 7 months, and as energetic as he can be. The amount of kicking is surely the one I can live without."

"I see." Byulyi nodded. "Where's Eunkwang?"

"Taking another project, again! He said we need to save a lot for the baby." Yooa grunted, but Byulyi could imagine the glow on her face as she said it. They were such a happy couple, up to the point that he's the reason why Yooa went to Korea and convinced Byulyi like her father wanted her to do. They talk about what happened as the years went by Yooa can finally help her soon-to-be husband with the money provided by Byulyi's father (enough to get themselves a business on their own), the Moon Corp'