It's been now a few days since Jong Woon and his wife are back home. Father proudly introduced him to a lot of influential persons from the Regime. One day he will be called to manage a very important job. It does not please me at all... But for now, my oppa has not changed. Faithful to my memories, his voice still is soft with slightly childish accents. His smiles are generous and makes his eyes cheerfully creasing. He is still talking to me with the greatest kindness and an olympian calm. Jong Woon oppa is not the kind of person who gets easily irritated. This small lack of autority could be a bad thing for politics but for now, it seems like he is alright.

His wife's name is Eun Ah. I have learned she was barely older than me. But she is already married and she never went to College. In Pyongyang, and in the North in general, the girl's place in the societely is lower than in the South, in Seoul. They were born for nothing else than having a nice wedding and making children. If they can give sons, they will get more respect that the girls-only makers. To have a girl is a prestige but all the families like having at least one son, possibly two or three, and it is better if they are the first borns.

Sweet and moderate, Eun Ah never talks loud and besides it is rare when she talks. She stays behind Jong Woon, hands together, speechless, most of the time. Girls from the North are known to be more obedient than those from the the South, slightly more exuberant. She has been lucky to get married to my oppa, who is kind and caring. Others are often forcefully married to real despots... Some are heal-treated, and others are relegate to an almost skiwy rank when the husband decides he needs to get concubines, younger and lovelier.

I really don't feel like getting married... I pray each night for Father to tell me about it the later. Marriage only will be another golden cage, maybe much crueler, from which I would never be able to escape.

It's been a week now that, every night, when back from the University, I ask the rickshaw I take to make a big detour by the Market Place. Each night, eyes in alarm, I anticipate the moment when I would meet Yunho. My heart beating, I stare at the horizon and search for his thin and tall figure on the sidewalk, getting his way through the crowd.

I have made up my mind for not tying my hair into braids on the side anymore, how I did until then. This kind of haircut is for girls in High School and I am a student in University now. I don't feel like looking like a baby anymore. From now, just like the smart girls parading in the city with freshly tailored dresses, I brush my hair in a sophisticated bun, with a lot of ornaments. Mother is glad about that change and thinks I am preparing to be a woman for the moment when Father will tell me he found me an husband but it is not the case at all.

Tonight again, I am scrutinizing the horizon, my senses sharpened. There is a fresh wind pleasantly whiping my face, oppositely to the other days, which were long and choking. My hands are shaky and wet, grabbing the side of the rickshaw when we roll on a pavement which was out of the road and makes us hiccup.

Finally, abruptly, he appears in my sight. Just like every night, he is walking, books in his hands, his uniform shirt rolled on his arms like back then while the riot. When I am passing him by, we are smiling at each other like each time but no words. I am feeling as if the wind has suddenly turned burning. The sun is blinding me. The blue sky, far from the tragic aura of this infamous day, looks deep and endless.

While dinner, Father is talking about a project of military training reinforced. His voice feels like coming from afar, as if my ears were drown in the water. I am swallowing my spicy fish soup with small sips from my spoon, with a will to smile that I am keeping to myself. I am still replaying my meeting with Yunho, again and again, his smile, his forearm, the way he is walking.

The new mayor is having a party to celebrate his entrance at the City Hall. When you know he could get this place thanks to the riot, I think that is conceited and inappropriate. Father and Mother can't go since Father is a little old and does not bear the summer heat pretty well. But there is an invitation for our family. Jong Woon and Eun Ah are insisting for me to go there with them but I stubbornly refuse to take part at it. Mother is grumbling like my mood is detestable lately and she obliges the maids to get me prepared. If I don't accept going to this party, I will get punished and forced to go back home directely after my lessons. I may be a student, as long as I am living with my parents, I belong to them and owe them obedience. So I am ending up submitting at their whims... But that is because I want to be able to keep on meeting Yunho each day!

The maids are drawing a part in the middle on top of my head, rolling my hair into a bun and tying a long real hair braid to it with a red ribbon meaning I am still a and not married yet. Then, they are dressing me with a Korean style dress, tight in a band at the chest with thin suspenders, slightly loosen until my waist and completely roomy at the lower. I am getting a thin black pencil trait around my eyes, subtly coloring my lips in a flesh-colored pink, and my cheeks are applied with white powder. My skin can easily get tanned in summer but here, pale girls are loved the most and looked as the most beautiful. After two hours of preparation, they are showing a mirror to me... This elegant creature in front of me, I don't know who she is. I am looking like one of those girls depicted in the old embossments which upholstered Father's library walls. The illusion is perfect.

However, I am feeling strange. I am not used to this kind of outfits. Most of the time, I stay dressed with my uniform, white shirt, tie and pleated skirt. From time to time I wear an hanbok. When there is no lessons, I wear an occidental-like dress, like sleeveless shirt at the top and loosen skirt and the bottom. These dresses are regarded as appropriated for a girl of my rank, it is the only occidental-like clothes, with the uniforms, that the Regime is accepting. But I heard out there in the West, it was old-fashioned...

The party is done in the City Hall gardens. Among the willows, the poplars and the cherry trees, huge tents have been settled, with a delicate white veil. Various dishes are served. Waiters dressed in hanboks are serving us alcohol drinks. I don't drink. In the middle of the socialite from my class, I am feeling like a stranger. I would like to meet someone speaking the same language as me... Busy talking with Senior Civil Servants, oppa and Eun Ah are giving up on me despite themselves. I am looking for Kyung Jae... It's been a pretty while since I have not seen him. We were so close one month and a half ago, how did we come to turn so distant suddenly?

Sitting at a table with friends of hers, all male and older, Kwon Yuri, a girl from my class, regarded as the loveliest, is greeting me. I have never thought we could have anything in common and so I am not sure whether I should join her or not. I am trying to see if Kyung Jae is somewhere to be found, after all, his parents are the first assistants of the new mayor... But I can't find him at all. As I have no one else to talk with, I am joining her at her table.

Yuri is one of those girls only swearing on gisaeng poetries and romance novels. Her laughters are exaggerated, her ways are too delicate, her pouty faces, everything about her is too much. She his the daughter of an High-ranked Lieutenant from the Patriotic Army, buying her silence and her mother's thanks to money, sending her at the best schools.

She is asking one of her malde friend to bring a chair for me and makes me sit by her side. She is introducing them to me, one by one. They all are about to leave the University and all want to have a great career in politics or the army. But none of them are giving me the sparks. Not their eyes, not their voices, not their shoulders are able to make me feel anything. Yuri is talking with me in a simple and very nice way. Little by little, my enimity towards are is vanishing away, just like a fog clearing as the sun is rising. One of her friends is aking her for a dance and here she is giving up on me as well.

I am looking at her doing a waltz with the boy, tall and elegant. They are both matching wonderfully, twirling around with a lot of grace. Waltz is one of those rare occidental things which are accepted by the Regime. Just like foster kids who are still part of a rich family, it's an old vestige from the time when Korea was not a self-centered society, but at the opposite, opened on the world.

From the other side of the dancefloor, one sensual and slender figure is catching my attention. Yoochun! I really was not expecting to see him in such a place, he and his revolution ideals. What on earth did he came for?

I am asking one of Yuri's friend to apology for me to her, bypassing the dancers and slowly steps closer to him. Standing among the crowd, a glass in his hand, he has dressed one of those suits other men are wearing too, which is slightly making him look older and more elegant. I am not sure if I should go and talk to him but in the end, I am softly tapping his shoulder. He is turning around, surprised and shows an half-smile seeing me. He is still as cold and distant as I remember.

"What are you are here for?" He is asking me not looking into my eyes.

"I am with my oppa and his wife. What about you?"'

He is explaining one invitation has been send to the politics students of the University, what he is. He did not feel like coming here but he has thought that seeing how the new mayor looked like could be interesting. Yunho and him has great ambitions... but aware that he's in an enemy territory, he does not tell me what it is. I am feeling he is not at ease.

Yoochun is proposing me to taste rice alcohol. I have never drank alcohol of my whole life so I am politely refusing. I see him crossing the grass with quick steps and as quickly coming back to me with two plates filled with kimbaps. We are sitting on chairs with no table and eating it with our finders. Silence is settled back between us... Randomly, I am asking whether Yunho will come or not.

"He won't." He is answering me with a neutral tone.

I am getting to the conclusion that Yunho does not study politics. To hide my deception, I am talking about anything. Yoochun is vaguely answering with nods and his eyes never look straight into mine. His shyness is touching and finds a soft echo in each of my nerve endings. I guess he is less used to be alone with a girl than I am with a boy. I think the least of his gestures are dazzling, the way he stands, the sound of his voice when he mutters one word or two. The features of his face are appearing innocent, icy, intoxicating with beauty, vain, bewitching by turns...

Behind my back, there is a voice calling me. A little farther, Eun Ah is hailing at me. I am getting up and politely bow to greet Yoochun goodbye. He does not answer and I go back there upset, but shaking from emotions at the same time. He is inspiring me some strange feeling, at the verge between attraction and repugnancy. A part of him has the magic of a slow and blazing sundown, but the rest looks like the anguishing darkness chilling your blood, that comes after.