∞

Seunghyun laid in his cell, tattered garments the only separation between his bruised skin and the cold stone floor. The process had been all too quick with a bloodthirsty mob and an oppressive monarch against him. Neighbors he had grown up with had faster condemned him than defended him, Peace Keepers more prone to imprisoning innocent men than feeding the hungry masses that starved outside the palace walls. One more man left to rot in a cell meant one less family to compete for food against, and so no one batted an eye when he was taken away.

It had only been a handful of rice, a handful that he would not have been able to cook anyway, but a handful that nevertheless would have filled his son’s empty stomach with something other than wild grass. It would not have been missed, not really, as it had belonged to the shipment that would be delivered to the emperor. One handful of rice that would never be consumed by their gluttonous, avaricious monarch had had him beaten into submission before being thrown into the state prison.

He had never gotten to tell his family goodbye; surely, they would still be waiting for him to come home. His wife, nursing the one sickly child they still had left, would find pity from no one.

The injustice of it all had him howling with rage, screaming obscenities and cursing the gods for having abandoned him. Fingers scrabbled at the stone walls, smearing the already bloodstained granite with the red of his blood. His screams went unheard, only adding to the cacophony of misery in the prison. He was, of course, not the only one who suffered, not the only one left to die. In the weeks that followed, Seunghyun found that he often forgot his own name, fading into nothingness with only the screams of his fellow inmates to remind him of where he was. In his worst moments, Seunghyun wondered how many had died like him, in this very cell, slowly starving to death. He wondered if they had had families like his own, surely dead by now. He wondered if they, too, had wondered about others like them.

권지용²

이승현³

Above is a photograph of the famous Wall of Prisoners. One of the few cells still standing, a list of names was carved into the walls of this cell. They are believed to have belonged to the prisoners who occupied the cell during this era, although many of them are too faded to still be legible. The only decipherable names that have survived are that of Kwon Jiyong, an infamous mass murder driven insane after the death of his wife and family, guilty of setting fire to a school and killing the children in it (see page 379 for more details), as well as Lee Seunghyun. Little is known about Lee Seunghyun, one of the last inmates to have been imprisoned before the town revolted against the Emperor, catalyzing The Great Fall of the 복종⁴ Empire.

∞

“Must I go, father?” Seunghyun complained, whine coupled with a childish pout as he tugged on his father’s overcoat. “Daesung has just returned from his own journey and I haven’t had the chance to speak to him yet.”

Seunghyun’s father sighed impatiently, wrenching his sleeve out of his teenage son’s grasp. “And you will see that silly little childhood friend of yours when we return,” he said, casting a stern look at Seunghyun’s impudent glare. “This is no ordinary trip, Seunghyun. You are going to replace me as head of the company in a few short years. You need to attend these meetings just as much as I do.”

Seunghyun, much to the dismay to both of his parents, was less than pleased. He had little desire to assume responsibility of thousands of employees, nor did he possess any interest in inheriting his father’s empire. At times, he even envied his older sister, married off as part of a merging with a rival company. Now with three children, she spent her days strolling in her sprawling gardens and minding her boys. Not uprooting herself every few weeks to accompany their father on yet another international business affair, sitting bored in a room full of stiff, fat old men talking about the next quarter.

“Seunghyun, do not slouch,” his mother snapped. “How many times have I told you this?”

Seunghyun scowled, but did as was told, unwilling to get into yet another row with his mother. “When are we to board, anyway? We’ve been waiting for ages. Shouldn’t we be treated better? We are travelling first class, aren’t we?” He eyed the sign-in book they were inching towards, wishing that they could just sign it and be done with it.

“A photo, I believe, has to be taken first,” a voice said from behind him, making Seunghyun start. “Of the passengers, or at least, those in the higher classes. This is the Titanic’s maiden voyage, after all.”

The man who’d spoken was handsome, not very much older than Seunghyun, if he were to guess. A pretty woman – his wife, he assumed – stood beside him, wearing jewelry that would make even his mother envious. There was amusement on the man’s face as he looked down at Seunghyun.

Seunghyun flushed, muttering a low ‘oh’ before turning back around, staring at his feet. He hadn’t thought he’d actually be understood, having spoken in Korean. It was just his luck that he would be caught acting like a brat by some rich, young couple. He couldn’t keep the man’s amused face out of his head, handsome even in condescension. Embarrassment washed over him once again.

 So much for acting my age, Seunghyun thought bitterly to himself. The look on his mother’s face indicated that she was probably thinking the same thing.

His father, ever the businessman, was delighted to make the acquaintance of the Korean pair.

“Business, or pleasure?” he’d asked jovially, previous irritation gone, after formalities had been exchanged.

“Pleasure,” Mr. Kwon replied. “Honeymoon, actually,” he said, grinning as he wrapped an arm around his wife.

“Congratulations,” Seunghyun’s mother enthused, eyes occasionally flickering to the ring glittering on Mrs. Kwon’s finger. “You two make a lovely couple.”

“Thank you.”

Seunghyun tried his best to tune out the conversation as it shifted, as it inevitably would have, to business. Hurt pride and embarrassment kept his eyes on the scenery instead, listening in on the conversations around him as he signed his name with a flourish. His written English was still sloppy compared to his father’s; even now, in his last year of high school, he still hadn’t caught up to his peers.

He was only distracted when he felt something push him roughly to the side, followed by another jostle as yet another boy squeezed through the crowd and himself.

“Goin' home... to the land o' the free and the home of the real hot-dogs!”5

It was with no small amount of irritation that he watched two boys race through the folly of people, whooping and yelling as they clutched two wrinkled tickets and a wad of cash in their hands. Rushing to the small lineup of late-comers – Third Class, Seunghyun thought to himself, wrinkling his nose – they boarded the boat. 

However, despite the boy’s drab appearance, Seunghyun wished for just a moment that he was allowed that kind of freedom. A friend and himself, on an exciting voyage to countries abroad. Third Class or not, he suspected that the pair probably enjoyed themselves more than he did in his luxury cabin alone. 

Once everyone coming aboard had checked in, they, and a select few of the crew, were instructed to organize themselves in front of the vessel. Seunghyun shuffled along, unhappy that the Kwon couple had become their family’s companions of sorts, taking their place beside them. Plastering an empty smile onto his face, Seunghyun stared at the camera as the red ribbon was cut and the photograph taken.

Dinner had Seunghyun dressed in his nicest three-piece, feeling distinctly alone at a table seated with his parents and the Korean couple they’d met earlier. His surroundings did little to distract him – he was more than aware that his genteel peers who dined in first class did not do so alone, and thus around him he watched as couples enjoyed private meals with one another.

He did not like to dwell on his loneliness, but some days he could not help himself.

“Your meal, sir.” The waiter set down his dish of simple vegetables, meat, and rice. His sensitive stomach had him ill-inclined towards the more savory dishes his parents preferred.

From time to time, he found his gaze drawn to Kwon Jiyong, who talked animatedly with his father about the prospects in America. Not much older than himself, Seunghyun envied the other man, who, as the second son, had been free to marry his childhood sweetheart and travel the world.

“Seunghyun, are you listening?” his mother snapped, shaking Seunghyun out of his reverie, who quickly looked away from Jiyong.

He blushed, pausing for a moment before shaking his head slightly. His mother huffed, repeating what she had been saying about meeting Jiyong’s friends once they’d arrived in New York. Heat flooded in his face once more when he realized his mother was talking about Jiyong’s female friends.

Hurriedly, he reached for his wine glass in an excuse not to reply; women were like his father’s business to him – he had little experience or interest in either. Accidentally catching Jiyong’s eye, who looked at him with amusement and slight pity, Seunghyun’s fingers slipped and caused the glass to topple over. Jiyong’s fiancé leapt out of her seat immediately as the trail of crimson travelled along the tablecloth towards her.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Seunghyun blathered, flustered, as he rushed to offer his napkin. Jiyong beat him to it, grinning as he waved away Seunghyun’s apologies. “I’m not clumsy, I swear. Not that I did it on purpose, of course—”

“No worries,” Jiyong said, as a waiter hurried over to their table to clean up the spill. “It was a mistake. You seemed distracted.”

“Yes,” Seunghyun’s mother said in a clipped voice, cutting off whatever Seunghyun was meaning to say. Of course, it was probably for the best anyway. “Very distracted. Are you sure you’re feeling well, dear?”

Seunghyun recognized the implication immediately. In a world where arguments were for behind closed doors only, Seunghyun had long ago learned to equate any concern for his health as a subtle ‘you are excused, young man’. By now he’d attracted the attention of not only those at the table, but those of the tables surrounding them.

“Come to think of, perhaps I do feel a little nauseous. Boats, you know…” he trailed off, gesturing vaguely and avoiding looking his father in the eye. He’d been on ships since his childhood and never felt seasick before. “Perhaps I’ll just retire early.”

Dismissed, Seunghyun abandoned his food, not really feeling hungry any longer. Leftover embarrassment spurred him to take the longer route back to his cabin. A quick trip to the top deck and a breath of fresh air would stop him from wallowing in his misery for at least a little while.

“Don’t do it,” a voice called out unexpectedly. Seunghyun startled, eyes darting to see the boy from earlier, the one who’d pushed him as he’d boarded the boat, walking slowly away from him.

Seunghyun found out why immediately afterwards when he noticed the girl perched perilously on the gunwale and looking awfully close to throwing herself off of it.

“Stay back! Don’t come any closer!” the girl warned, hands gripping the railing tightly.

Seunghyun watched as the scene played out in front of him, with the boy slowly coaxing the girl back over the railing, the perilous moment when she’d lost her footing, the boy pulling her over and falling together to the floor.

The Quartermaster appearing snapped him out of his trance, and he quickly slipped back inside the corridors, heart hammering in his chest. As he slowly made his way back to his room, he could not stop thinking about how close that girl had been to falling to her death, how she’d been saved.

He caught himself wishing that someone would save him as well. He scoffed, shaking his head. He was not in any danger of falling.

The ship was sinking.

The steward had only told them to put on their lifebelts, smiling and joking that it was merely precautionary.

“Please go up to the boat deck,” he’d said, advising them to dress warmly. “It’s quite cold tonight.”

The unsinkable Titanic was sinking, damn the steward, and here he was standing on the deck, lifebelt secured around him as he waited patiently for his turn to board the lifeboat. First class mattered, apparently, even now. Women and children first, of course, which included him, being a minor. His father stood calmly nearby, having assured his seat on the boat with a few well-placed threats.

They were almost ready to go, and the adrenaline was slowly getting the better of him the longer he sat in the lifeboat, waiting for them to descend. He heard the wailing of the sirens and the screams of panic as those in the lower classes ran around in chaos, scrambling to get on a lifeboat, any one of them.

“There aren’t enough,” he’d heard one woman say from beside him. “Poor devils.”

His fingers clenched, fury catching him off guard. In stark contrast to the rest of the boat, the people on his boat were calm, with the nerve to look on condescendingly in their assured safety.

The boat was full. The crew members started the descent. His parents sat on either side of him as he felt the first shudder of the boat as it was loosened.

“Wait! Please, wait!” a voice shrieked. Seunghyun felt his blood run cold when he saw the couple running towards them, harried and frightened. It was the Korean couple, Kwon Jiyong and his newlywed wife.

“Stop the boat,” his father ordered to the crew members when they did not react. “They are our friends. They belong on this boat.”

Angry protests at his father’s words sounded from the other passengers, but his father held firm.

 “There isn’t enough room for the both of you,” a crew member was saying. “The capacity cannot be exceeded.”

By now, the couple had arrived and was pleading to get on. “My wife, at least,” Jiyong begged. “Surely one more person will fit?”

“I can’t leave you!” his wife exclaimed, clutching his jacket. “I won’t!”

“I’m not about to let you die for me,” Jiyong snapped back, pushing her forwards. “Not when you can get on this damn boat and live. I’m trying to save you, goddamnit.”

Save you.

“I’m not going without you, Kwon Jiyong!”

“Both of you get on,” Seunghyun said tersely, standing up. “I’ll get off. I’ll get on another life boat or something – I’ll be fine, I’m young. There isn’t any time!” he snapped at the still motionless couple.

The scene of the couple from the top deck flashed through his mind. Perhaps I’ll do the saving instead.

“Like hell you will,” his father growled, hand suddenly a vice on the tail of his jacket. “You’re not getting off this boat, do you understand me, Lee Seunghyun?”

“Leave them!” a man yelled angrily. “Can’t you see that this boat is sinking? We need to get off!” Around them, the rest of the passengers voiced their assent.

“Get on!” Seunghyun shouted at the couple, ignoring his father. “You need to hurry up!”

“Seunghyun, we can’t,” Jiyong agonized.

Above the sudden fear that had filled him, irritation and anger took hold.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Wrenching himself from his father’s grasp, Seunghyun clambered out of the boat quickly, the sound of his parents’ screams for him to get back on the boat echoing in his ears. “Just get on the boat,” he spat to Jiyong before running away from the life boat, towards the chaos that festered further down the boat.

Seunghyun watched numbly as the life boat carrying his parents – and, he hoped, Kwon Jiyong and his wife – slowly descended down into the waters. The ground beneath swayed dangerously and threatened to give way beneath his feet completely. Lost in a crowd of screaming passengers all clamoring to get on life boats that were already full, Seunghyun realized at that moment that he would not be getting off the Titanic alive. To these people, this panic-induced mob that was all-too-willing to trample anyone that got in their way, he was not Lee Seunghyun who dined in First Class and was set to inherit a very large company from his father.

Here, in the midst of a ship sending him to a watery grave, was the freedom he so craved. In his final moments, he thought of the boy saving his girl from the front of the ship.  He thought of Kwon Jiyong, whose life he had traded for his own.

∞

Lee Seunghyun was only twenty-one when he enlists, much to the despair of his mother.

“You don’t have to go now,” she pleaded with him. “Conscription is conscription, but you have a choice of when! You know they’ll make you an active duty soldier, you know they’ll extend your service.”

His mother had always been soft, and over protective over him especially. After his sister had run away with her boyfriend, leaving nothing behind but an apology, Seunghyun had had to take up the role of filial son, if only to spare his mother the worry. And even before then, she had always been especially worried for him, always hesitant to let him go out with his friends, always waiting up for him to come home.

 She was not young anymore, and the blow of having two people leave her had left her aged beyond her years.

“We are at war,” he replied, voice gentle, “You can’t expect me to sit around when other people, my friends, are off risking their lives for us? I’m old enough, and I’m able-bodied.”

His mother let out a small sob. “But what about me?” Her tears made Seunghyun’s stomach twist; he had vowed never to make her cry and never to leave her, but here he was, doing both in one fell swoop.

“Don’t worry,” he assured her, trying his best to speak through the tightness in his throat. “I’ll come back. I promised, didn’t I?”

He packed a single bag that night, knowing that once there he’d have most of his necessities provided for him, and wrote his mother a secret letter and hid it under his pillow, should he not come home after all.

Three years later, Seunghyun’s mother opens the door on a sunny Thursday morning and feels her blood run cold.

The officials are gruff and to the point, but there’s a tightness in their eyes that give away their pain as they deliver Seunghyun’s possessions in the bag he’d left with. The red bow she’d tied herself is still on the strap. She asks them about Seunghyun’s body, and one of them tells her that there isn’t a body, there isn’t anything left.

She doesn’t touch the box for five months.

Dear mother,

Things are at a standstill right now. We’ve settled outside of Taegu⁶, joined up with the 6^th Division. Things are getting antsy around here; the others don’t like staying in one place for too long. I’ve heard rumours…

Rations are getting smaller, though I have no idea why. It’s enough, but just barely. I miss your kimchi, mother… the rice they serve is stale, the kimchi sour, even the water tastes different. But you know how I am with food. Did you know I only just got your letter from three months ago now? I don’t even know when this will get to you. Don’t worry about your potatoes; I’m sure the rain will come soon. Whatever happened to that man from the market, by the way? You mentioned him a while ago – but nothing now?

You asked about my bunk mate. Jiyong’s fine, still recovering from that skirmish but he’s still doing drills, no matter how many times I tell him he should focus on healing completely first. I feel so guilty, even now, you know. He never gives me a good reason as to why he saved me that day, “because it’s the right thing to do”? I get that we’re all supposed to be brothers in arms, but to give your life for someone you don’t know? He did this sort of thing all the time before, too! Always protecting me, trying to give me parts of his rations. How ridiculous is that! He didn’t owe me a thing! Being a year older than me is no excuse.

We’ve gotten closer, though. I think he’s kind of annoyed, but I’ve taken it upon myself to “take care of him”. To repay him. Most of the time he refuses (while conveniently forgetting about all the times he’s slipped an extra roll onto my plate and threatened to not eat at all when I wouldn’t accept it.

He swindled me out of a hundred thousand won the other day – I know, I shouldn’t be gambling, but it gets boring some nights – from a game of poker, so I guess being friends doesn’t stop him from taking advantage of a hopeless cards player like myself. He’s one of the best liars I’ve ever met. He’s the best storyteller as well, probably because he lies so well, come to think of it. Told us a story one night about an “unsinkable ship” – he told it well enough that I even had to leave because I got sick to my stomach. It was strange, I could almost feel myself suffocating…?

It’s nice to have made a friend, though. It gets a little lonely, sometimes. We’re all civil, but we hardly know each other after all. They say that we’ll bond together after we’ve fought together, but this seems a little too late for me. After all, some might not come back after a fight.

Ah, this is getting sad to think about. I won’t write about it anymore. It’s getting late, and I’ve got patrol duty first thing in the morning. Hopefully this letter reaches you quickly this time! Take care of yourself, please, and don’t worry about me. At least you can always rely on Jiyong to save me if things get tough? Haha.

I love you,

Lee Seunghyun

Ps. You wanted a photo of Jiyong – the best I can do is a copy of the photo they took of our regiment when we graduated. He’s in the top left, third in. Handsome fellow, ain’t he?

∞

“Who are they?”

Youngbae jumped, causing the girl who’d approached him to smile in apology. She gestured at the painting he was looking at, one of his newer pieces that he’d debuted at today’s gala.

He shrugged, eyes wistful. “I don’t know. I never met them.”

He remembered the night he’d seen the pair vividly. He also remembered the three nights afterwards he’d spent painting, nearly ripping his hair out when he realized he was low on exactly all the colours he needed. It was one of his proudest pieces.

The painting itself was simple. A man, standing under a bright red umbrella, peering through the sheets of rain falling around him in the direction his lover had walked away. Youngbae had been watching by chance that night, safe from the rain in his usual booth at the nearby café that stayed open late. The couple, hands linked and unafraid of what others might think of their relationship, walking down the sidewalk unhurriedly, purposefully. He watched as they stood at the intersection, exchanging words before the smaller of the two leans forwards on his toes and pecks the other on the cheek. He left with a wave after that, leaving the taller of the two with the umbrella, running to get cover from the rain.

Youngbae didn’t know what happened after that. The man with the umbrella stayed at the intersection for a few more minutes - waiting, perhaps – before he too left, walking in the opposite direction. And though he was only an outsider looking in, on something that would normally not catch his attention at all, Youngbae was struck with curiosity. His painting would be the closest he would come to an answer for his questions.

“This is cool. Now we’re at the scene of the crossroads.”

Jiyong grinned at Seunghyun as they stopped at the intersection. Seunghyun’s hand was warm in his own, and he noticed every time the fabric of Seunghyun’s raincoat brushed against his arm.

“Just like all those months ago. It’s even raining, too.”

“How poetic.”

The silence that descended upon them was sudden, but not uncomfortable. This decision was, of course, a mutual one. And besides, they’d spent many nights in silence, just enjoying each other’s presence. A little more quietness wouldn’t hurt.

The two had met almost a year ago, under similar circumstances. Seunghyun had been in the middle of his first year of university and was caught by surprise by the sudden rain (he really didn’t like the rain), and Jiyong had been on his lunch break from work at the local record store. Jiyong had offered Seunghyun a place under his umbrella and had turned right at the intersection to walk Seunghyun back to campus instead of his usual left back to the record store. He’d been late, of course, but he’d also gotten Seunghyun the freshman’s number.

Their relationship had been good, equal, healthy. Seunghyun learned that life wasn’t always about getting the best grades and to live in the moment. Jiyong learned how to settle, to get comfortable, to relax.

Now, after they’d come together and subsequently grown apart, they’d decided to go back to the beginning for their end.

“I wonder what would have happened if I’d turned left after all,” Jiyong mused, “When we first met.”

Seunghyun laughed. “I would have probably laughed and thanked you for walking me down the street, I guess. You know how much I hate getting wet.”

“Well, I’m glad I didn’t, in the end.” Jiyong looked Seunghyun in the eye, offering a little smile. He’d loved Seunghyun, after all. While they were parting on amicable terms, it still wasn’t a joyous occasion.

“I’m glad, too, Jiyong,” Seunghyun replied, voice soft and warm. The same voice that had shyly accepted the stranger’s offer of an umbrella. He took a breath before smiling. “Thank you, though. For walking me this far; I would have gotten really wet. But I’m going this way.” He pointed to the right.

Jiyong chuckled to himself, torn between sadness as well as happiness. “And I’m going this way,” he said, looking over to the left. “But it was my pleasure. Maybe I’ll see you around?”

Seunghyun didn’t answer, but he leans in quickly to kiss Jiyong’s cheek. He waved one last time, memorized Jiyong’s face one last time, before turning and running out into the rain, heading back to his dorm.

He didn’t look back.

∞

“Oh wow, look at this.” Daesung waved Seunghyun over excitedly, grin on his face. “You two were the cutest children!”

Seunghyun snorted as he plucked the old, frayed photograph from Daesung’s hands. He hadn’t seen this photo in years, not since they’d moved into the small bungalow. Seunghyun hadn’t bothered to unpack the box full of photo albums and knick knacks that wouldn’t fit anywhere.

The photo had been taken secretly by his mother, while Seunghyun had been too busy playing with his new red Tonka truck in the sandbox. And in the background, little Jiyong had been captured mid-push as he’d tried to shove some kid off the swing. They’d laughed about it, later, when they realized. Jiyong had truly been a little terror back then.

“I can’t believe the playground bully became your best friend,” Daesung said, laughing. “Poor little Seunghyun. The kid doesn’t know that his life is about to be seriously messed up when Kwon Jiyong decides to come play.”

Seunghyun smiled at the memory. “He knocked down my sand castle, you know,” he revealed. “And didn’t even apologize. I remember crying to my mom about it. I hated him for so long after that.”

“And you married the guy.” Daesung shook his head. “You sure are one weird kid, Seunghyun.”

Seunghyun sighed. It didn’t make sense to any of his friends, even the ones who were friends with Jiyong as well. Seunghyun had hated Jiyong’s guts for all of his childhood. And now he here he was, choosing what of Jiyong’s belongings they would keep and what they would give away to charity.

Jiyong died so young. Regardless of what a little Jiyong had been as a child, Seunghyun wished that he hadn’t spent so much time hating him, knowing that the time he’d have loving him would be cut so short.

∞

“Stand up straighter, Seungri,” Jiyong hisses, prodding the maknae with an elbow. “And try to look less dumb.”

Seunghyun rolls his new stage name over in his head. Seungri. Well, it certainly felt like a victory when YG had chosen him over Hyunseung, so he didn’t mind it nearly as much as he thought he would.

He grins and straightens his back as told. “I’ll try,” he whispers back, “But it’ll be a tough call.” He knows better than to take his leader’s words to heart. Jiyong, the perfectionist, was always ten times more of a hardass when the spotlight was on him.

And now?

Well, he couldn’t really blame Jiyong for being a little nervous. This was their debut stage, after all. Finally, after years of hard work and training, YG’s new boy group is being unveiled to the public. The future of the company lied on the skinny, young shoulders of the five members. Seunghyun could feel the stickiness of hairspray on the back of his neck.

“BIGBANG, standby,” a loud voice calls suddenly, and they all flinch before getting back into position.

Jiyong looks terrified. Seunghyun reaches over to squeeze the boy’s hand once, but Jiyong grips hard and doesn’t let go.

As the opening sounds of La La La start blaring through the sound system and the lights are suddenly bright in his eyes, Seunghyun is suddenly glad Jiyong’s right beside him.

The camera’s little red light goes on, the camera starts to roll, and Seunghyun’s (and Jiyong’s – and Seunghyun Sr., Youngbae, and Daesung’s) new life begins.

1. Kwon Jiyong in Hangul
2. Lee Seunghyun in Hangul
3. Literally translates to “submission” or “obedience”
4. Actual dialogue from the 1997 James Cameron movie Titanic. Other details were also pulled from this film. Transcript.
5. Refers to the Battle of Taegu. Seungri was in the 1st Division that, joined by the 6th Infantry Division, made up ROK II Corps.

How most of you probably feel (how I feel) about this fic: