Free Black Flower by Young-ha Kim Page B

easily. He had thought the man, who went about humming merrily, was adapting well, and now he was hovering on the brink of death. Paul shook the man. His lips moved. He was alive. Paul nodded his head at Tanabe. He was about to cover the man with the blanket again when something fell from his chest to the floor with a clink. Tanabe picked it up. It was a necklace. He handed it to Paul. Tanabe looked at him to see what he wanted to do, but Paul only looked back and forth between the necklace and Choe Seongil. It was clearly the necklace of Bishop Simon Blanche. Paul closed his eyes. He handed the necklace back to Tanabe, and Tanabe retied the cord and put it around Choe Seongil’s neck. Perhaps this disturbed the sick man, because he began to twist and turn.
    Paul went up to the stern deck and stared blankly at the wake pushed back by the giant screws. The red sunset hung like laundry left out to dry in the western sky. His clothes quickly grew damp from the humid South Pacific wind.

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    A FEW DAYS LATER , Ijeong was allowed to return to the galley. He rose early in the morning and walked carefully along the slippery corridor. He reached the stairs and started down when his heart leaped. He did not know why. Yet he was convinced that if he went down the spiral stairs, that which he had been so desperately seeking would be waiting for him at the end. It was not just because of the smell. He did not go to the galley but turned toward the engine room. She was there.
    The two of them stood facing each other. Without a word, they gazed at one another as fervently as their eyes and—as they had never been taught that they shouldn’t—their hearts allowed, as much as their bodies could stand, and then without realizing it they were holding hands. Had they been in Korea, this would never have happened. But it was a different story in the middle of the ocean, where an epidemic was at its height. For the first time in his life, Kim Ijeong felt the touch of a woman’s hand and, flustered, he hung his head. So did she. He didn’t know what to do next, so he simply stuttered, “I am Kim Ijeong, the ‘two’ character for ‘i’ and the ‘upright’ character for ‘jeong.’” Her head still bowed, the girl giggled. Then she lifted her head and revealed the face that had been hidden by her cloak. The gas lamp in the passageway shone on her. Upon closer inspection, her face glowed with a mysterious spirit that could not be hidden by any filth. Unlike her cheeks, stiff with anxiousness, her eyes smiled gently and welcomed a new love, and the smell of roe deer’s blood was the same as always. Ijeong touched his own face. It burned like fire, and the muscles in his arms trembled as if he had just finished hard labor. “I am from the royal family,” she said, “the Jeonju Yi clan, and my name is Yeonsu.” They heard a clamor from the other end of the passageway. Finding no more words to say, they looked into each other’s eyes and finally unclasped their hands. Yeonsu returned to the cabin. Ijeong stayed where he was and suppressed the feelings that welled up inside him. Having been raised with no mother or sisters, by the rough hand of a peddler, Ijeong found everything about her wonderful. He had no idea what to do next, but this only heightened his excitement.

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    P ERHAPS IT WAS satisfied with two victims. The dysentery lost its strength. The diarrhea stopped and the fevers went down. Those who had gone all the way to the threshold of the next world before returning were still weak, partly from being unable to eat because of dehydration and high fever. Yet Choe Seongil was different. As soon as he woke from sleep in the morning his hand went to his crotch. His penis stuck straight up, red and stiff. His thigh was cold but his penis was hot. At that moment he knew that the demon of illness had retreated for good. His hand came up from his crotch, felt his sunken belly, and then moved on to his chest. He opened his eyes and