“Here they are. The photos turned out very nicely. I hope you’ll be pleased, Major Hayashi,” the photographer said, offering an envelope containing some photos of the officers, which he had been called to take after the town’s Japanese photographer suddenly died of tuberculosis the previous year. But Major Hayashi barely even looked at the photos, asking instead, “Who were those two women?”
“My old friend and her daughter,” the photographer replied nervously, looking over Hayashi’s shoulder at his associate who, though dressed in a Japanese officer’s uniform, was undoubtedly Korean.
“Sir, that was a famous courtesan named Silver, known as the most beautiful in PyongYang,” the Korean man said in perfectly manicured Japanese. Then, with an eagerness that these spontaneous encounters effect in even the most coldhearted, he added, “I hadn’t seen her in many years but recognized her immediately.”
*
WHEN SILVER SENT STONEY to pick up the prints from the photographer, Luna was disappointed that they wouldn’t go out again themselves. The drive had been most refreshing, and she liked seeing new sights. Most of all, she’d felt a secret thrill at the look that the officers had given her. It made her want to dress up in fine clothes and ride around town all day; she giggled, imagining how tiresome that would be for the poor rickshaw driver. Then she thought that she didn’t want to sleep in her mother’s chamber anymore, and was guilty for feeling that way because she knew how much her mother loved her.
Soon, it became so hot that the women took to sleeping out on the cool wooden floor of the covered porch. Luna gave the heat as an excuse and also joined in with the others. The women laid out their cots together so that they made one long bedding on the floor. To ward off mosquitoes they burned sweet-scented wormwood incense that snaked up to the pitch-black sky. The younger girls, excited by this changing of routine, whispered all night, lying in a row like a string of chatty pearls.
One night in bed, Luna said, “Hey, Lotus, I’m dying for some cold, sweet watermelon. Go cut up the one in the kitchen.”
“Why should I? I’m not your maid,” Lotus said, tucked in her place far away from her sister.
“Because I’m your older sister, you brat. Go do it now, or I’ll tell Mama.”
Sensing Lotus was about to get into another hopeless fight with Luna, Jade quickly got up.
“I’ll go get it,” she said, pulling on her slippers. She went round the back courtyard to the kitchen. Inside, there was a large wooden bucket filled with cold water, where the maid had put the watermelon to keep it cool. Jade placed it on the chopping block and stood examining it with a knife in her hand, like an executioner. A creeping sense of malaise came over her.
Jade held the sharp edge of the knife against the dark green skin of the watermelon, and pressed down hard. With a crisp crack, the knife slid down and revealed the deep pink flesh speckled with black seeds. She was cutting the halves into quarters when she felt something bite her hand. She looked down at her left palm and saw a deep gash, from which dark orbs of blood like pomegranate seeds were welling up rapidly. She held her hand away from the watermelon, letting the blood fall onto the floor instead. Without any rags to bind the wound, she balled up her bare left hand into a tight fist, and struggled to clean up the mess and wash up the cutting board and knife with one hand.
Jade wobbled back to the portico, carrying the watermelon wedges in a basket with her right arm. She heard them before she saw them: deep, unfamiliar voices speaking in a mix of Korean and Japanese. Rounding the corner, she saw the girls in their petticoats, standing in a row next to their cots. Walking around in the courtyard in front of them were four men, and next to them in her fine silk outfit, Silver. Jade found Stoney in the corner of her eye and breathed a sigh of relief.
“These are all the girls you have at this school?” asked a Korean man in Western civilian dress.
“Yes,” Silver answered quietly. Her eyes were bloodshot even in the moonlight. Jade thought of the knife in the kitchen and backed away quietly—but her feet crunched lightly on the sand, and the Korean officer whipped his head around like a hound.
“You weren’t trying to hide this one?” he said, grabbing Jade by the shoulders and making her stand in front of him.
“No, of course not. I didn’t even realize she was out of bed,” Silver said.
The other three men were dressed in uniform. One of them said something to the plainclothes officer in Japanese, stepping onto the portico without taking off his boots.