This Burns My Heart Page 0,86

couldn’t afford to draw too much attention to Eun-Mee, who had come as her guest. Everyone associated her with Soo-Ja at this point. A vote against Eun-Mee would never be a vote for Soo-Ja. And there was the potential humiliation for Yul, who had just arrived in Seoul and would need new patients. If people heard of his wife’s behavior, it would make him look bad. Seoul, for all its size, could sometimes feel like a small community, and Soo-Ja couldn’t risk tainting people’s first impressions of his name.

Still, Soo-Ja was no saint, and for a moment she felt the urge to tell everyone about Eun-Mee’s deeds, just for the sake of shaming her. For a second she fantasized leaving an anonymous note under Yul’s door: “Know your wife!” Soo-Ja pictured Yul throwing Eun-Mee out, his right arm stretched out, pointing to the door. Eun-Mee, her coat on, her bags under her arms, walking to the exit. But the fantasy died as quickly as it arose. The only thing that lasted was a smile on her face, which Eun-Mee must have seen and misread, for she hugged Soo-Ja tightly and whispered, “So we are sisters, after all! Thank you, eonni.”

Soo-Ja had gained her trust. She didn’t mean to win it. Eun-Mee’s trust seemed superfluous, or even, frankly, disposable, and if it were a gift, she’d have returned it unopened—an empty box full of air.

In the end, neither of the women won. Nobody knew Eun-Mee well enough to vote for her, and she received only three votes. Soo-Ja, much to her surprise, received five (which did not include her own—she thought it would be tacky to vote for herself). The person who won the pot, with twenty votes, was the person she had voted for—Mrs. Lim, the woman whose shop had caught fire. Mrs. Lim immediately began weeping and praying, in gratitude, as seemingly countless hands touched her to congratulate her.

Soo-Ja did not feel bad that she did not get the money; she was too busy enjoying the fact that Eun-Mee hadn’t, either. If it seemed petty on her part, fine, thought Soo-Ja, but this was the woman Yul had married, and in that choice lay a thousand questions. For Soo-Ja, Eun-Mee was as fascinating as some old religion, and that was the reason she hadn’t exposed Eun-Mee: it was to keep her own self cloaked, as she lay exploring her love’s truth, in this stranger’s face.

chapter thirteen

The next day, Soo-Ja could not concentrate at work. It hit her then that she hadn’t won the money at the gye, and was still 300,000 won short of what she needed to invest in the land. To make matters worse, construction workers had begun work across the street on a new building. It was to be a new electronics shopping mart—the first of its kind—and for the next few months, it would mean constant dust, drilling, and hammering.

She tried to speak to Min about her worries, but he waved her away as he went out to a bar for some lunch and sul. She knew he was still terrified at the idea of investing, though she wasn’t sure which outcome scared him more: losing the money or doubling it.

Distracted, Soo-Ja did not notice that her most recent group of guests, teenage girls from Inchon, had managed to evade their hotel bills. They were here to see a pop concert by the Pearl Sisters, who were not twins but always wore the exact same matching hairstyle and clothing on their shows and album covers—a recipe for disaster, in Soo-Ja’s opinion. Their fans were like a cult, dressing like they did, memorizing their songs, and following them on their tours.

The girls—three squeezed in one room, two in another—had checked in two nights earlier, but showed no intention of paying. So when Soo-Ja saw them emerge that afternoon (to go to lunch, she overheard them say, though it was two o’clock already, and they still looked sleepy) she told them they had to take care of their bills. They looked at her annoyed and one of them—a seventeen-year-old wearing a psychedelic shirt, a short skirt, and long boots—began to attack Soo-Ja.

“You need to coordinate better with the manager! He already told us we didn’t have to pay,” the girl snapped. She was the one who had signed for the room, and Soo-Ja remembered her name as Nami.

“I’m the manager, and I didn’t tell you my rooms were free,” said Soo-Ja.

“You’re not the manager, you’re just the