You must think this harsh, Little Sister, but it is because you were too young for me to tell you about Father. He was a traitor who was executed after months of beatings, interrogated for smuggling in and spreading copies of Catholic books, given to him by the priest. I could have prevented this, since I was the first to discover his heretical ways, but I kept quiet. Afraid. That is how our family was banished to Heuksan, the island of black mountains, covered with vines and thornbushes that left you cut and bruised.
Every so often, you would ask me if our exile was over yet. “Now can we go home?”
“No, little sister. We still have many more moons to count.”
You were also too young to remember our home, and so home became to you the place I spoke so often about, a mansion with five quarters, all connected by courtyards. A tranquil garden and an old pine tree bent into the shape of a river. A place of togetherness. It must have become real in your mind.
The end of our banishment was when we traveled across the sea to build a new home for the three of us, but my fight with Older Sister resulted in us parting ways. As I walked away from the old life, I looked back to see you crying, your sister holding your hand. She would not let me take you. So you followed your sister, who chose the path of servitude, desperate as she was to escape our past. She preferred the life of anonymity to one of shame.
As for me, I chose the path that led to Commander Yi. He would later tell me of how he’d looked forward to my letters, and how, upon learning of my release from Heuksan, he had journeyed for three nights without sleep to meet me. Not only did he return me to the capital, but he urged our reluctant uncle on my mother’s side to adopt me into his household, and since then, I’ve tried not to be a burden to him. I dared not ask my uncle for help. I dared not let him know that I was searching for you.
It took five years. I followed your trail from a slave market all the way north to Gyeongsang Province, and there I found you in a grassy hill. “It is a mass burial site, this place,” an elder said. “The entire Nam household was wiped out by a plague long ago.” No one survived, neither your sister nor you, Jeong-yun. Their servant girl.
Knowing that you are gone leaves me restless, and this life I wander seems to be stuck in perpetual dusk; neither the sun nor the moon are bright anymore. Yet it consoles me to write to you. You were my sister for too short a time. So read these pages in the afterworld, and when we greet each other again, remember to call me “Older Brother.”
EIGHTEEN
I ARRIVED AT Lady Kang’s gate, my eyes swollen from tears, hand pressed against my side to hold down the cramping pain. The last time I stood here, I’d had no idea betrayal would cost me a slice of my heart. One day—one single day of the sun rising and falling—had taken more from me than the past few years.
Knuckles white, I pounded on the door. This time I would push past the gatekeeper and force myself into the compound if I had to. But I heard only silence, and it persisted.
“Let me speak with the mistress, please!” I called out, desperation bursting in my voice. The silence went on for too long, leaving me drenched in sweat as I clenched and unclenched my hands, not knowing what to do. I couldn’t risk remaining out in public much longer.
“Haven’t you heard?”
I whirled around at the voice and saw a thick-lipped woman with a reddish face. A small infant was strapped to her back with a wraparound blanket. “H-heard what?” I asked.
“No one opens the gates these days. A rumor has made the workers afraid, so most have fled.”
“What rumor?” My voice cracked.
“Soon, all Catholics will be treated as traitors, and you know what that means. The entire household and servants will be punished—”
Wood creaked, the door opening.
I darted a glance back to see a young lady around my age, peering out from behind the gate. Her silk jacket was crane white, while her shimmering skirt was pink, and decorating the hem was a colorful floral design.