the paper route
June 9th, 1942 – Alsace, France
It’s cloudy out, a promising thunderstorm peeks over the horizon, as the sleek black Mercedes rumbles over the gravel towards a new home, a new life.
Thousands of miles away from his now-occupied home country of Korea, Changkyun slumps against the car door, staring through the trees that surround the gravel streets on all sides.
--
He’s always dreamt of living in France. He always imagined the beautiful cobblestone streets filled with produce markets, lilies blooming out of flower pots, women strolling down the avenues smoking cigarettes, dressed in the latest fashions.
The France he has moved to is not the same France he dreamt of. France now lies in the hands of his father’s allies. Riddled with debris of bombed buildings, once bookshops, restaurants, and cafés; they now lie in ruin. Swastikas now fly on flag poles; the French flags are torn down and torched in the streets.
France is no longer free; no longer home to vibrant life and beauty. It has been destroyed by greed, inhumanity, and desire for power.
--
Changkyun’s sister, Chun-hei, is asleep next to him. At the tender age of six, she knows very little about the war. She only knows that her father has a special job to do, one that requires leaving their home and everything they know.
His mother, now addressed as Frau Im, sits elegantly in the front passenger seat of the car. Changkyun doesn’t know how his mother feels about the war or the people her husband aligns with, she keeps quiet most times. It frustrates him.
--
Changkyun hates his new life. Hates everything his father works for and hates everyone his father works with. The Nazi Party is wretched and inhumane, cares of nothing in regard to human life. He hates the power they hold over Europe and the world. But Changkyun is developing a plan, a plan that could most definitely get him killed, along with his family, if he’s not careful.
--
The car finally pulls up to a brick house, more of a mansion than a house, but a house no less. He lightly shakes his sister awake, her eyes fluttering tiredly.
“We’re here, Chunnie,” Changkyun says softly.
“Family, welcome to your new home and to Alsace, France. It’s most definitely not what we’re used to but I’m sure you all will get acquainted here soon,” Changkyun’s father, now Herr Im, boasts, hands on his hips as her surveys the freshly cut grass in the front yard of the home.
Changkyun stuffs his hands in his pockets and shudders. This place feels ominous and dark, unwelcoming. He wonders for a brief moment who lived here before him. Chun-hei is ecstatic with her new home and fully awake as she runs delightedly up the front steps.
“Look, guys! They have pretty potted flowers in so many different colors! Eomma, can I go play in the garden before supper?” Chun-hei asks politely, a large smile gracing her child-like face.
Frau Im chuckles softly, “Yes, my flower. Go ahead. Be careful and try not to get too muddy.”
Chu-hei bounds off, her delighted squeals echoing off the walls.
His mother stands behind him, eyeing the house carefully. A pained look crosses her face for a brief moment.
“Bienvenue à la maison, eomma,” Changkyun says, bowing dramatically.
She sighs at his antics, “Kyun-ah, please go inside and unpack. Supper will be ready at 6.” She brushes past him and into the depths of their new home or new hell as Changkyun would like to call it.
A couple of hours later, he’s sitting in the rose garden at the side of the house just before dinner, nose delved deep into the exciting adventures of Sailing Alone Around the World. He’s read the book probably fifty times, but the adventure draws him in every time.
He suddenly hears a knock at the front gate, confused he closes his book and walks towards the front lawn.
He peeks around the corner, body out of sight, and spots a man, seemingly around his age, holding something.
He’s staring in Changkyun’s direction, forcing Changkyun to leave his hiding place now that he’s been spotted. Carefully, he walks to the man at the gate.
The man appears to be around Changkyun’s age, maybe a little older, as he nears closer.
“Bonsoir, how can I help you?” Changkyun asks warily when he reaches the gate entrance.
“Bonsoir, monsieur, I’m Hyunwoo. I’m here to drop off the evening paper but I wanted to make sure it arrived in human hands,” The stranger, now known as Hyunwoo, asks.
He’s alarmingly cute. Brown hair falls over his tan forehead, brown eyes shine even in the dull setting. He’s taller than Changkyun and his small smile has Changkyun’s heart fluttering.
Dressed in tan khakis and a white shirt, suspenders clipped onto the belt loops, he’s the epitome of an innocent man delivering newspapers, unsuspecting.
Changkyun takes the newspaper from him through the gate bars, bowing shyly.
“Thank you, Hyunwoo. Have a good night,” Changkyun says politely.
“You as well, Mr. Im,” Hyunwoo bows, getting on his rickety bike, he pedals away, down the long path.
He turns, noticing his father at the doorstep, arms crossed.
“Who was that Changkyun?” His father asks sternly.
“His name’s Hyunwoo, he delivers our newspapers I guess. He seems nice,” Changkyun shrugs, handing the paper to his father.
His father hums, now uninterested, the news now more important.
Changkyun looks back down the road, now empty, and wonders:
What side is he on?