This chapter is for those we miss, cherish, and love with all of our hearts. For those that left us too soon. For those who took with them a piece of us all.
If tears could build a stairway
I’d walk right up to heaven,
And bring you home again.
It’s a fine day in Heaven, with the entirety of their population out and roaming in gay groups. The women huddle about like flocks, wearing beautiful silken dresses. The men strut mostly in pairs, discussing some matter or another in low voices. Huijin had found the entire thing ridiculous. Though abundant, the many enjoyments of Heaven had worn thin on her nerves within the first few years. An eternity here for her service to her family and her country feels rather more like torture. Her only enjoyments are the multitude of beautiful dogs in this place, but even their charms have limits for a woman like Huijin.
Then one day, one of the faeries had taken pity on her and shown her a very strange, yet magical mirror. Placed deep in the heart of The Emperor’s rose garden, it was not an easy place to access. Only thanks to her status as a hero was she even able to set foot in this place. This mirror, if awakened by the proper incantation and emotion, could become a window through which she could observe those she left behind. Huijin had almost no family, but there was one face she dearly missed. Ever since Aeshin was about five years of age, Huijin had taken to watching over her daughter. Gasping in delight whenever Aeshin discovered something new, cringing in horror when Aeshin was ever in danger. Laughing when her daughter suddenly made a face of angry surprise which reminded her so much of her husband. Her daughter was her only source of amusement and comfort in this sterile, sad Heaven she did not feel she belonged in.
“Now, wife, you can’t stay here all the time,” comes a voice, as Sangwan walks through the gateway that leads into the gardens. Her husband is stunning in his cream suit, his hair swept neatly back. In such a traditional setting, his more modern clothes set him jarringly apart. But Sangwan had never been interested in playing by anyone’s rules. Even as he scolds her, he’s smiling, wrapping his arms around her shoulders.
“Says who?” she challenges, even as she holds his hand and turns her head to kiss his chin. He nuzzles her shamelessly, smiling, as he looks into the face of his now grown daughter.
“Has it really been seventeen years?” he asks, watching his daughter as she reads and faithfully copies down the words of Confucius. It brings back memories, as his father used to punish him in a similar manner when he had been fifteen and wild.
Huijin nods, smiling widely and proudly at her daughter. “Isn’t she beautiful?” Then her mouth turns down and she glowers. “She’s been working on Confucius for four days now. Must father-in-law really be so harsh?”
Sangwan hums in amusement, wondering if perhaps the old man had been growing soft. “He used to punish me with two authors at a time. I once spent ten days copying the texts my father mandated. My handwriting was practically squiggles by the end. Father had to bite his cheeks to keep from laughing.”
His wife doesn’t seem to find the same humor in the situation as he did. Her daughter is too precious to spend such prolonged periods of time on the classics merely because she wanted to stay informed in the modern happenings of the world. Her father-in-law is going overboard. She wonders if she could request special permission to haunt his dreams or something. He is going to get an earful from her!
“Do stay calm, dearest,” Sangwan persuades, helping his wife to her feet. “Let’s go have a meal, shall we?” The couple walks back to the merry streets of the Jade Kingdom, arguing all the way.
Joseph smiles as he walks about, enjoying his time in this place greatly. There is a mix of so many people, all of them friendly. They shout in greeting as they pass, walking or astride gorgeous mounts. Dogs abound, wagging their tails and weaving among the crowds with practiced ease. Their coats are shiny and glossy; all of them looking healthy and well cared for, despite seeming strays. Though there are places to eat, none of them accept any currency, as far as Joseph can tell. He’s almost sure this is Heaven, though he’s not convinced he’s in the right one. From what the Bible told, Heaven would be very different from this.
He’s not sure how different, but he’s pretty sure he might have landed in the wrong one. The dogs check out, but the people around him don’t seem to be believers of his faith. Could there have been a mix-up? He woke up here, but perhaps he somehow got lost from where he should have been?
He strolls along the streets and finds a bar. Though most religious men of his faith don’t drink alcohol, the people of Joseon had enlightened him to the wonders of alcohol, if consumed responsibly. Joseph doesn’t think that alcohol consumed in Heaven even counts. He takes a seat and clumsily asks for a drink. The lady taking orders nods amiably, recognizing the blond foreigner. Despite the fact that his Korean is still rather poor, the people seem to find him charming. He’s seen quite a few other foreigners around, but no Europeans or Americans in this place. Very few people here speak English, so Joseph gets by with the language skills he learned while stationed in Joseon.
“Hey, there, Father,” a lilting voice says from a neighboring table. “You ought not drink alone.”
Joseph looks up to find a handsome man dressed in Western clothing. His cream colored suit is stunning, accented by the blue handkerchief on his chest pocket, blue tie and the black oxford shoes. He is clearly of Asian descent, but he dresses like a European gentleman. The man stands, bringing his own cup and bottle of rice wine with him. He sets both on Joseph’s table, smiling widely.
“You look a little foreign for these parts, I presume you’re just visiting?” the man asks, filling Josephs cup with his own liquor once the restaurant lady brings both a new cup and bottle.
Joseph is rather used to how the people of Joseon tend to infringe on other people’s personal space. It’s been a while, but he doesn’t mind the behavior. It helps him feel welcomed. “Perhaps an introduction would be more in order? My name is Joseph. And you are?”
The man grins and holds out his right hand, clearly knowledgeable about foreigners and their ways. It’s not lost on Joseph that most of the people in this place are ignorant. It’s been dawning on him he’s basically surrounded by people long since dead. It would explain the disconnect; most of these people don’t even know America even exists. This young man, however, is obviously in the know. “My name’s Go Sangwan,” he says and they shake hands.
There is no true night or day in Heaven, but the eternal twilight of the place seems to vary between bright and gloomy. As the gloom grows and darkens, Joseph and Sangwan drink. They chat and munch on snacks, enjoying each other’s company. The drinks have warmed Joseph enough that he can finally answer Sangwan’s initial question with some semblance of honesty.
“I don’t quite know what I’m doing here,” he confesses, smiling. “Last I knew, I had a letter from the Emperor to deliver, then an explosion of pain… and nothing else.”
The man sitting before him clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “Aye, you’ve been labeled a hero, then.” He laughs, slapping his thigh. “Here my wife and I thought we were the only ones in at least thirty years to end up here on heroism, but alas, it is what it is.”
Joseph, intrigued, leans forward. Glad to find a listener, Sangwan tells tales of his and his wife’s many dutiful sacrifices for the crown of Joseon. Their love for freedom and devotion to their country is what landed them here, after all. They still haven’t been given the possibility of rebirth, but that is out of their hands, really. Sangwan doesn’t worry too much, anyway. His wife clearly wants to wait this century out. She’d much rather keep an eye on their daughter than be reborn and forget Aeshin. Especially since their little apple didn’t fall too far from the tree. A rebel daughter is bad for their health, he tells Joseph. Joseph looks on thoughtfully, before finally chiming in.
“You must love your daughter very much,” he says softly, smiling. Sangwan stops for a moment, reading between the lines.
“I see you had a child, too,” he says, confused. “I thought men of the cloth weren’t allowed to have families.”
Joseph laughs, shaking his head. “My son was adopted. I found him… or perhaps, it is more accurate to say he found me. He was my greatest joy, though I could not give him all that I wished I could.”
Sangwan clears his throat, looking skyward. “That is popular among us who die young, I’m afraid. I wish I could have done so much more for my daughter, as well.”
They drink to their mutual feelings of paternal love, before a female voice interrupts them.
“Husband! You’ll never guess what has happened! This is incredible!” Huijin comes running across the street, heedless of the people jumping out of her path. She slams both hands on the table, smiling widely. “Our daughter and that Marine, oh, I do love them together! That Eugene is the perfect man, you must see him!”
She pauses for breath, and finally notices his companion. “Oh; my apologies. I hope I haven’t interrupted anything important.”
Joseph is staring at this somewhat wild, but beautiful apparition who seems to have come up from nowhere. Then, as his mind registers her words, he abruptly stands up. “I apologize, but did you say Eugene… as in Eugene Choi?”
Floundering, Huijin nods mutely, before putting both hands on her face. “Don’t tell me… you’re his adoptive father. The one who…” Her grimace of pain and understanding has Joseph realizing that this woman had truly spoken of his son. His son!
“My boy! You have seen him? How is he? Is he alright? Can I see him?” His flurry of questions come in both English and Korean, startling the couple. Huijin’s expressions grows smooth with clarity, and she gestures for him to come along. Sangwan follows after them, shouting his gratitude at the bar lady. As they walk, Huijin tells Joseph all that she has seen of his son. When Eugene and her daughter met, aiming weapons at each other. Their first dialogue, their second meeting, and so on. How they went from almost-enemies, to allies and now, to lovers. Joseph cries as he hears how his son shot himself in the arm for the sake of protecting his lady, spending the night in jail despite his injuries. He smiles at how clumsy Eugene is in his attempts to woo the lady. Huijin tells him of how her daughter had prayed for him to be lead to Heaven, despite their differing religions. Huijin offers a handkerchief for his tears, before gesturing toward the maze of roses that stand between them and the mirror.
“I cannot lead you,” Huijin explain, gesturing for him to go ahead. “If the Heavens permit, you will find it.” Sangwan joins his wife, smiling at his friend.
“Don’t worry and just follow your heart,” he advises. “We’ll see you at the mirror, Father.”
Joseph walks in, casting his gaze about this beautiful, but confusing rose garden. Everything looks exactly the same. He pauses for a moment, and sends a prayer to God. Opening his eyes, he walks swiftly and with determination. It doesn’t take long for him to get lost among the maze of beautiful roses. There are myriads of them, a beautiful collage of red and pink. Among them, he finds a white blossom, gorgeous in her solitude. Joseph walks toward it, gently touching its petals. She is fragrant and large, a lovely specimen. He commends it for its beauty, pauses, and follows the path she lies on. After a few meters, he finds another white blossom, then another… and another. As he follows their lead, the white roses behind him quietly and simply lose their petals and die.
Joseph walks for what feel like hours, panting and wondering if there is water in this garden. Just as he considers trying to find his way back, he sees a shimmer of light. Following the glow, he comes upon a gazebo, where Sangwan and Huijin await him. They smile and welcome him, offering a cup of cool water. Joseph gratefully accepts as the couple makes space for him on the bench facing the mirror and teach him the incantation.
As he whispers the words, thinking of his Eugene, his sunshine, his son… the mirror distorts and he can see his son sleeping quietly in his bed at the Glory Hotel. Seeing him, safe and all grown up, Joseph quietly cries. He had not seen him since he left him a boy that fateful day, lonely and waving on the pier, as Joseph set back to Joseon. They had only exchanged letters, and Joseph had seen the clumsy writing grow firmer, surer and more elegant over the years. Now, he sees the fruits of time, age and wisdom on his son. It breaks his heart and puts it back together again. He is, at last, whole.
For whatever Fate that brought him here, Joseph is grateful.
Hongpa stares about, finding her surroundings very disorienting. Last she remembers, she had been shot and had fallen into the water. This surreal, colorful place is starting to unsettle her. Perhaps… she is dead?
“Oh, young lady,” a voice hails her, and Hongpa turns. Before her stands a beautiful woman, dressed in silken finery. Somehow, this woman reminds her of someone, though she cannot place exactly who. “You look terribly lost. Do you need any help?”
There is a foreigner with the lady, calmly smoking a cigarette. Among the sea of Asian faces, the man is a stark contrast to those who surround her. The man smiles benignly, and Hongpa nods. She’s not one to accept help, but this place frightens her. She woke up here, with no memory of having come to this place. All she remembers is the Japanese men in her tavern, the terror, and how cold the water felt against her weeping wound. She shivers without knowing why, her hand straying to her shoulder.
“I see,” the woman says; a hint of sorrow in her voice. “You’ve died before your time.”
She puts her arm around Hongpa’s, gently steering the girl toward the warmth of a fire and perhaps a meal. “Tell me everything, I’m dying to know.”
Hongpa later came to learn she was in the presence of legendary heroes of the Righteous Army, singled out simply because of her acquaintance to their daughter. They welcome her, soothing her lingering memories of death and giving her peace. Heaven is an odd place, but Hongpa never minded dying. She had known her day would come, though she’d hoped to see Gunner Jang one last time before leaving him.
“I’ve heard you’re an excellent shot,” the woman, Huijin, says with mischief in her voice. Hongpa smirks, downing a shot of liquor. There is a challenge there, and Honga has never backed away from a challenge.
“The very best, my lady.”
Dongmae stumbles, grunting. His breathing is harsh, even as he slowly realizes his lungs actually work. He grasps desperately for a sword at his waist, missing, and glances wildly about. People around him don’t seem to mind him at all, parting around him like schools of fish avoiding a predator. The ground beneath him is unstable, his vision tunnels and he thinks frantically of the people he left behind. What of his friends, his followers, Lady Aeshin… Hina…
A voice sounds like the twinkle of a shaman’s bell. It calls to him, and he straightens in shock.
“Breathe, Gu Dongmae. Breathe,” her voice is a melody he wished he could forget. As he turns, shell-shocked, there stands Hina. She’s as beautiful as he remembers, resplendent in a blue silk, corset and petticoats. Her hair is pinned, curls around her lovely face. She holds a parasol over his head, though there is no rain or snow. It’s red, covering him where he crouches in the middle of the busy street. She’s bending forward slightly as she shields him, smiling warmly.
Gu Dongmae blinks, unable to breathe. This must be a dream. She cannot be here. He’d lost her; he knows he’d lost her. He’d felt her last breath on his back as he carried her across the sand that horrible, horrible day. Felt her grow cold and heavy and so very dead. Though he’d prayed, the Gods had taken her from him, and she’d died after confessing the impossible to him.
“I lost you,” he says, reverently and in agony.
Her touch on his cheek is feather-light. He leans against it, closing his eyes briefly, before opening them again. He does not want to look away, in fear of her disappearance.
“You’ve found me again,” she says, and he forgives her everything.
Hina finds Huiseong reading under the shade of a cherry tree, looming large in the gardens of Heaven. As usual, Dongmae is a few steps behind his lady, unwilling to leave her side. Hina lowers herself onto her knees, daintily sitting at the nobleman’s side. Dongmae is less covert, simply plopping down onto the tired roots of the First Cherry Tree. Huiseong looks up with a welcoming smile, lowering his book.
“You’ve come out of your abode at last,” he remarks with a cheerful lilt in his voice. “How fortuitous!”
The pair blush, Dongmae looking away to hide a smirk. Huiseong notes it, but says nothing. He is happy for his friend to have found joy and love in the afterlife. In his opinion, they both deserve that and more.
Hina decides it’s safest to change the subject. “Where on Earth did you find that book? I’ve yet to see a library here.”
Huiseong’s gaze is back to his book, humming softly. “Ask and ye shall receive,” he says loftily, to which Dongmae kicks him in the shin. Huiseong winces, glaring at his friend. “If you ask the right people, enough times, you’ll find the bookstore.”
“So you annoyed someone into disclosing the location of a bookstore,” Dongmae surmises, snorting when the nobleman clicks his tongue in annoyance. The petals fall around them, and the young man is momentarily distracted by the sight.
“So it is time…” he sighs, closing the book.
All three rise, turning toward the gates. The walk is brief, even if their steps lag in hesitance. There is a dichotomy to their countenance as they stride toward the newcomers; a melding of pleasure, dismay and mourning.
They find Aeshin’s servants already at the gate, their hands joined as they peer anxiously into the bright light that blocks their view of the river and the bridge beyond. More people join them, materializing almost out of thin air. A beautiful lady and her husband, an aged clergyman, the elderly Lord Go, Officer Jang, the tavern owner and many more people unknown even to Kudo Hina. The gates hum, vibrate and grow even brighter. Silence settles over those gathered, awaiting the new arrivals. It has been many years since their parting and they have been dearly missed.
All dogs go to heaven. This is fact.
