Hwang Sok-Yong - The Guest

That filthy butcher!

It suddenly occurred to me that the whole notion of this side and that side, of us and them — it was all over. It was no longer the Lord’s Crusade. We were no longer fighting to overthrow Satan. We have been tested, I thought to myself, and we have been found wanting. Our faith was corrupted. My comrades and I — we’d become the endless days, days without light. What does that mean, you ask? We were sick and tired of living. At the least provocation, we would spit out, Fuck it, and kill whoever happened to be involved.

The decent-looking girls were taken to the resort at the hot springs, run by the social insurance agency. There were members of the Women’s League, school teachers, and daughters of the enemy. The ones who’d been sent up from the South seemed to have plenty of experience — they were uninhibited and quite. knowledgeable. Since the resort catered to men from the Youth Corps, the security forces, and even the Autonomous Police, we didn’t get into the question of hierarchy or rank despite the fact that we all had different official positions.

I never touched alcohol later in life, and actually that was pretty much the case in my youth, too. I did smoke cigarettes — I quit those in my old age. Pongsu, the leader of the Youth Corps, and Sangho both loved to drink, so they’d frequent the fancy restaurants together all the time. The two of them got along famously. When the war came to an end a month after we’d seized the whole town, we were confident that this new way of life was here to stay. There was a party every night. At first, I couldn’t figure out where the men from the security forces went for their evening get-togethers. I myself finally ended up going to the resort only because Sangho insisted on having a farewell gathering to enjoy ourselves for one last time in our hometown. That was two days before we evacuated, I think.

The resort was an inn built by the Japanese in the old days. Inside the glass front door was a long wooden corridor, and every room had a sliding door made of rice paper and a Japanese-style tatami floor. When I entered the room I was greeted by half a dozen familiar faces. All around the table, sandwiched between the men, were a number of young women. The guys all acted fairly decently in the beginning — they behaved like gentlemen for a while. As they put back more and more alcohol, however, their language and gestures grew uglier. One man actually hit one of the girls. Then, after confirming something with the staff, Sangho turned to Pongsu.

Today’s tasty side dish is a female school teacher.

What? You mean you brought her here?

She’s standing by, in nothing but a bathrobe.

Hey, what about me? I want a go.

All right, all right, let’s draw lots to decide the order.

I wasn’t quite sure what they were talking about. Finally, as everyone started pouring out of the room into the hallway, I turned to Sangho.

What, is something interesting about to happen?

You should try it out, too. That woman teacher, Yun — she’s here.

Here at the hot springs?

Well, hell, it’s better than dying, isn’t it?

I flinched away and sat back down at the empty table, all alone. There was a huge uproar coming from the corridor, the sound of men laughing raucously against the background of a woman’s screams. I threw back two glasses in a row, though I never could hold my liquor. I stayed in the room for a long time before I finally walked out into the corridor, all flushed from the alcohol. As I walked by, I heard somebody moan in pain. I opened a sliding door and looked inside. Three men were sitting around a naked woman, holding down her arms and legs. A fourth man was on top of the woman, in the process of raping her. Swallowing the bile that rose up in my throat, I felt myself being drawn into the room — it was as if someone pulled me by a string. Pongsu must have already had his turn; he was still naked above the waist. Sangho’s pants were down around his calves. Over his shoulder I could see the woman’s familiar face. The string of her Japanese-style bathrobe was unfastened and spread wide open across the tatami floor. I must have kicked Sangho, since he rolled to the side. Then I reached into my jacket, took out my pistol, and shot her. I shot twice, I think. I staggered out of the room, but no one came after me. The sound of the gunshots kept ringing through my head.

People who are leaving their hometowns usually have to try and hold back their tears; it’s only natural. We, on the other hand — well, it’s not that we spat on the ground and said good riddance, it’s just that we all knew we would never return. The place was doomed to become a hell on earth, a place where only devils would be able to thrive. Or so we thought. After that day at the resort, I didn’t see Sangho again. During those nightmarish days, though we pretended it wasn’t so, we hated each other more than our enemies. I knew only too well that he shot my sisters in a fit of rage. We killed anyone we decided was our enemy, and that was no different, really. We killed anyone who’d joined the Party or the Workers’ League — in fact, we killed anyone we could think up a reason for killing. That was why we hated ourselves.

As for Sangho, I returned the favor he’d done me. I had a pretty good idea of where Myŏngsŏn’s family lived in the village of Palsan. Myŏngsŏn and Sangho had become very close as they worked together for the youth group at church. They had probably promised each other to get married when the war ended, or if they moved down South. Pistol in hand, I headed for Myŏngsŏn’s house. When I got there, I knocked on the front gate. The second Myŏngsŏn’s mother opened it I smashed her face in with the butt of the pistol. I ran into the front yard, rushed into the main bedroom, and opened fire on the roomful of girls. It turns out that Sangho was one step ahead of me, though. On his way through Unbong, he’d already slaughtered my other sister and her entire family. Years later, as I got older and older, I began to see phantoms. At first, I would scream out loud, dripping with cold sweat, but as time went by I would just sit there and watch them, as if from afar. I wonder — was it that way for Sangho, too?

ALL RIGHT, ALL RIGHT.That’s enough. Time to go.

The phantom of Uncle Sunnam spoke, and Illang, standing at his side, agreed.

Right. Let’s go.

The other ghosts, both men and women, rose up quietly and began fading back into the darkness, disappearing like pieces of cloth quivering in the breeze. A voice, coming from someplace far, far away, reached Yosŏp’s ears.

Those who killed and were killed are bound together in the next world.

It was Yohan.

Finally, I am home. Finally, I am relieved of the old hatred and resentment. Finally I see my friends, and finally, I can stop wandering through unknown darkness. I’m off. Be well, both of you.

They all disappeared. Silence descended. The darkness was gradually withdrawing; daybreak was on its way — outside the window, beyond the distinct shadows of the mountain ridge, the milky sky was growing clearer. Only Ryu Yosŏp and his uncle remained in the second-story room with the wooden floor. Yosŏp’s uncle broke the silence.

“Those who needed to leave have left, and now the ones who are still alive must start living anew. We must purge this land, cleanse it of all the old filth and grime, don’t you agree?”

Ryu Yosŏp clasped his hands together and began to recite a passage from the Bible he had memorized long ago.

A time to love, and a time to hate; a time for war, and a time for peace. What gain have the workers from their toil? I have seen the business that God has given to everyone to be busy with.