All In 걸어

I wake up the next morning to the sound of Hanja boots stamping above our heads. Shoes in the house? They must be somewhere in the kitchen, close to where the trapdoor to the basement is hidden underneath a rug.
“Shownu Hyung,” I whisper frantically and start shaking him. “Shownu Hyung, wake up. They’re here, if they find us we’re all dead.”
“Shit!” He stands up as fast as he can and starts to wake everyone up, shaking Hyungwon Hyung the hardest. “Get up you guys, we need to hide.”
We all stand in our normal positions. Kihyun Hyung drags the half-asleep Hyungwon Hyung behind a pile of unused farm tools and they squat so that even their hair is invisible. Shownu Hyung, Minhyuk Hyung and Wonho Hyung hide in an old broken wardrobe since they’re the tallest, and close the door behind them, and only a small slit is left for them to observe what’s going on outside. Kookang and I lie flat on the ground, covering ourselves with a piece of fabric that eomma often uses to strain cheese with, and we wait. She’s going to kill me when she finds dirt all over it.
“I assure you, sinsa, we have not seen our son since yesterday,” I can hear eomma’s voice, calm and assured. She had to get me out of all sorts of trouble, so she’s used to dealing with Hanja. “He probably is in the forest hut. We asked him to go fishing for me yesterday, and, as you know, it’s more than half a day’s walk from here. He should be back soon.”
Nice one, eomma!
“Alright, ahjumah*, let us know when you see him. We would like to have a couple of words with the boy.”
“Of course, officer.”
The heavy boots tread carefully along the kitchen floor, and slowly fade away as the officers walk out onto the street.
“You can come out now, boys,” she whispers into the small slits between the panels of the floor. We all rise up from our hiding places and open the trapdoor which leads into the kitchen. “That was close, Jooheon. You need to be more careful next time.”
“Yes, eomma. I apologise,” I bow and set a loaf of bread wrapped in cloth on the counter. “I have something for you, though. Kookang managed to get this for us, I hope that it’s alright still.”
“Thank you, my boy,” she smiles at Kookang and he bows to her before he puts on his coat. “This will be able to last us for a week, I would assume.”
“Thank you for keeping us safe, ahjumah,” Shownu Hyung gets down on his knees and bows deeply to her, and the other guys follow suit. “We will repay you for this kindness someday.”
They all left before dinner, Hyungwon Hyung being the last to go.
“You know that you can always stay with us when you feel unsafe, Hyung,” I watch him put on his shoes at the entrance as he is about to leave. “My home is your home.”
“Thank you, Jooheon,” he smiles wide and we bow to each other as a goodbye. “I appreciate your kindness.”
Eomma calls me for dinner and I turn away as soon as Hyungwon Hyung disappears around the corner of the main street. I sit with her at the table and we watch the rain falling from thick clouds in the sky through the window. My eyes wander towards the photograph of my appa* hanging above a table, covered in field flowers.
“You look so much like him, Jooheon,” eomma looks at me, small wrinkles forming on the corners of her eyes as she sadly smiles at me. “He would be so proud of you.”
I try to smile back at her, and I fold my hands on the table, ready to pray. We hang our heads without a word and sit in silence for a while, before we start eating. I still feel hungry after dinner, just not as hungry as before. The afternoon passes slowly, as I help eomma clean up, and then entertain her with the story of our escape. She seemed impressed and amused, unlike most of the mothers in our village that would hear our stories. My appa was just like me, she used to say. Fiery, short-fused and rebellious. It’s probably what led him in front of a firing squad.
A knock on the door.
“Jooheon,” eomma stands up and starts walking cautiously towards the entrance. “Stay here. I’ll get the door. Don’t do anything suspicious.”
I nod. She hurries out of the room, nearly tripping on her skirt, and I grab the closest book to me, trying to act as natural as possible. Eomma’s greetings echo through the house, and I hear several footsteps approaching the room. The dogs! They didn’t even bother to take off their shoes again.
“Lee Joo-heon,” the officer appears in the doorway and I slowly make my way up to my feet. I don’t bow. There is no reason for me to bow for someone lower than me. “Come with us.”
“Why?”
“You are being summoned by the High Officer.”
Unwillingly, I cross the room. Eomma’s worried face is visible over the soldiers’ shoulders, but I reassure her with a smile that everything will be alright. She always loved it, she said that I look like appa when I grinned. I lift my chin up high, and leave my house with a straight back and my shoes slipped on. There was not much point in bending over to put them on, they were loose enough for me to just slide my foot in. I might as well go barefoot.
As soon as we exit the house, about two or three soldiers grab my arms and shoulders so that I would not escape, and lead me down the street. I could run if I want to, I am much stronger and faster than I seem. Running means cowardice, however, so I do not struggle, and allow myself to be taken to the lashing post in the town square. There, I see Minhyuk Hyung’s head bowed over his knees and his arms tied tightly to the post, his back exposed. The villagers stand on the very edges of the square, huddled into small groups. Let them watch. I will gladly be entertainment for them. But where’s Kihyun Hyung? He’s usually the one that orchestrates our escapades, and the Hanja knows it. So why is Minhyuk Hyung in his place?
“Over here, scumbag,” the soldiers throw me in front of the post, opposite Minhyuk Hyung, and grab my arms to tie them to a loop. One of the soldiers takes a knife and slashes my shirt on the back. Great. Eomma will have one more shirt to sew up. At this rate, I will barely have any shirts left that do not have a stitch going down the back of them.
“Jooheon,” Minhyuk Hyung whispers quietly so that the soldiers cannot hear. “Wheres Kihyun?”
“I don’t know, Minhyuk Hung,” I reply and look around to check if anyone is listening. “I thought that they would take him with me.”
“Shut up!” The High Officer’s voice silences the square. He is tall. His face is cut by wrinkles and browned by the sun. His uniform is clean, almost brand new, and his shoes shine as if they never saw a hard day's work, only the clean and comfortable rooms of the office. If my spit could only reach his feet… “You are here on account of theft of bread, noted yesterday. The both of you have been seen taking it from a street vendor. If you were only three years older I would have your hands cut off! Alas, neither of you are men yet. A public lashing would have to do."
My heart thumps. It was so obvious that we weren’t the only ones stealing it. High Officer must have picked us both to serve as a warning. As an example. And even though that I am used to lashes, I never realised that they added a new punishment. At 21 years old you become a man, I guess that the punishment is to permanently rid him of his ability to work and steal, so he can just starve. Thankfully, both of us are under 20, however Shownu Hyung, as the eldest, needs to be careful... He’s going to be 21 years old next year.
“Young Officer Kim, bring the whip.”
The Young Officer couldn’t be older than 25 years old. He looks eager to please his superior, so he rushes to the Hanja building like a dog and comes back with a leather whip, that twists and turns like a whirlpool of water in his hand. It’s almost as black as the High Officer’s eyes, so devoid of feeling or mercy. I can feel my blood boil. Get it over and done with, pig. Go on, punish me.
He walks over to Minhyuk Hyung. Shit. So he’ll punish him first.
“Let this serve you as a lesson,” he smirks and starts to curl the whip around his left hand. For some reason, it doesn’t seem like he’s talking to Minhyuk Hyung. He looks directly at me, as if he’s trying to taunt me. I do not look away. I maintain the eye contact, and challenge him*. Soon, I learn that this was a mistake. He raises the whip over his shoulder, and strikes Minhyuk Hyung as hard as he can on his already scarred back. “Do not try me boy!”
Minhyuk Hyung’s face contorts in pain, and his eyes open wide when he tries to shout. No sound comes out of his mouth, as if the wind has been knocked out of his lungs. The High Officer strikes again, and the same thing happens again to Minhyuk Hyung. After a few strikes, he has no energy to lift his head up anymore. Blood spurts out of his mouth and drips down his delicate chin. This is meant to be a punishment for me, I’m sure of it. Hurting my friends is so much worse than hurting me, and High Officer knows it.
He is finally finished with Minhyuk Hyung when he slumps down, unconscious, and hangs by his arms, kneeling on the ground. I cannot see his back, but I know for sure that the wounds must reach deep down for that amount of blood to be pooling around him. High Officer walks over towards me, the whip covered in Minhyuk Hyung’s blood, and wipes it off on my trousers.
“It’s your turn,” he walks out of my sight behind me and readies his tool. I can hear his voice behind me, and I know that he’s smiling. He’s enjoying this. “You’ll regret what you have done, trust me.”
I don’t know when he raised his arm to strike me. I don’t think I noticed. But I feel the cold and piercing pain spreading down my spine, around my ribcage and down my arms. I don’t try scream like Minhyuk Hyung. I grit my teeth and can feel blinding white fury building in my stomach, as the acid starts to rise up my throat, burning it, ready to escape. I will not throw up again. I refuse. I will not throw up!
One more slash. My blood trickles down my back and I can feel the hot liquid starting to pour out of the deep wounds in my skin. It wasn’t a new feeling, I have been given lashes since I was 10 years old, but each time it surprises me how hot the blood is as it leaves from my body. High Officer carries on with his punishment, and I feel his frustration rising at how silent I am the entire time. He finishes after 20 more lashes, and I can feel my head getting lighter. My vision is somewhat blurred, but I can somewhat make out Minhyuk Hyung's body draped before me. High Officer steps back and nods at the soldiers to untie us. Minhyuk Hyung immediately falls on the ground, unconscious. I crawl over to him, and shake him. Laughter rumbles through the gathered soldiers when they watch my pathetic attempts to wake my Hyung. High Officer looks at us with sick satisfaction painting on his face. He enjoyed this, oh that much is true. He always has, we have so much history together, and he enjoyed every single stroke that he laid on me. I stare at his glossy black boots as they turn on their heels and start walking away.
“Minhyuk Hyung, it’s over,” I whisper as the soldiers begin to leave, the villagers following suit, back into their homes. They are all silent, probably full of pity for us, as they walk away, their heads hung low. I can barely see his eyes as they open, my body is aching. “Minhyuk Hyung, I’ll take you home and let you rest. I’m sure that eomma won’t mind.”
“Y-Yes, Jooheon,” he nods and lifts up his head slightly. “Just help me stand up.”

Notes

1. Ahjumah - a honorific used for a woman that is married/a mother.
2. Appa - dad.
3. In Korea it's frowned upon for younger people to maintain eye contact with elders as it's seen as a challenge or a threat.