#qihm

There were many things he hadn't said aloud to Hee Jin, things she had probably read in those bland records. After all, some of them were truths easier to know as flat facts--his marriage, his disgrace, his reinstatement. The murder of his family.

But he had never said it--that he was a widower. That once he had a wife and a child, the expectation that he had created the next generation of his family. That once his heart had been so thoroughly broken all that was left of it was a charred lump.

Saving his queen had become the only reason to live--so that she would not suffer the same pain. So that he would not suffer the pain of failing her, too.

But now he had run from the pain he had caused Yoon Wol, and was paying the consequences.

He reached the gibang too late. When he asked after Yoon Wol, the gisaeng who told him which room to find her in gave him a slightly curious look. He heard her scream as he approached, and broke into the room to see her bleeding from the neck, crumpled on the ground. Ja Soo, the hired muscle for the Noron Minister, was standing over her. Seeing Boong Do he crowed, "You!"

Boong Do ran and laid his hands on Yoon Wol, holding the wound closed as it gurgled with blood. In his hand he still clutched the black, formless talisman, now drenched in Yoon Wol's blood just as it had once been splattered with his. He looked up just as Ja Soo realized it was in his power to kill them both, and braced himself.

They clattered to the ground together in the middle of busy Seoul, and the first thing he did was shout for help. The street around them has scattered with people about their business, but after his scream the blood was enough to make everyone stop.

"Call the ambulance, please," he said, still applying pressure. Yoon Wol was not dead, her heart pumping blood more and more weakly against his fingers. The stroke must have struck across her hands first, put up in alarm, before striking her throat.

He couldn't think beyond clasping her skin together, beyond breathing and holding her still, and murmuring to her that it was all right, that he had her.

The moment the ambulance screamed up, and the medics took over, looking frightened themselves of her state, Boong Do stepped back. He was just reaching into his pocket to call Hee Jin, then realized that his hands were covered in blood, with the talisman soggy in his fingers when he felt that strange pull--and was back in the room with Ja Soo.

The man's intent glare turned to triumph as his prey reappeared to him. Boong Do had to crash himself into a wall to evade the man's strike. Unsure if Yoon Wol would survive, but sure this man had meant to kill her only to hurt him, rage and fear turned to a solid, deadly thing. This time, the blade struck him. Boong Do, recognizing in some depth of his mind from this that there was no being saved from this place and its bloody ends anymore, allowed himself to be skewered--to then seize Ja Soo's weapon from him, grabbing it with his hands as well as in his own flesh.

Once he had the man's sword, it was quick work to kill him. It was quick to kill, when you did not want to leave a man a chance to escape. Then the men had come to support Ja Soo, at the sound of their raised voices, came after him, and he turned them into so many still bodies, too.

He had to flee.

After a stop in one of the disreputable districts where a man might find help with a wound without too many questions, and shelter for a day or two out of the sight of the king's men, he ran. First, to the mountains to see if the Master who had made the talisman could answer his questions about its end--but the man was beyond helping him. Buried honorably, he was beyond the impertinence of a man who had lost a world he had never belonged to, and a woman who he had never valued enough, and inquiries he probably could not have answered anyway.

Boong Do roamed the country, staying far from towns when officials who might know him were in residence. He could not, however, run forever from the harsh truth: he knew of no way to get back to Hee Jin. He would never know if Yoon Wol had died for him, just like his wife and unborn child, cut down like dishonorable mountain bandits.

There were things Boong Do had not gotten say, things he should have put into words for her. He had far too long to think of all the things he should not have left unsaid.

Maybe it was losing belief that he would make his way back to Hee Jin. Maybe it was losing faith he had done the right thing after all. Maybe it was just another foolish risk like the others that had ruined him, over and over. He had decided to go to his cache of clothes, though it was close to a road on the way to the King's palace. Just once more, he wanted to turn on the phone with Hee Jin's picture in it, to imagine her voice by reading the messages she had sent him--perhaps copying down the strange new syllabary to make sure he understood her perfectly.

He took the risk, and ended up in jail. He had underestimated how eager others were to punish him for surviving against the odds for far too long. Not even necessarily enemies--just people unsure of him and sure he could be up to no good. And he deservedit. Who could pretend, if he were living, that he was not the killer of Ja Soo and his men? He was. He knew it was a crime that made him unworthy of his country. He had done it in anger, not just in self-defense.

He wished he were glad he had done it--then he might face his death as a proud man. Instead, he just thought of how much blood there had been. What a waste it was, that men would cut each other down for some perceived slight between clans and factions and the dignity of the throne.

What last measures were left for him, he had already considered as he wandered. Rotting in jail was not among them. The talisman, black as if soaked in ink that cancelled out its previous virtues, was still on him. More an accusation, now, than a memento.

Perhaps there was one person he could free from pain. Could he take himself from her memory by burning the talisman?

He couldn't be sure, so first he wrote a letter.

Even having written the letter, there were so many things that he had not said to Hee Jin.

When did he fall in love with her? He wasn't sure. It had always been clear what Hee Jin felt--she was transparent, as easily readable as hanja. He knew that he had not been in love with her the first time they met, though her warm smile--unexpected from a complete stranger, especially a woman--had reassured him. Not the second time they met, though her familiar face had sent a warm feeling of relief and affection through him, despite not understanding every third word she said.

But it hadn't taken him as long to fall in love as he made it seem. He had told her that he finally saw her as a beauty, when she was dressed as a queen of his time--mirroring her playfulness by saying it aloud. What that meant, though, was he finally saw how to the world she was considered a beautiful woman--a person was formed by their society, and such clothing seemed more natural to him.

A man could love a woman who was not his definition of beauty. Especially if she looked at him with such open affection, and easily gave him the warm gestures of love that he was unused to even in marriage.

How could he write a love letter that told her that though he had not honored her with any formal status, she was more than a wife to him?

A letter could be found. That's why he wrote this one. He had to keep some decorum, or it might be burned for indecency. Such things would have to go unsaid.

two. Soo-Ha wakes up to more aches than he cares to admit riddling his body and looks at the...Joseon? doctor taking his pulse. It worked. All he has to do now is not look at his clothes, put his hands in his pockets, or do anything to break the hypnosis he used to come after the man who killed his father.

“You are a very lucky young man,” the doctor says when he sees Soo-Ha is awake. “Lady Jang found you and is caring for you.”

Jang Hye-Sung. A little known historical figure credited with influencing and controlling the criminal element in her country province. She never married but had three children. History didn’t know the father.

Min Joon-Gook was going to murder her to prove his thesis. “How do I thank her? I have no money.”

“I don’t need money.” The portraits of her do not do her justice. She is much more beautiful and sharp in real life. Soo-Ha sits up and tries to bow with his broken ribs. He can hear pity in her mind when he meets her eyes.

She’s seen his wallet and cell phone. He tentatively glances down at himself to find that he’s wearing more era appropriate undergarments. He traveled through time, unprepared, holding onto Min Joon-Gook the entire way. She tilts her head and raises her eyebrows.

“My people say they saw you fighting an older man dressed similar to you. This man already broke into my estate and hurt my mother. You can repay me by explaining yourself.”

three. Hye-Sung listens to Park Soo-Ha’s explanation before leaving him to rest. His story is intriguing but not confusing. He seems to be an expert on her life and there is a part of her that is pleased to know the things she does are important enough to be remembered. She doesn’t understand why this Min Joon-Gook thinks killing her will demonstrate anything if history is wiped out.

“Lady Jang,” Sung-Bin interrupts her thoughts. “Magistrate Cha is here to take your report.”

“Thank  you,” she says. “Please prepare us some tea and serve it in the garden.”

Hye-Sung sits down on the edge of her veranda and looks up at the moon. A few minutes later Kwan-Woo joins her and Sung-Bin places the tea tray between them. “Are you alright? I hear your mother was injured.”

She smiles as she sips her tea. “I’m fine. My mother is fine.”

“I can arrest the boy you found.”

She shakes her head. “He is not a boy. He might not be long a man but he isn’t a boy. He will prove useful to me. I think I’ll keep him.”

Over the next few weeks, Hye-Sung is glad for this decision. Park Soo-Ha proves to be a delightful conversationalist as he teaches her about the future. Every day they walk through the market and her personal business deliveries. “There is still corruption and poverty,” he says, “but we can vote for our leaders.”

“Even women? Giseang, too?” The question escapes her and he nods with a smile.

“Under the law, everyone is equal. There aren’t castes anymore. There are some things that are better than now but until we abolish money and capitalism, there are some things that are the same. There are still hoops to jump through but fewer of them are allowed to be explicitly about gender.”

“Do you vote?” she asks and he nods solemnly.

“My father would never forgive me otherwise. He was a investigative reporter.”

“And what were you?”

His smile is sad and far away. “I wanted to be a history teacher.”

four. If the way Magistrate Cha Kwan-Woo hangs around Jang Hye-Sung is any indication, Park Soo-Ha thinks he’s found the father of her children, and it irks him because he can hear it. Cha Kwan-Woo thinks about the times he made love to Hye-Sung often enough in his presence that Soo-Ha wants to strangle him out of pure jealousy.

Hye-Sung’s social projects make her the target of unhappy nobles and merchants and the magistrate is often at her side when she runs her errands to dissuade any push back.

And Cha Kwan-Woo does not trust Soo-Ha.

“You smile too much,” he says when a servant calls Hye-Sung away one evening.

“I don’t have anything to say to a man who regularly visits the gisaeng pavilion,” Soo-Ha snaps back. He is unprepared for the reply.

“That is where my daughter and her mother live. Hye-Sung is helping me purchase their freedom.”

Hye-Sung screams and it ends the conversation as they both run to her receiving room. She struggles to fight off Min Joon-Gook. Soo-Ha rips him off of her and tries to return the beating this man gave him. He feels something sharp pierce his gut but ignores it until Kwan-Woo’s sword slices through Min Joon-Gook’s neck.

Soo-Ha goes to his knees just as Hye-Sung screams again. “Get me a doctor!”

five. She knows not to take the knife out Soo-Ha as Kwan-Woo runs to get her someone who can save Soo-Ha’s life. She cups his cheek and tries not to cry as the color leaves his face. “Hye-Sung, I need my cell phone.”

“Cell phones are not magic,” she argues, afraid to pull her other hand away from his wound as blood spills out of him despite her care.

“Medicine has advanced so far,” he says with his tight smile. “If I see my cell phone, I will go back and they will be able to save me. I poorly tricked my mind into coming here. I’ve stopped your murder. Magistrate Cha avenged my father. I have to go back. I don’t belong here.” That hurts in another way because she is not ready to say goodbye to this strange young man.

He has become her closest, most beloved friend.

She rushes over to her vanity, pulls the foreign object out of her jewelry box, and brings it to him. “Come back to me,” she whispers and kisses his forehead. Soo-Ha curls his fingers into her skirts but makes her no promises.

“Goodbye, Hye-Sung.” He takes the cell phone and looks at it for a few seconds before he completely disappears out of her hands. She sits back and begins to cry. Kwan-Woo arrives with the doctor and she has no explanation for him.

She goes into mourning. It is better than waiting.

She writes him letters with the intention of using her steward and her money to deliver them to Soo-Ha in the future. It is over two hundred years away but she writes them anyway. She tells him how she rescued Kwan-Woo’s love, Do-Yeon, from the pavilion and how she intends to make their daughter, Yeon-Jae, her heir. Do-Yeon has a son by Kwan-Woo to become magistrate.

Two years worth of letters she writes him. She tells herself that is enough and ends the final one with a simple message.

If you cannot come back to me, then I hope you are happy.

She doesn’t tell him how lonely she is without him or how she has nightmares about the blood on her hands. She throws herself into her work so she can be the woman his history books remember.

It is winter when Sung-Bin interrupts her dinner. There is a guest at the gate seeking permission to join the household. She gets such requests all the time but she takes the time to see to each request personally.