The Masks We Wear

10

Seri wasn't sure why she was making such an effort for this year's Chuseok. She had decided to cook a proper meal and invited the rest of the unit to dinner on Chuseok day, since the boys didn't have the means or the time to travel home. It would be a tight squeeze in her living room, but if they all sat on the floor it could work.

Back in the day (way back in the day) when she still lived with her family, Chuseok was not a celebratory affair. They might have a meal together, but it was done out of obligation and not familial unity.

While she was in the South, where Chuseok was accorded a lavish three days as opposed to just the one in the North, Seri hadn't warmed up to the holidays either. Aside from the fact that she didn't have family to celebrate with, she simply wasn't the type of person to want or need to celebrate holidays.

This was the first year she had bothered to make dishes for the day itself. Seri told herself it was because she was practising her newly acquired cooking skills.

She had bought some mackerel from the market ahead of time, dried and salted them, and on the day taken it out to steam. She made the batter for the mung bean pancakes which Ri Mu-hyeok had sampled (and Ri Jeong-hyeok, too, now that she came to think of it.) She had a stew merrily bubbling with pork, kimchi and tofu. And lastly, she had bought all the ingredients for songpyeon.

Seri surveyed her small but industrious kitchen in satisfaction. She had arranged to meet Ri Mu-hyeok for coffee at 3pm, so she had woken early to prepare all the dishes. Now she could leave them to cool off and reheat again when she returned.

Seri hadn't yet been to a coffee shop here in Pyongyang, given that they were more upscale than the cafés which littered the streets of Seoul. Really, Seri hadn't eaten out at all since she'd returned to Pyongyang. So it was with some excitement that she made her way towards the appointed coffee shop, walking with a little skip in her step at the thought of tasting a cup of hand drip coffee again.

Seri paused at the doorway to take in the interior. This wasn't quite the kind of coffee shop she was used to. It was lit only by a high strip of windows along one wall, the other walls were all made of brick. The tables and shelves were all made of wood, giving the cafe an overall cosy and intimate atmosphere.

Her eye caught on a solitary man lit by the afternoon light at one of the tables beside the window. Ri Mu-hyeok sat straight and square, with the same stiff posture that Ri Jeong-hyeok tended to favour. Seri wondered if it was something their parents had instilled in them.

She approached the table, bowing her greeting. "Tongmu, did you just arrive in Pyongyang?" She knew it was at least a three-hour journey from the village where he was posted.

Ri Mu-hyeok turned his warm smile towards her. "Ah, Yoon Seri tongmu. I left early and arrived in the morning. It just so happened that fellow soldier was heading this way too, so we rode together. Please, take a seat and have a look at the menu," he gestured at the drink menu lying on the table.

Seri slid into the chair and perused the menu with some amusement. How quaint that they still gave each table a paper menu like this for coffee. "You must love your family very much to make a one-day journey like this for Chuseok," she commented.

"It happened to coincide with something else I had to see to in Pyongyang. Otherwise, a one-day trip like this is rare for me," Ri Mu-hyeok said. "I heard that the cappuccino here is good, by the way."

"At the risk of sounding like a snob, I will always order hand-drip if it's on the menu," Seri said, with a small, apologetic smile. "Are you not a big coffee drinker, Ri Mu-hyeok tongmu?"