My Songbird's Dream

40. Rewriting out grief

Early March,
1945 Occupied Seoul

Later, Madame Nam and Madame Park sat as they looked through items that had been stored away, in the lounge, their conversation flowing gently as they sorted through memories and mementos.

"That one right there, maybe we should-" Madame Park began.

The conversation came to a light pause when a knock came at the door. Madame Nam looked up, her brow furrowing slightly as she bowed her head in acknowledgment of the visitor.

Elder Sato rushed inside, his face painted with enough anger to revive the dead, if such a thing were plausible. His hands shook, his face red as he shook his head in disbelief and rage.

"You... you set me up. You set me up!" he screamed, his voice echoing off the walls of the room.

Madame Nam scoffed slightly, her eyes narrowing as she watched the older man throwing papers about her lounge office. She remained seated, her posture regal and unfazed by his outburst.

"Now, Sato... Whining like a child is unbecoming of you," she chided, her voice laced with a hint of amusement.

"You knew!" he continued, pointing his hands towards Madame Park and Madame Nam. His eyes blazed with a fury that seemed to consume him, his breathing heavy and labored.

Madame Nam exchanged a glance with Madame Park, more amused than surprised.

Rising gracefully from her seat, Madame Nam approached Sato, her steps almost teasing his mannerism taunting him to act on his impulse:

She met his gaze, her own eyes filled with a steely determination that seemed to slice through his rage.

Madame Nam's words danced about, meanwhile a heavy weight that seemed to press down on Elder Sato's shoulders. He stared at her, his eyes wide with disbelief and desperation, as if he couldn't quite comprehend the gravity of the situation.

"You... you want me to turn in my son... you wanted me to..." he stammered, his voice breaking with each word.

Madame Nam watched him, her expression one of cool detachment. She pointed about the room as things were being moved, her attention seemingly focused on the task at hand rather than the man before her.

"You'll give yourself a stroke. We wouldn't want that," she remarked, her tone almost conversational.

Elder Sato's hands trembled as he wiped the sweat from his brow. "Listen! You can't. You can't do that!" he protested, his voice rising in pitch.

Madame Park watched the scene unfold, a hint of amusement playing at the corners of her lips. She had never seen Elder Sato so desperate, so willing to beg for attention. It was savoring to witness, to bask in the desperation of the stubborn, unyielding man she had known in the past.

Madame Nam, for her part, seemed unaffected by Elder Sato's distress. She continued about her business, moving items and directing the staff, as if he were nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

Finally, she stopped and turned to face him, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Now, why are you complaining? It's not as if your son was doing anything other than draining your pockets," she remarked, her voice covered with a hint of disdain.

Elder Sato's face contorted with rage, his hand rising as if to strike Madame Nam. But before he could make contact, she broke into a small chuckle, grasping his arm and tapping his aged cheek.

"How cute. Almost amusing to witness such effort," she mused, her tone patronizing.

She paused for a moment, glancing towards the clock on the wall. "Now, Sato, if that was all, I highly suggest you take some time to figure out some of the last words your child will hear. Because from where I'm standing, I don't see either one of you speaking to one another for a long time."