September 18, 2001
Gamagogi brought Gamamusa to his home. Living in a quiet apartment building across from Kim Il-sung University in Pyongyang, Gamagogi drew the curtains. Through the sheer curtains and glass, Gamamusa could see the university buildings. “…Sir, I mean… Father. Are we living here starting today?” Gamagogi nodded at Gamamusa’s question. “I’ll show you where you’ll sleep. Follow me.” Gamamusa followed to the bedroom and unpacked. His new room had white walls, a television, and an attached bathroom.
“Once you unpack, shower in the bathroom. You worked hard today, so get to bed soon,” Gamagogi said. Gamamusa tilted his head. “…Sir, aren’t we sleeping together? At the orphanage, we all slept in one room.” Gamagogi sighed. “…This isn’t that kind of place. Go to sleep. Oh, and starting tomorrow, I’m taking you to my lab for a health checkup, so be ready.” Hearing Gamagogi leave, Gamamusa grew curious. …What kind of health checkup is he talking about?
Outside Gamamusa’s bedroom, Gamagogi made a phone call. After a few words, the person on the other end responded with unease. “…So you’re really going through with it. If something goes wrong, I’m not involved. If this jeoparders my promotion to Science Department Director, you’ll be the first to face retaliation.” Gamagogi nodded. “…Of course, Deputy Director Ri Man-hui. Since this is a child bio-experiment, a humanitarian experiment advocate like you won’t be suspected. If anything goes wrong, you can purge me.”
…
Gamamusa observed Ko Ye-eun experimenting with cow gut bacteria. She tested various samples critical to grass digestion. “…She’s working hard. It’s kind of pitiful that her research ends up benefiting me…” Ring! Suddenly, Gamamusa’s phone rang. Glancing at it, he saw a call from Gamagogi’s name. Instinctively sensing something happened to Park Sung-jae, he answered in Japanese.
“Moshi moshi, yes, this is Nagato Soren. How can I help you?” Instead of Park Sung-jae, a woman’s voice came through. “…Hello, is this Gamamusa’s number? When did you change your name?” Gamamusa responded calmly. “…Huh?! What are you talking about? I don’t know that person. You’ve got the wrong number.” Click. He hung up, leaning back in his chair leisurely. “Alright… now the NIS is involved…”
…
“…What a complete nutcase. Still a total jerk, which is nice.” Jung Min-ju handed the phone to Park Sung-jae. Still disguised as Gamagogi, he played the old man. “…Heh, he’s not that kind of guy… seems he still has no plans to return to our republic.” Jung Min-ju glared at him. They were in a Mokpo police station, having left Sinan, with Jung Min-ju interrogating Park Sung-jae, disguised as Gamagogi.
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“…Come to think of it, I haven’t heard your full story. How did Gamamusa end up defecting?” Park Sung-jae shrugged. “…Well, I don’t understand why he went to Japan instead of South Korea. Our family wasn’t poor, either.” Jung Min-ju eyed him suspiciously, pulling out her investigation notebook and opening it in front of him. “…My investigation shows Gamamusa defected in 2005 at age 15. That’s four years after you adopted him and took him to North Korea. Then, in 2009, he falsified a birth certificate in Japan to change his South Korean ID age to 40. Since then, he’s been posing as a professor.”
Park Sung-jae, disguised as Gamagogi, nodded. “That kid’s got it in him. Young but too smart, always learning bad tricks.” Jung Min-ju gave a knowing look. “He must’ve come from a wealthy family, so why go through all this fraud to stay in South Korea? There’s one answer: his father was purged.” She showed him a report detailing Gamagogi’s purge and death in North Korea. Park Sung-jae’s face stiffened, and Jung Min-ju pressed further. “…Who are you, really?”
…
“Hey, you crazy commie bastard! Get lost!” Gamamusa bolted awake from a vivid dream. He rubbed his forehead, drenched in cold sweat, feeling like he was dying. “Pfft… ha… ha…” Standing, he headed to the living room. Looking down at his pajamas, he suddenly remembered he was in Gamagogi’s house. He gazed out the window. “…Looks a bit cold.” Returning to the bedroom, he put on a coat and opened the door.
The outside air was colder than expected. Cars passed intermittently, and citizens were out doing morning exercises. Shivering, he walked to the riverside park. The biting wind led him to the railing, where he warmed his hands by blowing on them. “Can’t sleep, huh? Or do you always wake up early? If you’re trying to escape, it’s already too late.” Gamagogi appeared, standing beside him. He gripped the railing, looking at the river. “…You’re up early too, sir,” Gamamusa said, shrugging.
After a pause, Gamagogi spoke. “…I have something to tell you. When I first brought you here, it was to conduct bio-experiments on you. That hasn’t changed.” Gamamusa glanced at him, then faced the river again. “…No wonder you didn’t rip out my organs right away. That’s the reason? I don’t care if I die in an experiment. It’s meaningful work, isn’t it?” They stood silently, facing the river. Gamamusa spoke again.
“…Sir, at the hotel, those kids called me a commie. What does ‘commie’ mean? Someone useless?” Gamagogi shrugged. “…A commie is someone who blindly worships their country without criticism. Those people are just pests, useless to a nation’s progress—like those kids who saw their country as superior and insulted you as a North Korean.”
Gamamusa and Gamagogi faced each other. “…I know kids like you well. You’re like me. You want to be useful to this world. But useful people don’t brag with words. The process will be unimaginably painful.” Gamamusa tightly gripped Gamagogi’s hand. They looked at the horizon beyond the river. “…Remember this, Gamamusa. A true patriot doesn’t boast for the nation. They simply advance it.”
