In the morning, the breeze felt sharp and cold, sweeping by the thatched roofs and whispering between the pine trees across the village. Soo Young woke up and wrapped the shawl around her shoulders as she went out into the yard. Her breath was visible in the foggy air. The clouds were at a low altitude, with no sign of rain; it was just a gloomy grey sky that withheld something back.
In the kitchen, her mother was purring quietly while cooking anchovy broth. The air smelled of seaweed and radish.
"Are you heading to the fields today?" her mother questioned without facing her.
Soo Young said. "Yes, Jun Ho said he'd meet me near the east trail. There's still some sweet potato left to harvest."
Her mother's hands stopped stirring for a moment. "I saw your uncle by the shed this morning. He's been digging through those old chests again."
Soo Young raised her eyebrows. "The wooden ones that belonged to Appa?"
Her mother said in a noncommittal voice. "Maybe. He's been restless lately. Always up before dawn, walking the hills like he's chasing ghosts."
As Soo Young heard this, she immediately pulled out of the kitchen. She ran towards the old toolshed, crossing the yard,
That was enough to pull Soo Young away from the kitchen. She crossed the yard to the old toolshed, where vines had climbed up the wooden sides and the lock had rusted away. Inside, the air was filled with dirt and memories.
Uncle Dae Sik was sitting on the floor with his legs crossed, and papers were scattered all around him. His bulky hands quivered slightly as he unfolded an envelope that turned yellow with age, and its seal was already broken.
"You're up early," Soo Young asked softly.
He got shocked and put the letter beneath a book. "Just cleaning up."
Soo Young knelt beside him. "Is that Appa's handwriting?"
He remained quiet. After a long moment, he sighed, what sounded like the weight of a decade, and handed her the letter.
The ink had lost its colour, but the writing was unmistakably her father's. Her chest felt heavy as she read:
"Dae Sik-ah. If anything happens to me, don't let them find the radio. It's hidden where we sat during that last storm, behind the stacked stones. You know the place. Keep Soo Young safe. She's too young to understand any of this now, but one day, she will.
Don't trust the man from Incheon. He knows more than he lets on."
– Hyun Soo
Soo Young looked at her Uncle cluelessly. "A radio? What is this about?"
Uncle Dae Sik dabbed his face, the silence stretched like a taut rope between them. "Your father… he was involved in something. Something bigger than farming and fishing."
"What do you mean?"
He hesitated, then said, "During the war, he worked as a courier for someone connected to the resistance. Even after the armistice, he stayed in touch with a group. That radio was used to transfer messages."
Soo Young's heart throbbed. "Why haven't you ever told us?"
"Because your mother asked me not to. She wanted you and your siblings to grow up without fear." He looked at her, eyes welling up. "But there's more. The man from Incheon came once after your father died. Said he wanted to "settle debts." We never saw him again. But I've always wondered if your father's death…was an accident."
Soo Young inhaled sharply. That year was a blur of memories of grief and survival. A fishing accident, they told her. A capsized boat. A storm.
Was it all a lie?
Uncle Dae Sik got up slowly, it felt like the truth had drained him. "There's a reason I've stayed here all these years. Not just for family. I owed him that."
Soo Young sat still, eyes fixed on the letter in her lap. The lines on the paper faded as tears welled up, quiet and uninvited.
In the afternoon, Jun Ho met her by the east trail as promised. His smile disappeared as he saw her.
"Something happened?"
She gave him the letter.
He read it, tensed, reading each word more than once. When he finished, he carefully folded the letter and returned it to her.
"Do you believe it?" she asked.
"I believe your father wasn't just a fisherman," Jun Ho said. "And I believe you deserve to know the full story."
After that, they walked together to the field, but did not start working instantly. Instead, they stood under the willow tree, it's the same tree that provided shade to her as a child when she used to run across the fields after school, before her father departed, before everything changed.
"Jun Ho," she said gently, "Did your father ever talk about mine? They worked together sometimes."
He nodded softly. "He used to say your father was brave. Too brave, maybe. Said he always asked questions no one else dared to."
As the wind picked up, Soo Young closed her eyes briefly. When she opened her eyes, she felt more composed.
"I want to find that radio," she said. "Behind the stacked stones. He left it for a reason."
Jun Ho, without a delay, said. "Then we'll go together."
Then in the evening, after the fields had emptied and the village bustle settled into the usual nighttime rhythm, cooking and soft giggles, Soo Young again went to the toolshed. Uncle Dae Sik had left, but papers were scattered. Within them were old photographs of her father wearing a suit and standing next to men she didn't recognize. Some of them were wearing a military uniform, and some were not. A completely different world from the one she'd known.
She took a photograph and held it in the light. In the background, she saw a barley field and the stone wall her father had mentioned.
It was the place they sat during the last storm.
She had a clear memory of that day, she was only seven. Her father took her to the hilltop to watch the clouds gather. They ate roasted chestnuts and told stories to entertain themselves while the rain thrashed the trees.
Earlier, it was just a heartwarming memory. But now, it was a clue.
Later that night, Soo Young sat beside the fireplace with her mother, the letter concealed safely in her blouse.
"Omma," she said quietly, "why didn't you ever tell me Appa was involved in something dangerous?"
Her mother stared at the fire for a long time before answering. "Because I wanted you to live. Do not chase ghosts. Do not carry burdens too heavy for your age."
"But I'm not a child anymore," Soo Young said. "And I think… I want to understand him. The choices he made."
Her mother's eyes filled with warmth, and for the first time in a very long time, she reached over and held Soo Young's hand.
"He was a good man. Flawed, yes. But everything he did was to protect us." She paused. "Just promise me, you won't let the past eat you alive. Use it to build something better."
Soo Young nodded. And in the silence that followed, she felt a change, not an end, but a beginning.