Rebel Seoul

by Axie Oh

  “I could live in this car,” Ama says. She leans over to shift through the case’s contents. “Why is there so much alcohol in here?”

  Now it’s Alex’s turn to change the subject. “Like I said in my message,” he says loudly, “my father wanted a report on the development of the project, and to see the girls in person. As it so happens, he’s requested we go to him, since he refuses to step outside his property line as of late.”

  “Why not?” I twist open the bottle of water. It’s in a recyclable container that’ll be cleansed and resold at market value. Water this clean is costly.

  “The UKL have made multiple threats against his life.”

  “Ah, sorry.” I swallow a mouthful of water and wince as it slips into the wound on my lip. I look up to see Tera watching me. I attempt a reassuring smile, but it just pulls on the cut, and I wince again.

  Tera clicks her tongue. “Don’t smile if it hurts.”

  I raise a brow. “That sounds like a slogan.”

  She rolls her eyes. On her other side, Ama fiddles with the controls on the panel for the windows. She presses a button, and the windows switch from black to the vibrant colors of a variety show. Celebrities competing in some sort of singing competition. Ama and Tera are immediately enthralled.

  “What kind of threats?” I ask Alex. “It’s not like your father hasn’t received them before. No offense.”

  “None taken.” Alex reaches for his breast pocket, but finds it empty. His hand goes back to flicking his knee. “The moment he leaves his property, he receives messages in fifteen-minute intervals detailing his exact location, implying they could target him at any given moment. Although an overt threat hasn’t been issued, his intelligence officers are advising him to stay out of sight. We think the UKL have some sort of satellite with a massive range of geo-spatial positioning.”

  I frown. “I thought the UKL was an underground movement. How do they have that kind of technology?”

  “Underground. Aboveground.” Alex shrugs. “They’re just words. The movement is much larger than the media allows the public to believe. For ten years, the UKL has lain dormant, and the NSK has left them to simmer alone, too concerned with the war abroad to care about theoretical discontent at home. But the ideologies of that war have trickled through to the minds of many people over the years, not to mention the media blitzes by the Proselytizer. Many influential NSK citizens have defected to the rebellion, including Dr. Chung’s predecessor, the Tower’s most brilliant machinist and engineer. She was the woman who designed the initial blueprint of the Extension.”

  “Dr. Kim,” Tera says, turning from the show to watch Alex. “She was around the first year I was brought to the Tower, and then she disappeared. No one spoke of her, and they wouldn’t answer my questions when I asked where she went.”

  He nods. “She defected shortly after her brother died in the first battle of the Third Act. With technicians like her, the UKL will have weapons, advanced ones. And with overseas investors as well as the ones at home — whether the government believes they exist or not — the NSK has a real problem on its hands, should an uprising occur. And an uprising will occur, and soon, if the increase in UKL activities in the past months is any indication.”

  “What is the UKL’s goal?” Tera asks. “Do they want a complete overthrow of the NSK?”

  “I think their aim is higher. They believe in the abolishment of the Neo Council and the reinstitution of the sovereignty of nations.”

  I whistle. That’s a tall order. Of course it’s not news to me; most citizens know about the basis of the conflict for the war. But maybe it wasn’t included in Ama’s and Tera’s education. After all, it’s so ideologically circumspect. The Great War might have begun for a thousand different reasons, but at its core, it’s a battle between two schools of thought on the theory of nations. The first school, those who created the Neo Council, believed in the creed issued after the First Act of the Great War, that war is a product of nationhood, that nationhood drives countries into conflict over land, wealth, power, and pride. The second school believes in the reinstitution of the ideology that nations are places of culture, and that the mother­land is to be protected and cherished.

  My father had much pride for his country. But if pride and love are finite, he gave all to his country and left none for his family.

  Beliefs, in my experience, get you killed. And there are so many of them. How do you know which one is right, which one is good? Isn’t it better not to believe in anything at all?

  Ama clicks off the television, stopping the background noise of the show. She clicks the button again, and the windows and the ceiling of the car go clear, revealing the city. We’re passing through a busy intersection. Although the Grid prevents accidents, at peak hours, with more cars on the road, traffic does occur around intersections.

  In all directions are massive skyscrapers made of vermilion, cobalt, and adamantine glass. Trailers for films and video games play short ads on giant holo-screens floating in the air. Overhead, the blue tracks of the skyway bloom yellow as a train sweeps by, the underbelly a blur of bright colors.

  Our vehicle slows as the car in front of us releases passengers onto the busy side street.

  “Do we have plans for the day?” I ask. We’re still cruising along the streets of the Gangnam Station area where they picked me up.

  “Not until we have to meet my father at 1700.”

  Ama gasps at something outside the car and then turns sheepishly around. “Sorry,” she says. “I’ve just never been outside the Tower before.”

  If she was looking for the thing to say to make Alex give her anything she wants, that would have been it.

  “We have all day,” he announces. “What do you want to do?”

  Tera and Ama exchange a glance. “Can we go shopping?”

  * * *

  ■ ■ ■

  The luxury mall at Jamsil doesn’t open until 0900, but Alex arranges for workers to accommodate us an hour earlier.

  Unlike mass-market retail stores that have automated services, the wealthy still like the personal touch of salespeople. We’re greeted at the door by a host of uniformed men and women who bow and take our coats. They’re trained enough not to react outwardly to the fact that the girls are wearing government-issued cotton shirts and pants and I have a black eye and a bruised lip.

  The mall itself is a huge construct with more than three hundred stores across thirty floors. The interior walls are cream and peach with crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceilings. The floors are so polished that I feel bad walking on them with my shoes on.

  We head to one of the upper floors with a bright arcade of shops selling clothing and other wearable items.

  “Get whatever you like,” Alex says grandly to the delight of the attendants working on commission. “The government is paying for it.”

  Ama’s eyes widen. “They gave you an account?”

  “They figured I would only use it for project-related expenses. They should know better. Nobody loves spending other people’s money more than rich people.”

  “Tera and I are project-related expenses!” Ama says cheekily.

  As the girls follow the female attendants toward the stores, I catch Alex’s eye. “That was a lie, wasn’t it?” The government wouldn’t spend money on anything it would consider superfluous, like the entertainment of its soldiers.

  Alex nods. “I want Ama to feel at ease, purchase anything she’d like without guilt. And it’s only partly a lie. My father is the head of government. If it were a complete bluff, Ama would be able to tell.”

  Soon Alex gets hijacked by the male attendants, and I move away to explore the rest of the floor. It’s impressive. The larger stores against the walls are for specific brands, while the middle of the space is sections based on products — gloves, hats, shoes, etc. There are even carved sculptures situa
ted around the arcade.

  One in particular catches my eye. It’s of a woman, carved out of marble. The artist has put intricate details into her appearance — long, elegant eyes; round, smooth cheeks. She’s naked, and her wings are folded against her back.

  I read the plaque beneath the sculpture. The Star Maiden by Kim Heejong. The plaque describes the Star Maiden as a celestial being with supernatural powers who longs for the stars, but remains on earth due to humans’ desires.

  “Sir.”

  I turn. An attendant stands behind me. He holds a silver tray with grooming equipment. “Can I interest you in a shave or a haircut?”

  I wonder if this is a hint at my general state of appearance. Still, I decline, although I take the comb from the tray. “Can I have this?”

  He nods, looking skeptical.

  I pocket the comb and wander back the way I came, catching sight of Ama and Tera moving into one of the brand stores, closely followed by their cloud of attendants.

  At the front of the store is a couch, which I immediately sprawl over.

  “Sir.”

  Another attendant has appeared. A different one, I think. He holds a silver tray with a coffee service. This one I’ll take advantage of. I fix myself a cup and stick a biscuit in my mouth.

  “I see you found the food,” Alex says, sitting down beside me. He pours himself a black coffee and proceeds to down it.

  I grimace. “Can’t you drink it like a normal person?”

  “No,” he says. “Where’d the girls go?” He looks around the store and spots them heading into the changing rooms.

  He puts the cup on the tray, and the attendant leaves. “I made reservations at a hotel restaurant. We can have an early dinner, and then head over to my father’s.”

  “Which hotel?”

  “Silla.”

  “Fancy.” I look down at my gray sweater, unraveling at the sleeves. “They might not let me in.”

  “Ah,” Alex says, “I forgot to tell you. We’ve got an appointment with the tailor to fit us for formal dress suits.”

  I frown. “Wait, why?”

  “There’s a sponsor event at the Tower later tonight. It isn’t specific to the project, but the Tower wants all its representatives to be there, including us.”

  If it involves sponsors, then Park Taesung might be there. I can ask him about the kidnapped girls. “When were you going to tell me about this?”

  He shrugs. “Right now?” The attendant appears with another pot of coffee. Alex begins to fix himself a second cup. “In any case, I figured we could pick up our suits early and wear them to dinner. I thought it’d be fun for Ama to dress up and go out.”

  I stare at Alex. He drinks his coffee at a slower, more human rate. “You care about her,” I say.

  He spins liquid in his cup. “We spend every day together.”

  It’s not exactly an answer, but he doesn’t say no.

  “The young women are ready,” an attendant interrupts. “If you would please follow.”

  Alex and I put down our cups. At the back of the room, the attendants are lined up like it’s a gangsters’ meeting, which goes to show the normative in my environment.

  Ama and Tera stand outside the dressing room in front of a grand mirror. Ama twirls in a yellow dress. “How do I look?”

  Tera raises her eyes to meet my gaze through the mirror. She wears a red jumpsuit. It clings to her shoulders and waist, flaring out at the legs to taper at her ankles.

  Ama stops twirling, and Alex approaches her. “You look beautiful,” I hear him say.

  Through the mirror, Tera watches me. “You don’t like it?”

  “Do I look like I don’t like it?”

  She sighs. “What kind of answer is that?”

  I scowl. “Of course I like it.”

  She whirls around from the mirror. “Why can’t we have a normal interaction?”

  “You look like a dream,” I say, “one I never want to wake from.” Some dreams are better than real life.

  It’s worth sounding like a fool when she blushes. “Do you dream in red, Lee Jaewon?”

  I take a step toward her. “Now I will.”

  She matches my grin and moves forward to place a hand on my shoulder.

  “Tera!” Ama yells, and we jump apart. “Alex says there’s an aquarium here, and they have whales. Can we go, please?”

  Alex pays for the clothing, and we head outside. It’s already well past 1200, and the mall is filling up. We make our way into the crowd. There’s a small line outside the aquarium.

  “I can pay to have the aquarium to ourselves,” Alex suggests, looking hopeful.

  “That defeats the purpose!” Ama cries. “The animals won’t be happy just seeing us.”

  “That,” Alex says, “is not a thought I would ever have.”

  “Hey,” I ask Ama, curious, “can you read animal minds?”

  Ama laughs as if I’m joking, but I’m not joking. Tera shakes her head in our collective direction.

  The aquarium fills up fast, but we take our time going from one attraction to another. At the end, there’s a gift shop. Ama immediately rushes toward the display of whale-themed stuffed animals.

  Tera joins her and stares at a blue penguin for a long time. She picks it up, stroking its soft plush.

  “I’ll buy it for you,” I say from behind her. She jumps.

  “No, it’s okay,” she says. “I don’t want to spend your money. I don’t need it.”

  She doesn’t put the penguin back on the shelf.

  “I have two jobs, Tera,” I say, wresting it from her fingers, “not including the one that involves watching you, which I am getting paid for.”

  She laughs and follows me to the counter. “I should make your job harder for you, then.”

  “You could.” I grin. “But then I’ll stop buying you gifts.”

  After the aquarium, we look around the mall some more before heading outside to explore the outdoor shopping areas. Alex gets a call from Dr. Koga. We wait in silence as he listens before hanging up.

  “Well?” Ama asks, exasperated when he doesn’t immediately divulge the details.

  “Dr. Koga’s covering for us. We’re good for now.”

  I blink, surprised. I wonder if that’s a new development, or if Koga’s been aware of today’s events this whole time.

  By the time Alex and I pick up our suits, it’s already 1530, and we have to rush to make our dinner reservation.

  * * *

  ■ ■ ■

  The car pulls up outside the Silla Grand Hotel. We exit and hurry beneath the golden awning into the grand foyer. I’ve only been here once, when Bora called me to save her from a date. I’d shown up, and she’d proclaimed me her “kkangpae” boyfriend. We then left, called Minwoo, and hit up a noraebang for three hours straight, belting out songs until our throats were sore.

  Tonight the hotel looks much the same, except for this time I’m the one on the date.

  The restaurant is off the entrance hall. The host takes Alex’s name and leads us to a private table at the back of the room. The restaurant, like the mall, is built in an unidentifiable Western style with mirrored ceilings and gilded tables. It’s an open space. We receive curious stares, probably because Alex and I wear our tailor-made suits, and Tera and Ama look incredible in the outfits they picked out earlier. We’re also the youngest customers in the restaurant. It’s mostly upper-tier socialites and businesspeople. One man in a tux turns at the sight of Tera, a look of open admiration on his face.

  “Jaewon-ah?” Tera says, noticing I’ve stepped closer to her.

  “Ah.” I scratch the back my head. “It’s nothing.”

  “If you’re afraid of all the bright lights, I’ll protect you.”

  I laugh. “Yeah, you will.” I lower my hand to
her back. “Let’s go.”

  We reach the table. I follow Alex’s lead and pull out Tera’s chair, then take the seat to her right.

  Three servers converge upon us. Alex immediately orders a bottle of wine, which technically he and I are legal to drink at eighteen. The girls aren’t, but the server doesn’t ask any questions. Too classy to be legal? Another explains the menu, and the third fills our glasses with water.

  “What are you getting?” Tera picks up the menu — a thin tablet — and scrolls through the contents. There’s a feature to show descriptions of the food by tapping on their pictures.

  “You order, and I’ll eat off your plate.”

  She mock-glares at me. “If you eat my food, I will hurt you.”

  I tap a picture on her menu. “I’m having this.”

  “Lobster?”

  I rub my stomach and grin at her.

  On the other side of us, Alex is pouring wine into a glass for Ama. “Taste it first,” Alex says. “You might not like it.”

  Ama presses the wine to her lips and then grimaces. “Yuck.”

  Alex chuckles, raising his glass to clink it against hers. “More for me.”

  “You do remember we’re seeing your father after this.”

  He downs his glass. “Why do you think I ordered a bottle of wine?”

  The rest of the dinner goes smoothly. I don’t eat Tera’s food, but we share two glasses of wine between us. Ama tells a story about the first time she met Tera, which we’d witnessed in the memory, but she elaborates. They’d been confined to separate rooms, but they’d shared a window. Although they couldn’t hear each other through the glass, Ama’s abilities allowed them to speak mind-to-mind.

  “So,” Alex asks, “at any point in time, you two could be talking without Jaewon and me knowing?”

  Ama gives him a cheeky smile, her dimple showing. “Maybe.”

  I tell the story about the last time I’d been at this hotel, how Bora had called me, and I’d come into the lobby. Bora’s performance as an aggrieved heiress with a wrong-side-of-the-river boyfriend was . . . dramatic, and I didn’t think her date would buy it, but he did.