In love with a Korean

I was already on my second glass of whiskey. The empty pub foreshadowed a rainy night, as had been announced in the evening news. Each drop that slid down the windowpane seemed to tell its story. For a moment, I found myself immersed in silence, revisiting scenes that had echoed since the day I set foot in Seoul. These memories blended with the tears held back in my eyes, which I stubbornly avoided letting roll.

The bar owner, a middle-aged man who treated me like a daughter, kept a watchful eye on me. Ever since the day we met when I arrived from Brazil and ended up on the other side of the world, in South Korea, we had built a bond that I considered that of a dear uncle. Even from afar, behind the counter, I could perceive the anguish etched on his face, concerned about the stitches on my head, a result of the recent incident. However, it was the pain in my heart that more clouded my mind.

A part of me feels foreign, a recent revelation that connects me to an incredibly wealthy Korean. It turned my life upside down, but that wasn't the reason behind the twenty stitches on my head and my intoxication. That part of the story would come later.

Ye-Jun waited for the bar to close before approaching me. I was absorbed, watching the torrential rain, trying to set aside the complexities of life. The heavy drops pounded against the window, like tears freely streaming down my face, worn by disappointment and longing.

"Min-Ji, you're drinking too much tonight,"

"Uncle, I've always been a heavy drinker. Since I arrived here, it seems I've perfected that 'skill' even more. On days like this, melancholic and rainy, a shot of liquor becomes necessary. Especially after the tragic events that unfolded in my life, I've felt this longing. Don't be upset with me. I ask that today, you be more than an uncle, be a friend who offers support. The empathy between us is almost surreal. Since the first glance, remember?"

"Alright, but as an uncle, I have to ask: are you okay?" he said, pointing to the bandage on my head. "Seeing those stitches on your head makes me feel powerless. I was careless, let my guard down, couldn't prevent the worst."

"Please, uncle, don't make me feel worse than I already do. In response to your question, yes, the stitches will heal. It wasn't anything serious. A scar will always be there, reminding me of that day. But the deeper damage lies within my mind and soul, which honestly doesn't know which direction to take. I keep questioning why this had to happen to me."

"I didn't understand a single strange word you said, and you didn't deserve what happened at all. The crazy and disturbed person who did this, who ordered this to be done to you, is the one who deserves to be where they are, in prison. Now, it's me who's asking for a favor. Let's put a stop to drinking for today; I'm genuinely concerned. Can you please comply?"

He looked at me confused, and I changed the subject:

"Does that electric guitar and the sound system still work?" I asked, pointing to the inactive stage. It was a half-moon-shaped wooden platform. The wood was worn out, unlike the cables and musical instruments that seemed to have never been used.

"Yes, they work. Occasionally, some friends use them, and the customers love it."

"It doesn't seem like they're being used. The instruments are in brand-new condition."

"I always replace and donate the old ones to music schools."

"That's incredible. Can I use them?"

"Yes, of course. This bar is all yours."

"There are so many things they don't know about me. I need to make the most of this gift that I still remember having. I inherited it from my mother; her singing conveyed purity and beauty. Ms. Maria was like that; her melodious voice enchanted everyone."

Sitting down, I allowed the nostalgia of the moment to fill the atmosphere. While singing 'Again' by Roberto Carlos, tears streamed down my face.

'You were the greatest of my flings

Of all the hugs, the one I never forget

You were of the loves I had, the most complicated and the simplest for me.

You were the best of my mistakes

The strangest story that someone has already written

And it is for these and other reasons that my longing reminds me of everything again.

You were the sincere lie

The biggest joke that ever happened to me

You were the oldest thing

The friendliest love that appeared to me

Of the memories that I bring to life, you are the one I like missing

Only then can I feel you very close to me again

I forgot to try to forget

I decided to want you because I wanted to

I decided to remind you as many times as I wanted, with nothing to lose

Ah, you were all happiness

You were the evil that only did me good

You were the best of my plans

The biggest mistake I could make

Of the memories that I bring to life, it's the longing that I like having

Like that, I feel you very close to me again'

"What is the meaning of this song?"

"This song delves into a love that transcends time, involving both the past and the present," she explained. "It explores the difficulties that come to light, which paradoxically strengthen the bond between those involved. Furthermore, it addresses a challenging relationship that, despite being filled with pleasure, sincerity, and intensity, is not free from complications."

"And isn't that how all love should be?" he pondered.

"Should it be? I think mine could have been less complicated. At least a little," she responded.

She left the stage and returned to the table, watching part of the recording without reaching the end. It was a heavy burden on a heart that had been falling apart for over a month. The recording was great, considering it was an amateur one. When she sobered up, she added subtitles to it at home.

"I had no idea you had such a beautiful voice. I'm impressed," he remarked.

"Yes, especially for singing samba. As I mentioned, I inherited this from my mother. My grandparents said she didn't speak; she sang her first words when she was just a year and a half old. They listened to the radio, and she, in a way melodic, pronounced two words from that same song, 'again'."

"And what do you intend to do with this video?"

"I'll edit it and give it to you on a USB stick. When the time comes, I want you to give it to..." The word didn't come out. My throat tightened as if something were blocking it.

"It feels like a goodbye, Min-Ji. As if you were leaving," I said, sensing the sadness in his voice.

"I'm not running away. And I'm not leaving permanently. I plan to take an extended vacation, but I will return. You are my cornerstone in the Kang family, even though I don't express that to Aunt or Grandpa. I can't even remember them; it breaks my heart," he said, his voice filled with emotion.

Ye-Jun pulled me into a brotherly hug.

"Get over it and come back. You need to be here. Where are you going?" I asked, feeling a mix of concern and curiosity.

"I still don't know. I'll let my heart guide me," he replied, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

"You don't know where you're going, but do you at least know what you're going to do?" I asked, hoping for some clarity.

"I think I'm going to write a novel that starts in Brazil and unfolds in South Korea. It's the story of a Brazilian woman who moved to that country, fell in love with it, but..." Before I could finish, I lightly kissed that handsome man's cheek and walked out into the light rain.

"Take an umbrella," he said, running after me to the door.

I had almost reached the corner and I didn't look back. I let the rain soak me, cleansing my body. The cleansing of the soul would come later. I got home soaked, but I didn't even worry whether I was going to get sick or not.

After a long shower, I sat down at the computer to edit the video. It wasn't an easy task, and I wasn't sure if the Korean translation would be accurate. I chose to do the translation in English, confident that he would understand the words and their importance at the appropriate time.

*******

The flight, although it was already long, seemed even more endless. I couldn't sleep, not even during the first movie, and even less during the second after calling Switzerland. The anticipation of finally arriving was blended with a deep longing for my homeland. I had imagined that in Rio de Janeiro, I would feel at home. However, I came to realize that home is not merely confined to a physical shelter, but is also constructed through the love that binds people together.

*****

Two days later, I was in Brazil, sitting on Arpoador beach, watching the sunset with my faithful companions and childhood friends, and sharing with them everything that had happened to me.

Rio de Janeiro – 2019

I raced through the hospital corridors as the microphone announced my name for an emergency heart surgery. I worked in both the public and private sectors, earning a living through practicing medicine while occasionally enjoying a social life. My life was enriched by the presence of my two best friends, who, like me, were also doctors. Since childhood, they had warmed my heart and shared my love for Brazilian music, particularly the joy of a lively samba circle on the beach.

I graduated from the Federal University of Rio de Janeiro, securing the top spot in my class. Despite my academic success, there was always one passion that kept me away from books: samba. Even during the demanding periods of mandatory internships and throughout my residency attending, I always found a way to participate in rehearsals at my favorite samba school. My friends, ever loyal, were always there to support me.

Cardiology had always fascinated me, but the decisive factor in choosing this specialization came from witnessing a heart problem that my father faced. However, this somewhat painful story will be shared another time.

**********

At the end of the afternoon, exhausted after a thirty-six-hour shift and three surgeries throughout the day, I was finally able to rest. My residency encompassed both general and cardiac surgery.

My faithful friends, who have heard me talk since childhood that one day I would be a doctor, say that I love fixing others. Observing my passion for the craft, they too were drawn to the same path. The truth is that I see an operation as a way to heal, my eyes light up when I can perform a surgical procedure and watch the person wake up and go through the recovery process.

I left the hospital with my body aching all over. Ângela and Lorena were already waiting for me. It was Thursday and whenever we could, we had happy hour on the waterfront. However, that day, without knowing exactly why, I wanted my house. The food I made, and the bed, seemed to call me homesick. Maybe if I were listening to good music and drinking beer, my world wouldn't have changed so much.

They still insisted, but when I put something into my head, it had to be very, very persuasive to convince me.

"Shall we go to the waterfront, to any bar we see ahead, or to the rooftop bar?"

"Today I will disappoint you. I'm exhausted, potentially I have a fever or a virus. The shift and three surgeries, one after the other, exhausted me. I'll drink some wine at home and then head straight to bed."

"Julia..."

Oh, that's my name.

"I believe in the first option. You must have a fever or a virus. I've seen you perform six surgeries in a twenty-four-hour shift and still go to the samba circle. Your body, even when exhausted, seems to forget all its tiredness when you hear a tambourine or tambourine. Something is really strange. The hot brunette's body can't help but move to the sound of the tambourine, like a samba singer's daughter."

"But today it won't be like that. Possibly, I have a virus because my body is sore all over. And, strangely enough, unwillingly."

The two approached me and playfully touched my forehead to check if I had a fever. I pulled away, pretending to be annoyed, and kissed them both on the cheek. I got in the car and went straight home. On the radio, I heard one of Mom and Dad's favorite songs, "Again." The memories came in the form of longing.

I lived in the small Korean community of the Marvelous City. I inherited the building from my parents, who lived there for over thirty years until they were involved in a car accident in 2016, leaving me an orphan. I still remember being on duty at the hospital when the two ambulances arrived. That day, I despaired. I needed to have confidence not to interfere in the procedures; It was suffocating, and I even hurt my arm. It didn't help; a day later, he buried Dad. In the early hours of that fateful day, he went into cardiorespiratory arrest. His mother left five days later, due to a hospital infection and multiple organ failure. The greatest flag bearer of Portela, a samba school that was dear to her heart, had passed away.

In addition to the apartment building, built in the nineties, with four floors, and eight units, they had a restaurant serving typical foods, both Brazilian, my mom, and Korean, my dad. The point was sold to another owner. The four-story building, which he built for us to live in and to generate rental income, was built by Dad. I lived on the first floor, I didn't even need the elevator, and all the tenants were long-time acquaintances. The youngest one had lived there for over fifteen years, meaning I was always supported.

I parked the car in the garage and, instead of going straight up, I went through the lobby to collect the mail. It had been two days since my last visit home, and the bills always had their way of arriving. Mr. José and his wife, who had worked there for over 20 years, treated me like a beloved daughter. He was the doorman, and she played the role of caretaker. They lived in a small building at the back of the building. Their two children had been raised there, and although they are currently married, they brought their grandchildren over on the weekends, to the delight of their doting grandparents. During the night, from seven o'clock onwards, two other security guards took over until seven o'clock in the morning the following day.

When I arrived at the reception, even though I was tired, I smiled.

" Good evening, Mr. José. Is there any correspondence for me?"

"Were you on duty? I haven't seen her for a few days now."

"Yes."

"That's why there's a lot of correspondence here. We are here. However, something curious happened. That man in the suit has been sitting there, waiting for you for a long time, I would say a long, long time. He didn't even get up to take a drink of water. I found the situation strange, but I also realized that he was wealthy. His suit is the designing and making of fashionable clothes, and he holds the book and that folder with a certain charm." Mr. José shared his comments with a smile on his lips.

"And who is he?"

"He did not say. I even tried to ask, but I believe that the English you taught me wasn't sufficient for me to carry a conversation with him."

I looked at the sofa that adorned the lobby. I saw a tall man who, from his features, appeared to be Korean. Straight, black hair, around forty years old. His expression was serious, yet at the same time, jovial. He was reading a book and seemed so focused that he didn't seem to realize he was being watched.

"Did he at least say why he wanted to talk to me, Mr. José?"

"No, Ms. Júlia. He did not say anything. I think I need more English classes. I didn't understand what little he said at all."

"I'm going to find out who he is and what he wants from me."

"I'll keep an eye on things here. It could be dangerous. He's probably a secret agent trying to arrest you, so I'll have to punch him." The man who cared for me so much laughed again.

I left my bag on the counter and walked slowly across the lobby to the leather sofa by the window, which overlooked a small conservatory.

"Good evening. Are you looking for me?" I asked as I approached the red couch where he was sitting.

His presence was imposing, filling the space around him with an aura of sophistication. Every gesture, every movement conveyed a sense of natural elegance, as if he had been born to occupy a prominent position.

Mr. José's words now made perfect sense. The man before me carried an undeniable distinction, something that went beyond mere attractive appearance.

He responded in Korean. He asked who I was. I think he thought I wouldn't understand.

"My name is Julia. The doorman told me you were looking for me." I responded in Korean, since my father insisted that I learn it, despite never having set foot in South Korea. He taught me the language, and at home, he spoke to me only in his mother tongue. It was a way of never forgetting his origins, despite never having returned there since arriving in Brazil. That's what I knew.

He stood up and bowed. I returned the greeting, another of Dad's teachings, to show respect and cordiality towards elders. He made a point of maintaining tradition, respect for elders, and the correct honorifics to address people.

"You speak Korean very well, miss. Kang, Ye-Jun, at your service."

"Thanks. I've been learning it since I was a child, from my father. But how can I assist you?"

"Could we talk in a restaurant? I was hungry, and I saw that there was a restaurant next door that smelled good. The menu looks very appetizing."

"Is it urgent? I will be very honest with you. I spent thirty-six hours in a hospital. Furthermore, I'm a doctor, and I was on duty. Furthermore, I am tired. I'll be off tomorrow, we can have breakfast. Wherever I lean now, I will sleep, no matter how serious the conversation. I know you've been waiting for me for a long time, but..."

"No problem, Miss Kang. What time can we have breakfast and where?"

"In the same restaurant you mentioned. At eight in the morning, maybe, or if you want earlier, no problem, I'm used to waking up early, that's how a doctor's life is."

"I'll be waiting, ma'am, at eight. Have a good night's sleep and rest well."

I bowed and said goodbye. At the counter, I picked up my bag and watched as the gentleman came out with his cell phone to his ear.

"What happened, Mr. José? Are you crying?"

"I remembered your father when I saw you bowing. I thought it was beautiful when he came to get the newspaper in the morning and said good morning to me like that. I miss him so much. He was such a good man, soft-hearted, cheerful, and always cordial. It is very, very missed."

"Me too. I hadn't used it in years, I was afraid of making a mistake. Dad, at home, said good morning to me like this, before kissing my cheek and tickling me, of course. This could never be missing."

"I already told you, Miss Júlia, you are the most Brazilian of Koreans and the most Korean of Brazilians."

"As? If I don't even know my father's country? I just inherited slanted eyes." I replied, smiling. "I only know where he came from, but the story behind his coming to Brazil, nothing. I mean, he came after the beautiful brunette."

"Did you find out who the man in the black suit is and what he wants from you?"

"Not yet. I booked breakfast at the restaurant next door. This way I will be close to home and you. It will be my protection."

"I can always count on me. Anything, I'll call the police right away."

"I doubt that will be necessary. Good night, the night will be short for the sleep I'm in."

"Sleep well, girl, good night."

***********

He stood up and respectfully bowed. I returned the greeting, another of Dad's teachings, to show respect and cordiality towards elders. He made a point of maintaining tradition, respect for elders, and the correct honorifics to address people.

"You speak Korean very well, miss. Kang, Ye-Jun, at your service."

"Thanks. I've been learning it since I was a child, from my father. But how can I assist you?"

"Could we talk in a restaurant? I was feeling peckish, and I saw that there was a restaurant next door that smelled good. The menu looks very appetizing."

"Is it urgent? I will be very honest with you. I spent thirty-six hours in a hospital. Furthermore, I'm a doctor, and I was on duty. In addition, I am tired. I'll be free tomorrow, we can have breakfast. Wherever I lean now, I will sleep, no matter how serious the conversation. I know you've been waiting for me for a long time, but..."

"No problem, Miss Kang. What time can we have breakfast and where?"

"In the same restaurant you mentioned. At eight in the morning, maybe, or if you want earlier, no problem, I'm used to waking up early, that's how a doctor's life is."

"I'll be waiting, ma'am, at eight. Have a good night's sleep and rest well."

I respectfully bowed and said goodbye. At the counter, I picked up my bag and watched as the gentleman came out with his cell phone to his ear.

"What happened, Mr. José? Are you crying?"

"I remembered your father when I saw you bowing. I thought it was beautiful when he came to get the newspaper in the morning and said good morning to me like that. I miss him so much. He was such a good man, soft-hearted, cheerful, and always cordial. It is very, very missed."

"Me too. I hadn't used it in years, I was afraid of making a mistake. Dad, at home, said good morning to me like this, before kissing my cheek and tickling me, of course. This could never be missing."

"I already told you, Miss Júlia, you are the most Brazilian of Koreans and the most Korean of Brazilians."

"As? If I don't even know my father's country? I just inherited slanted eyes." I replied, smiling. "I only know where he came from, but the story behind his coming to Brazil, nothing. I mean, he came after the beautiful brunette."

"Did you find out who the man in the black suit is and what he wants from you?"

"Not yet. I booked breakfast at the restaurant next door. This way I will be close to home and you. It will be my protection."

"I can always count on me. Anything, I'll call the police right away."

"I doubt that will be necessary. Good night, the night will be short for the sleep I'm in."

"Sleep well, girl, good night."

***********

Here is the continuation of the translation:

As I ate the leftovers from the day before in the fridge-reheated shredded chicken with rice-I thought about the face of the man in the suit. He looked like my father. I looked at the photo of him smiling, placed on the living room sideboard, but I was confused, that man was very tall, and my father was short, among other differences. The tiredness of work left me weary. At that moment, a mental click echoed in my mind as it occurred to me that he had also introduced himself with the same surname that I carried. A tremor of surprise ran through my body as I processed this discovery. I shook my head slightly, trying to clear away the torrent of frantic thoughts that threatened to overwhelm me. Feeling the need for a brief break, I decided to go to the bathroom to take a shower, looking for a moment of tranquility.

After the restorative shower, I went straight to the bedroom. Despite being apprehensive, I fell asleep immediately because my body was exhausted.

********

Early in the morning, I woke up feeling anxious. I felt strange and insecure about the encounter I was going to have with the man in the suit. I preferred not to be the first one to arrive, so I packed some things at home. Furthermore, I took a long shower and washed my long hair until it was time. I passed through the entrance and, after saying a smiling good morning to José, I signaled that I was going to the restaurant.

I entered the establishment, which was empty at that moment. Everyone had already had breakfast and gone to work. Mr. Kang, Ye-Jun, was already waiting for me, sitting at the corner table. He was once again wearing a black suit and adopting an extremely formal demeanor, which made me even more apprehensive. It was very hot as it was the first day of summer, which didn't help improve the atmosphere.

"Good day, sir. Aren't you feeling hot? We are in the middle of Rio's summer. And here, in this city, it's normal for the temperature to reach forty degrees at this time of year. With that suit, you'll endure," I said.

He stood up and formally greeted me.

"Despite the heat, I'm working. I still can't afford to wear shorts and a shirt. If you don't mind, I've already ordered a full breakfast," he replied.

"I prefer my bread with butter and coffee with milk, but today I'll go with it," I replied, smiling.

"Do you work today? Maybe the conversation will take a little longer," he asked.

"It would be my day off, but they already informed me about the surgery, which will be inevitable. I notified the hospital that I would only go in the afternoon. Don't worry. I just can't waste the afternoon because, in addition to this surgical procedure, I also have some patients from yesterday's surgeries that I need to see."

Rice, egg soup, and Kimchi were brought to the table. The man in black, like a good Korean gentleman, served me first. This gesture and even the way he picked up the spoon reminded me once again of my father, deepening the sense of longing. I tried to hide a tear, and the gentleman, without saying a word, simply handed me a napkin.

As soon as we finished eating, he took some documents out of a folder and placed them on the table.

"I will pronounce your Brazilian name, miss. Sorry if I get it wrong. 'Xúlia,' right?" he said.

I smiled. "More or less. The pronunciation will be difficult for you. I have a Korean name that Dad insisted on giving me, Min-Ji."

"Nice choice, typical of Kang, Don-Yun. At least, that's what I remember."

"Did you know my father? He came to Brazil at the age of eighteen and never returned to his home country. You look much younger than him, despite introducing yourself yesterday with the same surname."

Breathing heavily, like a sigh of longing, I sensed that there would be an important revelation behind that conversation.

"Min-ji, I'm your father's brother, Don-Yun. I'm speaking without my last name, which is correct, but we're from the same family, Kang. All his life, our father searched for him all over the world. He hired private detectives everywhere, but they could never find him. After a long time, we discovered that he changed his name to a Brazilian one. Only now have we learned about the accident that killed him, along with his mother. I came in the name of the family patriarch, his grandfather. He wants to meet his only granddaughter and pass on the inheritance of his first son to you. Furthermore..."

"Wait, what are we talking about again? Is this some kind of joke? Have you talked to my two crazy friends who love fairy tales, old wives' tales, etc.? He can talk! It's a joke because I didn't go out with them yesterday, right?" I started laughing non-stop.

I lost a bit of control at that moment because if this was a bad joke from those two, they would pay dearly.