I live in a nation of tradition. They hold up the morals of this town, the neighboring town, the one on the left of that, and the one even after that. Every morning when the sun makes the ocean glitter with blues, whites, and greens that man could never hope to replicate on paper, every house awakens with life and chores. The docks empty as the fishing boats sail to fill their nets with mackerel, crab, anchovies. Every evening when the sun sets the ocean aflame with bursts of red, black, and orange, shutters close, lamps light, and covers are pulled over sleeping bodies. And of course, every summer solstice, the Youn-Kkook.
Each town woke with the sun as usual. They prepared breakfast and fed the farm animals. When the sun was high and the waters glittering, the people flooded the main street with stalls. Although they sold everything from sweets to handmade baskets, there was a commonality of lotuses. Lotus-shaped rice cakes, lotuses on blankets, lotus stamps, lotus paintings, if it could be made, it was sold with a lotus theme. Families and friends spent the day shopping and enjoying the artistry. After the longest day of the year was over and the moon hung high in the sky washing everything in an eerie blue light, the people gathered on the shores of the ocean. No lamps were lit, barely even a sound from the smallest of children. They wait. And wait. And wait some more until the moon had just barely started to begin its descent into the ocean. They waited still until air bubbles up and bursts at the surface of the water, and when those multiply to the point where the shore appears to be boiling, they step back and watch as a single lotus rises and blooms where the bubbles once were. A youn-kkook. In the center, where stamens and stigmas should have been, lay shining gold coins and bottles of medicine bundled in sage green and cream silk. There was always more than enough to be divided amongst the people who needed them. In this way, the villages prospered and grew.
Two kingdoms replaced the small towns that had clustered on the shore of the ocean, the Northern Kingdom and the Southern Kingdom. They were still a people of tradition but a wall had been constructed that split the shore of the ocean in half. This wall and its arch were deemed neutral territory and marked the spot where the Youn-Kkook still rose to the surface of the ocean every summer solstice. The gifts inside were still divided between the people of both kingdoms. The fishermen still brought in mackerel, crab, and anchovies, but they were brought on boats of steel instead of wood. The medicine from the lotus held less value than before. Still sought by the peasants in the kingdoms, yes, but the workers and bourgeoisie found other cures for their ailments. The king of the Northern Kingdom ruled his subjects with fulfilled promises and an iron fist. He feared little from the people, but he lacked a wife and an heir. The king of the Southern Kingdom ruled with love and a flimsy spine. He laid silk over the holes of his problems instead of the stone required to fill them. He lacked the respect and loyalty from the people and heard whispers of rebellion. Two summers pass without event, but the third time when the people of both kingdoms gathered at the shore with their backs to the wall, the sun had almost risen by the time the Youn-Kkook appeared. The blossom was larger than usual, almost double its usual size, and had a certain quality to its petals that the people could not quite put their finger on. When it finally bloomed there were no gold coins, no bottles of medicine swathed in silk, but a girl.
The girl remained kneeling in the center of the lotus for some time, unaware of the crowd in front of her. Slowly, like a blooming flower, she reached towards the back of her head and began to braid her hair. After tying it off with a yellow string, she rose and took definitive steps towards the shore. Her hanbok had a light pink skirt, white top, and a yellow collar as if she had taken the color of the lotus and used it to dye her clothes. She would make the perfect wife for an heirless king. She would be a perfect symbol of power for a king ruled by his subjects. The two kings approached her at the same time.
“Would you like to accompany me to my palace for some tea?” asked the king from the North, offering her his arm.
“Or what about a hot meal after such a long journey?” interjected the king from the South.
The girl politely smiled and responded, “It would be my pleasure to do both, but how about in a more…neutral territory?” That was how the kings found themselves facing each other while seated at a low table, North on the left and South on the right. They were picking at their breakfast and tea underneath the arch of the wall.
“So,” the Northern king began, “what are your terms for her to come with me as my wife?” He addressed the Southern king, not giving Youn a second thought.
“I have none. She must come to the South to help bind my people together.” The Southern king had set down his cup of tea and was staring down the Northern king. Youn opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by the Northern king.
“Absolutely not. We have the greater army and will lay siege to your kingdom unless she comes with us.”
“Ah, but we have a larger and more skilled navy,” the Southern king retaliated, “you would not be able to receive shipments for months, let us see how well your army fares then.”
“What if I just spend time with both kingdoms?” Youn suggested, “Will that not solve both problems?” The Northern king rolled his eyes and the Southern king scowled.
“Of course, that would not work,” responded the Southern king, “what kind of message would it send if you were wed to the North but meant to be a symbol of the South? The people would riot.” The Northern king nodded and turned back to the Southern king.
“If I were to send a dowry of fifty cattle, would you be willing to hand her over?” The Northern king offered.
“No amount of money or cattle would be enough to stop the people if they wish to rebel. No, I must have the girl. Why don’t you find a nice girl from your own kingdom to have an heir with? There must be a line long enough to wrap around your palace twice!”
The Northern king grumbled, “I could say the same for you. Find some other maiden to snatch up as your symbol.”
“Surely your brain is not so addled to not realize how important the Youn-Kkook is to the people. She could rally the people and create a third kingdom if she wanted.” The kings continued arguing and debating well into the day and did not allow Youn to speak again. When the sun went down, each stalked off to their own palaces, scheming of new offers and threats to exchange the next day. Neither offered Youn a place to stay and so she spent the night under the arch. Morning came and the kings returned to the arch to argue. Youn barely got a breath in before they were already sipping their tea and ignoring her presence. The cycle of waking, eating, arguing, and sleeping repeated for a week. After two weeks Youn felt her feet drag when standing up. After a month, she could not stand at all. A month passed of bargaining, two, Youn couldn’t lift her arms to hold a bowl of rice, much less manipulate the chopsticks to bring food to her mouth. Three months turned into six, which turned into a year, and the kings still had not reached an agreement. Tensions in both kingdoms had escalated during the time their kings left first thing in the morning and came back late at night without ruling. They did not even notice when the summer solstice came and went without a single lotus other than the ones sold at the markets. They did not notice Youn and how impeccably still she sat, not a movement of breath or blinking in sight. They certainly did not notice how pale her hair and skin had become, or how her hanbok no longer held the colors of a lotus, but now shone bright white like marble.
Each town woke with the sun as usual. They prepared breakfast and fed the farm animals. When the sun was high and the waters glittering, the people flooded the main street with stalls. Although they sold everything from sweets to handmade baskets, there was a commonality of lotuses. Lotus-shaped rice cakes, lotuses on blankets, lotus stamps, lotus paintings, if it could be made, it was sold with a lotus theme. Families and friends spent the day shopping and enjoying the artistry. After the longest day of the year was over and the moon hung high in the sky washing everything in an eerie blue light, the people gathered on the shores of the ocean. No lamps were lit, barely even a sound from the smallest of children. They wait. And wait. And wait some more until the moon had just barely started to begin its descent into the ocean. They waited still until air bubbles up and bursts at the surface of the water, and when those multiply to the point where the shore appears to be boiling, they step back and watch as a single lotus rises and blooms where the bubbles once were. A youn-kkook. In the center, where stamens and stigmas should have been, lay shining gold coins and bottles of medicine bundled in sage green and cream silk. There was always more than enough to be divided amongst the people who needed them. In this way, the villages prospered and grew.
Two kingdoms replaced the small towns that had clustered on the shore of the ocean, the Northern Kingdom and the Southern Kingdom. They were still a people of tradition but a wall had been constructed that split the shore of the ocean in half. This wall and its arch were deemed neutral territory and marked the spot where the Youn-Kkook still rose to the surface of the ocean every summer solstice. The gifts inside were still divided between the people of both kingdoms. The fishermen still brought in mackerel, crab, and anchovies, but they were brought on boats of steel instead of wood. The medicine from the lotus held less value than before. Still sought by the peasants in the kingdoms, yes, but the workers and bourgeoisie found other cures for their ailments. The king of the Northern Kingdom ruled his subjects with fulfilled promises and an iron fist. He feared little from the people, but he lacked a wife and an heir. The king of the Southern Kingdom ruled with love and a flimsy spine. He laid silk over the holes of his problems instead of the stone required to fill them. He lacked the respect and loyalty from the people and heard whispers of rebellion. Two summers pass without event, but the third time when the people of both kingdoms gathered at the shore with their backs to the wall, the sun had almost risen by the time the Youn-Kkook appeared. The blossom was larger than usual, almost double its usual size, and had a certain quality to its petals that the people could not quite put their finger on. When it finally bloomed there were no gold coins, no bottles of medicine swathed in silk, but a girl.
The girl remained kneeling in the center of the lotus for some time, unaware of the crowd in front of her. Slowly, like a blooming flower, she reached towards the back of her head and began to braid her hair. After tying it off with a yellow string, she rose and took definitive steps towards the shore. Her hanbok had a light pink skirt, white top, and a yellow collar as if she had taken the color of the lotus and used it to dye her clothes. She would make the perfect wife for an heirless king. She would be a perfect symbol of power for a king ruled by his subjects. The two kings approached her at the same time.
“Would you like to accompany me to my palace for some tea?” asked the king from the North, offering her his arm.
“Or what about a hot meal after such a long journey?” interjected the king from the South.
The girl politely smiled and responded, “It would be my pleasure to do both, but how about in a more…neutral territory?” That was how the kings found themselves facing each other while seated at a low table, North on the left and South on the right. They were picking at their breakfast and tea underneath the arch of the wall.
“So,” the Northern king began, “what are your terms for her to come with me as my wife?” He addressed the Southern king, not giving Youn a second thought.
“I have none. She must come to the South to help bind my people together.” The Southern king had set down his cup of tea and was staring down the Northern king. Youn opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by the Northern king.
“Absolutely not. We have the greater army and will lay siege to your kingdom unless she comes with us.”
“Ah, but we have a larger and more skilled navy,” the Southern king retaliated, “you would not be able to receive shipments for months, let us see how well your army fares then.”
“What if I just spend time with both kingdoms?” Youn suggested, “Will that not solve both problems?” The Northern king rolled his eyes and the Southern king scowled.
“Of course, that would not work,” responded the Southern king, “what kind of message would it send if you were wed to the North but meant to be a symbol of the South? The people would riot.” The Northern king nodded and turned back to the Southern king.
“If I were to send a dowry of fifty cattle, would you be willing to hand her over?” The Northern king offered.
“No amount of money or cattle would be enough to stop the people if they wish to rebel. No, I must have the girl. Why don’t you find a nice girl from your own kingdom to have an heir with? There must be a line long enough to wrap around your palace twice!”
The Northern king grumbled, “I could say the same for you. Find some other maiden to snatch up as your symbol.”
“Surely your brain is not so addled to not realize how important the Youn-Kkook is to the people. She could rally the people and create a third kingdom if she wanted.” The kings continued arguing and debating well into the day and did not allow Youn to speak again. When the sun went down, each stalked off to their own palaces, scheming of new offers and threats to exchange the next day. Neither offered Youn a place to stay and so she spent the night under the arch. Morning came and the kings returned to the arch to argue. Youn barely got a breath in before they were already sipping their tea and ignoring her presence. The cycle of waking, eating, arguing, and sleeping repeated for a week. After two weeks Youn felt her feet drag when standing up. After a month, she could not stand at all. A month passed of bargaining, two, Youn couldn’t lift her arms to hold a bowl of rice, much less manipulate the chopsticks to bring food to her mouth. Three months turned into six, which turned into a year, and the kings still had not reached an agreement. Tensions in both kingdoms had escalated during the time their kings left first thing in the morning and came back late at night without ruling. They did not even notice when the summer solstice came and went without a single lotus other than the ones sold at the markets. They did not notice Youn and how impeccably still she sat, not a movement of breath or blinking in sight. They certainly did not notice how pale her hair and skin had become, or how her hanbok no longer held the colors of a lotus, but now shone bright white like marble.
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