Chapter 10-1
by Han Yong-un · 2026-08-25
“Anyway, she is qualified to lead our movement. She must be as quick and thorough in observation as I am.”
While everyone was agreeing with the well-dressed woman's words, the woman leaning on the parasol brought up a different topic.
“But we can't just dismiss a woman like that outright.”
“Why not?”
The well-dressed woman asked back, seemingly displeased.
“If she is doing such things not out of old morals or the so-called eyes of the world, but of her own free will,”
“then it wouldn't matter even if she did something worse than I do. That too is an expression of individuality.”
“In that case, sacrificing a lifetime for her husband is fine, and following him in death when he dies is also fine.”
“This is not a statement made in the name of the concept of chastity that old morals speak of or the absolute obedience that men advocate.”
“If it is done of her own free will, then anything is acceptable, that's what I mean.”
“If sacrificing for her husband is done solely out of the freedom of individuality, then it is the same in spirit as sacrificing for our movement.”
“So, we shouldn't just ignore the actions of such women.”
It was quite a flexible theory.
“That's true. No doubt about it.”
“If it is not bound by the constraints of history in time, and not bound by the so-called constraints of public opinion in space,”
“then if it is done solely out of the freedom of individuality, one could rather see such actions as beautiful.”
“But what good is individuality to someone like her?”
“She is just acting like a slave, dragged by customs.”
“Or perhaps she has no other way to act, so she uses the excuse of being a drug addict to get by.”
“I hear that woman doesn't even know the basics and can't resist at all, so she knows nothing and is just foolish.”
“What freedom of individuality can there be for a pure slave?”
“That's why I'm saying this. You are advocating an unreasonable theory.”
“What freedom of individuality can there be for someone like her?”
“Such people are just a hindrance and a burden to our movement.”
“You are too lenient. At least for a revolutionary, forgiveness is out of the question.”
“Forgiveness is nothing more than a mask for humanitarians or compromisers.”
“Such theories must be dialectical.”
The well-dressed woman, known for her nickname as a dialectical doctor, passionately argued for the dialectical nature.
“I'm not saying that woman is like that, but if such actions are an expression of individuality,”
“then while we can debate the rightness or wrongness of those actions, they do not inherently obstruct our movement.”
“So that woman is such a woman. Right, she doesn't understand anything because she lacks education.”
The way she spoke seemed more about being annoyed than losing to the theory.
“However, even if such a person knows nothing, there must be some notion of chastity, right?”
“Well, I don't know. The notion of chastity varies from person to person.”
“No, still, there must be some customary notions.”
“What if such a person has seen Kolontai's 'Red Love' or Ibsen's 'A Doll's House'?”
“Can she understand those? It's like reading a sutra to a deaf ear. Such words are non-dialectical.”
They laughed a cold laugh.
Since Sun-young was in such a position, she had to swallow the barrage of slander thrown at her every day.
The nonsensical criticisms that passed behind her did not reach Sun-young's ears and faded away in between, and it was impossible to know how many of them there were.
However, such criticisms did not accurately understand or correctly address Sun-young's circumstances and inner feelings.
Even if all those countless rumors reached Sun-young's ears, she had already prepared for that.
It was impossible to stop the actions that she herself had to do out of necessity.
Sun-young envied the women who were chatting happily under the shade of the trees, enjoying the cool breeze.
So, without realizing it, she let out a sigh.
“Oh, I could die.”
Whenever she heard Dae-cheol's endless moans, her heart would feel a chill as if she had suddenly woken from a dream.
“What's wrong?”
Sun-young turned around.
“Oh, I could die.”
The sound was weaker than before.
“What's wrong? Are you feeling unwell?”
“I don't have any pain, but my energy keeps draining, maybe I'm about to die.”
“Why would you die? Should I get you a shot?”
“It's been a while since I had a shot.”
“I would rather have a bowl of hearty seolleongtang. Just the broth, not the meat.”
“Then should I go buy a bowl of seolleongtang?”
Sun-young touched her purse.
“How can I go buy that in this heat?”
“What good is it for someone about to die to eat that? Forget it. I don't want to trouble you any further, Sun-young.”
Dae-cheol always nagged and got annoyed when he was looking for something to eat or when he needed a shot.
He never considered it a bother or felt grateful or apologetic.
However, that day, for some reason, he unexpectedly said something apologetic to Sun-young, and his expression reflected that.
“What do you mean by that? If you want to eat, just go buy it. You have money.”
Even while standing up, Sun-young felt that Dae-cheol's words and attitude were a bit strange.
“I really don't know what to do.”
“Thinking about how Sun-young is suffering, I feel like I should die as soon as possible,”
“but if I want to see Sun-young living well later, I must recover from this illness and live long,”
“I won't be able to repay Sun-young's kindness in this world.”