Chapter 12: First Steps into Seoul
It took Mee only a few seconds to spot Jia since she stuck out like a sore thumb. The first thing she saw was the Bowie tee under the leather jacket. Then she noticed the Doc Martens and, of course, a flight attendant accompanying her.
They first greeted each other awkwardly, but Jia quickly felt comfortable in Mee’s presence. She was bubbly, wore a warm smile, and kept up a string of questions about America, the flight, and even a comment about the hand-painted image of Jupiter on the back of Jia’s jacket.
“I did that a year ago with my BFF Zilly.”
“It’s really cool.”
“Thanks!”
Once in Mee’s car, Jia took a closer look at her style choices: oversized pastel sweater, pleated miniskirt, and white sneakers. These were trendy and K-Pop chic, at least as much as she’d seen recently online. They were a stark contrast to the Doc Martens and leather jacket.
“Your clothes are cool. What do you call it? Edgy? Punk?”
“Yeah, I guess. I don’t like to dress like other people. So I guess I push it a bit.”
“You wear it well. I wish I could wear something like that here.”
Jia smiled, a little surprised, and said, “Have you ever been to the States?”
“No, but I’m sure I’ll make it someday. Have you ever been here?”
Jia shook her head. “No, my father used to visit me often, but it’s been a few years since I’ve seen him. You speak English very well. Is that common here?”
“Not so much. Maybe one in five. But my mother insisted.”
“That would be — Jun-Young? I think that’s what Aunt Baem said her name is. So she’d be my aunt.”
“Yes,” Mee said with a smile. “You’ll meet her tomorrow night. We’re planning a big family dinner.”
“Family dinner…” Jia said as her voice trailed off. “Somehow, I thought there would be more family than just what Baem said. Is that right? My dad and his family, your mother, Aunt Baem, grandfather Dae-Won. And you have a brother named Min-Jun?”
“Wow, that’s impressive. You remembered them all. And yes, that’s all there are,” Mee said, shaking her head. She merged into a faster lane, and Jia watched the scenery zing by.
“Somehow, I thought there would be more people—like a huge family. At home, it’s just my mom and me—” Jia stopped for a few seconds. “Well, I mean, it was just us…”
“I heard about your mother. I’m so sorry about her—passing,” Mee said with a short glance. “That must be hard. I can’t imagine. What are you going to do?”
“Thanks; I appreciate that. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I’m trying to work that out. I need to talk to my dad, but Aunt Baem says he’s out of touch because of work.”
Mee didn’t respond as she drove silently for several moments. Jia could see the city’s skyline as they zoomed along a long bridge from Incheon Airport to Seoul.
“Are we on the 110 or the 130?” Jia asked, having read about the bridge on the flight.
Mee laughed. “We’re on 110. Why do you ask?”
“I’m kind of a math nerd. On the airplane, I read about how long it is: 13.28 miles. 21.38 kilometers. I thought it would be cool to drive on it.”
“You are interesting, that’s for sure. A numbers whiz, huh?”
“Kind of. I like numbers.” Jia returned the smile and watched the lines zoom by for several seconds.
“Where are we going?”
“My instructions are to take you to the hotel my family uses for business associates and family. It’s very nice. Then tomorrow, I’ll pick you up in the afternoon and take you to the family compound.”
“Will my father be there?” Jia asked, but felt she already knew the answer. Her father felt opaque, and the lack of information Baem had shared made him seem even more distant, almost like a ghost.
Mee shook her head, “I don’t know about that. My apartment is on the way. Do you mind if I stop? I want to grab something.”
“Uh, sure, that’s okay. So you live by yourself?”
“I have two roommates, both students, both girls my age. It’s crowded, but we like it. We don’t need to stay long. I’ll drop you off at the hotel afterward.”
“Are you working? Going to school?”
“Actually, both. I recently started as a marketing assistant for our family’s record label, but I’m still attending school.”
“Aunt—Baem—mentioned something about owning a company in the music industry, but I wasn’t sure what that meant. And she didn’t know, either. And she had never heard of BTS or Blackpink,” Jia laughed.
Mee chuckled, “Yeah, not her generation. That’s for sure.”
Mee’s third-story apartment in an older and bustling part of town was tiny but tidy. Jia gazed at the handful of furniture, which looked straight out of an IKEA store, and a few art prints on the wall, one of which was a movie poster of the old Japanese movie Yojimbo. Jia met Mee’s roommate, who smiled shyly but didn’t speak. When Jia poked her head into Mee’s second roommate’s tiny bedroom, she saw an electric piano.
“You play?” Jia said, pointing at the keyboard.
“A little. I was taking lessons. Still learning,” she said with a smile.
“Do you mind if I play for a bit? I—haven’t played for a couple of days.”
“You play? Uh, sure, yes. Of course.”
Jia squeezed past her and sat on the small bench. She turned on the switch and lightly tapped a few notes. She played one chord, then another. Before she could stop, she was bouncing through the beginning of an old Elton John song, Crocodile Rock, one of the first songs she’d learned to play.
Halfway through, she abruptly stopped. She didn’t feel like this was the time or place, but flexing her fingers again on a piano keyboard felt good.
“Sorry,” Jia said, a big smile on her face. “I just couldn’t help myself. It’s been a while.”
“Wow,” said Mee, standing at the doorway. I had no idea you played the piano. Do you play in a band?”
“Not yet, but that’s my dream.”
“Do you write music?”
“I’m trying. It’s not easy. I make up shit—sorry—all the time. I have a few that I suppose you could call songs, but when it comes to lyrics, I’m not sure what to do yet. I like playing along. I play in school with the choir and swing ensemble.”
“You’re perfect. A natural,” said Mee with what looked like her first genuine smile. “I’m impressed.”
“Thanks—”
Mee crossed her arms as if considering something. “Hey, I just thought of something. A friend of mine plays guitar in a little club band. They’re playing tomorrow night. Would you like to go see them after dinner tomorrow?”
It sounded better than sitting alone in a hotel room. “Absolutely.”
“Great. I’m ready to go. You hungry, or should I take you to the hotel?”
“You know, food sounds good now.”
Ten minutes later, they were in an out-of-the-way little place tucked at the base of a tall building. Mee asked if Jia had any diet restrictions or specific foods she might not like. Jia shook her head, and Mee ordered food. Jia was fascinated by the rapid conversation between her and the waitress.
"What does agassi mean?" she asked Mee after the server departed. "I heard the waitress say it."
"It's how you politely address a young woman," Mee explained. Jia nodded. She loved learning new bits of the language.
The food arrived after a few moments of small talk, and Jia frowned. There were no chopsticks or forks, but there was a spoon.
“Uh, I’m not sure how to—”
“Do you want a fork? I can ask for one.”
Jia shrugged and said, “How about I try this for now? But, yeah, go ahead and have her bring one. I’ll probably need it in a few minutes,” Jia smiled. She picked up the pair of chopsticks as Mee demonstrated. Jia’s attempts to grasp the elusive rice elicited gentle laughter from her cousin.
"Here, let me show you," Mee offered after watching several of Jia’s misguided attempts to pick up food, her hands gracefully demonstrating the motion. "It's all about balance, not strength."
Jia mimicked the movement, her brows knitting in concentration. The chopsticks wobbled in her grip. Finally clutching a grain of rice triumphantly between them, Jia's face lit up, only for the grain to tumble back onto the plate. They both erupted into giggles, the sound mingling with the soft clatter of the bustling restaurant.
"I guess I need more practice," Jia admitted, her cheeks warm.
"It's okay, you'll get the hang of it," Mee reassured her. "Or you could just use the spoon."
Wiping tears of laughter from her eyes, Jia reached for the spoon, her appetite undeterred by the chopstick debacle. A fork soon arrived, and Jia finished the bulk of the meal. She felt like the meal had become a bridge between worlds, between the familiarity of home and the novelty of Seoul.
As the plates were cleared, Mee's gaze fell on the amulet hanging gently from Jia’s neck. “That’s an intriguing piece,” she said. “Where is it from?”
"My mother," Jia replied, her fingers subconsciously touching the cool metal.
Mee’s eyebrows rose slightly. "Not from your father? That's interesting."
Jia felt a curious lurch in her stomach. “Why? Should it have come from him?”
“Oh, no reason. It’s just—” Mee paused, chewing her lip. “My mother is the one who’s into all that ancient stuff. She’s odd in her ways, you know?” A wry smile touched Mee's lips. “I've seen her out in the garden under a full moon, whispering to her roses as if they were old friends.”
Jia’s mind whirred. Roses and full moons—that was a curious thing to say.
Mee continued, a thoughtful look shadowing her features. “She has a collection of old jewelry. She says every piece tells a story, one we’re a part of. I never paid much mind. Thought it was just one of her quirks.”
A story they were a part of. The phrase echoed in Jia’s mind, mingling with the countless questions sprouting like vines. She glanced out the window at the city lights winking to life as dusk settled over Seoul, a silent witness to her unfolding saga.
“Anyway, what would you like to do now? We could go out to a club, maybe?” Mee said. “Would that perk you up a little?”
Jia shook her head and chuckled. “No, my eyelids are slamming. I should go back to the hotel and get to bed.”
Mee laughed. “‘Eyelids are slamming.’ That’s funny. I’ve never heard that. Of course, let's get you settled in,” Mee said, standing and signaling for the check.
As Jia settled into Mee's car, one hand clasped her amulet, its cool metal a silent comfort against the warmth of her skin. Her mother's face flashed in her mind, a vivid memory that momentarily stole the breath from her lungs. The amulet, a tangible connection to her, seemed to pulse with a life of its own.
I wonder, Jia thought, if you knew I'd be sitting here one day, tracing the edges of a mystery you left behind. The amulet was more than a keepsake; it was a beacon, guiding her toward a heritage she had yet to understand. Her mother had spoken of the Mystic Alliance in hushed tones, a reverence in her voice that Jia had never fully appreciated until now.
And what of Dad? She thought of Mee’s casual question, which cast doubt on the fact that the amulet did not come from her father. Was he more involved than Mom let on? Although she did say if I wanted to know more about the Mystic Alliance, he was the one to ask. The thought twisted in her gut, a knot of uncertainty and curiosity.
The streets of Seoul stretched before her, a maze of light and life, so similar to the hustle and bustle of San Francisco that she knew, yet different in so many other ways. She was about to dive headfirst into a family she’d never met, holding onto an amulet that represented a world of magic she was only beginning to believe in.
Mom, did you feel this way when you first discovered your magic? Jia wondered, counting the nine notches on the amulet's edge for the umpteenth time in the past day. Were you afraid? Excited? Alone?
As the car hummed along, Jia's thoughts drifted to the family dinner set for the next night, feeling more like an outsider than ever. The irony wasn’t lost on her; she was about to meet her blood relatives but felt a kinship only with the amulet that lay against her heart.
The car slowed, and Mee stopped in front of a stately yet modern hotel, pulling Jia from her reverie. The journey ahead loomed large, filled with the promise of answers and the peril of truths she might not be ready to face. Yet, as she fingered the amulet, feeling its weight and the warmth it had absorbed from her skin, Jia found a semblance of courage. For you, Mom, she silently vowed, I’ll find the answers we never searched for together.
Mee and Jia made arrangements for the next day. In the tranquility of her hotel room, Jia reflected on the night—the lightness of newfound kinship, the teasing pang of an unfamiliar city, and the amulet's quiet call to the secrets it held. With sleep tugging at her consciousness, Jia laid down and snuggled with Roschach. Her last waking thought was a silent wish for understanding, for tomorrow's light to illuminate the paths before her by the generations that whispered through her blood.