Chapter 1

Dawn, Summer 1982. A pale light stretched across the horizon, barely touching the vast farmland of North Hamgyong, North Korea.

In the distance, mountains loomed in silence, their dark shapes blending into the fading night. The land was endless, covered in fields that waited for the first break of sunlight.

In the quiet village, rows of small houses stood apart, their roofs barely visible in the dim light, as another day of hard labor was about to begin.

Inside one of those houses, a family lay fast asleep.

Kang Hae-jin, a 17-year-old boy, tall and handsome but thin, slept soundly next to his parents.

On the floor of their small living room, Myung-sun, his mother, and Min-seok, his father, lay beside him on a thin mattress. Just a few steps away were their dining table and small cooking area.

Above them, hanging on the wall, were two spotless portraits—Kim Il-sung, the great leader of North Korea, and Kim Jong-il, his son and successor.

In every home across the nation, these portraits were not just decorations; they were sacred. Families were required to keep them in pristine condition, displayed on the most prominent wall, and cleaned daily with a special cloth provided by the government. A single speck of dust could result in severe punishment.

To let them fall? To damage them? That was unthinkable. It was an act of treason—punishable by prison, or worse, death.

Even in the darkest times, when families had nothing to eat, when hunger gnawed at their stomachs, the portraits remained untouched—symbols of loyalty, obedience, and fear.

Suddenly, the radio near their heads crackled to life—an automatic government announcement.

"다섯 시입니다. 일어나야 할 시간입니다. 집을 떠나기 전에 위대한 수령의 초상화를 닦는 것을 잊지 마십시오. 감사합니다."

("It is now five o'clock. It is time to wake up and work. Do not forget to wipe the portraits of our great leaders before leaving your homes. Thank you.")

Myung-sun opened her eyes and immediately shook her husband and son awake.

"해진아, 일어나라."

("Hae-jin-ah, wake up.")

Min-seok sat up groggily, but Hae-jin remained still, clinging to the last moments of sleep.

A sharp slap landed on his cheek.

"아이구… 너 처벌받고 싶으냐?"

("Aigoo… do you want to be punished?") Min-seok asked.

Hae-jin's eyes shot open. He rubbed his face and blinked groggily.

"또 아침인가…?"

("Is it morning already…?")

It felt like he had only just closed his eyes. He stretched his arms and yawned as he sat up.

On the small table beside them lay

single piece of dried cassava.

"책상 위에 고구마가 하나 남아 있다. 밭에 가기 전에 나누어 먹자."

("There is one cassava left on the table. Let's share it before we go to the fields.") Myung-sun said.

As Hae-jin stepped out of the small house, towering mountains stretched far in the distance.

On both sides of the dirt road, rows of white houses with low, slanted roofs stood in uniform alignment—identical, without distinction.

A farmer walked past, leading a small donkey carrying a large bundle of hay on its back. A woman slowly pedaled her bicycle, a sack of wheat strapped behind her, her gaze fixed straight ahead, indifferent.

On the walls of houses and buildings, red propaganda posters were plastered, bold letters declaring:

"위대한 수령 김일성 동지를 위하여!"

("For the Great Leader, Kim Il-sung!")

Suddenly, the crackling speakers of the radios and megaphones came to life, blasting a patriotic anthem across the village.

PROPAGANDA MUSIC PLAYS

위대한 수령 김일성!

(Great Leader, Kim Il-sung!)

밝은 태양, 조선의 빛!

(The bright sun, the light of Korea!)

우리 인민을 이끄시는

(Guiding our people!)

영원한 지도자이시여!

(Our eternal leader!)

김일성, 김일성!

(Kim Il-sung, Kim Il-sung!)

조국을 위하여!

(For our homeland!)

영광과 승리!

(Glory and victory!)

우리의 수령이시여!

(Our revered leader!)

노동하는 인민의 희망!

(Hope of the working people!)

강한 나라를 건설하세!

(Let's build a strong nation!)

김일성의 길을 따라!

(Follow the path of Kim Il-sung!)

승리의 길로 나아가세!

(March forward on the road to victory!)

As the loud, blaring song faded, Hae-jin muttered,

"다녀오겠습니다."

("I'm leaving now.")

He walked away slowly, his steps heavy and lifeless. His gaze lowered to the ground—expressionless, emotionless.

It was as if his life had become nothing more than a never-ending cycle.

The sun was rising in the east. Hae-jin walked toward the Tumen River. The surroundings were silent—there was no one else around, only the soft murmur of the flowing water.

He stepped carefully over the rocky riverbank, where patches of grass grew along the edge. Slowly, he crouched beside the crystal-clear water. He washed his face, rinsed his mouth, and spat to the side.

The sound of birds chirping reached his ears. He lifted his gaze to the sky. There, he saw birds flying westward.

For a moment, he stood still, eyes following the birds as they soared into the sky. A thought crossed his mind.

"새들은 좋겠다... 자유롭게 날 수 있으니까. 어디든지 가고 싶은 곳에 갈 수 있겠지... 가끔은 생각해. 나도 새였으면 좋겠어... 그러면 어디든 갈 수 있을 텐데..."

("Birds are lucky... They can fly freely. They can land anywhere they want... Sometimes, I wonder... If only I were a bird... Then maybe, I could go anywhere, too...")

As the sun rose higher, the vast farmland stretched endlessly before them. A long, freshly plowed line of soil trailed behind Hae-jin as he pushed the two oxen forward. The animals were strapped together with a wooden yoke, and at the center of the harness, a wooden plow was tied, digging into the earth with every step.

Around him, soldiers stood watch. The lower-ranking ones helped with the plowing, while the higher-ranking officers simply observed, their rifles slung over their shoulders.

Sweat dripped down Hae-jin's face. He was panting, exhaustion and weakness clear on his features. He paused for a moment, wiping his forehead with his dirty hand. The mud and dust only smeared onto his skin.

"빨리 해라!"

("Hurry up!")

A soldier barked, forcing Hae-jin to keep moving despite the relentless heat.

As he dragged the plow through the soil, something caught his eye—an ear of corn, half-buried in the dirt, still intact despite being covered in mud.

His stomach growled. He swallowed, eyes fixed on the corn. Quickly, he glanced around, checking if any of the guards were watching.

Without hesitation, he grabbed it and stuffed it inside his pants, pressing it against his undergarments to keep it hidden.

"빨리 하라고 했잖아!"

("I told you to hurry up!")

Another sharp command rang out, and Hae-jin immediately resumed his work.

Just then, in the distance, an old man collapsed onto the ground. His frail body, weakened from exhaustion, could no longer keep up with the work.

Hae-jin stopped for a brief moment, watching from afar. He didn't move to help—he knew it was forbidden. But in his eyes, there was pity.

A soldier stormed over to the old man, furious.

"개새끼야!"

("You son of a bitch!")

With brutal force, he struck the old man's back with his rifle.

"일어나라!"

("Get up!")

The old man wobbled as the soldier forced him to his feet. Though dizzy, he was pushed toward his oxen and had a gun pressed against his back.

"빨리 갈아라, 개새끼야!"

("Plow the field, you bastard!")

Shaking, the old man resumed his work, his hands barely able to grip the plow.

A few moments later, a black CJ5 Jeep pulled up to the dirt road bordering the farmland.

A soldier stepped out—tall, well-built, strikingly handsome, his black sunglasses reflecting the sunlight. Senior Lieutenant Jeong Tae-ho, 35 years old, the commanding officer assigned to oversee the farm.

As soon as he stepped onto the dirt road, the stationed soldiers quickly saluted him.

With a relaxed motion, Tae-ho reached into his pocket, pulled out a lighter, and lit his tobacco. He took a slow drag, exhaling a cloud of smoke as his sharp gaze swept over the field.

Tae-ho strode closer to the field, his boots pressing firm imprints into the loose soil. The scent of damp earth mixed with the lingering tobacco in the air. He came to a halt at the edge, watching the farmers toil.

One of the soldiers stepped forward to report.

"상위동지! 농장 보고 드리겠습니다!"

("Senior Lieutenant! I'll report on the farm conditions!")

"말해라."

("Speak.")

Tae-ho's voice was calm but firm as he kept his eyes on the workers.

"생산량이 계획보다 낮습니다. 일손이 부족하고, 노동자들이 힘이 빠졌습니다."

("Production is lower than expected. We lack workers, and the laborers are getting weaker.")

Tae-ho showed no reaction. Taking another drag from his cigarette, he exhaled before speaking in a cold, measured tone.

"변명은 필요 없다. 그럼, 어떻게 해결할 거지?"

("I don't need excuses. What's your solution?")

The soldier swallowed nervously.

"식량 배급을 줄이면…"

("If we cut their food rations…")

Tae-ho finally turned to face him, his gaze sharp.

"이미 배급이 부족하지 않나?"

("Aren't the rations already insufficient?")

"네… 하지만 더 줄이면 노동 강도를 높일 수 있습니다."

("Yes… but if we reduce it further, we can push them to work harder.")

Tae-ho blew smoke into the soldier's face, showing no change in expression.

"보고서에 올려라. 상부의 결정에 따르겠다."

("Put it in the report. I'll follow the higher-ups' decision.")

The soldier quickly saluted.

"네, 상위동지!"

("Yes, Senior Lieutenant!")

Tae-ho turned his attention back to the workers. That's when he noticed one particular laborer.

His eyes fixated on him.

A young man, lean but strong. Despite the heat, sweat, and exhaustion, he never stopped working. He didn't falter. Unlike the others, he never slowed down.

Tae-ho removed his sunglasses, getting a better look at him.

"저 녀석은 누구지?"

("Who is that?") he asked, still watching the young man.

"강해진, 상위동지!"

("Kang Hae-jin, Senior Lieutenant!") the soldier answered.

Tae-ho stared at Hae-jin, his face unreadable.

"강한 놈이군. 일 열심히 하는 거 같네. 농장에 이런 사람이 더 많으면 일이 빨리 끝날 텐데."

("That boy is strong. Looks hardworking. If we had more workers like him, the job would be finished faster.")

Break time had come for the farm workers. Without wasting any time, Hae-jin ran toward the Tumen River.

He looked around cautiously, making sure no soldier was watching him.

As soon as he reached the riverbank, he pulled the corn from his briefs. He crouched on the rocky shore, dunked the corn in the water, scrubbed off the dirt, and without hesitation, bit into it.

Gripping the corn with both hands, he quickly chewed on the kernels, sucking out the juice, swallowing every piece as if it was the last food he would ever have. His eyes showed nothing but hunger.

Then, a loud voice shattered the silence of the river.

"야! 거기서 뭐 하는 거갔나?!"

("Hey! What do you think you're doing there?!")

Hae-jin froze. His body stiffened. He didn't dare to look up. Fear gripped his chest.

Slowly, he lowered the corn, hiding it behind his back. From his peripheral vision, he saw the polished boots of the man approaching him. A soldier.

The soldier bent down and yanked his hair violently. Hae-jin's head snapped back. And there, standing over him, was Senior Lieutenant Jeong Tae-ho.

His breath came in fast, uneven gasps. His body trembled. He couldn't even look at him. Every second of silence only worsened his fear. Tae-ho could feel the terror radiating from the young man.

Letting go of Hae-jin's hair, Tae-ho reached behind him and grabbed the corn from his hands. He inspected it in his palm before looking down at Hae-jin.

"너, 음식 훔치는 게 어떤 결과를 초래할지 몰라?"

("You do know what happens when you steal food, don't you?")

His voice was calm, but the threat in his tone was unmistakable.

Hae-jin remained silent. He couldn't bring himself to look at Tae-ho. His shoulders trembled, his gaze locked on the water. His eyes welled up with tears, but he swallowed back his sobs.

A sharp slap landed across his cheek. Hae-jin gasped as his head jerked to the side.

Then, another slap—harder than before. His body collapsed onto the cold, rocky ground. He lay there, silent tears streaming down his face, too weak to fight back. Tae-ho didn't even flinch.

Tae-ho tossed the corn aside and dusted off his hands on his uniform pants. Reaching into the pocket of his uniform, he pulled out a pack of tobacco, took one, and placed it between his lips.

As he lit a cigarette with his lighter, his eyes never left Hae-jin, who was still curled up on the ground, crying quietly. The faint sounds of his sobs filled the air—but Tae-ho ignored them.

Blowing out the first puff of smoke, Tae-ho slowly pulled out his gun—a CZ 75 pistol. Without hesitation, he pointed it directly at Hae-jin's head.

Hae-jin's eyes widened in shock. Panicked, he scrambled up and clung to Tae-ho's leg, gripping it tightly, his whole body shaking as he cried out in desperation.

But even as he begged for his life, he couldn't bring himself to look at Tae-ho. His gaze remained fixed on the flowing river. His lips trembled, voice breaking between gasps of air.

"살려 주세요! 제발요! 제발 한 번만 봐 주세요! 죽고 싶지 않아요!"

("Please have mercy! Please, just this once! I don't wanna die!")

Tae-ho simply watched him, his expression unreadable.

He took another drag from his cigarette, deep in thought.

Then, in one slow movement, he lowered his gun. He slid it back into his holster.

Closing his eyes briefly, he sighed.

"아이씨... 씨발..."

("Tsk... Fuck...")

For a moment, he seemed calmer.

"빨리 일하러 가!"

("Get back to work—hurry up!")

Still trembling, Hae-jin slowly let go of his leg. His hands shook as he pushed himself up, his eyes red and swollen.

He hesitated before whispering,

"감사합니다..."

("Thank you...")

Then, without another word, he turned and ran—fast, never looking back.

Tae-ho stood still, watching the young man disappear into the distance.

He took another slow drag of his tobacco, letting the smoke fill his lungs before exhaling into the air. Then, without a word, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving behind only the fading scent of tobacco and the quiet murmur of the flowing Tumen River.

As Hae-jin walked along the narrow dirt path, his eyes were blank, his mind deep in thought. Fields stretched endlessly around him, the mountains visible in the distance. A few farmers walked by, leading their oxen. Behind them, wagons were tied to the animals, filled with sacks of harvested crops.

A quiet voice echoed in his mind.

"돌아가기 싫어..."

("I don't want to go back...")

He stopped for a moment, watching the farmers still plowing the fields, the ones pulling their oxen, carrying the heavy weight of their harvest. They said nothing, but their silence was loud.

His thoughts whispered again.

"하지만 돌아가지 않으면... 굶어 죽을 거야."

("But if I don't go back... I'll starve to death.")

"이 사람들처럼... 견디고 또 견디는 거야. 배고픔을, 고통을, 피로를... 단지 살기 위해서."

("Just like them… enduring hunger, pain, exhaustion—just to survive.")

And on that narrow road, he suddenly ran. Fast.

Not for work.

But to survive—trapped in a country that felt like a prison.

Meanwhile, along a remote road, the land stretched dry and barren on both sides. The hills in the distance stood almost bare, stripped of trees. Scattered across the landscape were clusters of small houses—identical in design, uniform in color. In the distance, farmers bent over in the fields, silently harvesting corn.

The stillness was broken by the low rumble of an approaching CJ5 Jeep, rolling steadily down the road. Inside, Senior Lieutenant Jeong Tae-ho sat back in his seat, driving with an unhurried ease. One hand on the wheel, the other resting against the open window, holding a lit cigarette. From the radio, the voice of Choe Sam Suk echoed, singing Mangyong Flower.

He took a slow drag, letting the taste of tobacco linger in his mouth before exhaling the smoke.

As he passed a farmland, his gaze flickered outside for a moment. Farmers, exhausted, darkened by the sun. In the midst of them, the harvested corn—piled together on the ground, waiting to be collected.

Tae-ho smirked. A subtle smile, almost unnoticeable, yet something gleamed in his eyes.

No one knew what he was thinking at that moment.

Taking one last drag, he flicked the cigarette out the window and pressed his foot down on the accelerator. The engine roared, kicking up a trail of dust behind him.

Behind the smoke of his cigarette and the fading sight of the farmland, only silence remained.

Chongjin Military Headquarters

Tae-ho stood before a high-ranking officer seated at his desk. Behind the officer, portraits of Kim Il-Sung and Kim Jong-Il hung on the wall, with the North Korean flag standing beside them.

"농장 내 법을 어긴 자가 보고되었나?"

("Have there been any reports of violations on the farm?")

Tae-ho lowered his gaze, recalling the sight of Hae-jin eating corn by the river.

Then, he looked directly at his superior.

"생산량이 낮습니다. 노동력이 부족합니다. 농장의 문제는 그것뿐이오, 동무."

("Production is low. We lack workers. That is the only issue on the farm, comrade.")

The officer fell silent for a moment before lifting his eyes to Tae-ho.

"노동력이 부족하다면, 일을 더 빨리 끝내도록 하라. 변명 따위 듣고 싶지 않소, 상위."

("If there aren't enough workers, make them work faster. I don't want to hear excuses, Senior Lieutenant.")

His voice was cold, his tone firm.

After a brief pause, he added a heavier warning.

"평양의 고위 간부들에게 불만이 들어가면 어찌 되는지 잘 알겠지?"

("You know what happens if complaints reach the high-ranking officials in Pyongyang.")

His sharp gaze locked onto Tae-ho, a silent warning that was impossible to ignore.

The sun was setting in the west, its golden light slowly fading behind the mountains. But the farmers, including Hae-jin, remained in the vast fields, working tirelessly.

Hae-jin gripped a rake, his breathing heavy, exhaustion written all over his face. His clothes were filthy, stained with mud and sweat. His hands were calloused, his body weak, but he kept going.

With every swing of the rake, he broke apart the hardened clumps of soil, loosening the earth for planting.

As the night deepened, some houses began lighting oil lamps. Others gathered firewood to create small fires for warmth and light. But most homes were swallowed by darkness.

Hae-jin finally returned home. Before stepping inside, he grabbed the collar of his worn-out shirt and wiped his dirt-streaked face against it.

"다녀왔습니다..."

("I'm home...") he murmured softly, his voice drained of energy.

Inside, his parents were already lying on the thin mattress on the floor, deep in sleep, their bodies too exhausted to move. Loud snores filled the air, a sign of their overwhelming fatigue.

A single oil lamp flickered on the wooden table, casting a weak glow in the dimly lit room.

Hae-jin grabbed the lamp and stepped outside to the small yard. He placed it on the wooden bench and uncovered the pot sitting atop the table.

Inside, nothing but remnants of grass porridge. A few wilted leaves—leftovers from his parents' meal. There was nothing left for Hae-jin.

Hae-jin stared at the empty pot. Even though there was nothing left for him, he reached inside, grabbed the leftover grass, and shoved it into his mouth. He didn't care about the dirt on his fingers, nor the bitter taste in his throat.

Then, he lifted the pot, turned it upside down over his lips, waiting for the last drops of broth to fall. When nothing came, he ran his fingers along the inside, scraping whatever was left—and licked them clean.

When he had taken everything he could, he put the pot down. Walking over to a large clay jar filled with water, he scooped some with both hands and drank desperately, washing away the dry bitterness in his throat.

Just as he finished, the radio inside their house crackled to life.

"위대한 수령 김일성 동지께서 평양에서 고위 간부들과 함께 특별한 회의를 주재하셨습니다!"

("The Great Leader Comrade Kim Il-sung has presided over a special gathering with high-ranking officials in Pyongyang!")

Hae-jin's hands froze. He focused himself on listening.

"오늘, 위대한 수령 김일성 동지께서는 조선노동당 중앙위원회와 정부, 군부의 주요 간부들과 함께 조국 번영을 위한 특별한 전략 회의를 개최하셨습니다."

(Today, the Great Leader Comrade Kim Il-sung held a special strategic meeting with key officials from the Central Committee of the Workers' Party of Korea, the government, and the military for the prosperity of our nation.)

이 역사적인 회의에서는 사회주의 경제 강화, 농업 발전, 그리고 우리 인민의 위대한 생활 향상을 위한 혁명적인 결정이 내려졌습니다!

(During this historic meeting, revolutionary decisions were made to strengthen the socialist economy, advance agriculture, and improve the great lives of our people!)

위대한 수령님께서는 간부들에게 조국의 밝은 미래를 위하여 헌신적으로 일할 것을 당부하시며, 자애로운 지도 아래 성대한 연회가 개최되었습니다!

(The Great Leader urged officials to work tirelessly for the bright future of the country, and under his benevolent leadership, a grand banquet was held!)

연회에서는 조선의 전통 음식과 희귀한 과일, 그리고 건강한 노동을 위한 영양식이 제공되었으며, 간부들은 혁명의 사명감을 새롭게 다짐하는 시간을 가졌습니다.

(The banquet featured traditional Korean delicacies, rare fruits, and nutritious meals for a healthy workforce. Officials took this opportunity to renew their revolutionary commitment.)

위대한 수령님의 현명한 지도 아래, 우리 조선은 그 어느 때보다도 강성하고 번영하는 나라로 나아가고 있습니다!

(Under the wise leadership of the Great Leader, our nation is advancing stronger and more prosperous than ever!)

만세! 위대한 수령 김일성 동지 만세!

(Long live the Great Leader Comrade Kim Il-sung!)

Slowly, Hae-jin stepped inside the house, his footsteps light against the wooden floor.

He turned his head toward the small framed portrait hanging on their wall—Kim Il-sung's smiling face, grinning from ear to ear.

Hae-jin's eyes were blank, emotionless. But deep inside, something was boiling.

He slowly stepped forward. Climbed onto the wooden chair.

As he stared at the man's grinning face, his empty stomach twisted in hunger. His hands clenched into fists so tightly that the veins on his knuckles bulged. His teeth ground against each other in pure rage, his temples and neck tensed, veins protruding, while his eyes burned with unshed tears.

Then, with all the hatred swelling inside him, he took a deep breath, gathered his spit—

And spat directly at the face of Kim Il-sung.

A thick glob of spit landed directly on Kim Il-sung's smiling face.