The sun didn't really shine in Muraki. It came up behind a thick curtain of grey clouds and factory smoke from the north. Kai Sungho woke up before the light even reached his window. The first thing he felt was the cold air on his face. The heater in the corner had stopped working in the middle of the night. Old machine. Too many broken parts inside. He'd tried fixing it before but it never lasted.
He stayed under his thin blanket for a few minutes. Just listening. He could hear his mother, Su Yoonhee, moving quietly in the kitchen. She always moved quietly in the mornings so she wouldn't wake him or his sister. Water running. Metal pot clinking. Same sounds every morning for twenty eight years. The sounds of a life that never changed.
He got up and felt the cold floor under his feet. Cheap wood that creaked with every step. He put on his worn trousers and a thick sweater with holes at the elbows and walked to the kitchen.
His mother stood by the stove. Her hair was going grey at the sides. Her hands were rough from years of cleaning other people's houses. She looked at him and gave him a small smile.
Good morning Kai.
Good morning mother. Did you sleep well.
The cold woke me up a few times but I'm fine. There's hot water for tea. We don't have bread today but there's a little rice from yesterday.
Kai sat at the small wooden table. He didn't want the rice. He wanted her to have it. He knew she'd walk miles to work today just to save the bus money. He picked up the cup of hot water and held it with both hands.
You should eat the rice. I'm not hungry this morning. I'll get something near the shop.
She looked at him with eyes that knew exactly what he was doing. She pushed the bowl toward him.
Eat. You have a long day at the warehouse. A man can't work on an empty stomach.
He ate slowly. The rice was cold and dry but it was all they had. His mother turned on the small radio on the counter. A news reporter's voice filled the room. Loud. Too cheerful.
Today Prime Minister Choi Sanguk will open the new Grand Stadium in the capital city of Kojin. This project cost millions of gold pieces. A symbol of the wealth and strength of the Kingdom of Hakoran. Our leaders say this stadium will bring many tourists to our country.
Kai felt heat in his chest. Not from the tea. He looked at the cracked ceiling. Then at his mother's tired face. In the capital they were building stadiums of glass and gold. In Muraki the children didn't have enough books and the old people died from the cold.
The stadium is a waste of money. They should spend it on the clinics here.
His mother sighed and went back to washing the pots.
Don't speak like that Kai. Words can be dangerous. The walls have ears. The government doesn't like people who complain. We must be grateful for what we have.
We have nothing mother. We have a roof that leaks and a heater that doesn't work. Father died because the clinic had no medicine. That's not something to be grateful for.
She stopped moving. Her back was still turned to him. The mention of his father always made the room feel heavy. His father had worked in the factories until his lungs gave out. When they took him to the government hospital the doctors said they had no beds for poor workers. Said the medicine was too expensive. He died in this very house gasping for air while the radio talked about the King's birthday party.
Go to work Kai. Don't let these thoughts eat your heart. Anger doesn't put food on the table.
He stood up and kissed her on the forehead. Her skin felt like dry paper. He grabbed his jacket and walked out the door.
The air in Muraki was heavy with coal and wet earth. The streets weren't paved. Just dirt paths that turned to mud when it rained. He walked down the main road and saw his neighbors starting their day. Men with tired eyes heading to the bus stop. Children wearing coats too small for them.
He passed the town school. Grey bricks. Broken windows. The government said there was no money to fix schools in rural areas. But Kai knew where the money went. He'd seen the pictures in newspapers. Politicians in silk suits. Expensive cars in Kojin.
Then an old man called his name.
Mr. Han. He lived next to the pharmacy. He used to tell Kai stories when Kai was a boy. Now he was thin and his voice was weak. He was holding a small piece of paper and his hand was shaking.
Kai wait a moment.
Kai walked over. Hello Mr. Han. How are you feeling today.
My chest hurts Kai. I went to the pharmacy to get my heart medicine. They told me the price went up again. It's now three times what it was last month.
Kai took the paper. A prescription. He knew this medicine. It was supposed to be cheap.
Why did the price go up.
The pharmacist said the company that makes it decided to change the price. Said the government allowed it. I told him I can't pay that much. I only have my small pension. He told me to go home and pray.
Kai looked at the old man's watery eyes and felt a deep shame. He was young and strong and he could do nothing. He reached into his pocket and found a few coins. His lunch money for the next three days. He held it out.
Take this. It's not much but maybe it helps.
Mr. Han pushed his hand away and shook his head.
No Kai. You need that for your mother and sister. I'm old. My time is almost over anyway. I just wanted to tell someone. It feels better when someone knows.
Kai watched him walk away. Slowly. Like the air itself was too heavy to push through. The anger in his chest got bigger. Not a spark anymore. Something closer to a fire. He wanted to scream. He wanted to run to the capital and grab the Prime Minister by his expensive tie and show him Mr. Han. Show him his mother's hands.
He kept walking to the warehouse. A giant building at the edge of town. It belonged to a big company from Ryokan. They stored electronics and luxury goods there. None of it stayed in Muraki. All of it went to the rich cities or other countries.
Kai spent the day lifting heavy boxes. The air inside was dusty and the work was hard. His boss Mr. Goro sat in an office with a fan and a soft chair and watched the workers through a glass window. If anyone stopped to rest even for a minute Mr. Goro yelled through a microphone.
Move faster. Time is money for the company. If you're tired there are a hundred men outside who want your job.
Kai kept moving boxes. He thought about Mr. Han. He thought about the stadium. The medicine. His mind was full of questions that didn't have good answers. Why did some people have so much while others had nothing. Why did the laws always protect the people with money and hurt the people without it.
At noon they had a short break. Everyone sat on the floor and ate small meals. Kai sat with a man named Juro. Older than Kai. Three kids.
Did you hear about the new tax.
No. What tax.
They're going to tax the small shops more. My brother owns a little grocery store. He says he'll have to close. He can't pay the tax and still feed his kids.
Why are they doing this.
Juro laughed but it wasn't a happy sound. He looked around to make sure Mr. Goro wasn't watching.
They need money to pay for the big projects in Kojin. The stadium. The new park for the King. The statues of the generals. They don't want to tax the big companies because those companies give money to the politicians. So they take it from people like my brother and your father's neighbors instead.
It's not fair. Someone should do something.
Juro's face changed fast. He leaned in close.
Don't say that Kai. Fair is a word for children. In this world there's only power. The people with the guns and the money make the rules. The rest of us just try to stay alive. If you start trying to change things you end up in the Black Prison. You know what happens to people there.
Kai knew. The Black Prison was where people went and never came back. For people who talked too much. For people who asked the wrong questions.
But if everyone stays quiet nothing will ever change. We'll live like this until we die. Our children will live like this.
At least we'll be alive. That's enough for most people.
The break ended and they went back to work. Kai's body ached. Muscles burning. But the pain in his chest was worse. He felt like a bird in a cage. He could see the sky but couldn't fly. Trapped by poverty. Trapped by his mother's fear. Trapped by a system built to keep him exactly where he was.
When the sun started to set the workday ended. Kai got his pay. A small envelope with a few bills. Barely enough for a bag of rice and some oil. He walked out into the cold air.
On the way home he saw a group of men standing around a small television in the window of an electronics shop. The news was on. Kai stopped.
Prime Minister Choi Sanguk was on screen. Standing on a stage decorated with flowers. Smiling. Healthy and happy. He held golden scissors and cut a red ribbon. The crowd around him cheered. Everyone dressed beautifully.
This stadium is for the people. It shows that Hakoran is a land of opportunity. We are a great nation. We are a united family under our King.
Kai looked at the men around him. Covered in dirt from mines and factories. Torn clothes. Thin faces. None of them looked like they were part of the family the Prime Minister was talking about. They looked like the trash left behind after a party.
One of the men spat on the ground and walked away. The others followed in silence. No cheers. No smiles. Just walking back to cold houses.
Kai got home and found his sister Su Minji at the table studying by the light of a single candle. Twenty two years old. She wanted to be a teacher. Smart girl. But her clothes were old and she looked exhausted.
Hello Kai. You look exhausted.
I'm fine Minji. How was your day at the university.
She looked down at her book. Her face went sad.
The professor told us the government is cutting scholarships again. I don't know if I can finish the year. The books are so expensive now. And the bus fare went up.
Sharp pain in his chest. Minji was his hope. He wanted her to have a better life. Clean office. Nice clothes. Free from the mud of Muraki.
Don't worry about the money. I'll find a way. I can work extra hours at the warehouse.
No Kai. You're already working too hard. You're always tired. Your hands are always bleeding. I can leave university and find a job cleaning houses with mother.
No. You're staying in school. You're going to be a teacher. You're going to help the children here. I won't let you quit.
He went to his room. Didn't eat dinner. Sat on his bed and looked at a picture of his father. The man was smiling in it. Looked strong. Looked like he still believed in the future.
I'm sorry father. I'm sorry I couldn't save you.
Then he thought about it differently. His father's death wasn't just an accident. Not just a sickness. It was a crime. The government stole his father's life. Stole his mother's youth. Was stealing his sister's future. Was stealing his soul.
He lay down and closed his eyes but couldn't sleep. The golden stadium kept appearing in his mind. Then Mr. Han's shaking hands. Then the Prime Minister's smile.
Something inside him that had been cold and still for a long time started to stir. Like a fireplace full of old ash with a small wind blowing through it. Somewhere deep down a tiny red coal was still glowing.
He thought about what Juro said. Power was the only thing that mattered. If the politicians had the power they kept the money. If the people had no power they kept the ash.
I must find a way to get the power, he said to the darkness.
He didn't know how. He was just a worker in a small town. No money. No friends in high places. But he had something the politicians didn't. He had the truth. He knew what it was like to be hungry. He knew what it was like to watch someone die because they were poor.
The night was long. Wind howling outside the thin walls. His mother coughing in the next room. Every cough a reminder of why he couldn't stay quiet forever.
He fell asleep just before sunrise. In his dreams he saw a fire. Not a fire that destroyed. A fire that cleaned. It burned away the glass buildings and golden stadiums. Burned away the silk suits and the lying smiles. And from the ashes people were rising. Not dirty or tired. Standing tall.
He woke up to the sound of the metal pot in the kitchen. He stood up and put on his worn clothes and walked out. His mother looked at him and saw something different in his eyes.
Kai are you okay. You look like you've seen a ghost.
I didn't see a ghost mother. I saw the future.
He grabbed his jacket and went out. But he didn't walk toward the warehouse. He walked toward the center of town where people gathered to talk.
He arrived at the town square. A few workers were sitting on benches waiting for the factory buses. Kai stood in front of them. His heart was beating fast. Hands sweating. He'd never done anything like this before.
What are you doing Kai. The bus isn't here yet.
The bus isn't coming to save us. No one is coming to save us.
Some of them laughed. Confused looks.
Did you hit your head at the warehouse yesterday. Go sit down.
Mr. Han can't buy his medicine. Juro's brother is losing his shop. My sister might leave school because there's no money. While we sit here in the mud they're building a palace for a King who doesn't know our names. Does that seem right to you.
The laughter stopped. The men looked at each other. Then down at their dirty boots and bruised hands. The silence in the square got heavy. The silence of people who knew the truth but were afraid to say it out loud.
They want us to be afraid. They want us to think we're alone. But we're the ones who build the stadiums. We're the ones who make the electronics. We're the ones who grow the food. Without us they have nothing.
A man at the back stood up. Old miner. Scarred face.
We know this boy. But what can we do. They have the police. They have the prisons.
We can start by talking. We can stop pretending everything is okay. We can tell them we're not animals. We are people of Hakoran and we want our country back.
The bus arrived. But for the first time the men didn't rush to the door. They stood for a few seconds just looking at Kai. A young man who looked exactly like them but was standing straight.
Think about it today while you work. Ask yourselves if this is the life you want for your children.
He turned and walked away. He didn't go to work that day. He walked up to the hill overlooking the town and looked at the smoke and the grey houses and felt a strange kind of peace. He'd finally spoken. The first layer of ash had been blown away. Underneath the fire was waiting.
He looked at his hands. Stained with dirt and grease but steady.
The morning was no longer ordinary. And somewhere in the smallest poorest corner of Muraki the story of the Kingdom of Hakoran had just begun to change.