"Mother," Seul-ki says, as he stops along the path. "I found father."

Da-som and Mi-suk pull up alongside Seul-ki and Hye-jin. Just off the path is a gravestone: Song Ga-ram, 1931-2006.

Mi-suk answers, "Husband, your son is here."

Hye-jin runs over to the gravestone, touches it with her hand, then runs back to Da-som. Seul-ki takes over the wheelchair and pushes it a bit closer so that he and his mother can gaze at the gravestone themselves. Hye-jin suddenly darts down the path, with Da-som following close behind.

"Husband," Mi-suk says to the gravestone, "Hopefully you are resting well. Say hi to mother and father for me, thank them again for protecting my family, and for babysitting Seul-kiya in their old age." Mi-suk begins to tear up a bit. "Husband, thank God you are happy now. Hopefully, I can join you soon. Please wait for me."

Seul-ki asks, "Mother, grandfather protected your family too?"

"Of course, we owe our lives to them. I never told you?" Mi-suk asks, surprised.

"I suppose I never asked," Seul-ki replies.

Mi-suk continues, "During the war, some of the soldiers lined me and my family up along a wall, and were going to shoot us as collaborators. I honestly don't recall whose side they were on, or which side we were supposed to have been collaborating with, but in any case, Song Ga-ram's father vouched for us, and saved our lives. He and his wife were bakers and were well-known to the soldiers, but we did not even know who he was. For whatever reason he took pity on us. We lived our lives from that day forward in gratitude, and tried to repay them ever since."

Mi-suk regains her composure, no longer any tears in her eyes. "Life is like that. Sometimes, there are enemies around every corner. But also, right beside you, are friends you never knew. I was just a teenager then, when I met your father. He was almost twenty, and left his parents' bakery to fight the war."

"How was father when he was younger, mother?" Seul-ki asks.

"Oh, he was a quiet man," Mi-suk replies. "In fact, I had to ask him out on our first date." She begins to smile. "But despite being quiet, he was very strong. Not so much his physique - he was the same height as me - but in his principles, his morals. I learned a lot from him. Those were scary times, friends and neighbors dying, towns disappearing. But somehow, we fell in love, grew up together, and hung on long enough to see happier days. And in a way, you were my repayment to your grandfather."

They remain together in silence, recalling times and seasons with Song Ga-ram - a dutiful soldier, the son of a kind baker, a silent husband, and a noble father.

"Husband," Mi-suk says, speaking to the gravestone again, "You were quiet in life, and now in death too. Don't worry, I feel I will be leaving very soon."

Seul-ki takes a quick peek around the cemetery. He sees no one but Hye-jin nearby running around a tree, with Da-som watching patiently with her hands on her hips.

"Mother, I wanted to ask you something." Seul-ki pauses expectantly, but hears no response. He continues more confidently. "We are leaving soon too. They rejected my request to take you to the concert in China next week. So I've made an alternative arrangement, for us to make it through the border. We'll travel with a group across the Yalu river. Please leave with us."

"Seul-kiya, I've already told you," Mi-suk replies. "I will just be a burden. Go on, take Da-som and the kids and don't look back."

"Mother ..." Seul-ki pleads, "Please, mother, do this for me. I cannot live with myself knowing I left you here."

"Seul-kiya, there's no need to have any regret," Mi-suk replies. "I can feel it in my bones, I won't be around much longer. I would rather stay here with my husband."

"But mother," Seul-ki says more pointedly, "There could be reprisals if we leave you behind. I don't think I can bear the thought of you suffering because of us."

Mi-suk can hear Seul-ki begin to tear up. She continues. "Son, put it out of your mind.  You have a family to take care of, stop worrying about me. This is what parents do for their children. It's my burden to worry about you, not yours to worry about me. You already have two daughters, did you not know?"

Seul-ki makes no reply. He bows his head down, to let the tears fall onto the ground. Mi-suk changes the subject. "Will you bribe a border guard?" she asks.

"Yes," Seul-ki replies dejectedly.

"How much is it?" Mi-suk asks.

"9 million won," Seul-ki answers.

"Can you pay it?" Mi-suk asks.

"Ah, yes," Seul-ki replies, raising his head and regaining his composure.

"When are you leaving?" Mi-suk asks.

"By the end of the week perhaps," Seul-ki answers. They resume their silence, as they stare at the gravestone one last time.

Meanwhile, back at Song Seul-ki's house, Administrator Ji Yong-bom stands outside looking to see if anyone is around. Unbeknownst to Seul-ki, Administrator Ji had asked Ha-neul when the next time her parents would be free to talk about the welcoming concert for the education minister, as her parents often gave tutoring lessons to other students after school hours. She mentioned this would be the afternoon her parents would be visiting her grandmother and would be free when they returned. So Administrator Ji sprung his plan into action, asking her to stay at school for extra practice in preparation for the concert, while he would speak to her parents after they returned.

Administrator Ji climbs the steps of the porch. He walks into the living room and finds it bare, except for a few cabinets along the wall which he promptly searches and finds nothing but political literature, music sheets, and the occasional picture of the new Respected Comrade - not even any of the old one. Frustrated, he searches the rooms, and finds much the same there. He searches the kitchen, bathrooms, showers, and still nothing. After more than an hour he suddenly begins to feel a sense of panic that he could spend all afternoon here and find nothing when they would suddenly return and find him with no reason whatsoever searching their home. "Damn it," he thinks to himself, determined to stay. "I'll just make up something if they ask. This is my life on the line - once I get promoted, it won't matter how I got there."

He walks back to the living room and thinks for a moment. Just then he recalls some of the smuggled western movies he loved to watch, where terrified Jewish people would huddle in hidden rooms trembling in fear of their Nazi pursuers. He suddenly becomes sensitive to every creak and crack in the floor, and notices that a certain spot close to a table next to the wall sounds quite hollow. He stamps in that spot and finds the floor underneath the table to be even more hollow. It was then he noticed the floorboards there did not overlap, and instead formed a rectangle. He sticks his fingernails in the creases and discovers that it pops open like a lid, hiding a shallow pit formed in the concrete foundation of the house. Hidden inside, he finds books, newspapers, magazines, bibles, the writings of the Pope, the catechism, rosaries. And tucked away in the corner of the pit was a simple tin can, inside of which he found an envelope with about 9 million won and a map of the port of Dalian, China.

Administrator Ji grins as he looks at the envelope full of cash. "My ticket to a better future," he thinks to himself. He takes the envelope and the map, returns the floor board cover to its place, and proceeds to leave the house. He smiles as he walks down the hill back towards the school, his hands in his pockets as he happily whistles the tune to "Auld Lang Syne."

For the Song family was more well-off and with better connections than the Ji family. Administrator Ji was a terrible music student but very good at politics. He leveraged his scant musical background to become the administrator of the music conservatory. And there he languished for more than fifteen years, unable to better his prospects, bitter that his parents remained poor farmers and himself unable to marry anyone with means.

But now, things were starting to look up for Administrator Ji Yong-bom. Suddenly, his connections improved. For now he had leverage against Song Seul-ki, and Song Seul-ki's good connections were now his good connections.

Administrator Ji finally makes it to the school gate where he sees Ha-neul just then leaving.

Ha-neul nods her head, her eyes to the ground.

"Okay, you worked hard," Administrator Ji adds. "Oh, by the way, I swung by your house just now and waited a couple minutes but didn't see your parents - they must still be at your grandmother's. Tell them I'll find time tomorrow in between classes to talk to them."

Ha-neul nods and walks away briskly.

Just then, a thought crosses Administrator Ji's mind as he watches Ha-neul's knee-length skirt blowing in the breeze. "Hmm," he says to himself. "Leverage."