CHAPTER 3

WASTE

After the initial shock of "oh my god, I'm in North Korea" wears off, I find myself sitting at the edge of the forest floor, just staring at the skyline of Pyongyang with wide eyes. My hands shake while reaching around Jessica, who looks up at me with a pout on her face. I aimlessly run my hands through her fur, staring at the horizon blankly.

Terror rushes through me, painful, itching terror. It settles in the pit of my stomach, in some sort of heavy mass, crushing my intestines.

Oh, I think, this is how it all ends. I end up in North Korea, make some sort of mistake, go to prison, and die. My journey is over, and now I have, at the most, a few more days until my food supply of crackers, cheese, and ramyun runs out and starvation starts to set in.

Futility swirls around in my head like someone is shaking me violently, and I feel nausea begin to creep in my stomach.

There's no point, no future for me anymore. I have so much shit in my bag that could be contraband here, that could get me put in jail. And everyone knows that jail time in North Korea is a one way trip to torture and maybe even death, with no way of defending yourself… And how could I defend myself? I saw a gigantic white bird pokemon that threw me off course? No one would believe that there, even if they give me an actual legal defense!

So, why don't I just go to one of those sky-rise apartment buildings, a disgustingly seductive part of myself purrs, and beat them to the punch?

Then, I think of my family, left in limbo, not knowing if I was alive or dead, and Jessica, all alone, unable to fend for herself. She'll end up likely starving to death if I do it. And… I can't bear to cause that to her, leave her in pain again.

I bury my head in my hands and pull at my scalp. Jessica squeals, reaching up and trying to peel my fingers off of my head. I look down at her, my vision blurring her into a bright pink blob because of stress. She pats my head softly in an attempt to comfort me, and I let go of my scalp slowly, flexing my fingers.

I have to keep moving on, keep going. I can't fall into despair, there's always a chance that I can survive… Maybe there's the embassy, maybe I can sneak on a plane… Whatever it may be, there's still hope, because I'm still free, for now.

So, I sit up and start walking down the snowy hill, towards Pyongyang. My footsteps crunch in the thick layer snow covering the park as I walk silently, looking around me. It feels almost like I'm in an almost picturesque setting, the snow covering making the world around me a bright white, letting the darkness of the barren trees stand out. Halfway down, I grab my pokeball and retrieve Jessica, nervously fumbling as I place it back into my bag.

The air feels grim and heavy, as if the mere presence of wrongness, being somewhere I shouldn't, weighs me down, and the sky is a slate grey. There's not a whole lot of people walking around the grassy hills, the people I do see seem to be older civilians, about my parent's age, who don't seem to pay any attention to me as I walk past. They wear button up shirts of various colors, with similar red flag pins on their breasts, some with Kim Jong-Il's face, some with his father's face, some with both. The glimpses I get of their faces are of haggard, tired people, always either looking away from me, never noticing. It unnerves me, how out of place I feel walking around. I nervously pin the flag to my breast, my hands trembling slightly.

After a few more paces across the snow, I manage to slip into the streets of Pyongyang through a large crowd of people passing by, mostly girls my age. They all look very similar to me, tan skin, dark eyes, and casual dress, so I blend in rather well. They're deep within their own conversations about something relatively inane, ignoring me. To be fair, I'm trying to be forgettable, so I don't mind.

However, I still feel uncomfortably out-of-place. Unsafe, like I'm sticking my head out on top of a trench, opening myself up for danger. I fidget with the lining of my jacket as I walk further down the street. In the distance, I hear music blaring over some form of a loudspeaker, a group of women singing a cheerful little ditty with lyrics chirping about how great the North Korean military is, how they'll smite their enemies and all that. It sends a chill up my spine, and the cold seems to bite at my face even harder.

We're in some sort of residential section of the city, apartment complexes in bright, eye-popping colors seeming to dwarf everything else. It makes me feel like an insect, small and meaningless, and I wonder if the girls around me feel similarly. Snow lines the sides of the walkways in large hills, and I see children scampering around in it, laughing, playing, and chattering. I feel my lips twitch into a smile at the sight, a slight flicker of warmth burning in my belly. It almost feels like I'm back home, minus the fact that there's no pokemon to be seen anywhere, there are only about five cars on the massive highway, and I'm a fugitive from the law here.

After a few more paces, the group of girls enter a massive semi-mall, called the 'First Department Store' judging by the small red lettering above the door, and I choose to stay back in the cold. Sure, the building may have heating, but I can't run the risk of getting caught inside. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide…

So I keep pushing forward. I wander around the city for the next few hours, mingling with other crowds, looking for possible ways out. There are groups of tourists, mostly Chinese, but some appear to be from the West, either Europe of the Americas, but all of them have a female tour guide, some wearing traditional dress, some military uniforms, so I chicken out of my original plan to sneak in.

I end up just staring at them from the corners of my eyes as I pass by them. I analyze them carefully, noticing that most of them are around my age, mostly men. One of them looks over at me, glancing at my clothes and bag as if I were a citizen. I panic, thinking about what to do in this situation, any wrong moves could expose me. So, I just face forward, not reacting to the person looking me over, and speed up my steps in an attempt to lose the tour group. I manage to lose them without anyone calling out to me. Either I did nothing wrong, or what I did wrong wasn't enough to warrant someone coming after me.

Another hour of walking passes me by, and I spend it under the heavy cloak of resignation to death. If I can't sneak in with tourists, really, where else can I go? I could stow away on a flight, but that runs the risk of getting caught. The same goes for the embassy, I may be somehow able to manage to tell my story and get flown to China, but that's a slim-to-none chance. Plus, I have contraband on me already, I'm pretty sure that The Shining is a forbidden book here. Something about how it displays inappropriate behavior, I bet.

So my best option — my only option — is to leave the city, travel up north, and cross the Chinese border. I could die along the way, but there'd still be that chance I could make it across the border while remaining relatively unknown to the Kim regime. And, if I did die, I'd die as a free woman, not as a prisoner.

But, I think to myself, I should wait a day. Gather up supplies from the trash or elsewhere and then start my slow trek towards China. Find some empty building to stay in for most of the night, before I freeze to death in the cold.

So, where?

I stop in my tracks, having been wandering around Pyongyang aimlessly at this point, looking around me for an answer. The crowds surrounding me are all heading towards a massive building, which I couldn't really see at my current position. I walk forward through a crowd of families, with young children peering up at me, squinting my eyes all the while. After a few more steps forward, I'm able to see all of the building and a laugh of confusion bubbles in the back of my throat.

It's a massive, sprawling group of buildings, with forest green buildings glinting in the afternoon sunlight. It's not as tall as the apartment buildings, so I doubt it's a residential complex. However, the entrance is what befuddles me the most. A gigantic head of an incineroar, its mouth full of fangs open wide, letting people into the building. Signs nearby alert me that this is the "Korea Central Zoo", and that access is free due to the "kindness of the Respected General".

I stare at the sign, my eyebrows furrowing. Despite my best efforts to remain above it all for my safety, I'm curious about what is inside the zoo. Usually, zoos in Canada have rare pokemon that are in trouble and need protection. Would it be the same here? Plus, it's free, and the inside is bound to be warm… Why not?

So, despite my best efforts, I fall prey to my curiosity and follow a crowd inside. Through the massive maw, I walk into a giant white room, the walls full of salt-water tanks with aquatic pokemon swimming around, including a milotic in a small round center tank, circling aimlessly. The tank itself looks to be only eight or nine meters high, while the milotic is around six meters in length at the least, which causes my stomach to sink in sadness.

I heard my father's low voice starting to lecture in my head. I imagined being eighteen again standing in front of our own large saltwater tank, sitting towards the end of our yard, his kingdra swam up to greet him as he stood with his hands folded behind him, staring intently at the tank.

"Large aquatic pokemon like Alexandre need at least forty or more meters of free space, Marie… Without space, they start to stress themselves out, and they don't end up lasting long, only about a handful of years, sometimes even only months."

I remember nodding, and my eyes never left the tank. Alexandre swam up to me next and looked me over with his bright red eyes. He'd been with my father since he was caught off the coasts of California as a horsea, which was a good thirty years ago, so he knew what he was talking about...

I come back to reality, frowning at the sight of the poor conditions, sucking on my teeth. The people around me look at the poor pokemon swimming in circles in amazement, their eyes wide at the sight of something so beautiful. And yet, this is torture for the milotic, living in a close space until stress takes its toll on its body.

I keep moving further down the hallway, trying my best to ignore the sickness spreading in my gut. A group of schoolgirls walks with me, only about sixteen years old or so. Looking over briefly, I can see them staring at me with curious eyes, as if I were some sort of attraction or pokemon in a cage. One of them, a short, pretty girl in square glasses, walks up to me, wearing her school's uniform of a dark skirt, white dress shirt under a dark blazer, with a red sash draping across her chest.

She greets me, bowing, and I bow back. I stare blankly at her, unsure of what to do next. The girl looks me over with interest in her bright eyes, brushing a strand of her short hair behind her ear.

"Why do you have such a large bag, comrade?" she asks, seemingly innocently enough.

Quickly, I think of an excuse to give, that won't require showing the contents off.

"Just groceries," I say without smiling, in a low, rough tone, "I don't like carrying them in my hands."

The girl blinks up at me, her eyes wide in curiosity. The others around her stare at me as well, bunching together and chattering amongst themselves. I look at them for a few more moments, before I turn around slowly, and walk further through the zoo.

The exhibits further on quickly become more depressing to witness. There's a big exhibit towards the center, full of about twenty or so ursarings. This would normally be impressive, if not for a large amount of pokemon in the exhibit. With all of them, there's really not a whole lot of space for each individual to be alone like they want, really.

Looking down at the exhibit, full of light rocks imitating a rocky mountainside, usarings looking up at me and sniffing about, I wonder if they may end up needing to replace them. I imagine that there will be fights between the bear pokemon in the future, some probably resulting in deaths.

I shake my head in response to that thought and click my tongue. My mind's going to some pretty dark places today…

Every other exhibit I see later on is the same, concrete floor, chain-link fence, miserable pokemon at one end of the exhibit. There's the rare pokemon that are rather normal in Canadian zoos, like electabuzz, rhyhorn, and skarmory. Rare pokemon that are rarely seen with trainers, let alone in the wild.

But, the oddest thing I see is a little pavilion after these animals, full of small pens and young children with their parents. Looking into these tiny pens, I see rather common pet pokemon, like rockruffs, mightyenas, and persians, all of them standing at the front of their pens, eyes gleaming at me. I glance back at a bright sign, that reads "PET PAVILLION", and I raise my eyebrows in surprise. Then, reality hits me, and I furrow my brow. Of course, pokemon ownership probably isn't legal here, so an exhibit in a zoo is the only way to see typical "Western" pet pokemon in this country.

I walk forward, grabbing a handful of tan pokemon treats of some sort from a large container off of the side path. Looking back, I can see the schoolgirls from earlier following behind me, chattering excitedly with treats in their hands as well. They look back over at me, grinning wide.

"Aren't they cute, comrade?" one of the girls says, this one with slightly longer hair, about halfway down her neck, and an oval face.

I nod, smiling faintly. She walks over to me, and stands close, shoulder to shoulder. I feel my throat close up, and my hands quiver, as I look over at her through the corners of my eyes. Why is she so close to me, what is she doing? What does she want from me?

"What is your name?" she asks, looking up at me with a smile.

"Gyeong-hui," I say roughly, trying my best to sound like I wasn't lying between my teeth.

"Gyeong-hui, huh?" she says, her voice curious and high, "What a nice name!"

"T-Thank you," I stammer, trying to avoid any further conversation.

The girl seems to see that I don't want to talk anymore and returns to her group to chatter about the exhibit. I tune it out quickly and let my mind wander as I trudge down the pathway.

A sinking, sick feeling of depression runs through me as I slowly walk over to the cages, like cold water seeping into my bones, my flesh, my very being. I blankly stare at the rockruff in one cage runs up to me, barking and wagging its tail rapidly, and thoughtlessly throw it some snacks with a jolt of my arm. Most of them land by its feet, and it eagerly huddles down to eat all of it quickly with sniffing noises between bites. Afterward, it looks back up at me with wide, begging eyes, wagging its tail. However, by then, my gaze is unfocusing, and a chill runs up my spine.

What's the point of lying anymore, I think to myself as I continue to walk along the path, further towards the exit, what's the point? Why am I even bothering to wander around this city, where every step takes me further down the path to getting caught? There's nowhere for me to run, nowhere to hide. I've given up the only chance of escape, and now I have to pay the price for my lack of intelligence. Can't I just say to one of the girls, "oh I lied to you, hahaha, I'm a Yankee spy named Marie" and just give myself up to die already?

God, part of me begs, just give me some reason to keep on going further… Please.

Suddenly, I hear a scream, pushing me out of my thoughts of giving up. The girl next to me is stiff with shock, her complexion a ghastly white, and her mouth wide open. I follow her glance with an expression controting in confusion, stepping forward to observe the scene closer, and my mouth tightens.

There's a young boy lying across the pavement, about five or so, sitting forwards with his legs flung forwards as if he fell backward. In front of him, I can see the dark form of an umbreon, it's red eyes and yellow rings standing out against its black fur. It must've broken out of its exhibit somehow, but I can't see any open cage doors or other ways to get out. The fox pokemon hisses angrily, ears pressing close to its skull, slinking closer to the boy. Behind me, the fearful chatter of the girls is almost deafening, and I grimace at the noise, unable to concentrate.

One of the people nearby, an older looking woman with shorter hair and a round face, is completely hysterical, eyes heavy with tears, probably the kid's mother. However, she stays stationary, off to the side, in fact, no one is really rushing over to intervene in this. Why aren't they…?

"I-I'm going to get someone to help!" one of the girls shouts, running back towards where we came.

How long will it take for someone to come, I ask myself, the kid could get seriously hurt by then. And why are we just standing around? Why isn't anyone intervening?

Nevermind, stop speculating, my rational mind snaps, there's a kid in trouble. You look like the only one who's willing to help, and the umbreon doesn't look rabid. Just very, very angry. Take a chance and do it.

So with a silent prayer, I adjust my backpack straps and slowly walk towards the boy. Terror streaks through my body, and I take large, gulping breaths in some attempt to calm myself. The fact that the crowd is screaming my fake name and telling me to run doesn't help me, and the umbreon snarls in agitation. I kneel down halfway through, looking at the umbreon at the same eye level in an attempt to calm it down.

Finally, after a few more slow and cautious steps forward, I reach the boy. He's sobbing hard at this point, his body shaking with each breath out, and I grab him gently. He looks up at me with wide brown eyes and opens his mouth in an attempt to speak.

"Run," I say sharply, looking him straight in the eyes, "I'll hold it back. Go!"

He stumbles forward, sort of in a daze, before dashing forward to his mother. The umbreon dashes forward with a snarl, and I throw myself in front of it, preventing it from attacking him. It sinks its claws into my jacket arm, which I feel sting painfully, and I grab it's head firmly before it puts its teeth into my shoulder. It struggles for a few moments, trying to snap at my hands.

I shush at it, in some desperate attempt to make it calm down, and I stiffly try to reach my bag with my arm, grabbing a fistful of crackers. I waggle one in front of its nose, and it's ears perk back up, and it stares at the cracker with curious oval eyes. I give one to it, and it releases its claws from my arm and chews it up quickly.

After eating, it stares at me with wide red eyes and sniffs at my hand expectantly. I quickly throw the crackers as far as my arm can go, and watch as the umbreon eagerly bounds towards it, in the middle of the stone pathway. It eats loudly for a few moments, before turning to look back at me, it's red eyes boring into my soul. I sit absolutely still, looking back at the creature, expecting it to run at me again. My body feels like it's made of ice, and I feel nausea creeping in my stomach, making me feel woozy.

Instead, it turns its head in a swift, sudden motion, and runs quickly into the underbrush of the zoo. In an instant, it appears to just melt into the shadows of the shrubbery, vanishing completely from my sight. Suddenly, I'm hit with a sharp pain in my arm, and a hot, sticky feeling when my sleeves rub up against it, and I let out a whimper. My legs are also throbbing painfully, the painkillers out of my system, and I genuinely feel like curling up and dying on the spot.

As I shakily get to my feet, suffering from my aching legs and arm, I hear someone run behind me. I swivel around, my face pulling into a painful grimace as I clutch at my arm and try not to burst into tears. When I turn to look at the person approaching me, my stomach drops, and I almost vomit onto my shoes.

A young soldier, probably in his late teens, stands a few paces back, directly in front of me. From here, I can tell that he's rather tall for his age, around to my breastbone, but his clothes seem somewhat baggy, almost like a child dressing in his father's clothing. He's wearing the standard olive green uniform of the troops in the city, with a ceremonial cap on top. His face is square, and his dark eyes stare at me with a wide look of shock, mouth slightly open.

I stand still, every tendon in my body tight with shock as I stare with wide eyes at the soldier. Quickly, I glance around the park, trying to calculate the fastest exit route. I'm not going to go out like this…!

"Ma'am," he manages to choke out, "could you come with me?"

My body goes stiff, and ice runs through my veins. Part of me wants to back away, to make a mad dash towards the exit, but I can't bring myself to. He's a soldier, so he probably has some sort of weapon on him, right? What's the use?

"Why… Why?" I choke out, clutching at my arm harder in some sort of protective gesture.

The soldier stares at me, his eyebrows furrowing.

"You're bleeding through your jacket," he states, and, sure enough, I slowly look over to see a growing dark stain on the jacket's arm, "please, let me escort you out."

"I'll be fine. I'm very sorry for making you worry, sir," I stammer, waving my hands in front of me, and stumbling forwards, "I'll be on my wa-"

As soon as that leaves my lips, I step forwards to leave the zoo and get some distance between me and all this bullshit. The instant I put pressure on my ankle, a searing bolt of dizziness comes over me, nausea ripping tearing at my throat. Every inch of my body feels like its concrete, and I barely notice that the asphalt is slipping from my feet and rising up to meet me.

I pass out mere seconds before I can feel anything else.

"Marie's a good kid, she'll keep out of trouble."

Pain buzzes in my head, throbbing in time with my quick heartbeat as I lay against something stiff and metal. Everything itches, crawls on the surface of my skin, as I shift slowly, trying not to hurt myself. My shirtsleeve is wet and clinging to my body, and something uncomfortably cold warm trickles down my left forearm, then across my palm. Looking around me, I can barely make out that I'm on the boat that took me to this hellhole, but the hull is split almost in a horizontal line. My right arm is lying limp and unfeeling by my side, part of the sleeve is torn off, and what is visible… I avert my eyes away, nausea pricking at my throat. My backpack presses into my chest, and some tension leaves me at the thought of Jessica being safe from harm.

"Fighting and defeating the enemy / By learning from our history / On the US imperialists' banner of temper / We trampled splendidly"

The air smells of salt, mixing with the foul stench of the gasoline leaking from what's left of the engine and the copper scent of blood leaking from my body. I try to stand up, but my legs are stiff and unmoving as if they're part of the hull now. So I just lay at the bottom of the boat, watching rivulets of my blood drip into the seawater, almost like a river.

"Eyes are but a pain, roses in my veins, sorry."

There's this emotionless void where my heart should be as I watch myself bleed out. I can't bring myself to cry or laugh, just stare emptily at the churning water. I hope that this boat doesn't sink, that the rescuers can get Jessica out from under me before the frost kicks in. That's all I want. I wish I could do more to protect her, wish I could've done more with my life, but there's no use.

"Daddy, those pokemon are hurting! Why won't you do anything?"

As my vision begins to fade, a loud flapping noise catches my attention, my ears aching. I look up, eyes blinking repeatedly to regain focus. All I can make out is a massive pokemon, some sort of white bird or dragon, flapping its massive arm-wings, staring directly at me with dark eyes. Something akin to panic unfurls in my chest, and I try to force myself to move away, to protect Jessica somehow, but I can't move. All I can do is stare with wide eyes at the pokemon, and brace for whatever it throws at me.

It opens its mouth to screech at me, and then…

I jolt up in an unfamiliar bed in an equally unfamiliar room, panting heavily. I'm wearing just my shirt and jeans, my jacket and backpack slung over a wooden chair. Before I can examine the room in further detail, I'm hit with a violent surge of nausea, and I jolt out of bed. My bare feet hit the hardwood floor, and I half-jog, half-fumble out into the hallway, searching desperately for a bathroom. When I manage to find it, only registering the baby blue walls surrounding me and the toilet, I slide down to it, hunch over with my hands clutching the white rim, and vomit into the bowl. My body shakes with heaves for five minutes afterward, even when there's nothing left for me to throw up, my clammy fingers reaching to flush the toilet. I lay against the cold grey tiles of this random bathroom I'm in for a few moments, groaning lowly and too dizzy to stand up before I hear a voice call out to me.

"H-Hey! Are you alright?"

My eyes widen, and I jolt up to attention. The door behind me opens, and standing in the door frame is the soldier from earlier. He's out of his uniform now, wearing a grey t-shirt and some slacks, and without the hat on his head, I can make out that his hair is in a buzz cut. He stares at me with wide eyes brimming with concern, but I still quickly scuttle as far away as the room will let me, making a choking whimpering noise subconsciously.

At the sight of me cowering, he loosens his stance and holds his hands up defensively.

"Woah, woah, woah," he says quickly, slowly moving closer, "you're okay, you're fine. I just brought you here so you could rest! You're not in trouble.."

"Where am I?" I croak, still staring at him and staying close to the wall.

"Uh… M-My apartment."

"Your apartment?" I ask, a tremor running through my voice, "Why?"

"Well, I thought… I thought that you'd want to rest somewhere… more... charming? The base would freak you out even more, and you didn't seem to need medical attention, well… beyond bandaging your arm, so here we are!"

The soldier laughs loudly and nervously, the corners of his smile twitching. He doesn't look as intimidating out of uniform, and he seems more nervous and shy than malicious. But, he still looks like he's hiding something...

"I passed out," I say incredulously, "and I just vomited for like, ten minutes. You don't think I need medical attention?"

"Well, I think you might just be exhausted from overexertion," he says, walking closer to me, "you had a bit of a temperature when I brought you here, and you did some serious damage to your legs. You're very lucky you didn't break them."

I nod, biting nervously at the corner of my lips.

"I… injured them in a fall," I lie through my teeth, fidgeting with my shirt sleeve.

"At the zoo?" the soldier asks, his eyes wide.

"No. Elsewhere. I… I don't want to talk about it. Could you help me up?"

He doesn't question me further, instead of rushing to my side and lifting me onto his shoulder. His skinny frame is deceiving, I thought to myself, as I felt his tight bicep muscles against my arm. My defenses are falling slowly, but I'm still distrustful of the soldier. What if it's all an act? What does he really want with me?

"What's your name?" I ask, as he leads me down the hallway, the walls a creamy brown color.

"Oh, uh, my name is Joon-ho. Nice to meet you!"

He beams at me, so endearingly that I find myself smiling as well.

"Nice to meet you as well," I croak out, as he leads me back into the room.

Now that my mind is able to focus on my surroundings, I note how empty the room feels. Other than a wooden desk, the desk chair all my stuff is hanging on, and the bed, there's nothing here. Well, other than the portraits of Kim Il-Sung and Kim Jong-Il looming over the bed, but right now… I want to pretend they're not there.

However, I notice the closet door towards the back, how it bulges open ever so slightly. I can barely make out an odd almost rectangular shape poking out of it. Instantly, a flash of icy terror rushes down my spine, as my imagination pictures cattle prods, electrical wire, guns, anything to torture or kill me with. I raise my eyebrows and turn to him.

"What's that?" I say, pointing to the closet door.

"What's what?"

"What do you have in the closet?" I say, biting at the corner of my lips, my nerves knowing this is the easiest way to get Joon-ho attempting to kill me, "You… didn't do a good job of hiding it."

"H-Huh? Oh… uh, that's… That's…" he stammers, choking on his words.

His face is almost entirely pink, and he looks at me with an expression of… fear? Why is he afraid? Wouldn't this be the perfect opportunity to strike me down and get an easy kill? Instead of reaching for my neck for the perfect angle, his free hand clutches his chest, and he nervously looks back at me, back at the closet door, then back at me.

Slowly, he begins to speak, in a lower, shakier tone. His eyes are brimming with tears, and his body is shaking against me.

"Miss… I'll-I'll show you, but please, please don't tell anyone…"

I nod slowly, falling limp against his shoulder.

"You kind of have my life in your hands, Joon-ho," I murmur, and he barks out a nervous laugh, loosening up a little.

He walks me towards the closet, his large hand on my back to make sure I don't fall to the floor and break my head open. As we reach the pale white door, Joon-ho pauses, breathing out a shaky breath, then pulling the door open with a shaky hand. When I look in, I feel the tension leave my body, and a small smile burns at my lips.

Inside the room, my fears of like, a horrifying dungeon of infinite creative torture methods or the weapons he was going to use on me, are quickly dismissed. Instead, there are posters on the walls advertising the Korean Cup, a large pokemon competition that happens every year, and pictures of different trainers are on the walls below them, some with their pokemon, some not. Scattering all around the small floor space, are small children's toys, their designs making them look like pokeballs. At the end of the room, there's a portable DVD player, about the size of a laptop, with stacks of DVDs in their cases right beside it.

I stare at the contents, a giddy sensation itching at me. However, I turn to see Joon-ho looking at me in terror, his face deathly pale, and I feel the urge to smile sapping from me.

"I know I'm not supposed to like it," he stammers, his voice quivering with every word, "I know it's imperialist propaganda, b-but I… my friends… when I was y-young, they showed me videos of these trainers, and these pokemon battles… and I… I've always wanted to be like them… Forgive me!"

I find myself shaking my head against him, before reaching out to the wall to steady myself, standing upright. I hobble over to the desk chair, Joon-ho quick on my heels, babbling out an explanation and begging me not to say a word. When I reach my bag, I reach in, fumbling for Jessica's pokeball before I finally pull it out. Joo-ho stops dead, mid-sentence, staring at me with wide eyes.

"Is…" he chokes out, staring at me with wide eyes, "is that a-a real one?"

I hold up my arm in front of me and press the white button on the pokeball, releasing Jessica with a flash of white light. The pink star pokemon looks around at her new surroundings for a few moments, before noticing Joon-hoo and crying out, running between my legs and pulling on my pants. I stare at Joon-ho stoically, who seems to have this bright, childish glee in his eyes.

"Can you keep my secret?" I ask solemnly, dropping my arm to my side.

Joon-ho stares at me, seemingly starstruck by Jessica, who is crying into my pant leg. For a few seconds, he stands still, staring at me, before he comes back to reality, nodding his head fervently.

"O-Of course! Of course, I will!"