My Songbird's Dream

7. A Melody of Memories

Occupied Seoul
November, 1944

Elegant shadows cut sharply through plumes of cobalt cigarette haze swirling within Seoul's most notorious lounge - Akai Hana lounge - where liberally flowing liquor kept time ticking and harsh realities at bay nightly.

As the raucous laughter cresting from booths of off-duty American naval men scattered at the distinctive rap of polished oxfords marking signature entrance, Ji-tae Park stepped inside minus typical flair.

Rough edges to his impatience bled through the refined persona tonight. Barely pausing to assess the mood, Ji-tae gestured brusquely for circular booth nearest the central stage to be cleared for privacy.

Trailing employees hopped to it without customary deference.

When the attendant strode over, he gestured at her. He simply nodded.

"Scotch. Neat." Came the gentle, yet terse order that brooked no playful objection as usual. He set his own engraved lighter was placed down amidst the table's chaotic glassware. He stared at it for a moment, before placing it away again into his pocket.

As tumblers were hastily wiped clean, the club's aura grew muted and wary.

The establishment's grand arched windows ushering dusky Seoul sunset into collision with a singer's rising stage lights.

Shadows swayed hypnotic over the lounge's vaulted ceilings as the last natural light faded behind garish neon announcing the evening revue. Japan's officials flocked in on occasion, even after they departed their presence haunted still.

His venue peddled glassful dreams and siren songs from overseas. He was always weary of those that tried to take more than they paid for - dignity, innocence, souls.

Increasingly it seemed entitled forces presumed every woman their playground and spoils of victory over the peninsula.

In theory, Ji-tae cultivated his venue for wealthy gentlemen and women alike to glimpse at western influence styled jazz, for additional benefit paired with Elysian beauty paired with fine meals and company. Flesh intoxicated company? It was never meant to be that.

In practice however, those lines often smudged blurry thanks to clientele who treated talented performers as conquests to claim and break reckless of rules.

Which is why when two striking Japanese naval officers went reeling drunkenly up the gilded staircase dragging the card girl Sakumi forcibly along, the lounge staff turned heads down obediently.

All except Ji-Tae zeroing in disgusted from his overlook perch as crystal shattered loudly...

His smoldering glare fixed upon the obliviously drunk pair of officers manhandling the hostess up the gilded staircase towards deluxe suites off-limits to debauchery.

Ji-tae strode over, hands clasped behind his back belying subtle tension as he bowed deeply. "Good evening, gentlemen..." The congenial words held bite, as he clapped his hands together with a welcoming smile.

Though at some point his smile turned frozen, the men exchanged a dull look. "Here's the thing..." Ji-tae began easily enough. "I fear you mistake what's offered here..." He stepped between them and the terrified girl discreetly.

" Establishments by Park Ji-Tae are for those with tasteful pallets, and other excursions you may be thinking of, are likely owned by my brother, his specialty is across town."

The officers paused befuddled, one still gripping the weeping girl's slender wrist. "This is the Akai Hana lounge, no? Geishas prowling about..." He made a crude shape with his hands eliciting ashamed outrage below from surrounding ladies pretending deafness.