The bus to Kojin was old and reeked of burnt oil. Kai sat by a window caked in yellow dust. He watched the green fields of the countryside slowly vanish. Small houses with gardens gave way to grey factories with tall smoking chimneys. Then the factories became the city. Kai had seen Kojin on television before but the real thing was so much bigger. So much louder. It felt like a living creature made of stone and metal and noise.
Everything Kai owned fit in a small brown cloth bag. Two shirts. A pair of socks. A book that had belonged to his father. And the paper. The one he and Park had written together. He kept it tucked inside his shirt against his skin. It was his only map in this strange new place.
He stepped off the bus at Central Station. The air was thick. Smoke and bodies and something metallic he couldn't name. Thousands of people moved past him in every direction. Not one of them looked at him. Not one smiled. They walked fast. Eyes down. Staring at their shoes or their phone screens. In Muraki everyone knew your name. Here in Kojin Kai felt invisible. Like a ghost.
This is where the heart of the country beats, he said to himself.
He spent his first day just walking. Looking for a place to sleep. Looking for work. He followed signs to the outskirts. A district called Namgu. Where the workers lived. The buildings here were tall and narrow. Built so close together the sun never touched the ground. The streets were full of puddles that never dried.
He found a room in a building that smelled like rotting wood. The room wasn't really a room. Just a small box with a bed and a chair. One naked light bulb hanging from a wire. The window looked out at a brick wall.
The landlord was an old woman with a voice like broken glass.
Rent is fifty pieces a week. You pay Monday. If you don't pay I throw your bag in the street. No exceptions.
I understand. I'll have the money.
You look like a farm boy. Kojin eats boys like you for breakfast. Get a job fast or go home.
Kai didn't go home. The next morning he went to the industrial area. He saw a big warehouse with a sign. Workers Needed. The building belonged to a company called Golden Star. The same company that owned factories in Ryokan.
A man with a red face stood at the gate holding a clipboard.
I'm looking for work. I'm strong. I don't mind long hours.
The man looked at Kai's arms. At the scars on his hands.
Twelve hours a day. One break for lunch. You break something it comes out of your pay. You agree?
I agree.
Start at the loading dock. Follow the others.
The work was the same as Muraki but faster. Meaner. The crates were heavier. The bosses angrier. Kai spent his days moving boxes of expensive wine and silk clothes. He saw the labels. Some going to the Government Palace. Some to the houses of rich businessmen.
At night Kai's body was too exhausted to move. He'd lie on his small bed listening to the city. Sirens in the distance. People arguing in the hall. He felt a deep crushing loneliness. He missed his mother's tea. He missed the quiet nights on the hill.
But he didn't stop thinking about the plan. On his second Sunday he decided to see the other side of Kojin. He took a bus to the Silver District. Where the politicians lived. Where the company owners lived.
As the bus crossed the bridge everything changed. The grey disappeared. In its place were towers of glass and white stone. Wide clean streets. No trash anywhere. Trees with green leaves. Flowers that smelled sweet.
Kai got off and walked slowly. He felt like he'd crossed into another country. Shiny black cars. Women in dresses that cost more than his father's hospital bill. Children playing with bright glowing toys.
He reached a large square. In the center was a bronze statue of the King. Noble. Kind. Behind it stood the Parliament Building. A mountain of white marble with tall pillars. Above the door words were carved deep into stone.
Justice for All.
Kai stared at those words. His mouth filled with something bitter.
He saw a man walking toward the building. Fine wool suit. Gold watch. Talking into a phone and laughing. Like he didn't have a care in the world. Like he'd never seen the puddles of Namgu. Like he didn't know what medicine cost in Muraki.
Kai turned to a guard standing near the gate.
Who is that man?
That's Minister Han. He's in charge of the national budget. Why?
Just wondering. He looks very happy.
The guard laughed. Why wouldn't he be? He lives in a palace and eats like royalty. Now move along. You don't belong here.
Kai moved. But he didn't leave yet. He sat on a bench and watched. He studied how the rich people moved through the world. Heads high. Loud voices. Confident. They weren't afraid of the police. The police were there to protect them.
Kai realized the wall between his world and theirs wasn't made of stone. It was made of something stronger. An idea. The idea that some people mattered more than others. The people in the Silver District believed they deserved the glass towers. They believed the people in Namgu deserved the mud.
He thought about the paper pressed against his chest. The Liberation Party. The name sounded so small. So weak. In the shadow of all this marble how could a worker with a cloth bag ever change anything?
He walked back toward the bridge. At the edge of the district he saw a small park. An old man sat on the ground. Wearing rags. Bare feet. Holding a small cup asking for coins.
A group of young people walked past him. Expensive sports clothes. Talking about a party they were going to. One of the boys saw the old man and stepped over him like he was a pile of garbage.
People like that ruin the view. The government should move them to the slums where they belong.
The others laughed and kept walking.
Kai stopped. He looked at the old man. He saw the same watery eyes he'd seen in Mr. Han back home. This man was a person. He had a mother once. A father. A beating heart. But here in the Silver District he was just something ugly that ruined the view.
Kai reached into his pocket. He had five pieces left for dinner. He put three in the old man's cup.
The old man looked up. Thank you young man. You have a kind face. Are you new to the city?
I am. I came from the south.
Be careful son. This city has a way of turning hearts to stone. If you want to survive you must forget where you came from.
I'll never forget. That's the only thing I have.
The old man nodded slowly. Many say that when they arrive. But hunger is a powerful teacher. It makes you forget everything except your stomach.
Kai walked away but the words stayed with him. He understood now. The city was a test. It was designed to break his spirit. To turn him into a machine that only worked and ate and slept. To make him like Juro. Too afraid to speak because he wanted to stay alive.
He went back to his small cold room in Namgu. He sat on the floor and pulled out the paper. Read the words he and Park had written.
The state shall provide free education to every child.
The price of life saving medicine shall be controlled by the people.
Every citizen has the right to a clean home and a living wage.
The words seemed impossible. But sitting there in the dark he remembered his father's blue face. The sound of the door locking at the hospital. The boy stepping over the old man.
He took a pen and added a new line.
We are the foundation of the kingdom and we will no longer be the dirt.
The next few weeks blurred together. Work and silence. Kai learned the rhythm of Kojin. Which streets to avoid at night. How to cook cheap soup on a small electric stove. He sent half his money back to his mother. Told her he was doing well. Told her the city was beautiful.
One night walking home from the warehouse he saw a small group of people under a street light. A young man standing on a crate holding a stack of papers.
Listen to me. The price of bread went up again. The companies are making record profits while we can't afford to eat. We must demand our rights.
A few people stopped. Most kept walking. Two police officers stood on the corner watching with cold eyes. Clubs in their hands.
We are the ones who make this city run. If we stop everything stops.
One officer walked forward. That's enough noise for tonight. You don't have a permit for a public speech. Move along or you're coming with us.
I'm just talking to my neighbors. Is it a crime to talk?
The officer didn't answer. He grabbed the young man's arm and twisted. The papers fell into the mud. The other officer pushed the small crowd back.
Clear the street. Now.
Kai watched from the shadows. He saw the fear in people's eyes. He saw the young man dragged toward a dark van. He saw the papers in the mud. When the police left he walked over and picked one up.
A poorly printed flyer. It talked about a workers union. The words were angry and loud. But disorganized. Just a cry of pain.
Kai realized anger wasn't enough. The young man on the crate had anger but no plan. He was easy to arrest because he was alone. Easy to ignore because he was just shouting at a street corner.
If you want to fight a mountain of marble you need more than a shout. You need a hammer made of thousands of voices. You need a structure that can't be broken by a single arrest.
He went back to his room. He felt something new. An energy. He wasn't just a worker anymore. He was a student of the city. He began observing everything. How the police moved. How information flowed through newspapers and radio. How people talked when they thought no one was listening.
He noticed everyone in Namgu was angry. The woman who sold vegetables angry about taxes. The men at the warehouse angry about hours. Students angry about jobs. But they were all angry in private. Like many small fires burning separately.
I need to bring the fires together, he said to himself.
He started talking to his coworkers. Not about the party yet. Just asking questions.
How long have you worked here? he asked a man named Sato.
Ten years. Same pay I had on day one.
Do you think the owner has the same pay he had ten years ago?
Sato laughed. The owner has a yacht in the southern sea. He doesn't even know this warehouse exists.
Why do we work for a man who doesn't know we exist?
Sato looked at him surprised. Because we have to eat kid. That's how the world works.
Maybe the world only works that way because we let it.
Sato didn't answer. But he looked at Kai differently after that. He saw Kai wasn't just a farm boy.
One evening Kai was sitting in a small park in Namgu. A patch of dirt with two broken benches. A girl sat on the other bench. White uniform. Exhausted. Red eyes like she'd been crying.
Are you alright?
She looked up. Saw his concerned face. She wiped her eyes.
I'm fine. Just a long shift.
You work at the hospital?
I'm a nurse at Central Hospital. It's a terrible place. No beds. No supplies. Today a woman lost her baby because we didn't have the right equipment in the public ward.
Kai felt ice in his chest. The memory of his father rushed back.
I'm sorry. It's not your fault.
I know. But it feels like it is. The doctors are all in the private wing treating rich people for scratches. While in my wing people are dying of things that are easy to fix.
Kai leaned forward. My name is Kai.
My name is Jin Haiwon.
Haiwon I think we're angry about the same things.
She looked at him. Saw the intensity in his eyes. Saw the paper peeking out from his shirt.
Everyone is angry in this city. But anger doesn't save babies.
No. But a plan might.
They sat in the quiet park for a long time. The lights of the Silver District sparkled in the distance far above the shadows of Namgu. Like cold unreachable stars. But as Kai talked to Haiwon he felt something shift. He wasn't a ghost anymore. He was finding his people.
He told her about Muraki. About the back of the truck. About the Liberation Party. He expected her to laugh. To say it was too dangerous. But she just listened. With a look of deep hunger on her face.
If you're serious you need more than words. You need evidence. You need to show people exactly how they're being cheated.
I have a friend who knows about money. And now I have you. You know about the hospitals.
I can get you records. Show you the difference between spending on the rich and the poor. But you have to promise me one thing.
Anything.
Don't stop. If you start this they will come for you. They'll try to buy you or kill you. If you stop halfway it'll be worse for everyone.
Kai looked at the marble towers across the river. He thought about the small cemetery in Muraki.
I won't stop until the towers are open or the walls are down.
Kai had found his first ally in the heart of the city. The plan was no longer just a dream on paper. It was starting to breathe. In the darkness of Namgu a small group was forming. People the city had tried to break. But instead of breaking they were becoming sharp.
Kai walked back to his room. He didn't feel tired anymore. He felt like a soldier before battle. The city of Kojin was still loud and cold. But it no longer felt like a giant animal. It felt like a machine. And Kai was learning where to put the hammer.