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Cast of Characters

 

PAEK GWANG-CHEOL (백광철): (Pronounced: Pek-Gwang-Chul) Early 20’s. A factory worker from Pyongyang attempting to escape North Korea. Skinny but not bony. Fairly smart, strong-willed, but sometimes misses important details. Courageous, but sometimes reckless. 

 

AGENT (보위부 요원): Late 30’s. A political police officer who interrogates passengers on the train. Doesn’t want to be involved in bothersome affairs, but that does not mean he isn’t astute. Sharp, inquisitive, and particularly observant of others. Once driven by ideology, but now only by fatigue. 

 

SECOND AGENT (보위부 요원 2): Early 30’s. A political police officer who assists in passenger interrogation.

 

KOTJEBI (꽃제비): (Pronounced: Koh-Cheh-bee) A teenage girl who’s snuck onto the train without her documents. Note: The name itself means poor, homeless North Koreans wandering the country)

 

Setting

 

Inside a train from Pyongyang to Sinuiju, a city located at the border between North Korea and China. The walls and couches in the car are old-fashioned, beige, and slightly dilapidated. Two portraits of portly old men with seemingly benevolent smiles, Kim Il-Sung and Kim Jong-Il, hung above the faded, blue intercar doors.

 

Time

 

May 2002, following the peak of Arduous March, a mass starvation in North Korea from 1995 to 2000 caused more than a million deaths.

 

 

AT RISE: 

 

The train from Pyongyang heads to Sinuiju. The stage suggests a train car. GWANG-CHEOL, a lean young man in his early 20s in a dusty shirt, is seated in an aisle seat. A window upstage indicates the passing cityscape of Pyongyang – grey rows of buildings, factory stacks, and a tower in the distance. 

 

GWANG-CHEOL’s eyes are staring out the window, seemingly captivated by the scenery outside, yet he firmly holds onto a worn-out backpack with his left arm, constantly fidgeting with the zipper with his calloused fingers. 

 

The intercar door creaks, and a tall AGENT in his late 30s with piercing eyes enters the car. Dressed in a slightly wrinkled khaki uniform of the People’s Army, he walks into the train corridor, exuding an air of authority, still with unconcealable fatigue and indifference on his face. His hair, longer than the common military style, marks him as apart from the regular ranks – an enforcer of the regime, not a mere soldier. GWANG-CHEOL stares at the approaching AGENT, trying his best to hide his sweaty palms. 

 

AGENT

Business.

 

GWANG-CHEOL promptly lowers his gaze to AGENT’s face.

 

GWANG-CHEOL

I’m sorry, comrade. I was just admiring our supreme leaders.

 

AGENT turns his head. Spotlight on the two portraits. 

 

AGENT stares at the portraits for a moment and looks back at GWANG-CHEOL. 

 

AGENT

Is that so? 

 

GWANG-CHEOL

Of course, I never feel I can find the right words to fully express my gratitude to our leaders, comrade. 

 

AGENT

Patriot, huh?

 

GWANG-CHEOL

Of course, I always try to be.

 

AGENT

Documents.

 

From the pocket of his trousers, GWANG-CHEOL pulls up a folded, pink document entitled Travel Certificate. 

 

GWANG-CHEOL hands the document to the AGENT respectfully with both hands. 

 

GWANG-CHEOL

Here you go, sir.  

 

AGENT opens the certificate, eyes scanning its contents with trained sharpness, then lingers on the party-emblem emblazoned cover. 

 

AGENT

Sinuiju?

 

GWANG-CHEOL

(trembling)

Yes, comrade.

 

AGENT

Long way from Pyongyang. Purpose?

 

GWANG-CHEOL

(swallowing hard)

Oh I beg your pardon, sir. It’s just that my uncle died two days ago in Sinuiju, so I’m attending his funeral to pay my respects. That’s why I am going there. 

 

AGENT

Sorry to hear that. How did he pass?

 

GWANG-CHEOL

I know he’s had some heart problems, but I don’t know in detail, comrade. 

 

AGENT

(suspicious)

What do you mean you don’t know?

 

GWANG-CHEOL

(looking anywhere but the AGENT)

I…I only received a short telegraph, comrade… They’re expensive, you see… My aunt…she wrote that he had passed away and asked me to attend the funeral. So that's why I’m going. 

 

AGENT

What did he do before?

 

GWANG-CHEOL

He worked in a textile factory until his condition worsened.

 

AGENT

Textile factory? Only the Liberation District has that in Sinuiju. That’s your destination, yes?

 

GWANG-CHEOL nods.

 

GWANG-CHEOL

Yes, comrade. 

 

AGENT

Where’s your family?

 

GWANG-CHEOL hesitates briefly, but proceeds.

 

GWANG-CHEOL

I have a brother, but he’s too sick to go to Sinuiju. And my parents… they passed away five years ago. You know what it was like back in 1997. Everyone was starving. Everyone lost their family members, even in Pyongyang–

 

Spotlight again on the portraits of previous supreme leaders. The bright smiles of the two corpulent leaders contrast with the darker stage. 

 

AGENT nods, biting his lips, his throat tightening as he lowers his gaze. 

 

AGENT

I understand. My people– (clears his throat) MANY people… struggled, during the Arduous March. 

 

AGENT shakes his head as he furrows his brows while jumping to the next question hastily.

 

 AGENT (CONT’D)

What’s inside the backpack? 

 

GWANG-CHEOL

Just some clothes, a bit of cash, and other documents.

 

AGENT quietly stares at GWANG-CHEOL. AGENT leans slightly forward, hand outstretched, gaze unblinking.

 

After a very brief hesitation, GWANG-CHEOL hands the bag over to AGENT. 

 

GWANG-CHEOL (CONT’D)

(a dry rasp escapes his throat)

Of course, comrade, here it is.

 

AGENT unzips the backpack and rummages through it: shirts, pants, a few candies, and cream-colored papers. Then he discovers a faded family photograph in a thick wooden frame. He angles the frame toward the light, eyes locked on it, jaw clenching. Something doesn’t fit.

 

AGENT

(lifts the frame upright, shadow stretching from its thick bulk)

Quite thick. 

 

GWANG-CHEOL

I just miss my family… and also– yes, wanted to share this picture with my aunt and cousins. The frame, well… I just didn’t want the photo to be damaged, because that’s the only photo I’ve got. 

 

AGENT fiddles with the corners of the frame, smirking faintly.

 

AGENT

(sarcastic) 

Family is important indeed. 

 

AGENT runs his fingertips along the wooden edge slowly, grazing the corners, as if savoring the act. GWANG-CHEOL momentarily freezes, attempting to respond yet failing to verbalize. 

 

A noise from the back – abrupt and desperate – breaks the silence. Both turn. 

 

SECOND AGENT, an average-height man in his early 30’s, looms over KOTJEBI, a teenage girl with unkempt hair, dressed in a tattered, grimy shirt and scruffy jeans.

 

SECOND AGENT

So, no documents?

 

KOTJEBI

I told you, they were stolen at the station!

 

SECOND AGENT scoffs, leaning closer. 

 

SECOND AGENT

(mockingly)

How convenient. Say they were stolen and we turn a blind eye, huh? 

 

KOTJEBI momentarily hesitates but attempts to respond to SECOND AGENT. 

 

KOTJEBI

But comrade, I really –

 

SECOND AGENT hovers over KOTJEBI, his face close enough she feels the heat of his breath. 

 

SECOND AGENT

Don’t get it? The directive says to seize reactionaries and hurl them into correctional labor.  

 

SECOND AGENT retreats. He puts his left hand on the back of KOTJEBI’s seat as his right hand reaches for the pistol in his holster.

 

SECOND AGENT (CONT’D)

(whisper, teeth showing)

Trying to slip south like a thief, huh? Don’t fool yourself. You’re not going anywhere. Not without papers.

 

KOTJEBI swallows, fingertips brushing the rusty lever. She bites her lip, eyes flicking between the window and SECOND AGENT.

 

SECOND AGENT (CONT’D)

(knowingly)

Go ahead. You will regret it. 

 

KOTJEBI tears the lever free, explodes the window open, and slings herself out into the rural country without hesitation. SECOND AGENT calmly watches KOTJEBI landing with a thud.

 

SECOND AGENT (CONT’D)

(murmurs, voice flat.)

Another jumper. Figures. These Kotjebis never learn.

 

SECOND AGENT slowly walks towards the rear intercar door, without a glance back, and exits.

 

GWANG-CHEOL turns back and finds the AGENT calmly staring at him. 

 

GWANG-CHEOL

I- I’m so sorry, comrade, that was … an incident I have never seen, I beg your pardon.

 

AGENT

(sneering)

Enjoyed the sight? For those Kotjebis, they either jump or get sent to labor camps.

 

AGENT coldly gazes at GWANG-CHEOL. 

 

AGENT (CONT’D)

That is the fate of a counter-revolutionary.

 

AGENT steps closer to GWANG-CHEOL, with his left hand holding the framed photograph and his right hand near his holster. 

 

AGENT (CONT’D)

(subdued)

Counter-revolutionaries deserve to be punished. Don’t you agree, Mr. Paek? Disgraceful, isn’t it? When our nation needs to unite under our supreme leader.

 

GWANG-CHEOL

I agree, comrade. Those reactionaries must be punished. 

 

AGENT

Right. So, Mr. Paek, let me ask you a question.

 

GWANG-CHEOL

What is it, comrade?

 

AGENT

What are your plans after arriving at Sinuiju? Crossing over the border and later fleeing to the South? 

 

GWANG-CHEOL

Comrade, I’m not a counter-revolutionary! I would never, ever do–

 

AGENT

(sinisterly)

I see a lot of travel certificates. More than a hundred a day. 

 

AGENT holds GWANG-CHEOL’s travel certificate and dangles it in front of GWANG-CHEOL’s face.

 

AGENT (CONT’D)

You almost had me. Impressive forgery. Meticulous. Every mark accounted for. But, you know what, Mr. Paek?

 

Spotlight on the cover of the travel document. A golden emblem of the Worker’s Party of Korea, the hammer, brush, and sickle, shines brightly.

 

AGENT (CONT’D)

The cover has been redesigned recently. It’s now the state emblem, not the Party’s.

 

GWANG-CHEOL

I was given a document in this design, comrade. The party office in my district may not have been updated, I had no way of knowing.

 

AGENT

(conceding)

Good point. It’s true, the design was changed only a month ago. 

 

GWANG-CHEOL

Yes, comrade, I never—

 

AGENT

If you were not from Pyongyang, that would have made sense.

 

AGENT comes closer, eyes locked on GWANG-CHEOL.

 

AGENT (CONT’D)

Tell me, Mr. Paek. Do you imagine our glorious Pyongyang turning a blind eye to such a blunder?

 

GWANG-CHEOL

Please, comrade, this document was issued by the district office. Why would I risk my life by forging a document? This is a misunderstanding! 

 

AGENT

You’re not doing yourself any favors, Mr. Paek.

 

AGENT (CONT’D)

(coldly amused)

First, you told me that your uncle worked in a textile factory in the Liberation District. Unfortunately, there is no textile factory there. It’s in the Bangjik district. 

 

GWANG-CHEOL’s lips tremble, no sound escaping. 

 

AGENT (CONT’D)

Who goes to a funeral without knowing where it's held?

 

GWANG-CHEOL

(trembling)

Comrade, you see–

 

AGENT gently taps the back of the frame with his fingernails. 

 

AGENT

Quite a sturdy frame. To protect memories, right? What’s with the bulge at the back of the frame? 

 

GWANG-CHEOL

(frantically)

Comrade! I can explain, please, let me–

 

Without a word, AGENT releases the rusty fasteners. The rear panel loosens as crumpled U.S. dollar and Chinese Yuan bills spill out. GWANG-CHEOL stiffens, his body locked in silent defeat. 

 

AGENT

Dollar and Yuan? Smart choices, especially for fleeing from China to the south.

 

AGENT examines the bills in silence, then grabs a dollar bill, rips it in half, and holds the shreds inches before GWANG-CHEOL’s face. Turning the backing, AGENT uncovers a note: Be safe in the South.

 

AGENT (CONT’D)

A note telling you to be safe in the South? Speak up, Mr. Paek. Can you prove you are not a counter-revolutionary?

 

The car is swallowed by silence. 

 

GWANG-CHEOL sits motionless, fingers twitching. Through thick silence, he looks up, eyes hardened by determination.

 

GWANG-CHEOL

The note, it’s from my brother. He needs my help, comrade. 

 

AGENT

Brother? Cry me a river. 

 

GWANG-CHEOL

(undeterred)

He has asthma. He’s frail. We can’t afford the medicine. It’s not like we can go to the hospitals. Obviously, they are reserved for the party official comrades! 

 

AGENT draws his gun with clinical precision, aims it squarely at GWANG-CHEOL’s face – no tremor, no hesitation, only duty. 

 

GWANG-CHEOL’s face turns pale as he clenches his fist. His breathing quickens, realizing his last defense has fallen apart. 

 

GWANG-CHEOL (CONT’D)

(resigned)

What could I have done instead, comrade? Stay and let my brother die? I can’t let my only family member die, comrade.

 

GWANG-CHEOL’s body slackens without resistance. Defeated, he shuts his eyes as a broken sight escapes him. 

 

GWANG-CHEOL (CONT’D)

 I have no choice.

 

AGENT examines the torn dollar bill and the note. For a brief moment, his mask slips. He exhales deeply before he meets GWANG-CHEOL’s gaze. 

 

AGENT then lowers his gun slowly. He fixes his shirt’s collar, regains his composure, then steps back from GWANG-CHEOL. 

 

AGENT (CONT’D)

(firmly)

Clean this up before someone else comes in.

 

AGENT slips a red piece of paper on the backrest of GWANG-CHEOL’s chair, signifying that he passed the interrogation. 

 

AGENT (CONT’D)

I once had a brother. 

 

AGENT heads towards the blue intercar door. The sound of the footsteps echoes. Just before he exits, he looks at GWANG-CHEOL for the last time.

 

AGENT (CONT’D)

Enjoy the funeral.