Kyung checked her non-smart, analog wristwatch. 4 p.m. Two hours before the touring exhibit closed. That didn’t leave much time for Kyung to explain the plan, swap out the original, and leave the premises undetected. She couldn’t remember the last time her heart thumped this way. Having any kind of heartbeat at eighty-four years was a good sign, right? 

The exhibit featured the use of urushiol oil, dating back to when Korea was ruled by dynasties. Household goods, musical instruments, paintings, and even a few weapons were promised to be on display. The natural substance was known to be resistant to the sea air, making it possible for the event to be outdoors with the stunning coastline as a backdrop. 

As teenagers, Kyung and her friends had gazed out over this same overlook while walking home from school. She would have never thought that in the span of six decades, this small area on the outskirts of Mokpo would endure bloodshed and destruction, and then later be rebuilt into fish markets. Recently, after the area became popular on social media, the acres of shabby food stalls were transformed into resorts. It was surreal to see their simple hometown overrun with influencers. Kyung sighed. Perhaps there really was no going back to where they had come from. 

At the same time, Kyung was grateful too. KakaoTalk had kept the friends together even after seventy years, and over thousands of miles. Kyung, the tech-savviest of them, had come across an article about the exhibit coming to a resort in Mokpo. The friends were back in their childhood home, their gohyang, for a much needed reunion. 

Kyung cleared her throat. Jeeyon turned up her hearing aid. 

“That’s the exhibit,” Kyung began, nodding at the rows of artifacts. “They brought it here because they thought many of the pieces were from the raid.” She didn’t have to say more. Who could forget that night? Their homes had been ransacked, and they all knew people who had been dragged out and taken. 

“Anyway, I saw this in the ad for the exhibit.” Kyung zoomed in on her phone. The others adjusted their bifocals, nearly in unison. 

“What… It’s a jewelry box,” said Mina, not quite connecting the dots. 

“Mina! This is your jewelry box!” Yuri exclaimed. Kyung enhanced the image. The ornate details of mother-of-pearl inlay revealed a tiny crane in the distance, in addition to two large ones at the center. “You always pointed out how yours had an extra crane, and that it made you more scholarly! This is definitely your box!” 

Mina’s face lit up. “You really think so?” 

“I know so,” Kyung replied. 

“Should we tell them it’s mine?” Mina asked. 

“No,” said Kyung. “We’re not going to tell them. We’re just gonna take it.” The others gasped. 

“What?! Why?” asked Sora. 

“Because it’s hers, and she should have it,” replied Jeeyon, a little loudly. She adjusted her hearing aid. 

“Exactly,” confirmed Kyung. “Look, we’re in our eighties. I don’t want to wait around, fill out forms, wait for a decision. The box belongs to Mina. You guys in?” The rest nodded. It had been a long time since any of them had felt this alive. 

“Okay. So here’s the plan.” Kyung pulled out a black lacquer box from her bulky-yet-lightweight bag, briefly showed it to the others, and put it back before anyone else could see it. 

“Where’d you get that?” Sora asked. 

“Amazon,” Kyung answered. It looked real, but up close, there was no shine of genuine inlay. She draped the long handles of her bag over Sora’s walker. “Yuri, Mina, you guys are the fastest on your feet. Go, now, find the box, but don’t stay there. Go past it, and wait for us.” Yuri and Mina started toward their target. 

Kyung turned to Jeeyon. “Jeeyon, take your time. Turn off your hearing aid and ask people about each item. We need people to focus on you.” Jeeyon complied as she made her way in. She sweetly tugged on the arm of a security guard. 

Kyung straightened Sora’s walker. They started to make their way through the exhibit. She spotted the shiny black box. She couldn’t believe it. It had disappeared in one of the most devastating times of their lives. Today, it waited for them, thirty feet away.

The exhibit looked just like the ad. Gorgeous red and yellow leaves beckoned admirers. Kyung enjoyed the irony that she understood—that poison ivy was being used to protect the urushiol artifacts. Urushiol was the toxic oil in poison ivy. Only nature and knowledge stood between the women and the box. 

Out of the corner of her eye, Kyung saw Mina making a beeline for the box, albeit slowly, on her thin, arthritic legs. In that moment, Mina had forgotten the plan. She was not seeing artifacts at an exhibit. She was seeing one of her most cherished possessions after it had been missing for sixty years. 

Yuri grabbed Mina’s arm and steered her past the box. Jeeyon, who had been watching from afar, started to cough and gesture wildly at the security guard. She winked at Kyung as he ushered her to a seat. 

Kyung donned a pair of gloves and carefully lifted Mina’s box off the ivy. She switched it with the replica seamlessly—just like the guy in the sleight-of-hand video tutorial she had found on YouTube. Yuri nonchalantly lifted the purse off the walker, then exited the exhibit, one arm still firmly hooked around Mina’s. 

Back in their hotel room, Kyung handed the box to Mina. Mina hugged it tightly, then opened it. She lifted a small hidden panel. 

From underneath, Mina pulled a faded photograph of the five girls. “It’s still here.” 

“What did you say?” Jeeyon said, breaking the solemn silence. 

“Turn your hearing aid back on!” They broke out giggling, just like they had as children. Kyung breathed in the sea air. Together, they had done what no history book or museum curator ever could. They had rewritten the ending.