The Astra Garden
KiKi was in the 1920s.
She was staying at the Astra Hotel, located in a town near the desert.
There was no distinct reason for choosing this place. One job had ended, and when she thought about where to spend a brief holiday before deciding what to do next, this town happened to be the most accessible.
Convenience of travel and ease of stay—those were the only reasons.
In other words, this stay was merely an act of filling a “void in time” that held no particular purpose.
In the hotel lobby, a poster for guests was displayed:
EXCLUSIVELY FOR GUESTS – EVERY WEDNESDAY
16:00 Meet | 18:00 Arrive | 21:00 Return
The poster advertised one of the hotel’s organized activities: if guests gathered in the lobby at 4:00 PM on Wednesday, a bus would take them to “Astra Garden,” an amusement park in the middle of the desert.
Normally, one would take the train to reach Astra Garden. The park had been established by the railway company at the end of the line as a way to attract visitors and increase rail traffic.
However, traveling by train was somewhat inconvenient for a person alone, and for a woman traveling solo, there was a psychological barrier. Therefore, the hotel’s bus tour functioned as a safe means of transport, easily accessible even for lone guests.
Seeing these conditions, KiKi decided to join with almost no hesitation. Her reason was simple: “I’ll go because I can.”
On the day of the tour, about ten participants gathered in the lobby.
Among them were two other women who, like KiKi, were participating alone.
Without a word, the three of them ended up sitting side-by-side on a sofa, waiting.
A hotel staff member began creating a roster of the participants.
The woman sitting next to KiKi was the first to give her name.
“I’m Stella.”
She appeared to be in her forties, a woman with a composed aura. She lived in this town but mentioned that she visited Astra Garden regularly.
“The desert, you see—it’s different every time.”
“Even in the same spot, there are moments when you never know what might happen.”
From this remark, it was clear that she was no mere tourist, but someone well-acquainted with the area.
Immediately after, the man with the roster paused for a split second in front of her.
It was only a slight hesitation, but it was a clear reaction of “recognition.”
He glanced at the surroundings and adjusted the arrangements to ensure the three women had seats together.
The other woman introduced herself.
“I’m Verda.”
She was around thirty, a teacher by profession.
She was scheduled to take up a new post in a different town soon and had joined the tour to make one last memory of this town before leaving.
She carried a cloth bag containing a guidebook, a notebook, and a fountain pen.
Every so often, Verda would take out her notebook and write something. The fountain pen looked to be made of black ebonite.
Whenever she finished writing, she would quickly cap the pen to keep dust away from the nib, slip a piece of blotting paper between the pages, and tuck it carefully deep into her cloth bag.
“This isn’t a record,” she said.
“I’m just letting out my thoughts as they come.”
She said she rarely looked back at what she had written. It wasn’t organized information, but rather fragments of thought generated in the moment, cast outward.
The three naturally began to move as a group.
“Is this your first time at Astra Garden?” Stella asked.
Both replied that it was.
Verda remarked, “The next town doesn’t seem to have a place like this, so this might be my first and last amusement park.”
Stella thought for a moment and then made a suggestion.
“We should start with the Ferris wheel. It’s the best time to see the desert at twilight. When you go up, you can see the light changing.”
“Then, the carousel.”
“And finally, the theater would be best. They have light refreshments there.”
This was a sequence proposed by someone who understood the layout of the park—a route to experience it efficiently for newcomers.
The other two agreed. They weren’t close enough to go to a dance hall, nor intimate enough to spend a long time talking in a restaurant. A route centered on viewing and spectating was appropriate.
The door of the Ferris wheel gondola clicked shut.
Inside were two benches facing each other.
Stella sat alone on one side.
KiKi and Verda sat side-by-side on the remaining seat.
The Ferris wheel ascended slowly.
Shadows stretched long across the sand.
While some light remained outside, the colors had already begun to drain away.
The distant horizon was sinking, still holding a faint, lingering heat.
KiKi watched the view.
Verda started to reach for her notebook once, then stopped.
As they neared the peak, the sounds of the park grew slightly distant.
Then, it stopped. A brief, sudden halt.
In 그 moment, in the amusement park below, a point of light appeared, then another, and another.
The neon lights flickered on all at once.
Though they must have been turned on separately, they appeared to ignite simultaneously.
The daytime silhouette vanished, and a different structure emerged.
By the time the Ferris wheel descended, the sky had lost its color entirely.
After the Ferris wheel, they were guided to the carousel.
“You really should ride this,” Stella said.
Approaching the carousel, its structure became clear.
A circular roof enclosed the perimeter.
Each pillar was adorned with gold decorations.
It wasn’t paint; one could tell it was gold leaf, a light that had been applied.
The horses were all wooden, and no two were alike.
The tension of the muscles, the direction of the eyes, the way the mouths were set—each possessed a different movement.
The surfaces were polished, but they were not new.
The time they had been touched remained etched upon them.
At the center stood a series of mirrors.
They were meant to reflect light, but the images were slightly distorted.
Depending on the angle, one’s reflection seemed to follow with a slight delay.
When you caught the eye of yourself in the mirror, you couldn’t tell if it was the person you were now or the person you once were.
The music began.
It wasn’t a live performance, but an internal organ.
The sound of air being pushed out mingled faintly with the notes.
The music wasn’t uniform; it wavered ever so slightly.
The rhythm, which should have been constant, was not perfectly fixed.
The three of them each chose a different horse.
KiKi took the outside.
Verda stayed near the center.
Stella was in between.
The rotation began.
Lights flowed in a continuous stream.
The same colors returned at the same intervals.
Yet, they did not match perfectly.
The light, the sound, and the movement were slightly out of sync.
KiKi found herself beginning to remember several other places.
There were similarities, but they were not the same.
She turned her gaze outward.
The darkness of the perimeter and the density of the light inside were sharply divided.
There was a boundary, yet crossing it was easy.
The music played on.
One revolution ended.
However, it wasn’t clear if that was the “first” lap or not.
The area in front of the theater was the most crowded part of the park.
Posters for the Girls’ Opera Company were displayed, and many people were coming and going.
The adjacent shops and cafes were large; the entire space was bright and filled with sound and motion.
KiKi and Verda felt a distinct sense of wonder at the scale and brilliance of it all.
KiKi bought Marie biscuits at a shop.
The shopkeeper suggested, “How about some caramels?”
Inside a large glass jar were individual caramels for sale.
“These don’t just go with coffee; they pair well with liqueur, too.”
Stella, standing beside her, reacted.
“That sounds lovely.”
“I’ll have an orange liqueur and three of those, please.”
She naturally paid for all three of them.
KiKi and Verda hesitated for a moment but did not refuse.
The reason was clear: they understood the other’s position.
Here, the judgment of the atmosphere took precedence over the nature of their relationship.
The shopkeeper lined up three small glasses.
“A toast, everyone.”
The three clinked their small glasses together.
Just before the theater performance began, the flow of the crowd eased for a moment.
A man in uniform approached and spoke to Stella.
“Welcome, Madame. Please, come this way.”
He called her “Madame.” It was a title indicating her social standing.
KiKi and Verda silently exchanged a glance.
The three were led directly to the theater’s VIP seats.
The VIP section was a box type, shielded from the view of other spectators.
Once seated, Verda tried to put a pamphlet into her bag.
But it wouldn’t fit quite right.
“I’ll look at it later.”
KiKi was still holding the paper bag of Marie biscuits.
Verda saw this, and without a word, took the bag and placed it in her own cloth bag.
“You’ll drop them.”
Before they knew it, salon sandwiches—cut into neat triangles like specimens—and tea had been brought to their seats, accompanied by linen napkins.
Perhaps the liqueur they had in the lobby was starting to take effect; the air in the box grew soft.
Stella said, “I’d like to dance on a stage, too. I can dance, and I don’t think my singing is half bad.”
Verda played along.
“I think you’re suited for it. You certainly would have been a star.”
KiKi observed the exchange, laughing along while feeling a light sense of admiration at how natural it all felt.
When they returned to the hotel by bus, a black car was waiting.
A long hood, a partitioned interior—it was clearly no ordinary means of transport.
A man standing by the black car said to Stella:
“Welcome back, Madame. If you had told us you were going out, we would have driven you.”
Stella shook her head.
“No, that would be boring.”
She turned back to the two of them.
“I had a lovely time. Good day to you.”
She stepped into the car and was driven away.
The two remaining stood there.
Verda took the Marie biscuits out of her bag.
“Here.”
She handed them to KiKi.
“I have to be up very early tomorrow.”
She was scheduled to leave for her next post the following morning.
“It really was a wonderful memory.”
With that, she went back to her room.
KiKi returned to her own room as well.
She made some tea and took one Marie biscuit.
And she thought to herself that tonight had been a truly strange and wondrous experience.
