His parents and his doctors had not wanted him to go to Osaka; only his brother had felt it would be better for him, since Osaka was warmer than Pyongyang and because Yoseb knew how much Isak didn't want to be seen as invalid, the way he had been treated for most of his life.
“I should return home," Isak said, his eyes still closed. "You'll die on the train. You'll get worse before getting better. Can you sit up?" Yangjin asked him. "Isak pulled himself up and leaned against the cold wall. He had felt tired on the journey, but now it felt as if a bear was pushing against him. He caught his breath and turned to the wall to the wall to cough. Blood spots marked the wall. "You'll stay here. Until you get well," Yangjin said. She and Sunja looked at each other. They had not gotten sick when Hoonie had this, but the girls, who weren't there then, and the lodgers would have to be protected somehow.
Yangjin looked at his face. "Can you walk a little to the back room? We would have to separate you from the others."
Isak tried to get up but couldn't. Yangjin nodded. She told Dokhee to fetch the pharmacist and Bokhee to return to the kitchen to get the supper ready for the lodgers. Yangjin made him lie down on his bedroll, and she dragged het pallet slowly, sliding it toward the storage room, the same way she had moved her husband three three years before. Isak mumbled, "I didn't mean to bring you harm."
The young man cursed himself privately for his wish to see the world outside of his birthplace and for lying to himself that he was well enough to go to Osaka when he had sensed that he could never be cured to being so sickly. If he infected anyh of the people he had come into contact with, their death would be on his head. If he was supposed to die, he hoped to die swiftly to spare the innocent.