The first frost had fallen.
Park Shineok, who was busy on weekdays and holidays alike, was staying home for some reason. He barely touched his breakfast before taking possession of the telephone in the living room and calling every place imaginable. It was hard to tell whether he was trying to confirm something or seeking reassurance himself.
When he could think of no more numbers to call, he sat fingering the surface of the ivory-colored receiver before reaching for the pack of cigarettes on the table. Chilgu, a close-cropped man standing beside him, promptly pulled a lighter from his pocket and bent forward.
Park Shineok took a deep drag on his cigarette, looking tired, then gave a slight jerk of his chin.
“Television.”
“Yes, Chairman.”
Chilgu, who always stubbornly insisted that he was a high-ranking executive serving as the chairman's personal secretary, not some lowly lackey, turned the dial and switched on the television. A program about finding separated family members was airing.
Park Shineok kept blowing out clouds of cigarette smoke, looking unusually serious.
“When the hell is that damn show gonna end? I'm sick to death of it.”
“……”
“Fuck's sake, all that bawling and hugging and carrying on.”
At the back of the living room, Hyungnam was wiping the glass of a display cabinet with a cloth. She glanced at the television screen. A brother and sister who had been separated were dramatically recognizing each other, both on the verge of fainting. Even the anchors presenting the program were dabbing tears from their eyes.
And Park Shineok was pointing at that sacred moment and sneering.
He really is a hopeless gangster.
Hyungnam shook her head and continued wiping the glass.
Then, at some point, she suddenly realized that the loud stream of profanity had stopped.
“……”
She turned her head slightly and looked over her shoulder.
The man who had been sneering was now staring intently at the television. People were still bawling and hugging and making a tremendous fuss, yet strangely enough, no more curses came flying their way.
Sniff.
The sound hadn't come from the television.
Could Chilgu be sniffling? He's ugly, but he does have a soft heart.
But Chilgu was bending over to say something to Park Shineok, and at that very moment came another sound of someone drawing air through his nose.
Surely Park Shineok isn't crying?
Hyungnam nearly dropped her cloth.
She stared in astonishment at the back of Park Shineok's head, where thinning hair exposed patches of flesh-colored scalp, then turned her gaze toward the television.
“Brother! It really is you!”
“Sunam! My little sister, Sunam! Mother and Father are both still alive!”
Over the siblings' cries rose the slow, mournful melody of a singer.
Does Anyone Know This Person?
The song's sorrowful mood heightened the tragedy of the scene, as though reminding viewers that the joy of reunion had been born from the pain of separation.
Park Shineok was openly shedding tears now, making no attempt to hide them as he wiped his face with the back of his hand.
Hyungnam remained motionless, like a cicada clinging to the display cabinet, staring blankly at the spectacle for quite some time.
Rrrrring!
The telephone rang shrilly.
Park Shineok flinched in surprise and hurriedly answered it. The conversation was brief. He slammed the receiver down with a vigorous motion and burst into loud laughter.
“Choi Eunhyung's showing some proper devotion before he leaves.”
Park Shineok said something to Chilgu and gestured with his hand. Chilgu bowed and hurried out of the house.
Rising from his seat, Park Shineok began swinging his arms and clapping his hands in front of and behind his body. He was clearly in an exceptionally good mood.
A sense of foreboding came over Hyungnam, and she hurried to finish her cleaning.
“Hey! You been there all along?”
But misfortune became reality the moment she sensed it approaching.
Hyungnam spun around in alarm. A broad, flat face was approaching her with a leering grin.
“I'm in a good mood. Let's have a quick one before I head to work.”
Hyungnam clenched her molars.
Even the neighborhood residents averted their eyes and discreetly avoided the head of this criminal organization whenever they encountered him. What nerve could a mere maid possibly summon to speak against him?
Her pale gray eyes, devoid of even the slightest hope or expectation, stared blankly at the floor, which seemed to waver beneath her.
Meanwhile, she tried to console herself.
Don't cry. Three minutes at most. If Chilgu catches us, it'll just be a little embarrassing. At least you don't have to worry about getting thrown out. He even gives you money afterward, brand-new notes and all. Think of Queen Jeongsun. You're happier than a queen.
A single tear that had gathered on her eyelashes fell to the floor.
The round mark it made upon landing looked just like the carelessly drawn outline of an accident scene on asphalt.
It wasn't long before Park Shineok pulled away, leaving her throat constricting so tightly it felt as though it might snap.
Hyungnam finally couldn't hold back a small retch.
Fortunately, the earlier song began playing on the television again, concealing the sound.
Hyungnam rubbed her eyes roughly with the back of her hand. Even so, the corners of her eyes grew wet again, as naturally as the earth around a village well.
Struggling to steady the breath that caught and fluttered in her throat, Hyungnam thought:
I'm not crying over something as trivial as this. I'm crying because of that song. Just hearing it makes me picture those people clinging to their families and crying out. It's a program that even made Park Shineok himself cry. That's why I'm crying.
Thinking that way made it a little easier to breathe.
***
Using the evening grocery shopping as an excuse, Hyungnam bought a Patti Kim cassette tape from a handcart at the entrance to an alley.
Does anyooone know this persooon?
She was pleased by the clear voice flowing from the old cassette player.
Park Shineok called to say that a guest would be staying overnight.
Hyungnam held the receiver and nodded listlessly.
To hell with guests. I just want to listen to that song and cry to my heart's content.
But even though she had prepared the guest room and its bedding well in advance, they showed no sign of coming home.
Hyungnam waited until midnight before leaving the living room lights on and returning to her own room.
She started the cassette player, slipped a hand beneath her pillow, and listened intently to the song.
If only I had family I could embrace and rejoice with. If only there were someone who would fly all the way from America in a heartbeat just to see me……
It was not until morning that she learned who the late-night guest was.
“Let's eat.”
The sound of two people's spoons striking their rice bowls rose quietly through the dining room.
Hyungnam carried her tray back into the kitchen. Then she concealed herself behind the refrigerator, leaning against it so that no one outside could see her.
Beyond the wide-open arched doorway came the low murmur of conversation from the dining room.
Enjoying the warmth radiating from the refrigerator, Hyungnam rubbed the sole of one foot against the top of the other and glanced back.
“……”
Park Shineok sat at the head of the table, but from where Hyungnam stood, she could only hear his voice. Of the overnight guest, she could see half his back.
He wore a black short-sleeved T-shirt, apparently untroubled by the cold, and his hair looked damp, as though it had not completely dried.
Hyungnam had seen Choi Eunhyung a couple of times before.
They certainly weren't personally acquainted. He was simply one of the few subordinates Park Shineok allowed into the house.
Manager Choi.
That was what Park Shineok always called him over the telephone.
I'd thought he was some middle-aged man getting on in years. I remember how surprised I was when I first saw him. He looked so young.
How good must he be at being a gangster to have made manager at his age? Does he get a raise when he's promoted, like people at ordinary companies?
Hyungnam contemplated the faint contours of the back beneath his T-shirt, which suggested the lean musculature of a wild beast.
“Your hand hurt bad?”
“Nothing too serious.”
“What're you doing today?”
“I'm feeling a little chilled. Think I'll get some rest.”
Drops of water fell intermittently from his damp hair and soaked into his T-shirt.
No wonder he's coming down with a cold.
Clicking her tongue inwardly, Hyungnam gauged when she should bring out the warm toasted-rice water.
“Did you hear some strange singing last night?”
Hyungnam's hand froze just as she was turning on the heat beneath the cast-iron pot.
Click-click-click-click-click-click-click.
The gas igniter rattled noisily.
“Singing?”
“Yes. Some lunatic kept playing the same song over and over in the middle of the night.”
In the dim kitchen, Hyungnam stared down at the wavering blue flames and gripped the hem of her apron tightly.
Small, round bubbles rose through the cloudy surface of the warm toasted-rice water and burst one after another.
They seemed to be bubbling with the same guilty agitation she felt.
“Hmm. Didn't hear anything myself.”
Hyungnam chewed hard on the inside of her lip.
According to the floor plan, the guest room shared a wall with the maid's room. That explained why the chairman hadn't heard the song she had played throughout the night.
Even so……
Hyungnam cautiously poked her head out and glared resentfully at Choi Eunhyung.
I had the volume turned down as low as it would go. I practically had my ear pressed against the cassette player to hear it myself. And the wall must have muffled it even more. If that was enough to disturb his sleep, just how light a sleeper is he?
“Lucky you didn't hear it. Last night I was about ready to lose my damn mind.”
“Heh. What song was it?”
“You know, the one where some woman keeps bawling about wanting someone to find a person for her.”
Does Anyone Know This……
The moment Choi Eunhyung began singing the opening words, Park Shineok slapped his spoon down on the dining table.
“What's that thing called? The one where they're always crying and begging people to find somebody?”
“The separated families program?”
“Yeah, that one. All that crying and wailing. I'm sick to death of it.”
Park Shineok flew into a temper as though Choi Eunhyung were a television producer personally responsible for the broadcast.
Hyungnam quietly stirred the warm toasted-rice water, which had begun boiling in earnest, with a ladle and sneered to herself.
As if he wasn't bawling his eyes out watching it yesterday.
“Some fatherless little bastard must've been watching the rerun till dawn. That must've been it. No wonder you didn't sleep well.”
“I thought about catching the bastard and carving him up, but I fell asleep again pretty quickly.”
Choi Eunhyung wasn't joking.
She had heard that he had been famous as a specialist in such work since his days in Buamdong. He was precisely the sort of man who would be more than capable of doing that to whoever had disturbed his precious sleep.
A chill ran down her spine.
I had no idea the walls were so bad at keeping out sound.
From now on, I'll only listen when I'm alone.
Hyungnam pressed her lips tightly together, placed two bowls of warm toasted-rice water on a tray, and approached the dining table.
“You're not feeling well, so just take the day off.”
“Yes.”
Hyungnam carefully placed a bowl of warm toasted-rice water before Park Shineok, who was nearly finished eating.
Then she turned to place the other bowl before Eunhyung.
At that very moment, a wrinkled hand reached out and brazenly seized her buttock.