The instant his fingertips touched the coarse, rough wood, Han-gyeol's vision inverted once more.
The quiet air of a deep mountain and the warm breath of old wood, polished smooth by human hands over many years, gently enveloped Han-gyeol's entire body.
A pale blue information window appeared over his black-and-white vision.
[True Name: Late-Joseon Black-Patterned Persimmon-Wood Document Box]
[Date of Production: Estimated Late 19th Century]
[Condition: Severe surface contamination and wear; lacquer peeling. Durability and state of preservation are good.]
[Current Value: 8,000,000 won]
[Special Notes: The distinctive ink-painting-like black patterning (dark heartwood) of black-patterned persimmon wood has been beautifully arranged across the front.]
Han-gyeol's eyes wavered slightly as he read the words on the information window.
Black-patterned persimmon wood.
It referred to the wood of an old persimmon tree whose heart had been invaded by fungus, producing scorched-looking black patterns as it grew over many years. Because those markings possessed the beauty and dignity of an ink-wash painting scattered across xuan paper, Joseon-era aristocrats took tremendous pride in keeping scholars' implements or furniture made from black-patterned persimmon wood close at hand.
Because nature spent decades drawing the pattern, no two pieces could ever be identical, making it extraordinarily rare as well.
Han-gyeol lowered his gaze and looked in turn at Cheol-su sobbing on the floor, the fake jar atop the table, and the shabby wooden box that had held it.
To extract fifty million won from Cheol-su, the fraudsters had most likely scoured Insadong's back alleys or the Hwanghak-dong flea market for an impressive-looking box in which to package their fake pottery, picking this one up for almost nothing.
Because they themselves were nothing more than fraudsters with no eye for antique art, they had never dreamed that this box, rolling around like trash beneath layers of black dust and grease, was a genuine black-patterned persimmon-wood document box once used by a nineteenth-century aristocratic household.
The fraudsters' ignorance and greed had ironically placed one small but reliable life jacket in Cheol-su's hands.
Han-gyeol called to Cheol-su, who lay on the floor in despair.
"Mr. Kim Cheol-su."
Cheol-su did not answer Han-gyeol's call. His sobs still echoed wretchedly through the workshop.
Han-gyeol approached and knelt on one knee beside him.
"Please raise your head."
"Sob...... Hngh...... My money...... Ji-eun......."
"It isn't over yet!"
Startled by Han-gyeol's firm, powerful shout, Cheol-su slowly lifted his head.
"The pottery is fake...... Fifty million won vanished into thin air...... How can you say it isn't over?"
"The pottery is indeed fake. That fact cannot be undone."
Han-gyeol held the old wooden box out before Cheol-su's eyes.
"But this wooden box the fraudsters carelessly picked up to make the fake pottery look convincing. This is not a fake."
"What......? The box?"
A trace of confusion entered Cheol-su's unfocused eyes. He looked down at the decrepit box. Scratched all over and blanketed in dust, it looked even worse than a discarded apple crate.
"It is a genuine black-patterned persimmon-wood document box used by an aristocratic household in the late Joseon period. Once the dust and ingrained grime are removed, it will reveal a magnificent grain that looks like a landscape painted in ink. Furniture collectors and enthusiasts of scholars' implements prize objects like this very highly."
"This is...... a real antique? This rotten wooden box?"
"Yes. I guarantee it."
Han-gyeol looked directly into Cheol-su's eyes and spoke the number he had been waiting to hear more desperately than anything.
"This box's current value is approximately eight million won."
It was far short of fifty million. He would still have to bear a staggering loss of more than forty million won.
But for Cheol-su, who had been falling into the abyss of total ruin, eight million won could at least buy time by repaying part of the high-interest secondary loan tightening around his throat.
"E-eight million won? Are you serious? You're saying this box alone is worth eight million won?"
"I have nothing to gain from lying to you, Mr. Kim."
Cheol-su's trembling hands ran across the box.
Only moments ago, the old wooden box had been nothing more than a prop in the scam that sent him to hell. Now it began to look like the one lifeline that might save him.
"Then...... if I sell it...... can I turn it into cash immediately? I don't even know where to sell something like this......."
Instead of answering Cheol-su's desperate question, Han-gyeol took out his smartphone.
What Cheol-su needed now was not an appraisal declaring the object worth eight million won, but cash deposited into his account immediately.
Han-gyeol dialed a familiar number and pressed the call button. The signal barely rang a few times before a hearty voice came through the receiver.
- Yeah, Han-gyeol. Customers ought to be flooding your workshop by the truckload right now. What's going on?
"Mr. Park, are you busy?"
- What would an old man like me have to be busy with? I'm sitting in the shop scratching at my accounts. Why? Did an object turn up?
"Yes. I have an object I would like you to purchase urgently. I've finished appraising it, and it is unquestionably genuine. It's a late-Joseon black-patterned persimmon-wood document box. Could you come to the workshop right away?"
- Black-patterned persimmon wood? Oh, now that's rare. All right! I'll come over immediately.
Han-gyeol ended the call and gave Cheol-su a short nod.
"I called the most conscientious man in Insadong, and the quickest one when it comes to cash. I will help you get eight million won, or perhaps more."
Covering his face with both hands, Cheol-su began sobbing again. They were tears mixing the sorrow of finding a sliver of light at the bottom of the worst pit.
Had around thirty minutes passed?
Mr. Park opened the door and swept inside, the hem of his coat billowing behind him.
"Where's the black-patterned persimmon-wood document box?"
As soon as he entered, Mr. Park scanned the workbench with shining eyes, only to notice Cheol-su seated nearby with his eyes swollen from crying.
"Oh, we have a guest."
Mr. Park gave Cheol-su a slight greeting, then approached the blue-and-white porcelain jar first by force of habit. The sheer size and splendor of the object drew his gaze instinctively.
But fewer than ten seconds after he examined the jar, a derisive smile crossed Mr. Park's face.
"Tsk, tsk. What a spectacular fake. They smeared potassium permanganate around the foot and attached the dragon with a transfer decal as prettily as could be. Fraudsters these days don't even put in the effort. Would this cost even a hundred thousand won if they brought it over from a kiln around Dandong, China?"
Cheol-su's shoulders flinched again at Mr. Park's merciless assessment.
Mr. Park abandoned the jar without a second thought and turned his gaze to the old wooden box beside it.
"So this is the object?"
"Yes. It has collected a great deal of dust, but it is black-patterned persimmon wood."
Mr. Park took an appraisal loupe from his pocket and examined the box. He rubbed away a little of the dust and grease layered over its outer surface with one finger.
Where his finger passed and cleared the dust, a dignified pattern of black ink lines emerged distinctly from the wood grain.
"Oh......!"
A rich exclamation escaped Mr. Park.
"Now this is an object. The dust hid it, but the patterning in the black-patterned persimmon wood is magnificent! And judging by the joints, it was properly made with interlocking joinery and not a single nail. Even the metal fittings are all original."
Mr. Park examined the box thoroughly inside and out, nodding repeatedly.
"Wouldn't the old collectors of scholars' implements in Insadong drool if they saw this? Put a light new coat of lacquer on it, and it'll easily fetch ten million won. Where did it come from?"
Han-gyeol calmly explained Cheol-su's unbelievable ordeal to Mr. Park.
Mr. Park's expression changed constantly throughout the story.
"Those fucking bastards deserve to die! They bled a young man dry right before his wedding?! If those bastards are caught, I'll break their legs so they never set foot in Insadong again!"
Mr. Park released a deep sigh and addressed Cheol-su in a warm but firm voice.
"Young man. It falls far short of the fifty million won you lost, but I'll buy this document box. Its wholesale market value is roughly eight million won, but......."
Mr. Park took a bundle of checks from his wallet and snapped it against his palm.
"Your situation is heartbreaking, so I'll give up my margin and pay one million over market price. Put this toward the most urgent fire first. Consider the extra million my wedding gift to you and consolation for the pain."
Nine million won.
Cheol-su's eyes reddened once more. He looked down at the money Mr. Park held out, hesitating and unable to reach for it.
"Can I...... really accept this much......."
"Take it."
Han-gyeol gave Cheol-su a light push on the back as he spoke.
"Mr. Park never makes a deal that loses him money. That means the value of this object is certain, so you may accept it with your head held high."
Cheol-su accepted it with trembling hands. The relief it gave him seemed to ease his crushed shoulders a little.
"Master...... and Mr. Park."
Cheol-su dropped to his knees on the floor. Then he made a deep bow to both men, touching his forehead to the floor.
"Thank you. Truly, thank you. If it weren't for both of you...... I might have climbed onto a bridge over the Han River today. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for saving my life."
Cheol-su's shoulders trembled faintly.
Mr. Park cleared his throat and looked up at the ceiling, while Han-gyeol bent down and helped Cheol-su to his feet.
"You don't need to do this. I only told you the truth about what I saw."
"The appraisal fee...... How much should I pay? I cannot pay you right now, but if you give me your account number......."
Cheol-su wiped his tears and asked cautiously, but Han-gyeol shook his head firmly.
"I will not charge an appraisal fee."
"What? But you gave me so much of your valuable time......."
"I did not repair this object, and accepting money for appraising something that was fake from the beginning goes against my principles. The full nine million won belongs to you, Mr. Kim. If you have money to spend on an appraisal fee, put it toward your wedding preparations."
Han-gyeol looked at the fake blue-and-white porcelain jar sitting alone on the table and continued.
"And this may be presumptuous of me, but may I offer one piece of advice?"
Cheol-su held his breath and waited for Han-gyeol to continue.
"I think it would be best to tell your girlfriend...... everything that happened today, and about the debt you carry, without hiding anything."
Cheol-su's pupils trembled faintly.
"Of course, if you tell her the truth, she may be deeply disappointed and angry. In the worst case, the marriage may be called off. But......."
Deep sincerity filled Han-gyeol's voice.
"If you begin married life atop false reassurance while concealing a debt you cannot handle, it will be no different from this fake pottery. It may look splendid on the outside, but the smallest impact will shatter it. This object may be a fake made by fraudsters, but I hope the future you build together will not be."
Cheol-su stared blankly at Han-gyeol, then bit his lip firmly and nodded.
"......I will remember that. I will not run away. I will confess my mistake in full. And somehow, I will begin again."
"I will dispose of the fake pottery, so leave without that burden."
Cheol-su gave Han-gyeol and Mr. Park one last deep bow, then left the workshop empty-handed but with firmer steps than ever before.
Jingle—
The door closed, leaving only Han-gyeol and Mr. Park in the workshop.
Mr. Park laughed heartily as he stroked the black-patterned persimmon-wood document box on the table with satisfaction.
"The Lee Family Workshop saved several lives again today. That young man just paid for one enormous lesson, so he'll live diligently from now on."
"That was possible because you gave up your margin, Mr. Park. Thank you."
"Oh, what are you talking about? I'll buy it for nine million, pretty it up, and sell it for fifteen. Never underestimate an old fixture of Insadong's business sense."
Mr. Park spoke with his usual bravado. As expected, he was a thorough merchant who never made a losing deal. But knowing the warm humanity beneath that business sense, Han-gyeol let out a pleased chuckle.
"Now, what will you do with this fake trash?"
Mr. Park pointed his chin at the fake blue-and-white porcelain jar.
A crude fake reeking of chemicals. It deserved to be smashed with a hammer and thrown into a garbage bag.
"I intend to display it in the most visible place."
Han-gyeol's eyes settled into a cold calm.
"What? You're going to keep that monstrosity in the workshop?"
"Yes. To me, it's a kind of warning and a talisman. It is a vow never to forget the lies created by the world's countless greedy people and fraudsters."
Understanding Han-gyeol's deeper meaning, Mr. Park nodded heavily.