Clear autumn sunlight poured through the window and bathed the cozy workshop as Han-gyeol sat at his workbench, carefully polishing the metal fittings of the mother-of-pearl cabinet with a soft microfiber cloth.
Jingle—
The door opened with the sound of the wind chime, and Mr. Park strode in with his usual hearty gait. He carried a cake box bearing the logo of a famous nearby bakery.
"This place was bustling like a marketplace until a few days ago, but I guess it's quiet today?"
"Fortunately, the storm seems to have passed. But you even brought dessert. Did something good happen?"
Han-gyeol rose and brewed coffee. Mr. Park set the cake box on the table and burst into a booming laugh.
"An absolutely incredible rumor swept through all of Insadong. It was so delightful to hear that I stopped by to congratulate you."
"It isn't another ridiculous rumor about me turning trash into gold, is it?"
"No, this time it's the exact opposite. It's a wonderfully satisfying, heartwarming story. Remember that young man who made such a scene crying here a few days ago? Kim Cheol-su, the fellow who brought in the fake blue-and-white porcelain jar and narrowly escaped disaster when you found that black-patterned persimmon-wood document box."
Han-gyeol nodded. The bitter tears Cheol-su had shed were still vivid in his memory.
"Has word of what happened to him spread?"
Mr. Park took a sip of coffee, then leaned forward with sparkling eyes.
"It seems the fellow has been going all over town, tearfully testifying about what happened. He says that if it weren't for the owner of Lee Family Workshop, he would have thrown himself into the Han River by now."
"I only did what anyone should have done."
"That's exactly the point. In this business, it is never something anyone would naturally do."
Mr. Park lightly struck the table and raised his voice.
"You know the dark underside of the antique restoration world? There are countless restorers blinded by money. Anyone else would have known the young man's piece was fake and never said a word. They would have played along as if it were genuine and squeezed several million won more out of him in the name of repairing the hairline crack."
It was cold and cruel, but that was reality. In the antiques market, where greed and ignorance intertwined, unethical experts who colluded with swindlers or enabled their scams to pick up the scraps had spread like poisonous mushrooms.
"But you kicked away several million won in repair fees that had rolled right into your lap, choosing honesty even if it meant mercilessly shattering your customer's fantasy. On top of that, you saw the true value of the box that carried the fake porcelain and gave that young man room to breathe."
Mr. Park's face filled with deep pride and approval.
"In this field, credibility is worth more than money. There are plenty of bastards with excellent skills and rotten character. But now that word of this incident has spread, you've earned the title of an honest appraiser who not only possesses skill but also refuses to sell his conscience for money."
It was just as Mr. Park had explained.
As the heartwarming story spread, the fortune seekers and speculators who had flooded in with every scrap of junk from their homes drained away like the tide. They had realized that crude fakes and scams would not work at Lee Family Workshop.
The people who began filling the space they left behind were serious collectors with worthwhile pieces.
"Your appointment book would astonish most museum directors. It's full of genuine collectors who love the history of the objects themselves, those exacting, suspicious people."
Han-gyeol silently listened to Mr. Park and looked at the appointment list pinned to the corkboard beside his workbench.
A hwando once carried by a military officer of the Joseon Dynasty, a century-old book, a handwritten letter from an independence activist...... These were not merely objects with high market prices. Each artifact bore its own history and story and quietly awaited Han-gyeol's touch.
Though he had not even properly handed out a single business card, Han-gyeol's principles and honesty had become a calling card more powerful than any flashy marketing campaign, moving the world on his behalf.
"But......."
Mr. Park's voice fell slightly.
"The stronger the light, the darker the shadow. Do not forget that your upright nature has become a painful thorn in someone's side."
"......You're talking about Professor Choi Myeong-ye."
"Yes. He's brimming with venom."
***
Professor Choi Myeong-ye's private study in one of Seoul's most luxurious residential towers.
CRASH—!
With a sharp shattering sound, a top-grade teapot worth several million won struck the marble floor and broke into pieces. Professor Choi stood in the middle of the study, his face flushed red.
"That arrogant bastard...... How dare he disgrace me again?!"
Harsh profanity burst from Professor Choi's mouth. A research assistant stood before him with his head bowed, trembling like an aspen.
"P-Professor. Please calm down. There is no need to concern yourself with rumors about some neighborhood repairman......."
"Unless you've gone deaf, you should know perfectly well what kind of rumors are spreading through Insadong right now! And you still dare say that?!"
The fake blue-and-white porcelain jar that the young man named Kim Cheol-su had taken to Lee Family Workshop. And the impressive-looking forged appraisal certificate in his hand.
The official seal and signature on that appraisal certificate belonged to none other than a private appraisal institute run by one of Professor Choi's direct disciples.
Of course, Professor Choi had not personally ordered that cheap scam. But it was an open secret and a rotten custom in the field that his disciples used the name of an academic heavyweight like him to collude with fraudsters in the antiques market, pocket kickbacks, and hand out fake certificates indiscriminately.
They turned a blind eye to one another and watched each other's backs, forming a vast cartel of vested interests within their own impregnable ecosystem.
Yet an upstart with no pedigree named Lee Han-gyeol had exposed not only the certificates they issued but also the true nature of the objects to the entire world.
As if inflicting a devastating blow to his academic authority and technical skill with the matter of Taesung Group Chairman Kang's incense burner had not been enough, Han-gyeol was now directly threatening the interests of the underground economy Professor Choi had built.
"I want to smash that bastard's workshop to pieces this instant, spread rumors to the press that he's a third-rate repairman who only tinkers with knockoffs, and bury him for good, but......."
Professor Choi ground his teeth and glared out the window.
"The timing is bad. That old bastard Chairman Kang is busy singing Lee Han-gyeol's praises, so if I make a careless move, my own neck will be on the line."
Professor Choi had grown powerful by feeding off authority and was more practiced than anyone at watching the moods of those above him. Openly attacking Han-gyeol while he was under Chairman Kang's protection would be tantamount to suicide.
"Professor, are you saying we should just stand by and watch that bastard run wild?"
At his assistant's cautious question, the corner of Professor Choi's mouth twisted upward in a cold sneer.
"Who said I was only going to watch? A hunter pulls the trigger when his prey is at its most complacent and has climbed to the highest place."
Grinding the shards of the broken teacup beneath his heel, he muttered coldly.
"Restoration is a tightrope walk anyway. When a person handles someone else's precious possessions, sooner or later, he is bound to make a fatal mistake or touch an object he cannot possibly handle. The day that bastard's brush slips even once, or a single flaw is found in something he appraised...... I will mobilize every connection I have and the full power of academia to crush his throat and make certain he can never set foot in this field again."
Venomous murderous intent blazed in Professor Choi's clouded eyes.
***
After Mr. Park left, Han-gyeol lowered the workshop blinds and neatly arranged his workbench beneath the warm light.
He carefully took a thick, old, leather-bound notebook from the deepest part of a drawer and opened it on the desk. It was the restoration journal his grandfather, Lee Tae-jun, had meticulously maintained throughout his life.
Han-gyeol's neat, firm handwriting now filled the pages left blank after his grandfather passed away.
Scratch, scratch.
The peaceful sound of a nib brushing across paper filled the quiet workshop.
[Commission No. 042. Fake blue-and-white porcelain jar and late-Joseon black-patterned persimmon-wood document box.......]
[Commission No. 043. Montblanc fountain pen.
Correction of bent 18K gold nib and cleaning of feed.
It was not a simple pen repair. What had been at a standstill for three years was the novelist's.......]
After finishing the record, Han-gyeol closed the notebook, opened his smartphone, and launched his banking app.
The outstanding loan balance displayed at the center of the screen.
[Remaining Loan Principal: 5,400,000 won]
After using Chairman Kang's payment to repay more than a hundred million won of the principal, he had used the earnings from the stream of worthwhile commissions coming in lately to nearly cut off even the tail end of his remaining debt.
An ordinary man in his twenties might have been satisfied enough to grow complacent by now. He had made plenty of money and gained fame as well.
But there was not the slightest trace of laziness or excitement in Han-gyeol's eyes. If anything, he sensed more keenly than anyone that the path he stood upon had only just begun.
"Whew......."
Han-gyeol quietly closed his eyes, raised both hands, and pressed gently against his eyelids.
Lately, the sensations he experienced each time he touched an object and used his ability had been changing noticeably.
When he first awakened his ability, touching an old watch or piece of pottery merely summoned a system window in midair, listing dry textual information such as its name, year, condition, and value. At most, fragments of the object's past flashed through his mind like a brief black-and-white film.
But something had felt different ever since the day he restored Chairman Kang's incense burner.
When he held the fountain pen, the despair K had felt while staying up all night in the motel room, the subtle vibrations of the writing pressure transmitted through every joint of his fingers, and even the acrid smell of cigarette smoke had all reached him intact through his own body.
When he touched the fake blue-and-white porcelain, he had experienced a vivid revulsion, as if the factory's cold machinery and the harsh smell of chemicals were truly assailing his nose.
Han-gyeol opened his eyes.
He did not know why his ability was intensifying so rapidly.
Perhaps he would have to shoulder the wounds and grief of the people he encountered in the future far more heavily than he did now. Fully suffering through the desperate, painful emotions of others as if they were his own would sometimes be an overwhelming and frightening task.
But Han-gyeol quietly looked down at his rough hands.
Because these hands allowed him to deeply understand their pain, he had been able to save a young man from despair and set someone's arrested life flowing once more.
"Even if it becomes a little heavier...... I have to bear it. That's my job."
A faint, warm smile touched Han-gyeol's lips.