Deep in an alley in Insadong stood an old-fashioned hanok draped in the patina of time. Beneath its eaves hung a weighty sign that read 'Gobojae (House of Ancient Treasures).' The name meant 'a house where old treasures stay.'
JINGLE—.
When Han-gyeol opened the door and stepped inside, the scent of old paper and the subtle fragrance of ink enveloped him. Outside lay the heart of Seoul, noisy with blaring car horns, but here, it was as quiet as if time had stopped.
The shop was packed with every kind of antique. Joseon white porcelain, old wooden furniture, and faded old paintings and calligraphy occupied their respective places, awaiting the owner's touch.
"Welcome. Were you looking for something...... Huh?"
A middle-aged man who had been sorting through his ledger with a magnifying glass looked up. His graying hair and modernized hanbok gave him a distinguished air, and the instant he saw Han-gyeol, his eyes widened.
"Well, who do we have here? Isn't that Han-gyeol?"
"Hello, Mr. Park. It's been a long time."
Han-gyeol bowed politely.
Mr. Park was a veteran antique dealer in Insadong and one of the few people who had been as close as a brother to Han-gyeol's grandfather, Lee Tae-jun. He had also been their most trusted dealer, exclusively selling the restored pieces Tae-jun produced in his lifetime.
Mr. Park hurried out from behind the counter and clasped both of Han-gyeol's hands.
"Goodness, this is the first time I've seen you since the funeral, isn't it? You've lost so much weight. Have you been remembering to eat?"
"Yes. Thanks to you, I've taken care of everything and returned to my usual routine."
"Good. That's how it should be. The living have to go on. Brother Tae-jun wouldn't want you skipping meals either."
Mr. Park was consoling Han-gyeol with a sympathetic look when he noticed Old Mr. Kim standing behind him.
"And this gentleman is?"
"He's my client. I brought him because he has an item he'd like you to appraise today."
"A client? Yours, Han-gyeol?"
Mr. Park's eyebrows twitched. Lee Tae-jun had passed away only a few days ago. He seemed surprised that the grandson had brought in a customer before his grief had even faded.
But he did not show it and let out a hearty laugh.
"Heh, have you already opened for business? Blood will tell. All right, have a seat over here."
Mr. Park guided the two of them to a sitting room at the back of the shop. Warm tea had been set on a mother-of-pearl-inlaid table.
Old Mr. Kim fidgeted with his teacup, his expression taut with nerves. He seemed overwhelmed by the imposing atmosphere of the Insadong shop. To a man who had spent his whole life in front of a laundry's steam iron, this place crammed with antiques worth staggering sums was another world.
"So, what have you come to show me? If you brought it here yourself, it can't be ordinary."
Mr. Park asked with anticipation in his eyes.
Han-gyeol pulled over the paulownia box he had placed on the table.
"This."
"Oh, even the finish on the box is something else. Your handiwork?"
Mr. Park inspected the box's craftsmanship and nodded. Then he carefully opened the lid.
The red silk wrapping was drawn aside, revealing the White Porcelain Bottle with Iron-Painted Cord Design.
At once, Mr. Park's gaze changed. The slick smile peculiar to a merchant vanished, leaving only the sharp eyes of an appraiser.
Without a word, he took a pair of white gloves from his pocket and put them on. Then he raised a loupe (magnifying glass) to his eye.
Silence stretched on.
Mr. Park turned the porcelain this way and that, examining every inch. He checked the foot, inspected the glaze, and traced the brushstrokes of the iron-painted design without so much as a breath.
Old Mr. Kim swallowed hard. Mr. Park looked so grave that Old Mr. Kim seemed terrified the bottle might be declared a fake.
Han-gyeol, on the other hand, was relaxed. He took a sip of tea and waited for Mr. Park's reaction.
"Huh......."
Only after a long while did an exclamation escape Mr. Park's lips.
He lowered the loupe and stared at Han-gyeol as if he could not believe his eyes.
"Han-gyeol. Where did you get this?"
"This gentleman had kept it for a long time."
"No, that's not what I mean. I'm talking about the condition of the repair."
Mr. Park pointed at the porcelain, his voice rising with excitement.
"Brother Tae-jun repaired this, didn't he? Was it the last piece he worked on before he passed away?"
"......What?"
Old Mr. Kim's eyes widened in surprise. Han-gyeol, however, calmly shook his head.
"No."
"No? The reconstructed neck, even the brushwork reconnecting the broken iron-painted design. No one in Korea but your grandfather could do this."
Mr. Park spoke with absolute conviction.
"I've spent thirty years in this trade. I know at a glance. Especially the brushwork on that cord design. That's your grandfather's signature 'throwing technique.' It looks like one careless flick, yet the stroke remains full of force......."
"I did it."
Han-gyeol spoke quietly.
"......What?"
"I restored it last night."
Mr. Park's jaw dropped. He looked at the porcelain again, then back at Han-gyeol.
"You did it, Han-gyeol? By yourself?"
"Yes."
"That can't be. I know you're skilled, but you weren't at this level, were you? Are you sure your grandfather didn't do it in advance?"
"I did everything with my own hands, from beginning to end. I cleaned it, shaped and attached the clay, and painted it with a brush."
Han-gyeol held up his hands. Faint traces of pigment remained beneath his fingernails, not yet fully washed away.
Mr. Park stared blankly at those hands. Han-gyeol had no reason to lie. And Mr. Park knew that the piece Lee Tae-jun had been working on just before his death was a mother-of-pearl cabinet, not porcelain.
Could this young man truly have accomplished such a miraculous restoration overnight?
"Well, I'll be. This is downright uncanny."
Mr. Park shook his head in amazement.
"They say the student surpasses the master. Your grandfather must be dancing as he watches from heaven. How did you even reproduce the plum-blossom pooling (clotted glaze) around the foot this perfectly? This is closer to re-creation than restoration."
He raised the loupe again and tried to locate the restored sections.
"Normally, shining an ultraviolet light on it would expose traces of the repair, but I can't find them at all. How did you mix the materials? What about the shrinkage calculations? The color?"
Questions poured from Mr. Park. That was how shocked he was.
Listening to their exchange, Old Mr. Kim felt wonder along with relief. The finest expert in Insadong was this astonished. It proved Han-gyeol had not been boasting.
"We can discuss the technical details later, Mr. Park."
Han-gyeol cut him off with a smile.
"What matters is the value of this piece, isn't it? How much can you offer?"
Only then did Mr. Park collect himself and sit up straight. The merchant's look returned to his eyes.
"Hmm, the piece is authentic. Even among nineteenth-century Bunwon white porcelain, it's top-grade. The playful beauty of that cord design is especially superb. If it had been in perfect condition, the seller could have named any price."
He paused, pretending to be regretful.
"Being repaired is a weakness, but work of this caliber is a different story. You could say the traces of repair have been elevated into art. Quite a few collectors prefer perfectly restored pieces too."
Mr. Park tapped on his calculator. TAP, TAP, TAP.
Old Mr. Kim swallowed hard and stared fixedly at the calculator display.
"Sir."
Mr. Park looked at Old Mr. Kim as he spoke.
"I'll be honest with you. The economy is poor, so the antique-art market has gone rather cold lately. But this piece is extremely rare, and more importantly, it has a story. The restoration is top-grade as well."
He slid the calculator toward Old Mr. Kim.
"Eighty million won. What do you think?"
"E-eighty million......?"
Old Mr. Kim's voice cracked.
"You're not happy with it? Then I could offer a little more......."
"No, no! It's because that's too much. Eighty million won......."
Old Mr. Kim waved his hands, utterly at a loss.
Han-gyeol cut in.
"Mr. Park, could you go a little higher? I hear Chinese collectors have been going crazy for this kind of iron-painted white porcelain lately. Isn't a hundred million entirely possible?"
Han-gyeol's eyes gleamed. He had already seen through the item's value. He had no intention of letting it go cheaply, not even to Mr. Park.
Mr. Park flinched.
"Oh, look at you. You've become a proper merchant. It's true that the big Chinese buyers like these, but that's when they're one hundred percent original. A repaired piece carries risk."
"I'll take responsibility for that risk. If the repaired section ever develops a problem, I'll fix it free of charge. A lifetime warranty."
"A lifetime warranty?"
Mr. Park burst into booming laughter at Han-gyeol's confidence.
"Hahaha! You've got guts. Fine, with skill like yours, I can trust you. And your grandfather's name carries weight."
Mr. Park thought for a moment, then tapped on the calculator again.
"But eighty-five million. That's my limit. Any more, and there'll be no margin left for me."
Eighty-five million won.
It was the exact figure Han-gyeol had first seen through the system.
Han-gyeol looked at Old Mr. Kim.
"What do you think, sir? Would that satisfy you?"
Old Mr. Kim was already dazed. Whether it was eighty million or eighty-five million won, it was an unreal fortune to him.
"I-I'm grateful. More than grateful. To think you're offering this much for something I was going to give to a junk dealer......."
"Then we'll consider the deal settled."
Mr. Park immediately opened his laptop and launched online banking.
"Please give me your account number, sir."
Old Mr. Kim held out his worn bankbook with a trembling hand.
The keys clicked several times, and Mr. Park pressed Enter.
"The money has been deposited. Check it."
Old Mr. Kim's flip phone went BUZZ.
[Deposit] 85,000,000 won.
Old Mr. Kim stared at the screen again and again. While counting the zeros, his vision blurred, and he removed his glasses to wipe away his tears.
"Even if I saved all the money I earned from ironing my whole life...... this is the kind of sum I might barely touch after saving for ten full years......."
Hot tears fell onto the backs of his wrinkled hands.
"Mother...... are you watching? What you left me...... has turned into so much money."
It was not merely money. The love of a mother who had tried to protect her child amid poverty had finally borne fruit half a century later.
Han-gyeol silently passed him a tissue. Watching Old Mr. Kim weep brought an ache to one corner of his heart. It was the greatest sense of fulfillment a restorer could experience.
After sobbing for a long while, Old Mr. Kim seemed to come to his senses and wiped his tears. Then he looked at Han-gyeol with resolve.
"Young Mr. Han-gyeol. No, Master Han-gyeol."
Han-gyeol was flustered by the sudden change in how the old man addressed him.
"Master? Sir, why are you calling me that?"
"A promise is a promise. I earned this money thanks to you. Without you, this would've been nothing but a broken piece of porcelain."
Old Mr. Kim clumsily pressed the buttons on his phone as though trying to open his banking app.
"I'll send you twenty million won. Would that be enough for the fee and commission? Should I give you more?"
Twenty million won.
It was more than the twenty percent Han-gyeol had initially proposed.
Beside them, Mr. Park's eyes widened.
"Twenty million? My, you're generous, sir. Most people hate giving even ten percent."
Han-gyeol waved his hands.
"No, sir. That's too much. As I said at the start......."
"No! Take it! If you don't, I'll be too uncomfortable to live with myself."
Old Mr. Kim would not budge.
"I know all about how hard things have been because of your debt. I heard the workshop might be taken from you after your grandfather passed away. This should be enough to put out the immediate fire, shouldn't it?"
Faced with the sincerity in Old Mr. Kim's eyes, Han-gyeol could no longer refuse.
"......Thank you. I'll put it to good use. Truly."
"I'm the grateful one. Put it toward your debt. And if anything is left, make sure you treat yourself to a good meal."
Old Mr. Kim smiled shyly and firmly clasped Han-gyeol's hand. The warmth conveyed by the old man's rough, calloused hand was comforting.
"If you refuse, you're never allowed at my laundry again. Got it?"
"Yes, I promise."
The transaction was complete.
Old Mr. Kim bowed several times before leaving Gobojae with steps as light as a feather. His earlier hesitation was nowhere to be seen; he walked out with his shoulders proudly squared.
Only Han-gyeol and Mr. Park remained in the shop.
Mr. Park drained his teacup and regarded Han-gyeol with a peculiar look.
"Honestly, I'm surprised."
"By what?"
"The money. Aren't you desperate for even one million won right now? I heard debt collectors come every day. Yet you tried to turn down twenty million?"
Mr. Park clicked his tongue.
"I can't tell if you're kind or stupid. Like your grandfather, you haven't got enough of a mercenary streak."
"If I had one, I would've jumped at it when the old gentleman proposed a fifty-fifty split."
Han-gyeol gave a faint grin.
"And...... I wanted to earn it honestly. Without tarnishing my grandfather's name."
"Hah, you brat. You certainly know how to talk."
Mr. Park scolded him, but a pleased smile rested on his lips.
"Anyway, this has made me see your skill in a new light. From now on, bring anything you get straight to me. I'll give you the best price."
"Of course. Who can I trust besides you, Mr. Park?"
Han-gyeol rose from his seat.
"Then I'll be on my way."
"All right. Be careful, and make sure you eat."
Han-gyeol left the shop with Mr. Park seeing him off.
The streets of Insadong were still lively. Tourists' laughter and the music of street performers brushed past his ears.
But Han-gyeol heard a different sound.
DING—.
The phone in his pocket chimed. It was a deposit alert.
[Deposit] 20,000,000 won.
Han-gyeol stopped and stared at the phone's screen.
Twenty million won.
It was not merely a number.
The first fair reward he had earned through his own ability and with his own hands.
And the first brick that could protect his crumbling workshop.
Han-gyeol immediately opened his banking app.
[Loan Interest Payment]
[Overdue Utility Bills Payment]
His fingers moved without pause.
Several million won vanished in an instant. His account balance grew light again.
But the burden on his heart became far lighter still.
'For now, I've staved it off.'
The immediate crisis had passed. The workshop would not be put up for auction tomorrow, at least.
Han-gyeol drew a deep breath. The city air was laced with exhaust fumes, yet it felt fresher than ever.
Back at the workshop, Han-gyeol tore open a packet of instant coffee.
He poured hot water into a paper cup and stirred it. The sweet aroma of coffee mingled with the workshop's distinctive smell of varnish, bringing a strange comfort.
He sank deep into the old chair his grandfather had used and took a sip of coffee.
"Phew......."
The warm liquid traveled down his throat and relaxed his tense body.
It was different from yesterday, when he had fretted over whether the electricity or water would be shut off.
Now this space was entirely his. At least until next month's interest payment came due.
Han-gyeol slowly looked around the workshop.
The once-empty space now looked different.
Broken clocks piled in a corner, a chair with a snapped leg, a mother-of-pearl cabinet with its lacquer peeling.......
Until yesterday, they had been nothing more than troublesome junk. Not anymore.
Each one seemed like a 'patient' bearing its own history and waiting for Han-gyeol's touch.
He could almost hear them murmuring.
'Fix me too.'
'I have a hidden story too.'
'Please, recognize me.'
Han-gyeol smiled.
He was not afraid. Instead, his heart raced.
All the old and ailing objects in the world now came to him as opportunities and hope.
Han-gyeol looked at the framed photograph on the desk. His grandfather was smiling brightly in it.
He raised his coffee cup and met the eyes of his grandfather in the photograph.
"Grandpa."
His throat tightened, but he forced his voice to stay bright.
"I think I know what I'm supposed to do."
It was not simply about repaying his debt.
Reading the hearts held inside objects, healing their wounds, and bringing forgotten memories back to life.
That was the path his grandfather had devoted his life to protecting, and it was now the path Han-gyeol had to walk.
"Watch me. I'll raise this workshop again. Make it even greater than you did, Grandpa."
Han-gyeol's eyes shone with resolve.
It happened then.
JINGLE—.
The cheerful sound of the wind chime broke the workshop's silence.
Han-gyeol reflexively turned his head.
Someone stood outside the door, peering hesitantly inside.
"Excuse me...... is this the Lee Family Workshop?"
It was his second customer.
Han-gyeol rose from his seat.
Adjusting his work apron, he gave the customer a broad smile.
"Yes, welcome. This is the Lee Family Workshop."
The story had only just begun.