The people gathered in the restaurant looked up at the TV mounted on the ceiling.
—”Word has come that the Ilhyeon Group has entered the Doa Motors bidding. The Blue House disclosed that President Dae-sang Kim and Ilhyeon Group Chairman Tak-hyeon Lee met the previous day, and that through President Dae-sang Kim’s persuasion, they secured the Ilhyeon Group’s promise to participate in the Doa Motors bidding. With this, Doa Motors—which had been driven to the very brink of bankruptcy—is able to go through the sale process once again.”
At the news, the restaurant’s customers forgot even to eat and fixed their eyes on the broadcast. People sat with chopsticks and spoons in hand, gazes locked on the screen, and even the owner couldn’t set food before his guests, unable to tear his eyes from the news pouring out.
—”However, in some quarters the possibility of Doa Motors’ bankruptcy is not yet seen as fully resolved. Because the possibility remains that the Ilhyeon Group, having entered the bidding, could judge Doa Motors’ odds of survival low and withdraw. Should that happen, insiders testify, there is a high likelihood that Korea would once again be plunged into great shock.”
The office workers gathered over lunch sighed at the words from the TV. Having watched colleagues beside them pack up and leave, the thought struck them that they might be next.
But the weight of it lasted only a moment. Because the fact that Doa Motors had held onto a chance to survive brought more joy than worry. So long as it survived somehow, a solution would appear, and in the process the present situation might work itself out too—thinking this, the spoons and chopsticks that had stopped began to move again. Just as Korea’s stalled economy had begun to move once more, the people in the restaurant returned to their usual lunchtime.
In a corner of that restaurant where office workers were settling their lunches, Seong-ho and Byeong-jin Jo were eating too. The two spooned up the stew before them, mixed it into their rice, and talked as they ate.
“So in the end your sister-in-law is taking the child and going to America?”
Byeong-jin was the only outsider who knew what was unfolding within the Ilhyeon family.
Eating as he listened, Seong-ho brought his chopsticks to the stir-fried anchovies and answered.
“Yeah. Says she’ll take the child and never come back to Korea again.”
“Your in-laws really are something.”
Byeong-jin shook his head and, picking up some seasoned greens, said,
“An elder brother-in-law insisting a child that isn’t his is his; a father-in-law saying it’s a son’s child so raise it anyway; a sister-in-law taking that child on and refusing to come to Korea. And the eldest brother-in-law, the root of every last one of these reasons… honestly, it’s a mess. A total mess.”
Byeong-jin clicked his tongue, thinking that the people of the Ilhyeon family—so presentable on the surface—were an even deeper mire underneath.
“If your elder brother-in-law hadn’t stepped up, they’d surely have pinned the guilt on you.”
“As it happens, at first they did suggest making it look like I’d fathered a child outside.”
Seong-ho answered as though it were nothing and spooned up some stew, mixing it into his rice.
Byeong-jin stared at him with vacant eyes.
“Really?”
He’d asked to make sure, wondering if it was a joke.
“Really. What, would it be a lie? That would have been the easiest way for them, after all.”
“They really tried to dump it on you? On a newlywed couple only a couple of years married?”
“Newlywed or not, I’m an outsider to them all the same.”
“Ugh. Bastards.”
Byeong-jin spat out the curse. But he soon came to himself and apologized to Seong-ho.
“Ah—sorry. I cursed your in-laws without meaning to.”
Whatever else they were, the Ilhyeon family were Seong-ho’s in-laws, so Byeong-jin apologized for cursing.
But Seong-ho said, as if unbothered,
“It’s fine. They are bastards.”
“Huh?”
Byeong-jin was the one who ended up wearing a startled expression.
But Seong-ho, still as if it were nothing, worked his chopsticks and went on.
“Not content with fathering a child outside, he dumps it on his younger brother, and there’s a daughter-in-law who’ll take that child and run off to America—what family like that would be normal?”
“Well, when you put it that way…”
Byeong-jin let out a snorted laugh and, like Seong-ho, worked his chopsticks.
“You adapting so well to a situation like that is impressive too, in a way. If it were me, I’d never have managed it.”
“It did take a little time to adapt.”
Byeong-jin took the “little” Seong-ho spoke of to mean a year or two—Seong-ho was only just entering his second year of marriage, after all. But the “little” time Seong-ho spoke of was a span comfortably past twenty years. Twenty years and more had passed, and now he was pressing the blade of revenge to the Ilhyeon family who’d driven him to his death.
“Anyway, this’ll all be wrapped up now, won’t it?”
If Eun-a Jang left with the child, the child matter would clearly be over. But Seong-ho had no intention of leaving it there.
“It mustn’t be made to end like this.”
Seong-ho set down his spoon.
Byeong-jin looked at the Seong-ho who seemed to have finished eating and asked with a face that didn’t follow,
“It mustn’t end like this? Then how is it supposed to end?”
“This isn’t the conclusion I want.”
“What conclusion do you want, then?”
Byeong-jin asked, curious.
Seong-ho took a drink of water and answered.
“I want it to get a little more tangled. If it ends like this, people won’t get to know the Ilhyeon family’s ugly story, will they?”
“You want other people to know this story?”
Setting down his water glass, Seong-ho folded his arms. Then, after a moment’s thought, he said to the Byeong-jin who was staring at him,
“The truth is, even if it gets out, people won’t remember it well. And with time, it’ll end as a mere blemish a handful of people gossip about.”
“A family like your in-laws could block the rumor itself, couldn’t they?”
“Right. If it’s talk floating around among people, they’ve a good chance of making it so. But if the story comes out set in print?”
“In print? Don’t tell me you’re thinking of tipping off the press?”
Byeong-jin hurriedly looked around. The people who’d stopped eating to watch the news were now busily eating again. Byeong-jin tore off a napkin, handed it to Seong-ho, and wiped his own mouth. Then he signaled Seong-ho with his eyes to get up and headed for the counter. Byeong-jin took out his wallet, paid, and quickly led Seong-ho out of the restaurant.
“Thanks for the meal.”
Out on the street, Seong-ho offered his thanks. But Byeong-jin’s ears didn’t seem to catch Seong-ho’s words. He glanced hurriedly around, and after confirming that the passersby weren’t paying them any mind, he jabbed Seong-ho in the side.
“Hey, are you crazy? With that many people around, saying you’ll tip off the press—are you in your right mind?”
“But I never said I’d tip off the press?”
“What?”
Byeong-jin dug at his ear with a finger, wondering if he’d heard wrong, and said,
“You clearly said it. That once it comes out in print, the situation’s different.”
“Right.”
“Weren’t you talking about newspapers?”
“Print isn’t only newspapers.”
“If not newspapers, what?”
“Weeklies are print, and monthlies are print too, aren’t they?”
“Weeklies and monthlies?”
Byeong-jin, as if he hadn’t thought of weeklies or monthlies at all, looked at Seong-ho with round eyes.
Seong-ho took Byeong-jin by the arm and, walking slowly, said,
“And it’s not just weeklies and monthlies. There are plenty of places that deal in gossip.”
“So you’re saying…”
“You just quietly leak the story to a place like that. Then they’ll dig into it and spread it on their own.”
Seong-ho looked at the shops lining the street as he walked slowly on and went on,
“However great the Ilhyeon family is, they can’t block every one of those places.”
“That’s true. Only the major dailies and broadcast are within the boundary; places like that aren’t ones we manage.”
Within the Restructuring Headquarters, too, there was a department in charge of the media. So Byeong-jin knew very well just how far the Ilhyeon Group’s hand could reach. Because the team he oversaw was precisely the one that did that kind of work.
Seong-ho nodded and said,
“Right now people are living joyless days, anxious over when they might be let go from their jobs. In a situation like this, what happens if a story comes out that could seize their interest?”
“It’d draw a lot of attention.”
“Yes. Once the gossip the yellow press chatters about starts passing over people’s lips, the dailies will start taking interest too. Broadcast will start digging as well… and however hard Ilhyeon tries to block the articles, once people have started caring, the press can no longer ignore it.”
Having said this, Seong-ho stopped his steps and gazed quietly at Byeong-jin. From Seong-ho’s look, Byeong-jin could tell that everything he’d said until now had been directed at him.
“Got it. I’ll leak the story the moment I get in.”
Confirming that Byeong-jin had caught his meaning, Seong-ho smiled and set his steps moving again.
“There’s no need to spell it all out. Toss it out just enough, and they’ll flip everything over and dig it all up as if rummaging through a trash can—so you need only throw the topic. And what you must keep in mind is that they can never trace that you were the one who threw it.”
“You don’t need to worry about that. It’s not even providing information—just leaking a hint won’t leave a tail to catch.”
Seong-ho knew Byeong-jin would do it well. So he ended his worry with a pat on the shoulder.
“She leaves at the start of next month, so you have to make the story break in earnest before then.”
“The start of next month…”
At the words “the start of next month,” Byeong-jin began calculating in his head when and how to leak it. Seeing him at his figuring, Seong-ho didn’t speak, so that he could calculate in peace. Instead he looked around at the nearby shops, smacked his lips, and muttered to himself.
“It’d be nice to have coffee after a meal…”
Muttering the one thing he found wanting compared to that former life, Seong-ho walked toward the company.
Having left work early, Seong-ho prepared dinner for Gyeong-eun. Of course, like Gyeong-eun, it was no more than reheating a dinner that had been prepared in advance. But even this much delighted Seong-ho—that he could do something for Gyeong-eun. And the gratitude Gyeong-eun felt was more than delight.
“Oh my. What’s all this?”
“You must be hungry, so just wash your hands and come.”
“Seong-ho.”
Moved to the point of tears welling up, Gyeong-eun couldn’t take her eyes off him.
Thinking that if he left her like this she might spill over into weeping, Seong-ho pushed at her back and said,
“Now, now. Hurry and wash your hands and come out. I’ll set out the rest of the food in the meantime.”
Guiding Gyeong-eun to the bathroom with a hand at her back, Seong-ho closed the door. Then he returned to the kitchen, set the spoons and chopsticks on the table, and sat down first.
Having washed her hands and lightly patted her face, Gyeong-eun came out and looked at Seong-ho with a moved gaze. At the sight of her, Seong-ho smiled and gestured for her to sit. And picking up a spoon himself, he held it out to her and said,
“The soup will get cold. Hurry and eat.”
“Seong-ho. When did you prepare all this?”
“You do it too, Gyeong-eun, so there’s no reason I couldn’t. Hurry and eat.”
At his words, Gyeong-eun scooped up some broth and tasted it. It wasn’t cooking Seong-ho had made himself, but at the fact that he’d set a table for her, Gyeong-eun felt her chest swell with joy.
Watching the delighted Gyeong-eun, Seong-ho picked up a side dish, laid it atop her rice, and said,
“Later on, if I come home earlier, I’ll have real food made and be waiting for you.”
“You can cook?”
“Of course. I can make most things. If there’s ever something you’d like to eat, just say the word. I’ll make it next time.”
Having lived alone for over twenty years in that former life, cooking his own meals, Seong-ho possessed cooking skills enough to make most any dish. It was a natural skill honed from living alone—but since coming here, he’d had no particular place to use it, and so had simply left it dormant.
If I’d known she’d be this happy, I should have made it myself.
Watching Gyeong-eun brimming with joy over nothing more than reheated food the housekeeper had left, Seong-ho resolved to cook the food himself next time.
“Then pasta. I want to eat pasta.”
“What’s so hard about pasta? Go to Ilhyeon Department Store and they sell the noodles and the sauce, all of it. It’s easier than boiling ramyeon.”
Seong-ho picked up a side dish with a smiling face, laid it on Gyeong-eun’s rice, and said,
“I’ll make it delicious, so look forward to it.”
Perhaps because the scale of her being moved had grown too great, Gyeong-eun now wore an expression close to respect. To Gyeong-eun—who from birth had never seen herself, nor any of her family, cook—Seong-ho’s words sounded utterly novel. She forgot even to eat, gazing at Seong-ho with a loving look.
(End of Chapter 134)