Yom Sang-seop - Three Generations

Byeong-hwa had never seen him drink like that. Something was up.

He clapped his hands again for service. It was not Aiko who brought out the drinks but the proprietor who appeared, apologizing.

“Where’s Ai-san?” Byeong-hwa asked.

“She’s combing her hair. She’ll be out shortly.”

The proprietor poured another drink for Deok-gi. He had finished his glass, and under different circumstances he would have refused another, but now he just sat in silence, uncertain what to do. He wanted to persuade Byeong-hwa to leave with him immediately, but he had an irresistible urge to see the beauty once more.

“What do you say we go get something to eat now?” No matter how he thought about it, leaving was the right thing to do. He felt he had regained his composure to some extent.

“What ’s the matter with you? You’ve come all this way and now you want to leave without even meeting her?” Byeong-hwa knocked back his second glass in high spirits; leaving was the last thing on his mind. “Come on, drink up. We’re going to get drunk tonight. After tomorrow, we won’t see each other for a long time.”

“Is the young man going somewhere?” The proprietor glanced at Deok-gi with a friendly smile.

“Well, you see,” said Byeong-hwa, laughing, “I missed my young son here, so I called him home from school during winter break, but now I have to send him off again tomorrow. This is his farewell party.”

“Father and son get along famously, I see!” The proprietor joined in the laughter.

“You’re crazy!” Deok-gi snorted.

“And what school do you go to?” she asked.

“Kyoto Prep School Number 3,” answered Byeong-hwa as Deok-gi sat silently, his thoughts elsewhere.

“Ah, Kyoto. Have you been there long?” She seemed interested, and she took a closer look at Deok-gi.

Deok-gi gave her a blank look before answering. “Yes, about two years,” he said, then turned to Byeong-hwa again. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Why do you keep saying that? You just got here.”

“I have to pack, and I think we’d better eat something,” Deok-gi said. He thought it would be better not to meet Gyeong-ae. He didn’t have any particular feelings for her, but the thought of meeting her under these circumstances pained him. It was so shocking to see her like this, as a hostess in a bar. She certainly wouldn’t want to see him. It was best that they leave as soon as possible.

“You eat every day. Sit down, will you?”

“You just don’t know when to stop drinking. Do you want to pickle that formidable young brain of yours?” Deok-gi sounded angry.

“You know, I don’t get meals every day like some people we know, and I don’t always have someone buying me drinks, so what am I supposed to do? What’s a guy supposed to do if he can’t get a few drinks every now and then? Live on cold water alone? Are you telling me I shouldn’t drink?”

“Of course you should! Especially when you’re in such a good mood!” exclaimed Aiko-san as she hurried in. She stood next to the proprietor without so much as a glance at Deok-gi. “Kin-san!” She addressed Byeong-hwa, “Why are you preaching to a young gentleman like him? Come on, drink up!” She picked up the bottle.

“Ai-san’s right. You drink first,” Byeong-hwa said, offering her his empty glass.

“All right,” Gyeong-ae said, readily exchanging the bottle for the glass, into which Byeong-hwa poured her a drink.

Deok-gi averted his eyes as she accepted the drink. Her flirtatious behavior filled him with shock, aversion, contempt, and sympathy. He wished his father could see her now and felt a stronger sense of rebellion against him than ever before.

Deok-gi wasn’t the only one surprised by Gyeong-ae’s abandon. The proprietor had been watching with a smile, thinking that Gyeong-ae was flirting harmlessly, but when half the drink disappeared, she was astonished. “What are you doing? What’s wrong with you?” she exclaimed, as she snatched away the glass. “You can’t drink this much! Will you be all right?” she asked, her eyes gauging how much Gyeong-ae had drunk. This wasn’t simply an owner chastising an employee. She sounded genuinely concerned. Hearing her, the two men appreciated her thoughtfulness as though they themselves were the ones being scolded.

“I can handle much more than that,” Gyeong-ae said in a Japanese so perfect it was almost uncanny. She smiled slyly, like a child who was proud of a prank she had pulled. Then she pulled out a Pigeon.

Deok-gi stole a glance at her as she lit her cigarette. Perhaps he imagined it, but her eyes, glowing from the light of the match, seemed to be brimming over.

So she does shed tears, he thought.

They had gone to the same elementary school and the same church, and look how far she had fallen! It might be out of bitterness that she drank and helped herself to her customer’s cigarettes like a low-class barmaid, but her tears seemed to say that she hadn’t fallen all the way. The more he thought about it, the more he pitied her.

“Give me the glass! You’re all keeping me from drinking! Ai-san, drink up and give me my glass.” Byeong-hwa urged her on, ill at ease, sensing the tension.

“I’m not drinking any more. Take the glass. You can’t refuse to share it even if you think it’s filthy, because you’ve accepted drinks from a rich master, right?” Gyeong-ae blurted out, pushing her glass toward Byeong-hwa. She had come around the table and was sitting between Byeong-hwa and Deok-gi.

Deok-gi was taken aback by her flippant remarks, tossed off as if she had no idea who he was. His spirits sinking, he stole a quick glance at her. He was beginning to feel afraid of this woman. Who was she, really?

“Drink up!” said Gyeong-ae, refilling the glass.

As though he had been waiting for just such encouragement, Byeong-hwa picked up the drink and gulped it down.

“Let’s get out of here,” Deok-gi said, before Byeong-hwa even had a chance to reach for a snack to go with his drink. Deok-gi felt as if he had been duped by a conniving spirit, and he couldn’t stand being there any longer.

“Now, you stop right there. As Aiko-san said, it’s not easy to get a rich gentleman to pay for drinks. I’ll go when I’m ready,” retorted Byeong-hwa, who was getting increasingly drunk. He bit greedily into another fish cake.

The proprietor burst out laughing, and Deok-gi was embarrassed. In fact, it was the ravenous way Byeong-hwa was eating that made her laugh, but Deok-gi felt she was mocking him, like the other two were. He had no choice but to stay put and listen to their banter, but whichever way he looked, the others seemed to belong to an entirely different world as they chatted among themselves. It was unnerving.

“Have some more yourself, young man,” said the proprietor to Deok-gi in a friendly tone. “Don’t act like a girl!”

“How can we force such a young gentleman to drink? I’ll drink it myself!” Gyeong-ae picked up the glass in front of Deok-gi and whispered low in Korean, so that only Deok-gi could hear, “I’ll suck up every single drop of the buja ’s blood if I can.” She sat up straight. It was not clear whether by buja she meant “father and son” or “rich man.”

Gyeong-ae didn’t raise the glass to her lips, having snatched it from Deok-gi only to say what was on her mind. She had uttered the words aggressively; she definitely recognized him. This glass belongs to Jo Deok-gi, the son of Jo Sang-hun — she hadn’t forgotten that.

Who was Sang-hun and who was Deok-gi? As it happens, she had once been the father’s mistress, and although the son had once been a school friend of hers, he was supposed to have been like a son to her. This thought lodged itself in her mind.