Yom Sang-seop - Three Generations

Byeong-hwa pretended not to be alarmed. “How can a drink taste good to him if my hand pours it?” Turning to Sang-hun, he added, “Please accept my apologies, sir. She told me that you had asked her to come with me, so I came along but had no idea that it would be a place like this. I’ll take my leave. Please forgive me.” He made a motion of getting up.

Sang-hun, flummoxed and angry, believing himself a laughingstock, nevertheless asked Byeong-hwa to stay. He vented his anger at Gyeong-ae, demanding to know why she hadn’t left yet.

“Why are you angry at me? To you, the child may mean nothing, but not to me. You’d like it if I played the companion during your drinking binges, whether the child dies or not. Why do you pester me every day, asking me to come, asking me to go?” Gyeong-ae sat down as if she were determined to settle the matter once and for all.

Sang-hun had come to this hotel the past two days and sent for Gyeong-ae. She had ignored his summons the day before, but today she had debated whether to come or not and decided to accept his invitation only because Byeong-hwa had turned up unexpectedly.

Gyeong-ae hadn’t really intended to shake them off and leave, and the men were relieved when they saw her take a seat.

Sang-hun thought he’d lose even more face if he replied to Gyeong-ae, so he pretended nothing was out of the ordinary and poured Byeong-hwa a drink. He hoped he could send the young man away after several cups in quick succession.

“Am I your family’s grave keeper?” Byeong-hwa asked, watching Sang-hun pour him a brimming cup.

“How about you become our grave keeper, and I watch your family’s grave?” Sang-hun laughed. He then caught sight of the overcoat for the first time. “What are you doing with that coat?”

“Why? It’s mine.”

“I gave it to my servant.”

“Yes, and I took it back from him.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. What did you do with mine?”

“I drank it.”

Sang-hun made a face. “Take it off. My servant has worn it. It must be crawling with lice.”

“If I take it off, will you give me another? Every item has its owner. It was wrong of you to give it away without asking me first.”

“You’d pawn it again if I gave you another one. If I had anything to give you, I’d rather give it to my servant. That’s always the way it is with the poor. It’s like pouring water into a bottomless jar.”

Byeong-hwa was annoyed and was ready to contend with the older man but resisted out of consideration for Deok-gi.

Gyeong-ae cut in. “How can you say such things to this gentleman? What did you give him anyway?”

Byeong-hwa said, “Well, he’s right, you know. Drinking really is like pouring water into a bottomless jar. I wouldn’t have to listen to this if I hadn’t gotten drunk off him. I’ll return the overcoat tomorrow, sir. And I’m leaving. If I stayed any longer, you’d tell me to leave anyway.” He snapped to his feet.

“I’m going, too. Let’s leave together.” Gyeong-ae stood up as well.

Byeong-hwa didn’t want to stop her again, but he was baffled by the way things had turned out.

“Look, wait a minute.” Sang-hun tried to hold Gyeong-ae back. “I have something to tell you.”

Gyeong-ae began to walk away as she said, “I really have to take this medicine home. We can talk on the way.” She couldn’t bring herself to shake him off.

Byeong-hwa strode off without looking back. He was several meters ahead of Sang-hun and Gyeong-ae when they had no choice but to follow him out.

“Hey, Kim! Kim!” Sang-hun called out because he thought he’d lose face if he let the boy go off in anger.

“I’ll get him,” said Gyeong-ae.

When she caught up with him, she said, “Please don’t be so mad. There’s a reason why you shouldn’t be, so please try to be on his good side. And come to the bar at three in the afternoon tomorrow.”

She sent him off and waited for Sang-hun to catch up with her.

“He said he had to go because he’s drunk. He asked for your forgiveness for the trouble he caused.” Gyeong-ae sounded milder than she had a moment ago.

“What trouble?” Sang-hun trusted Gyeong-ae’s words. “I said some hurtful things, but he took it too much to heart because he’s poor.”

The pair, in silence, passed the Bank of Korea and headed toward Namdaemun.

“Where are you going? Aren’t you going home?” asked Gyeong-ae, stopping in her tracks. She hadn’t spoken until Sang-hun followed her to the Jaedong Building.

“Come on, I’ll take you home.” He wanted to have a look at the sick child and clear up the long-standing resentment harbored by Gyeong-ae’s mother. He figured he could learn in detail what Gyeong-ae’s plans were.

When they reached the gate of her house, Gyeong-ae said, “It’s too late. Why don’t you go home? It’s not right for you to come in now. Why don’t you return in several days when the child gets better?”

Gyeong-ae walked through the gate, which the maid had opened, and blocked the entrance with her body.

He had no choice but to turn away. He couldn’t help being disappointed, wondering whether she had behaved the way she did because there was a man in the house. It wasn’t possible to force his way into her house after all these years.

The following day, Sang-hun woke up late. As he washed his face, he caught sight of the manservant trudging in wearing a dingy Korean coat. Sang-hun found it amusing. He said, “I heard he took the overcoat back.”

“Yes, sir. It was a really good coat. What could I do, though, when he forced me to take it off? Where does that gentleman live?”

“Why? Do you want to go and ask him to give it back?”

“No. ”

“Did you deliver that letter? Did you see her?”

“Yes, I did. But. ” He hesitated, his eyes blank with helplessness.

“What is it?”

He came out with it, “Well, she wrote something.”

“So? What did you do with it?” Sang-hun asked impatiently.

“I. have dropped it somewhere. I looked everywhere before breakfast, but I can’t find it. I must have — I mean, I probably put it in the pocket of that overcoat. ”

“What do you mean must have and probably? Go and get it back right away!” Sang-hun barked at his servant.

At first, the manservant had considered lying about the matter. He knew that his master would lash out at him because the lost letter was a reply from a woman, but if the owner of that overcoat showed up later and produced the letter, saying, “I found it in my pocket,” he’d be guilty on not one but two counts in the eyes of his master.

“Yes, sir. If I really put it in that coat pocket, it would be still there, wouldn’t it?”

“Enough! Go and get it right away, you bastard!”

“Yes, sir.” He dashed out.

Sang-hun wasn’t concerned about losing the letter — he was worried that Byeong-hwa might have opened it. Chances were, however, that it was still in Byeong-hwa’s pocket if he had taken off the coat and hung it up in his room, given that he had been drunk the night before, and it was still early.

Sang-hun sat fretting before his breakfast tray, his appetite gone, when the manservant rushed in.

“Why haven’t you gone? What are you doing here?” Sang-hun thundered, flinging open the sliding door.

“Uh, where does he live?”

“You’re crazy! You act like a character in an old story. I thought you knew where he lived by the way you rushed out like that.” He scolded the man but had to laugh to himself. The master and servant were equally nitwitted — Sang-hun himself had no idea where Byeong-hwa lived. He decided to give his servant directions to Gyeong-ae’s house, so that she could point him in the right direction.