Yom Sang-seop - Three Generations

Sang-hun told her they ought to leave if she wasn’t interested in eating, but she rebuked him, asking how a gentleman could be so impatient.

Exhausted and resigned to the situation, Sang-hun changed the subject after ordering a drink, thinking he’d wait it out. “What’s Byeong-hwa doing? When did you see him last?”

“You’d know if you went and asked him,” Gyeong-ae answered sharply. Then without a trace of a smile, she said, “I haven’t kissed him recently, and he has no overcoat to pawn, so he hasn’t been around.”

“Do you kiss people out of boredom? I thought there was a story behind it!” Sang-hun smiled as if relieved.

“Why? Are you jealous?”

While they were exchanging such trivialities, a waiter came in and announced, “The guests have arrived.”

“Guests?” Sang-hun’s eyes opened wide. Was Byeong-hwa here? He was afraid that Gyeong-ae had hatched a scheme with him.

“Please show them in,” Gyeong-ae answered.

Sang-hun, glaring at the entrance, gasped and laughed out of sheer dismay.

Her lush hair was parted in a neat straight line, not a strand out of place, and the skin on her face was tight and glowed in milky whiteness with few wrinkles, though she was over fifty. This middle-aged woman looked at least ten years younger than her age. She entered with dignity, a gray cape folded over her arm, followed by a slender female student wearing her hair bundled in a high, tight bun. At first glance, one might think them the mother and daughter of a rich, respectable family, but upon closer inspection, they felt more like a retired gisaeng or a court lady with her young companion in tow.

Ah, so this is Maedang herself, that celebrated woman of Seoul! Leaning back in her chair in a condescending posture, head tilted, lips curling at the corners, Gyeong-ae’s gaze pierced the pair as they entered.

Sang-hun couldn’t shed his sheepish smile.

“What wild-goose chase is this? If you intended to leave, at least. ” Maedang spoke in a great admonishing voice, but her voice trailed off when her eyes met Gyeong-ae’s mocking stare. The gold teeth of the female student in Maedang’s shadow glittered briefly and then vanished, as the girl resumed a prim air.

After an instant assessment of Maedang, Gyeong-ae’s eyes shifted to the “female student” — a label that would disappear in later years, but that was now laden with connotations, both positive and negative. Her deep-set eyes gave a somewhat doll-like impression when she blinked, and she struck Gyeong-ae as a comely young woman. The young woman made a good first impression, and this made Gyeong-ae empathize with her, but her generous thoughts soon gave way to others — dance like an angel in kindergarten by day, and sit around drinking tables by night. Gyeong-ae didn’t know whether she was clucking her tongue at Kim Ui-gyeong, lamenting the world, or simply feeling sorry for herself.

“Sit down,” Gyeong-ae said, indicating the seat next to her. Ui-gyeong’s mood soured at the sight of this unexpected beauty in Western dress. Though hesitant, she assumed a challenging attitude. Her eyes not meeting Gyeong-ae’s, she bowed slightly and perched on the chair, still in her overcoat. Her refusal to take it off and exhibit good manners was taken as a deliberate slight by Gyeong-ae, who continued to look imperiously around the table from face to face.

Giving Maedang a sidelong glance as she exchanged whispers with Sang-hun, Gyeong-ae tossed back her curaçao and offered her empty glass to Ui-gyeong. What a horror! Gyeong-ae thought, as her first favorable impression of the young woman evaporated, and she wanted only to give her a hard time.

“ Egu, I can’t drink that!” Ui-gyeong recoiled. All her attention had been directed to what Sang-hun and Maedang were saying. She waved away Gyeong-ae’s tactlessness.

“I’ve heard about gisaeng who can’t sing and whores who can’t have babies, but I’ve never seen a bar hostess who can’t drink!” Offended by Ui-gyeong’s scowl, Gyeong-ae burst out laughing. Maedang and Sang-hun abruptly cut off their conversation and looked over.

“Miss Kim Ui-gyeong! Have a drink. This is not kindergarten. Don’t worry about it! Just drink! We’re from the same school, aren’t we?” Gyeong-ae was overcome with scorn for the rude young woman and felt a rash impulse to crush Maedang, no matter how seasoned the old woman might be.

Maedang blanched. Her cheeks fell, and her eyes danced with fury. Ui-gyeong stared at Gyeong-ae, her face turning purple and her heart beating as fast as a frightened bird’s. She didn’t know who Gyeong-ae was but although she was angered only fleetingly by Gyeong-ae’s insult, she was rendered speechless when Gyeong-ae called her by name and mentioned the kindergarten.

“I’ve been holding it so long, my arm might fall off. How can I put this glass down? My hand will be disgraced, won’t it?” Gyeong-ae’s will seemed to be softening, deliberately slurring her speech.

“Take it anyway,” Maedang said in a persuasive tone. But a deep frown was etched between her eyes.

“I’ve heard people complain about no one buying them drinks, but why is it so difficult to offer someone a drink?” crowed Gyeong-ae as she poured more liqueur. Gyeong-ae jeered at them but at the same time felt elated, for Maedang — the supposedly powerful Maedang, whom the whole city knew — had arrived with Ui-gyeong in tow at Gyeong-ae’s summons. However displeased she was, Maedang urged Ui-gyeong to accept the glass, and Gyeong-ae was confident that she had completely squashed Maedang’s spirit.

“Let me introduce you two,” Gyeong-ae said. “This is Lady Jang Maedang, one the most powerful women of Korea, and this is a modern woman of Seoul.” Maedang nodded her head with a perceivable grimace. Gyeong-ae added, “I’m Hong Gyeong-ae, who sells alcohol. I’ve heard so much about you, but at last I have the pleasure of meeting you.”

Maedang suspected Gyeong-ae’s comment was tongue in cheek, but thinking that Gyeong-ae might prove useful in the future, she responded earnestly, “Why don’t you come to see me at my house?”

“I was at your gate a little while ago, actually. Would you let someone like me in?” Gyeong-ae jeered.

“Where? At my house? You must have worn yourself out, running around to catch the playboy, but still, you should’ve come in.”

“What use do I have for a man whose hair is turning gray? Could I use him as medicine? But I shouldn’t say things like that in front of the young lady.” Gyeong-ae addressed Ui-gyeong, “Don’t worry about my stealing your man. Just put a name tag on him. He may get lost.” She was lashing out in every direction.

“That’s enough of your silly jokes!” Sang-hun jumped in. He had been curious about this for some time. “How long have you known about her?”

“What don’t I know about affairs in the capital? I’ve seen her often. Didn’t we pass each other all the time near Gan-dong?” Gyeong-ae snapped back.

Blushing, Ui-gyeong blinked her eyes and gazed at the glass in front of her, knowing that she’d lose if she argued with Gyeong-ae. She looked at her wristwatch and stood up.

Gyeong-ae also rose. “Are you leaving? You should empty your glass and return it to me first.” Draping her arm over Ui-gyeong’s shoulders in a friendly manner, Gyeong-ae sat her down, while Maedang quietly kept her seat with no intention of leaving. She didn’t want to stay much longer, but she’d be damned if she had come all this way, marching to this bitch’s tune, only to depart a laughingstock. Ui-gyeong resumed her seat helplessly, because neither Maedang nor her man showed any sign of leaving or excusing her to leave. Threatened by Gyeong-ae, she felt a tangible fear that Sang-hun might be lured away from her.