Yom Sang-seop: Three Generations

For the Romanization of the Korean alphabet, the new system issued by the South Korean

government in 2000 was used. For the transliteration of the author’s name, however, we

accepted the wishes of his family.

Yu Young-nan

Standing on the stone step in front of the inner quarters, Deok-gi watched a manservant packing a quilt and pillow for him on the veranda. His grandfather came in from the outer quarters, his hands clasped behind his back. Seeing Deok-gi, he frowned and started grumbling.

“Deok-gi, someone’s here looking for you. Who is this guy? His hair is a mess. You know it ’s important to have good friends. Why do all your friends who come around look like that?” His eyes widened as he caught sight of the quilt the manservant was wrapping. He stepped closer and touched it. “What’s this? What’s the good quilt — ”Then he exploded. “How dare you! What’s this three-colored silk doing here? Silk is for your elders. You can’t take this all the way to a foreign country — you’ll just get it dirty! You’re just a student — are you crazy?” He shifted his gaze over to his granddaughter-in-law, who was standing in the kitchen without budging, and glared at her, too.

While his grandfather’s tongue-lashing focused on this new target, Deok-gi snuck away to the outer quarters, where he suspected — from the mention of disheveled hair and shabby looks — he would find that his visitor was Kim Byeong-hwa.

“Hey, I was going to stop by your place after dinner,” Deok-gi said, welcoming the friend he had seen just two days earlier.

“Oh, sure, a bourgeois like you coming to pay a visit to the likes of me! If you’re going to say good-bye to anyone, you might as well start with the head of the Bank of Korea.” Byeong-hwa burst into laughter as he stood there, tall with hands buried deep in the pockets of his dusty overcoat.

“You just can’t help being a wiseass every time we get together, can you? Cut it out, all right?” Deok-gi disliked being called a bourgeois. Not that he didn’t feel fortunate to have enough to live on, but times being what they were, he didn’t enjoy such sarcasm. “Come on in.”

“What’s the use of staying in?” Byeong-hwa said. “Let’s go out. I’m hungry, I’m dying for a drink, and I don’t want to go back to my boarding house for a miserable dinner with the family there. Anyway, they feed me only once a day — if I’m lucky — so why don’t you pay, and I’ll take you to a decent place? How does that sound?”

“How about I take you out and you pay?” Deok-gi went into the room that he was using for the time being.

“Give me a cigarette, will you? My mouth keeps telling me to put something in it.” Byeong-hwa stretched out his hand and peered into the room.

“You go without cigarettes when I’m away, don’t you?” Deok-gi tossed him the pack of Pigeons lying on the desk. “Seems you’re only happy when you’re bumming something off me, aren’t you? Even if it’s just a cigarette. How about we trade places in the exploiter-exploited class relationship?” Deok-gi hastily took off his Korean clothes as he spoke.

“You’re getting upset about a cigarette? Like grandfather, like grandson!” Byeong-hwa inhaled slowly, savoring the flavor of the tobacco. “I’ll wait outside. If the old man comes in and gives me the evil eye, it’ll ruin our plans.” He sauntered outside, beyond the gate of the outer quarters.

Actually, Deok-gi was also hoping to get away before his grandfather returned. Thinking about what Byeong-hwa had just said, Deok-gi snorted as he took the student uniform down from where it hung on the wall and put it on as fast as he could. He rushed out, overcoat in hand. His grandfather would almost certainly assume from Byeong-hwa’s state of disarray that he was the kind of person who’d try to get something from his grandson or worse, tempt him to drink and squander money.

“What time do you leave tomorrow?”

“Probably in the evening.” Deok-gi, born into a leisure-class family, hadn’t yet decided which train to take, and had left his plans vague. He figured he could just as soon leave the following day if he didn’t get it together tomorrow, or even the day after that if something else delayed him.

“Well, I don’t care when you leave. He must have given you quite a bit, huh?”

“Do you really think the old man would give me anything without counting down to the last coin on his abacus?”

“Stop whining. Are you afraid someone’s going to ask you for a handout?”

“What have I got to hand out?”

“Come on! I won’t let you leave until you give me enough to keep me fed for at least a month. If the landlord actually had something, he’d let me eat even if I couldn’t pay, but his daughter works in a factory, and they can only afford to buy rice by the handful, even though rice prices have come down so much lately. I can’t stand idly by.”

Deok-gi looked sympathetic, but then he laughed and said, “They really made a mistake when they took you in!”

“That’s how people like me get by, you know.”

“You said it!”

“You just can’t bring yourself to admit that it ’s a mistake being friends with someone like me. Am I right?” Byeong-hwa continued.

“You took the words right out of my mouth,” Deok-gi said.

“You know that if it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have anyone following you around and hitting you up for drinks.”

“Yeah, right! And the great revolutionary of our generation must be so ashamed to admit to being friends with someone so green, so fresh out of secondary school. I’m truly honored by your presence, really.”

Nowadays, the two friends saw each other only once or twice a year. They traded sarcastic remarks every time they met, but they’d never actually been really angry at one another. Their friendship had begun thanks to their similar family backgrounds, when they were bright young students vying for first place in their class, and now nothing could break the deep understanding and sympathy that had developed despite their differences.

Neither was more intelligent nor more articulate than the other, but the fair-skinned Deok-gi was from a rich family and had an air of calm about him. Byeong-hwa was dark and brazen, with a stubborn streak. Deok-gi was not overly cheerful, in spite of having grown up sheltered in an affluent household. He regarded Byeong-hwa, who seemed to have become more cynical in the past couple of years, with aloofness.

“So where are we going?” Deok-gi asked. “You don’t look like you’re in the mood for Chinese or for Japanese fish-cake soup. How about we go to _____House and hire a gisaeng, too?” Deok-gi had never been to a restaurant where gisaeng served.

“Do you think I’m some sort of lackey who wants to follow his rich friends around, squeezing as much out of them as possible? That kind of place is too good for me.”

“Didn’t you just tell me that I should be grateful for the privilege of buying you drinks? And now all you want to do is go to a cheap bar?”

“Exactly. You give me money for drinks, and you can go to the gisaeng house by yourself.”

The two young men made their way toward Jingogae.

“Now don’t be stubborn. Let’s just go in and eat. You should have a good meal at least once a day.” Not one for drinking, Deok-gi stopped suddenly in front of a Western-style restaurant that he knew and tried to pull his friend inside.