“It looks like we're having a party here.”
“A party? Oh, this is nothing.”
As she looked at Sinch'ol and spoke these words to him, Okchom just barely managed to restrain herself from telling him that they should get married right away, and have the most fabulous wedding banquet they could ever imagine.
“Take whatever you'd like . . . Just pick something. How's this one? Or this one? Or how about one of these?”
Okchom extended her arm and touched each of the fruits she offered him. But Sinch'ol didn't feel like eating. He felt out of sorts, like he'd lost something that had always belonged to him, like he'd been deeply betrayed.
“Well, will you have one of these then?”
She took down the same box of chocolates they had eaten from several days earlier. She very meticulously removed the foil from one of them.
“Now open wide. I'll pop it into your mouth from here.”
The color rising in her cheeks, Okchom looked at Sinch'ol, who grimaced slightly, then forced a smile.
63
“Please just give it to me.”
Sinch'ol quickly stuck out his hand. Okchom gave him a hurt look, and glancing down at the piece of chocolate, blushed up to her ears. Sinch'ol reached over for the box of chocolates and picked out a piece for himself. He was just unwrapping it when they heard the sound of footsteps.
“Oh, that's probably Father,” said Okchom softly.
The door opened and Tokho came inside. Sinch'ol scrambled to his feet and bowed his head politely to the man.
“I see, so this is where you've been . . . I was just at your house . . . how's school going?”
Tokho took off his overcoat and laid it down. He took a quick look at Okchom, then shifted his gaze to Sinch'ol, at whom he smiled so wide that crow's feet appeared at the corners of his eyes.
“I'll tell you, my boy, this girl said she was so sick, I had to drop everything I was working on and come right down . . . Now, you, you get back into that bed.”
Just a while ago Tokho had been under the impression that Okchom was practically on her deathbed, but now he saw her sitting there as if nothing in the world was wrong with her. Tokho was relieved that his daughter's illness was not serious, and now that he saw she was alright, he was anxious to come to a quick decision as far her marriage to Sinch'ol was concerned.
“I hear that you're going to graduate pretty soon.”
“Yes, I am.”
“So . . . Oh, this is nothing fancy, but please have something to eat . . . Now, tell me, there's some sort of examination you take after graduating?”
Sinch'ol guessed that Tokho had been talking to his father.
“ Well . . . nothing's quite certain yet.”
“I see . . . well, I wish only the best for you . . . I'm actually pressed for time, so I'll have to take the train back home tomorrow. I had to drop everything in the office to come here, you see, so I'm a bit worried about work now . . .”
Sinch'ol recalled something that Okchom had mentioned the other day, that her father was now mayor of the township. It was no wonder, he realized, that the man was wearing such an expensive suit.
“Tell me what you want to do, Okchom. It doesn't seem to me like you're very sick. Do you want to come back home with me? Or can you manage to get some sort of treatment here? Just make a decision.”
Okchom thought about it for a moment, her eyes shifting.
“Well, how would you like to come to the countryside for a while?” she asked, looking at Sinch'ol.
Sinch'ol immediately thought of Sonbi and was quite tempted to take her up on this offer, despite his better judgment. But he remembered what his mission in life was, and realized that if he went along with them at this point, there would be no way out of this marriage.
“How could I possibly take you up on such an offer? I put you all to so much trouble last summer, after running into Okchom on the way to MonggÅmp'o Beach . . .”
Tokho hung onto each and every word Sinch'ol said, and was given no little concern by what he heard. Last summer he and his wife hadn't doubted in the slightest that Sinch'ol and his daughter had an understanding between themselves to marry, and that was why they'd allowed the two of them to lounge around in the same room unsupervised. But now that Sinch'ol spoke to him this way, he sensed that Sinch'ol was trying to make excuses in order to pull out of the arrangement. Yet, he'd been certain after his conversation with Sinch'ol's father that the marriage was a foregone conclusion. That conversation was a comfort to him now.
“Well, maybe this is a bad time for you to come, but when you graduate this spring and it gets a bit warmer outside . . . by then this girl of ours will have recovered . . . and you'll have to come up for a visit together . . . Ever since last summer my wife keeps saying she misses you more than she does this girl.”
“Well, that's awfully kind of you to say . . .”
Sinch'ol bowed his head, cast his eyes to the ground and placed his hands politely on his knees. Oh, that masculine, dignified face, thought Okchom, and those hands! If it weren't for her father being there, she'd have instantly clasped them into her own, so great was the excitement in her breast. Tokho stared at Sinch'ol for a moment, and it seemed to him that there was something about the boy that was just a little too good for Okchom. But what a fine son-in-law he'd make! thought Tokho, his eyes still fixed on him.
According to what Okchom had told him, Sinch'ol did indeed love her, but he was simply too well-mannered and far too shy to actually express his love outwardly. And yet, the way Sinch'ol was sitting face to face with him like this, Tokho certainly didn't get that impression. Or maybe Sinch'ol simply looked down on Okchom, and this had kept him silent for so long. The only other possibility was that the two already had a physical relationship and the boy was now tired of her. In any
case, it was the one or the other, Tokho was sure of it. He was more worried than ever now, and was determined this time to see the issue of their marriage officially settled.
“While you're in Seoul, you should make some time to enjoy yourself before you head home again,” said Sinch'ol looking up at Tokho.
“Well, I tell you, I'd like nothing more than to spend a few days talking with your father . . . but the way things are right now . . . well, there's a matter of business to take care of in the township, and without me there, things are pretty hopeless.”
Sinch'ol thought of what Inho had said to him on his way over here. “You're hopeless, Mr. Virtuosity!” Sinch'ol rose to his feet. “I look forward to seeing you again soon.”
64
Having eaten a bowl of
kake udon
in the cafeteria, Sinch'ol made his way back to the library. Looking around him, he realized that there were fewer students there than before he'd left for dinner. Maybe I should just get the hell out of here, he thought, fishing his watch out of his pocket. It was ten past six . . . Instead of leaving, he pulled out his chair and sat down, only to realize once again how sore his backside was. He'd been sitting here all day long without even getting up to attend lectures. He stood up again and then sat back down, correcting his posture. Then he took out the book he'd put away in his bag and flipped it open.
As he looked through the pages, his head started pounding with everything that had belabored his mind throughout the day. When he'd left for school that morning, his father had said to him, âBe sure to come home early today,' and now Sinch'ol could almost feel those words stabbing into his chest. His father wanted to hear his final decision today, there was no doubt about it. He and Tokho had had a frank discussion the night before and it seemed to Sinch'ol that today would be the day of reckoning. He knew they were going to gang up on him and force him to give them an answer.
What the hell am I going I do? he said under his breath, laying his head down on his arm. His father didn't even have to say itâit was already perfectly clear to Sinch'ol that he was moving things along quickly because Okchom was the only daughter of a rich man.
Money . . . Money! His father had gone mad, it seemed, and was jumping at the chance to ruin his life. All, for the sake of money.
Sinch'ol closed his eyes tightly. He saw an image of Okchom, followed by one of Sonbi. He couldn't bring himself to say that he loved Sonbi. In fact, his heart told him that he shouldn't marry her, though he didn't really understand that feeling. Why couldn't he get Sonbi out of his mind? The main reason he liked her was that he found her attractiveâand she was such an honest hard worker! That was all there was to it. He thought about her all the time simply because he'd spent nearly two months with her in the same household, even though he'd never once had the chance to sit down and speak with her.
If Sonbi had given him the same sort of persistent attention that Okchom always did, he might very well have treated Sonbi the same way he treated Okchom.
He realized something else: While he'd had the chance to meet a good number of women, there wasn't a single one of them he could honestly say he liked. If he was forced to pick one of them, it would have to be Sonbi.
From the moment he'd met Okchom, he had never really thought of her as anything more than someone to keep him company while on vacation, a girl with whom he could kill some spare time. And Father was now telling him to marry someone like that? A scornful smile crossed his lips. He felt he was losing all the trust he'd once placed in his father. The man made only a meager salary and had lived a hard-pressed life; now with this pool of money within arm's length, he seemed ready to grab it without considering any of the consequences.
When I get home tonight, Father is going to chew me out for being late. Then he's going to bring up the marriage again . . . But what am I supposed to do, when I don't even like her? I wonder if Tokho has gone back home yet or if he's still here in Seoul? Sinch'ol dreaded the very idea of having to sit face to face with Tokho again. Then again, maybe he could sit down with him before he left Seoul and somehow persuade him to send Sonbi down in the spring . . . But this, he realized, would be impossible to accomplish without first consenting to marry Okchom . . . Well, if it doesn't happen, I'll just have to give up on the whole idea . . . He wasn't the type of person who was going to go crazy over a girl, but he did at least want the chance to meet her. He just wanted to hear her voice.
Indeed the worst thing about his refusing to marry Okchom was that it would put a stop to any future he might have with Sonbi. His failure was in not getting them to send Sonbi to Seoul before all these issues arose, as he originally had intended. This winter, or perhaps in the coming spring, they might very well end up sending her off to get married somewhere . . . He closed his book and stared out blankly into the electric bulb. The glowing bulb? Or the black mole? . . . Just then he heard somebody mumbling behind him. It was his friend Pyongsik, holding a copy of
The Compendium of the Six Laws
against his chest. He had his eyes closed tightly in concentration and was trying to memorize something: Article no. 131 . . . Article no. 131 . . . Article no. 131 . . . Article no. 131, he said over and over. His face showed the signs of the first stage of consumption, and in the glare of the electric lights his forehead seemed to protrude even further than usual. Sinch'ol smiled scornfully despite himself. They must all be dreaming of becoming judges or prosecutors, he thought, going on the way they do like that. He couldn't stand being in the library for a minute longer.
65
Once he was outside, Sinch'ol felt a few snowflakes fall against his face. He looked up and watched them falling in the glow of the streetlamps. They seemed like mayflies swarming around electric lights on a summer's day. By the time he reached the front gate, he heard the closing bell ring in the library. Already nine o'clock? He quickly turned around. That towering black building, piercing the dark sky, was the very best college in all of Choson! He bolted upright: it seemed as though he was staring at a giant question mark looming dizzily before his eyes, asking him what in the world he had spent almost every single day of the last three years learning inside there.
Hearing the voices of all the students leaving the library, Sinch'ol turned and started walking. When he arrived back home, he heard his father clearing his throat in another room and felt an unaccustomed rush of emotion.
“Is that you, Sinch'ol?”
His father's voice seemed so strident as he opened the door to his room that the hairs on the back of his neck stood up straight in attention.
“Yes, it is.”
“Didn't I tell you to come home early today?”
Sinch'ol quietly went inside his room, placed his bag on top of his desk, took the books from inside it, and then inserted each into its place on the bookshelf. His mind was racing, and he wouldn't have been able to calm himself down without carefully putting his things away. He neatly arranged everything on his desk again, and after wiping the surface off with a rag, he leaned up against the wall, all ears; what was Father going to say to him next?
Then he heard someone walking across the floor, and his stepmother slid open his door.
“Come in and have your supper.”
“I already ate.”
“Where?”
“Somebody . . . a friend invited me out . . .”
After sensing something was wrong with him, his stepmother stepped into the room.
“Now, tell me why you didn't come home early today.”
“Why should I have?”
His stepmother came to sit by his side, smiling.