“Your father and Okchom's father were waiting for you, you know. I think they wanted to make your marriage to Okchom official. Well, how about it? He's rich, isn't he?”
Sinch'ol was so distracted that he stared at the woman without hearing a word she was saying.
“Oh, come now, let's settle this tonight . . . You should be happy, dear! You'll never find anyone who's absolutely perfect, you know. And your father really approves of the match . . . Why are you being difficult?”
“What have I said against it?” asked Sinch'ol.
“Oh, well, goodness . . . It's all settled then. Let's go over to the inner room. Okchom's father might stop by again soon . . .”
“You mean he hasn't left Seoul yet?”
“How is he supposed to go home without settling things? He was planning to take the train tonight, but did you ever show up? He waited all day long for you.”
Sinch'ol couldn't help but smile.
“Sinch'ol!” his father was calling him.
“Don't make your father more impatient,” his stepmother added. “Just give him a straight answer, will you?”
When Sinch'ol entered the room, his father took off his glasses before speaking.
“Now, let's get him something to eat.”
He glanced over at his wife, signaling her to set up a dinner table for him.
“He said he already ate . . . A friend of his invited him.”
“I see . . .”
As he looked at Sinch'ol, who had now cast his eyes downward, his father pondered over something for a while.
“You don't by any chance have an objection to marrying Okchom, do you?”
Sinch'ol looked up.
“I'm not going to marry her!”
At such an unexpectedly straightforward reply, the look on his father's face instantly soured.
“And why not?”
“I have no particular reason,” replied Sinch'ol curtly, hanging his head once again.
His father moved up closer to him.
“You have no reason not to marry her? Well, is there some other girl you'd rather marry?”
That instant Sinch'ol pictured Sonbi standing off in the distance. But the vision began to fade away just as soon as he had it.
“No, there isn't.”
“Then, settle it now!” shouted his father. “And stop all this nonsense!”
66
Judging from Sinch'ol's previous behavior, his father assumed that while the two didn't see eye to eye on the marriage, Sinch'ol was likely to give in, and it was precisely for this reason that he had decided to lay down the law.
It was a great surprise to Sinch'ol, however, to hear his father take this stance. He had never thought his father so reckless as to push him into something of such grave importance to his own future without giving due consideration to the opinions of the very person whom it most affected. He had assumed that after his father had applied a little pressure, surely he would back down when he expressed objections.
“Okchom's father is coming by again shortly, so you are to stop this nonsense and give your willing consent to this marriage . . . You won't come across another prospect like this ever again . . . What you have done is lost yourself in a world of idle dreams, but let me tell you right now that the real world is a far different place. There was a time when I'd lost my head in the clouds as wellâuntil they led me straight into prison . . . And that's why everything has gone so badly for us. Do you know how miserable our lives would be, if I lost my job at a time like this? As long as you graduate this spring and pass the bar, you shouldn't have to worry . . . But even so, without the proper support, it'll be hard for you to climb the ladder of success. Do you understand what I'm saying to you, my boy? All you have to do is agree to this marriage and the future is yours, full of promise. You've got to understand, Sinch'ol, that I'm only doing what I think is best for you.”
His father had lowered his voice by now and was trying to speak to him from his heart. It wasn't that Sinch'ol didn't know from the very beginning how his father would present his argument, but now that he was sitting face to face with him, listening to him speak in such intimate terms, Sinch'ol realized that there was precious little hope that his father would reconsider. He had probably concluded that Sinch'ol would be his only heir. Of course there was Yongch'ol, but he was still a child, and always sick, so it was doubtful whether he would survive to see adulthood. Even so, Sinch'ol hadn't the slightest intention of simply putting his life into his father's hands by taking the law exam, marrying into money and then carrying on the family name. He didn't like the potential bride. As far as he was concerned, there was absolutely no room for negotiation.
“So what you're telling me, Father, is that I should marry for the money whether I like the bride or not?”
Sinch'ol looked his father square in the face. The man was appalled that his son had addressed him in such blunt terms.
“Humph! You don't like her? Then tell me this: why did you stay at Okchom's house for almost three months? And why have you been going out with her almost every day since then?”
Sinch'ol averted his eyes from his father's fierce scowl.
“An unmarried man staying at a young lady's house? And not for just one or two days, but for two or three months! Tell me who would call that normal? Now, go on, say something for yourself.”
Sinch'ol was at a loss for an answer and said nothing.
“Or are you just one of these sex addicts? And now that you've had your fun, you're just tired of the girl . . .”
Even Sinch'ol was unable to hold himself back after this remark.
“Father! Now you have simply gone too far. As long as two people regard each other as friends, why shouldn't they be able to go out together and enjoy each other's company? Your feudal preconceptions lead you to look at a man and a woman who spend time together and automatically assume that there's something going on between them . . . It makes no sense . . . And as far as last summer is concerned, it was only in respect of your position as Okchom's teacher that I accepted their polite invitations to extend my stay, after which things have simply evolved into this mess . . . I never once thought of Okchom as someone I could possibly marry.”
“Enough! I don't want to hear another word of this. Call me feudal or whatever you want to, but once a man and a woman start going out together in public, there's no turning back. If you call off this marriage at this point, Sinch'ol, I will be utterly disgraced. And another thing . . . what are you doing with all those damn books on that desk of yours? Your own father pinches pennies and can't even buy a pack of cigarettes for himself, and here you are, with no thanks to me, buying these useless books and coming home to talk back to me, calling me a bloody feudalist or whateverâand you say I'm the one with preconceived ideas? Where the hell do you get off treating me like that? And to think, you actually have a university education . . .”
Sinch'ol's father saw that all the hopes he'd held for his son were now dashed. He felt an uncontrollable rage surge through him, right to the top of his head.
“Why don't you just stick to what you need for your exams . . . ? You fool! Instead of buying all those useless books . . .”
“Those books are my textbooks, I'll have you know, Father . . . And you, I might remind you, are the one who told me to take the bar. I've held my tongue for far too long, but you know what? The truth is that I don't really give a damn about this exam!”
“Oh, so that's the truth, is it! Hah, ha . . . you little bastard! How dare you speak this sort of rubbish to me. Get out of my sight!
He sprang at Sinch'ol and slapped him across the face, then grabbed him by the shirt and shoved him out the door.
“You and I have nothing to do with each other. You have no right to be part of this family! Now get out of here! Get out of my sight!”
67
Sinch'ol's stepmother grabbed her husband.
“Stop this! How can you do this?”
“I am no father of yours and you are certainly no son of mine!” Sinch'ol's father shouted after him.
Sinch'ol ran to his room, and stuffed several books and some clothes into his bag. His stepmother came running out of the inner room.
“Are you out of your mind? What in the world has gotten into you, child? Your father gives you a little scolding, and this is how you react?”
She grabbed Sinch'ol's overcoat and dropped to the floor. His father then threw open the door to the inner room and pulled his wife back inside.
“Get out of here! Or are you too much of a coward? Now get going! Go!”
Awoken by the sound of the banging door, Yongch'ol came out of his room, crying. Sinch'ol's father had never imagined that Sinch'ol would take things to such extreme, and actually leave. When the man saw Sinch'ol going out the door, bag in tow, as he'd been ordered, he suddenly felt dizzy, and his body started to tremble like the leaves of a poplar tree.
Sinch'ol heard Yongch'ol crying as he stepped out the front gate. The snow was falling heavier now than it had been earlier. In no time at all his clothes were white with snow. When he reached Paksok Heights, he heard someone's footsteps behind him, and he quickly turned around, thinking perhaps they belonged to his stepmother. But it turned out to be some other middle-aged woman he didn't know. Sinch'ol felt an unbearable loneliness, and thinking of his own dead mother, he was brought to the verge of tears.
Where should I go? he wondered, as he slowly walked alone. But no matter how long he considered it, he could think of nowhere. Mulling over various possibilities, he finally made his way to the Chongno district. Chongno, however, made him feel even more lonesome. There were people walking here and there, but no one seemed to be roaming
the streets, as he was, without anywhere to go. They all hurried along, swinging their arms and legs to the loud sound of the jazz flowing from all the cafés.
When he made it to Pagoda Park, he stopped. “Maybe I should go over to
his
place,” he said to himself, recalling how he had met a friend several days earlier right here in Pagoda Park. Passing in front of the Choson Theater, he eventually found himself at the Anguk-dong intersection. And then, with a rush of feeling, he felt himself arriving at a rather grim conclusion. He'd never again step foot into his own house . . . He'd been hoping that his stepmother might be following somewhere behind him, but now that he'd made it as far as Anguk-dong, he had to abandon that hope altogether.
Even if his stepmother had followed after him and tried to bring him home, Sinch'ol probably wouldn't have gone back with her; he'd already made up his mind to leave. Still, he'd kept thinking that maybe, just maybe, she was somewhere behind him.
He was passing by the front of Posong College when someone stretched out a hand at him and called out his name.
“Hey, look who's here.”
Startled, Sinch'ol took a good look at the man and realized that it was the very person he'd just set out to look for.
“My friend! I was just on my way to see you.”
“See me?”
The man stared at Sinch'ol dubiously. His complexion was pale and his eyelids were particularly thin. He had a slender figure and was quite short. But with a solid chest and hair tossed back like the prickly spikes of a chestnut burr, anyone could see he was no one to mess around with. He sometimes seemed friendly and sometimes cold. He took a moment to give Sinch'ol the once-over.
“What's that for? You're carrying a suitcase around in the middle of the night?”
Sinch'ol hesitated before answering, “Pamsongi! I've left home for good!”
“Left for good?”
Pamsongi imagined he hadn't quite caught what Sinch'ol was saying, and he looked searchingly at him.
“What? So I'm not allowed to leave home?” Sinch'ol replied, after a while.
“No, it's just that . . . I'm not sure what you mean . . . You mean, you're never going back?”
“No, I'm not . . .”
Sinch'ol smiled sadly. His friend stared back at him, wide-eyed.
“So, were you headed somewhere?” asked Sinch'ol a moment later.
“Me? I was just on my way to bum some food off somebody,” he laughed, brushing the snow from his shoulders.
“Well then, come along with me.”
68
After they each ate a bowl of
udon
, they bought some bread and went back to Pamsongi's house.
“Hey, I've got bread. And a guest,” called out his friend, smiling, as he opened the door. Sitting there face to face, with an electric bulb of no more than six watts between them, the two men had taken their shirts off and were in the middle of hunting for lice. They threw their shirts back on and looked up wide-eyed at Sinch'ol. Then they picked up the bread Pamsongi tossed to them, broke off a few pieces, and started eating.
Sinch'ol caught a whiff of something rancid as he entered the room and took a seat on the floor. Do they ever turn the heat on in this place? he wondered, as he sat on what felt like a solid block of ice.
His friend introduced him.
“Our new friend's name is Yu Sinch'ol.”
The two men chewing on their bread greeted him with quick smiles. There seemed to be something akin to disdain in the expressions on their faces.
“Well, it's just been the three of us here, cooking for ourselves, but now I guess we have you to share our suffering,” Pamsongi chuckled.
His wild hair shook as he laughed. He looked at the two men hunched over in the cold, dressed in nothing but filthy underwear.