From Wonso Pond

by Kang Kyong-ae

  “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, ‘Be 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 it—it 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 attractive—and 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?”

&nbs
p; 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.

  “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 well—until 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 whatever—and 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.