There was still no news of Deok-gi, who was supposed to be released the next day. Deok-gi’s mother worried that her husband had been arrested as well. She sent a maidservant to Hwagae-dong to see if he had returned home. The servant reported that they were waiting for news from Deok-gi’s house. Early the previous evening, two detectives had arrived with the master in a car and taken Ui-gyeong away with them.
Deok-gi’s mother wouldn’t have minded if the whore stayed in prison for ten years, but when she imagined her husband in jail, she felt a twinge of pity for him. Her thoughts weren’t as generous, however, when they turned to Ui-gyeong and Gyeong-ae. She entertained all sorts of fantasies as she tried to fall asleep.
There was no one to take care of her husband now that he was in jail. What did he eat and how had he spent the two nights he had been there without anything to cover himself? Perhaps she’d take him a quilt the next day when she delivered her son’s food.
She suddenly felt close to her husband, who had drifted so far away from her. The idea of looking after him while he was in jail wasn’t completely altruistic though, for she was hoping her show of concern might change her husband’s heart.
As soon as day broke, she pulled out her husband’s quilt and assembled a selection of cotton-padded clothes. She made a fuss, telling servants to go buy new towels and to bring soap and tooth-cleaning powder. She packed everything up, then carefully made up her face. Dressing warmly enough to withstand the cold for the entire day, she left in a car with the boy who delivered Deok-gi’s meals. No one in the house laughed at her for having had such a dramatic change of heart. In fact, everyone believed it was the best thing she could have done.
Those remaining at home weren’t sure if the detectives would let her deliver the care package for Sang-hun since they had refused Deok-gi’s quilt at first, relenting only after learning that Deok-gi had recently been seriously ill. Around noon, when they were still waiting for news from the mistress, a car stopped outside the house. Deok-gi stepped out of the car.
The family ran out and embraced him as if he’d risen from the dead while two Western-suited men peered in at them from behind the middle gate.
They’ve come again!
Deok-gi put up his hand and beckoned the strangers inside. As they stepped up to the veranda, he asked his wife to bring out the small safe.
“The safe? Didn’t the police take the keys with them the day before yesterday?”
“What?” Deok-gi grew pale as he turned toward the stunned detectives.
“But isn’t your father at the police station? Mother went some time ago.”
Deok-gi spoke to the detectives in Japanese.
The detectives shook their heads, their faces falling.
“When did they take it? Who did they say they were? They must have shown you some identification,” Deok-gi demanded.
“Didn’t you send the key to the small safe? They might have left their card in the outer quarters.”
“The key to the small safe is right here!”
“So your father was with them?” a detective asked.
“Yes, at first he came and searched for the keys, saying that there was something he needed from the cabinet. Then he returned at dusk with two men, one of whom had the key. He took something out of the safe in the outer quarters.”
“There was nothing your family could have done, but people should know that we don’t search houses after dark.” Resigned to the situation, the detectives moved to the outer quarters. One question remained: Had his father been deceived by the phony detectives, or had he conspired with them? Deok-gi didn’t want to believe that his father could be behind this.
The detectives called Geumcheon to report the incident and searched for the business card, but it was nowhere to be found. They had brought Deok-gi home so they could examine his grandfather’s will. If it checked out the suspects would be released, but this turn of events made that impossible now. After asking a few more questions, the officers went away with Deok-gi in tow.
Deok-gi’s mother soon returned, despondent, followed by the servant with the bundle on his back. At the police station, she had been told that they knew nothing about her husband. Then she was shunted to the Jongno Police Station, where she was directed back to the Judiciary Department of the Police Division. But she got nowhere. The family couldn’t bear to see her disappointment when she learned what had happened.
Bloody Lips
Hasty footsteps could be heard amid whispers in the deserted corridor under the dim electric light. Doors burst open here and there, as heads poked out, asking, “What’s going on here?” Bloodshot eyes glinted in the dark. The answers didn’t seem to shock them, but every eye grew colder and each face sterner. Each day around this time, an interrogation began in every room and stretched through the night.
Geumcheon heard what had happened from his subordinates. He directed one of them to call a doctor immediately. Outside, he had a policeman stationed before each interrogation room to bar people from going in and out. A bit later, several policemen without swords brought in what looked like a corpse, covered with a black overcoat.
Slippered feet crossed the corridor solemnly. No one uttered a word. They were trying to keep this latest development sub rosa. When the policeman posted in Geumcheon’s room opened the door, light streamed into the corridor. The body disappeared into the room without a sound, and the policeman pushed the door shut. The policemen standing guard at other doors stepped away in a wave, resembling the wake of a motorcade.
In Geumcheon’s room, the policemen dropped the body they were carrying onto the dirty wooden floor. The body began to squirm and moan in agony. As Geumcheon drew near, an underling pulled aside the overcoat covering the body. The man’s chest heaved and bloody foam gathered on his lips. He looked awful even to the untrained eye, and Geumcheon feared that he’d die before the doctor arrived.
The man’s face didn’t resemble a face — it was a dark mass of blood. Nose, mouth, eyes — everything was a bloody mess, like a lump of fermented beans molded during a moonless night. It was unclear where his mouth was, but one could see that his eyes were open and gleaming.
“What a pointless thing you’ve done. How can a man with such great ambition die this way — a coward? Who would have thought that Jang Hun would be so feeble.” Geumcheon frowned as he stared down at the bloodied face. His words could be construed as mockery: “A patriot lives by the spirit of a warrior. And a warrior must end his life gracefully. What ugliness is this? If you have to die, it would have been more dignified if you had killed yourself with that pistol.” He nodded to the gun on his desk. “Take it, Jang Hun. End your life in a manly manner. You must know that it’s over for you. You couldn’t accomplish what you set out to do in this era of impossible conditions, but before you die, you’d better tell the whole world what you intended to do. For the sake of your honor, and as a way to recruit comrades to your cause so they might carry on what you set out to do. Answer just three questions: Was that pistol left behind by Pi-hyeok or did it come from someone else? What did you plan to do with it? What orders did you receive from Pi-hyeok? Just tell me these things. Share this with us for Kim Byeong-hwa’s sake. If you refuse to take responsibility, thinking everything will be finished once you’re gone, remember that the people you leave behind will have an even harder time.”