“When will I see him again? If he’s pleasant, I won’t need to say a word. The other day I put up with him only because of Deok-gi,” said Byeong-hwa, though he thought Gyeong-ae was right.
“That ’s not true. You can’t get anywhere with such a confrontational attitude. Just do as I tell you.”
Byeong-hwa perked up. “What do you intend to do?”
“Nothing right away. But having ended up like this because I was blinded by money, I’ll have to get some cash and settle things one way or another. From now on we shouldn’t give him the impression that you and I are on friendly terms. Please be careful.”
“What did I do?” Byeong-hwa whined. “And just where are you taking me now? It’s cold out here. Do we really have to climb against the brutal wind of the Namsan valley just to discuss such things?”
“There’s something else. Would you like to go indoors?”
“As long as there’s heat, anyplace will do.”
They quickened their pace and passed the deserted front of the new Joseon Dynasty palace; and side by side, they descended the stone steps that are said to number more than 380.
It was already dusk by the time they reached the avenue with streetcar tracks, and Gyeong-ae suggested that they go to her house, only a stone’s throw away, and have supper together. Byeong-hwa agreed to the idea.
He was curious to see how she lived and wanted to have a look at the child, but he still couldn’t fathom why she was being kind enough to invite a virtual stranger to her house. She was impetuous, cheerful, nervous, and clever.
“Only three men have been to my house, including you. You may think I’d ask in anyone by the way I run around, but my house, whatever its reputation, is not a place for just anyone.” She sounded like a famous gisaeng whose stock had gone through the roof, as they say.
“In that case, I’m honored by your kindness. Only three and I’m one of them! It’s more difficult than winning a Chinese lottery, and I feel as distinguished as someone who’s passed royal examinations. But who are the other two lucky men?”
Gyeong-ae cut in, “Don’t make fun of me. Do you think I’m a gisaeng?”
“I’m thunderstruck. At any rate, who are the other two?”
“You’ve met one, and I’ll show you the other some day if we have a chance.”
“Who’s the one I’ve met?” Byeong-hwa blinked his eyes, his face blank.
“The child’s father. You’ve seen him,” she said snidely.
“Then I’ll have seen everyone if I get to see the second child’s father. Am I the third child’s father, then?”
“You have such a dirty mind!” Gyeong-ae drove her fist into his arm, not bothering to pay attention to passersby, though she wasn’t completely oblivious of their reactions.
“What do you mean? I have a dirty mind?” He kept smiling insinuatingly.
“Think as you please.”
“But what happened with her father? How did you get involved with him in the first place, and why, after ignoring his duties for so long, is he engaged in a comeback campaign? I don’t get it. I feel as if I were looking at boxes within boxes.”
“When a baby is born, the father plays his role. He stops playing that role if the child’s mother treats him badly. If she has a change of heart, she lets him play father again. If she doesn’t, he’s banished. Isn’t that clear enough?”
“You sound like a queen in her prime, so confident and powerful. But any child’s father gets to eat rice-cake soup, right? Can I become a permanent fixture?”
“Stop joking,” Gyeong-ae said mildly, but then a fierceness seemed to spread through her. “This is no time to kid. If you keep making such flippant remarks, you’ll be slapped in the face and kicked out of the house, so be careful!”
Taken aback, Byeong-hwa took a sidelong glance at her, pretending not to be affected. “Where did that scolding come from? It sounds like you had it rehearsed!”
She didn’t speak again. The more he thought about her behavior, the odder he found her. Judging from what she had said, she was no different from most young women, and it looked like she was simply encouraging him to satisfy her sexual appetite. For all Byeong-hwa knew, she could be a nymphomaniac — at the very least perverse — given the way she had taken Byeong-hwa to Sang-hun the night before or how she had kissed Byeong-hwa in front of Sang-hun several days earlier and from the things she said about arranging meetings with every man who had been involved with her. Her shouts and threats came from nowhere. She could easily pass as the boss of an unsavory gang of delinquent young women. She fit the description of the female counterpart of a bandit in old stories and detective novels. As they passed through the gloomy, dismal alley of Achanggol, lined with Chinese shops, opium addicts, and prostitutes loitering in droves, Byeong-hwa grew edgy but at the same time curious, as if he were being led into a den of sin.
When they reached Gyeong-ae’s gate, Byeong-hwa laughed at his runaway imagination. It came as a surprise that the tile-roofed house was neat, clean, and well cared for out to the gateway. Near the middle gate, evenly cut firewood was piled high, and the platform holding a full range of condiment jars, seen at an angle from the middle gate, looked well tended even in winter. Far from a den of hooligans, it was by no means the household of a fast woman, where any kind of man could come and go.
My nerves must be frayed. Byeong-hwa laughed at himself for having been frightened for no reason.
Gyeong-ae led him to the main room and took off her overcoat and hat. She lowered herself carefully next to the sleeping child in the warmer part of the room. The child opened her eyes and began to whimper.
“All right, all right. Let Mommy warm herself first. Mommy’s still too cold to hold you.”
Byeong-hwa gazed at Gyeong-ae, awestruck.
The Gyeong-ae of Bacchus, the Gyeong-ae raging against Sang-hun, the Gyeong-ae outside the gate a little while ago, and the Gyeong-ae in this room. How could she have so many faces? Probably all women were like her, but he thought no other woman could play as many roles as easily as Gyeong-ae.
“She’s almost recovered. Until three or four days ago, I thought she was going to die,” said Gyeong-ae to Byeong-hwa sweetly, turning her head back toward him, while touching the child’s forehead and comforting her. Now in her own home, she treated him kindly and her hard edge softened, as if she had forgotten that she’d both flirted with him and reprimanded him only minutes before. Now she was the hostess.
“Mother! Mother! Could you please come here?” Gyeong-ae called out. Her mother was cooking with the help of the maid. She gave her mother one won, asking her to prepare some special side dishes. “Please get some liquor, too,” she added.
At last Gyeong-ae lifted the child to her lap and comforted her. She then asked Byeong-hwa, who was sitting quietly, to show her the letter. She was not particularly interested in it but wanted to break his stupefied silence.
He smiled at her. “Real love is a secret, not something to brag about. Love is all about pain, not happiness. You should know that much. It’s pathetic that you keep asking to take a look at other people’s secrets.”
“Has someone like you ever had such an experience?”
“You’re looking down on me. What was it like between the child’s father and you?”