“Why was that? Did you really send it?” the grandfather asked Chang-hun.
“Of course. I have the receipt. I forgot to give it to you, sir.” Chang-hun took out his wallet and rummaged through it for a good while. “I must have left it at home. I couldn’t send the money myself, so I asked my eldest to take care of it. Where else could it have gone if we have the receipt?”
“Then bring it to me later today.” The old man wasn’t satisfied unless he supervised everything himself. Already frustrated about having to stay in bed this long, he felt worse when he realized everything was going wrong.
“As long as you have a receipt, you can get the money back later. We’ll be able to find out what went wrong,” said Deok-gi, hoping to calm his grandfather.
The old man was even more irritated now; Deok-gi seemed to be hiding something. The grandfather managed to contain his anger, though, for Deok-gi was his beloved grandson, and he had come a long way.
Ring of Keys
Deok-gi stayed home all day with a splitting headache. Something strange was in the air. He felt infected by the mood, which was rife with jealousy and suspicion. Agitation was visible on everyone’s face. His family had never exchanged frank opinions or laughed together and had never carried on conversations wearing placid expressions; yet this menacing pressure hanging heavily in the house was new. There’s a saying that crows caw on the eve of someone’s death. Was it because the dark spirit of death had risen up — was his grandfather really going to die? Was everyone gloomy because the family elder was in such bad shape? That couldn’t be the case, for no loyal wife or daughters-in-law could be found in attendance. A huge storm must have rolled in while he was away. Was it because he had taken so long to come home? If so, Chang-hun was at fault. Why didn’t the telegrams, allegedly sent on three occasions, reach him? Where had the money gone?
According to Deok-gi’s wife, a group of conspirators huddled in the main room or in the outer quarters day and night, whispering among themselves. In her opinion, they were up to something, and trouble was brewing.
This sinister air wasn’t confined to the main room alone. It seemed to emanate from wherever several men and women passed by, in the outer quarters and in the backyard. Maybe it was a whiff of copper coins, mixed with the scent of desire — an odor turning sour and fetid. What did they intend to do with the money?
The storm that seemed to be rising was the kind that blew through any house when the master who holds the keys is taking his last breaths. In this house it might be rising from behind the scenes, like a tendril of smoke from a fire started in dry weeds. Better keep his wits about him, Deok-gi thought.
The Suwon woman’s behavior grew especially odd. Deok-gi watched her closely; she sat next to the old man all day, and she spoke to no one in Deok-gi’s family. If Deok-gi’s mother was the only one she didn’t talk to, it wouldn’t have seemed strange. In the past, she had been nice to Deok-gi, if only superficially, but now she was deaf to his questions. Only when he repeated his questions a few times did she reluctantly answer him. Even more unpleasant was the fact that she made it abundantly clear that she didn’t like Deok-gi coming to the main room. When no one was around during the daytime or evening, Deok-gi would step briefly into the main room thinking his grandfather might like company or with something to tell his grandfather. On such occasions, the Suwon woman would wince. If she couldn’t stand the sight of Deok-gi, she could have left the room, but she remained, cupping her chin with her hands. When she noticed that Deok-gi entered the room while she was outside, she dashed in from the veranda or the yard. His grandfather lay helpless, slowly blinking his frightfully sunken eyes. Deok-gi grew miserable, but he didn’t dare show it or speak to the Suwon woman. Wasn’t he the pillar of the household now? He tried to placate everyone, for they all seemed poised to lose their temper at the slightest provocation.
Deok-gi couldn’t understand why those in the outer quarters frequently flocked into the main room. He didn’t mind Secretary Ji — who was almost a member of the family and who prepared medicine for the old man with his own hands — but Clerk Choe and Chang-hun, on the other hand, were quite bothersome. At times, uncles — both older and younger brothers in the clan — gathered in the name of comforting the old man. They talked boisterously among themselves as if they were visiting a festive house, and the women in the inner quarters bustled around cooking lunch and keeping busy. Deok-gi’s head ached so much from the racket they made as they swept into the sickroom in droves, as if they were conducting a clan conference, that his hair might have fallen out. He might not have minded so much if they had stayed in the outer quarters, but despite his irritation, he couldn’t bring himself to object because his grandfather seemed to enjoy such lively visits.
These visitors spoke either in booming voices or whispered among themselves, as if they were helping out a great deal, though it was impossible to fathom what they really had in mind. No one took charge of the situation or gave intelligent instructions on the use of medicine. At such moments, Deok-gi wished that his father would exercise some authority and establish a somber tone in the house, but nothing could be done about it, and Deok-gi was too young to exercise any authority himself. On the rare occasions he tried to restore some order, visitors seemed to wonder what business a student had in such matters and would take control of the situation themselves.
“Uncle, did you bring the receipt?” Deok-gi pressured Chang-hun about the money transfer upon entering the main room, where Chang-hun was visiting after dinner. Deok-githought it odd that none of the three telegrams had reached him and wondered if the money had been embezzled somewhere along the way.
“Yes. I was waiting for my son Mun-gi to see whether he had made a mistake when he sent it, but he hasn’t come home yet.” Chang-hun took out his wallet slowly, eyes glazed over, and produced a neatly folded piece of orange-colored paper with letters printed on it.
Deok-gi unfolded it and laughed out loud.
“What’s the matter?”
“This is the money order itself. You need to send it so the recipient can claim the money.”
“Do you mean that he sent the receipt instead?”
“Possibly. But you sent a telegraphic transfer, didn’t you? This is a postal money order.”
“Postal money order? What’s a postal money order?”
“A postal money order is what you enclose in a letter.”
“Really?” Chang-hun’s eyes widened as if he’d never heard of such a thing. “What a stupid boy! How could he be so backward?”
“Give. give me.” The grandfather, who had been listening to the conversation, stretched out his hand and scolded Chang-hun. “Why, eguegu, why did you, eguegu, make the fool do it? Forget that fool, eguegu, but. you yourself still don’t know what’s what.”
“Grandfather, you don’t need to worry about the money because it’s here. Please go to sleep. You’re short of breath.” Deok-gi found it torturous to listen to his grandfather’s groans.
“I gave my son the money and the envelope from one of your letters,” Chang-hun explained. “I told him to wire the money to the address on that envelope. It’s clear he thought all money transfers were the same. He must have detached the receipt and put it in an envelope.” Chang-hun laughed.
The old man would have given him a hard time if he hadn’t been so sick. Without another word, he tossed the money order to Deok-gi and closed his eyes.
Seeing how debilitated his grandfather was, Deok-gi didn’t have the heart to talk about such trifling matters. He silently put the money order in his pocket, signaled with his eyes for Chang-hun to leave the room, and then left quietly himself. At ten o’clock that evening, the doctor returned. He said the old man was neither better nor worse. His fever was due to the lack of good nutrition and the excitement of the day. Before the doctor left, he told them to let the old man sleep through the night.