Before starting preparations for the funeral, the corpse was transferred to an ambulance and taken to the house, where it was laid out. When the funeral ritual began, Sang-hun didn’t perform the ceremonial keening. This became another point of contention, but Sang-hun stood his ground. His eyes were dry, and he felt no regret. Sang-hun believed his reaction was far more honest than that of the Suwon woman, who squeezed tears out until her eyes swelled and than that of Chang-hun, whose mournful wails struck a false note.
Sang-hun was completely ignored. Though Deok-gi didn’t wear the mourning clothes of unbleached hemp reserved for the head mourner, his role was no different from that of a grieving grandson whose father had died before his grandfather. The visitors bowed once to Sang-hun to pay their condolences, then gathered around Deok-gi to chat with him. Chang-hun took charge of every decision, either by getting permission from Deok-gi or approval after the fact.
Sang-hun had no choice but to sit awkwardly, like a borrowed sack of barley, in the warmer part of the big room in the outer quarters. Deok-gi, sorry that his father was being shunned, took pains to consult him about everything. Deok-gi felt it was only right to ask his father’s opinions. Deok-gi’s solicitousness notwithstanding, Sang-hun remained aloof. Whatever was asked of him, he said, “Do as you see fit. You can discuss it with the others and find the right solution.” Though he didn’t show it, Sang-hun was deeply hurt.
It irritated Deok-gi to be caught in the middle. Things were so chaotic and money was snatched away ever so quickly by swooping relatives eager to take advantage of the situation and get their crumbs that soon the bickering and fighting began. This was the mood as the funeral procession began on the seventh day after the old man’s death. No matter how one looked at it, this was a propitious mourning — a rich man dying at a ripe old age. People wondered if the head mourner would wear a frock coat, but he was dressed in traditional mourning garb and rode a reed palanquin, followed by more than two hundred rickshaws slithering like a snake’s tail.
Bystanders gathered along the road from early morning without any food in their stomachs. What a magnificent procession! What a lucky life he had! Life is so unfair. When I go to my grave, I bet I’ll be carried in a twenty-two-handle bier, not one with just twelve handles like him. Who could have fathomed how many vices, roars, and resentments would linger in the wake of this funeral procession?
It was in this way that the grandfather’s life finally came to a close.
New Start
“Is the young master home?” Byeong-hwa called out from the edge of the outer quarters’ veranda. When the young master, sitting in the warmer part of the large room, looked out through the tiny windowpane, Byeong-hwa gave a grand bow. At first Deok-gi didn’t recognize the visitor, and a low thrum of conversation had resumed inside the room.
“I’m a grocer. Lemme deliver to your house.”
“We’re not interested,” a voice, not Deok-gi’s, replied.
“Whether large or small, we deliver quickly if you phone us, and we’re gonna give you bargain prices, at almost no profits to us.”
Deok-gi now thought the voice sounded familiar. “What store are you from?” he asked as he looked out again. He threw open the door, saying, “Hey! What the — You’ve got to be kidding!” Deok-gi rushed out wearing a wide grin and his white mourning coat.
“Far from it, sir. We have just opened today and hope that you’ll give us some business.” Grinning, Byeong-hwa kept bowing.
“You’re really something. ”
One by one, everyone in the room peered out through the windowpane, smiles pasted on their faces. Standing before the veranda, Byeong-hwa announced the opening of his store without the least embarrassment.
Where did he get those clothes? Is he rehearsing for something? Is he thinking of going somewhere in that outfit? Deok-gi raised an eyebrow. He had seen Byeong-hwa briefly five days ago, the day his grandfather was buried, returning home with the spirit tablet in hand. That day Byeong-hwa had been wearing a Western suit, as was his custom. Deok-gi was baffled at the sight of his friend, wondering what ill-conceived heroics prompted him to run around in that outlandish outfit.
“Come on in. What makes you so scarce these days?”
“Wait a minute, sir. Let me do what I have to do first.” Byeong-hwa pulled out a handbill from under his clothes and gave it to Deok-gi.
“Is it true? Are you really running it?”
“If someone like the young master gave me seed money, it’d be different. But how can a man with nothing but his balls run a store? I’m just a humble deliveryman, sir.”
“Lower your form of speech when you address me, sir,” Deok-gi quipped.
“You are too generous, sir.”
Deok-gi laughed. “I can see you’ve passed the order-taking test. Enough of this. Why don’t you come in?”
“No time — too busy. Allow me to leave with you a credit booklet.” The name Jo was written on the booklet and on the inside cover was a three-jeon revenue stamp, complete with two official-looking seals.
“I see that you’re a seasoned hand. Where did you get so much experience?” Deok-gi smiled and examined Byeong-hwa’s face with intense curiosity. After meeting him briefly at Bacchus, he had of late seen his friend only twice: once when Byeong-hwa came to pay his respects after the old man’s death, and again when Deok-gi was coming home with the spirit tablet, and on both occasions they had just nodded to each other. Deok-gi hadn’t had the time to hear about the details, but he could make neither heads nor tails of what his friend was up to. Did he open the store with Gyeong-ae? Did he get capital through her Baccus connections?
“I can’t believe a Japanese store owner would use someone as dangerous as you. Who do you work for?”
“I’ve got a high post, thanks to a policeman’s guarantee, sir.”
“I see that you know how to address your elders respectfully. You’ve turned out all right.” Still, Deok-gi didn’t like Byeong-hwa’s deferential tone.
“There’s a big gap between a millionaire and a grocer, so how can I forget my place? Young master, the Kim Byeong-hwa you see now is not the Kim Byeong-hwa of yesterday, but a deliveryman of the Sanhaejin Grocery. Please think of us kindly and patronize our store. This humble soul will take his leave now, sir.” Byeong-hwa bowed, a grin fixed on his face.
“Yeah, good-bye, you clown,” Deok-gi said with a smile, though he was still dazed by this latest turn of events. “Forget the comedy, and tell me the details. There’s no need to run a Japanese grocery store to sell stuff to Koreans, but if you wanted to have Japanese customers, they wouldn’t let a Red like you anywhere near them. How can it work?”
“A Red? We are not carrying any green peppers that are turning red, but we’ve got dry red peppers and red pepper strips. If you need other red produce, we’ve got carrots, hard persimmons, and good soft persimmons, too. I can bring along a police inspector to Japanese households and sell things on his guarantee, can’t I?” Byeong-hwa recited all this without a hint of a smile.
“Really? What an excellent life you’re leading! That’s great. When you sell with a policeman in tow, you’re untouchable, right?”
“Please visit our store one of these days. It’s near the old Maedong School.”
“All right, I will.”
As Byeong-hwa left, he could hear Deok-gi’s laughter. After making the rounds among his friends and acquaintances, he returned to the store, where Gyeong-ae was waiting for him.