The Regressed Gangwon Hunter Makes a Fortune in 1933 - Chapter 152

WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: ZERO_SUGAR

Chapter 152: The Story of the Brothers 【Classic of Mountains and Seas】 (4)

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Shin Cheol-min and Han San faced each other.

They did not have much to say. Even when they had lived in Sebeom Valley, one had been the young master of Upper Hamlet, while the other had been a layabout from Middle Hamlet. They had had no real point of contact.

Still, it had been a long time since they had seen each other.

Han San asked,

“Have you been well?”

“Well...”

Shin Cheol-min gave a vague answer.

Glancing toward the boundary beyond the Seonangdang shrine tree, where Upper Hamlet began, Han San said,

“The blacksmith... Uncle Baek, was it? Is he doing well? I saw him drinking with my father a few times.”

Upper Hamlet had been safe during the Great Flood of the Gap-sul Year. The debris flow that had burst from Meokbawi Valley had stopped right in front of this Seonangdang shrine tree.

Mr. Baek, the blacksmith, had been quite vigorous. Still, he had not been young enough to be taken for labor conscription, so he ought to still be in Upper Hamlet...

Had the Japanese Empire ever cared about things like that?

Han San fell silent.

But Cheol-min gave him an answer he had not expected.

“They all left.”

“Huh?”

“To the north.”

Han San, who had come down from the north, blinked.

While he had been making his way here, the people of Upper Hamlet had gone north. The peninsula was wide, and there was no such thing as a fateful encounter in this world, so they had simply passed each other by in silence.

Cheol-min continued.

“Our maternal grandfather... passed away. The rest, Old Woman Wangdae, Uncle Park Il, Mr. Baek the blacksmith, Father Cho, Mr. Deok-tae, everyone, Ju Ssi, Jin Ssi, even Hyeok, all went north.”

Han San repeated the words to himself.

North. To the north.

“To work for the Soviet Union?”

They said the land north of the 38th parallel belonged to the Soviet Union. Han San still did not know exactly what that meant.

Cheol-min shook his head.

“They said they were going to serve a king.”

“A king?”

Was there a king in Northeast Asia?

The Qing Dynasty had already been gone when he was born. The last king of Chosun and first emperor of the Korean Empire had been forced down by Yi Wan-yong's cabinet in 1907, and the last emperor of the Korean Empire had been carried away with his country in the Gyeongsul Year.

That meant the only royal house left in Northeast Asia was Japan's. But Japan's royal house was across the sea to the southeast, not in the north.

What king could they possibly be going to serve?

“Anyway, they say there is such a king. In the north. They say he'll build a paradise lasting ten million years on this earth.”

That was what Cheol-min said. He did not seem to agree with it either.

Then again, that was probably why he was still here.

Han San had thought it sounded strange. Cheol-min must have felt the same. He had been a sharp kid since childhood, the sort who became good at anything after trying it a few times.

Unlike Han San or Sawada. Unlike half-baked people who could barely get through their own lives.

Like Bada. Like that baron.

Someone who could do something. Someone who could accomplish something.

Han San gave a bitter smile. He shook his head and asked,

“Baechil... Um. Did Baechil hyung go north too?”

Shin Cheol-min blinked. Then he said,

“Baechil hyung... never came back...”

“Ah.”

That was all Han San said.

Ah.

Silence passed between them.

Han San was about to ask about Baechil's mother.

The people of Upper Hamlet might have taken good care of her. Just as Baechil hyung had said. Just as he had hoped. Yun Cheom-ji, Father Cho, Old Woman Wangdae, people like them might have cared for Baechil's mother.

Baechil might have come back in secret and taken his mother away. The two of them might have been traveling the liberated Eight Provinces with smiles on their faces. Baechil's mother had always been a cheerful woman. Han San remembered that.

He remembered it.

With judgment withheld,

hope is eternal.

He did not ask.

And truly, Han San had nothing more to say.

“San hyung.”

But Cheol-min seemed to have more to say.

Cheol-min glanced toward Upper Hamlet, then toward a place somewhat removed even from Upper Hamlet, the direction where Han San vaguely remembered Im Baechil's house having been.

Then he said,

“I wasn't taken for labor conscription.”

Han San looked up.

Cheol-min had his head bowed deeply.

“My maternal grandfather... and Father Cho, and the others. Even Old Woman Wangdae. I think they did something.

“They found out that armed seditious Koreans were living together on some island, then reported it... I think it was some enormous merit. So Sebeom Valley, um, Upper Hamlet only had to send one person. Baechil hyung.”

“...”

“People like Baechil hyung and San hyung were all taken for labor conscription, but Hyeok and I... Hyeok was proud of it, but I... Um.”

Cheol-min searched haltingly for words. Then, perhaps unable to find anything more fitting, he finally said,

“I have no face...”

Han San snorted.

It was not a laugh that meant anything in particular.

The Japanese Empire had carried out the labor conscription, and the Japanese Empire had exploited them.

Yet someone who had escaped it felt responsible simply because they had escaped.

It was ridiculous.

“Why are you laughing?”

Shin Cheol-min took the laugh personally.

Han San tilted his head, then said what he had been thinking earlier.

He added,

“What could you have done?”

Could Cheol-min have gone to the Japanese Empire and told it to revoke the conscription? Could he have made the Japanese Empire obey if he had? Did he have that much authority?

Was that why he had no face?

Could he at least have gotten Han San and Baechil hyung exempted from conscription? Had he been able to, but chosen not to? Had he been in that kind of position?

What was there to feel ashamed about?

He could do none of those things, so why...

“What could you have done?”

Of course, Han San understood.

Cheol-min probably just wanted to ease some burden in his heart, some burden Han San could not understand at all, by saying he had no face.

With a single sentence.

If Han San said, No, why would you say that, patted his shoulder, and told him it was fortunate he had not been taken, then everything would become warm and friendly. They could part on good terms.

With a single sentence.

But Han San did not want to say it.

He did not want to become the moving company for the Upper Hamlet young master's emotional baggage after eleven years apart.

At least not today.

Because, well, why was that?

Because Baechil hyung's whereabouts were unknown.

“What could I have done...?”

Shin Cheol-min muttered with his head lowered.

It was not as if Han San hated Shin Cheol-min. Once again, what did Cheol-min have to do with the labor conscription Han San and Baechil hyung had suffered through?

Nothing.

That was why it was merely ridiculous.

Especially because only moments ago, Han San had thought the young master before him was quite an impressive man.

“I’m leaving.”

Han San left the Seonangdang shrine tree to visit his parents' memorial grave.[1]

Shin Cheol-min continued to murmur with his head lowered.

“What could I...?”

Han San did not know what effect that conversation had on Cheol-min.

Shin Cheol-min later went south and entered politics. He followed Teacher Baekbeom[2]. There were countless political youths who suddenly became devotees of Teacher Baekbeom after liberation, but Shin Cheol-min was accepted.

Han San did not know that.

He simply paid his respects at his parents' memorial grave. Then he went to see his younger brother.

6. 1946, Older Brother Thirty-One, Younger Brother Twenty-One

It took some time before the older brother saw his younger brother again.

In Gyeongseong's Jung District, near Euljiro, Han San straightened his clothes in front of a coffeehouse. He soon gave up. During his years at the conscription site, shabbiness had clung to him like clothes tailored exactly to fit.

Perhaps he had been wearing it since the day he was born.

No. That interpretation would amount to insulting his mother and father, so Han San did not want to accept it.

The world did not care whether Han San wanted to accept an interpretation or not.

With every passerby glancing at him, Han San entered the coffeehouse. His younger brother, dressed in a fine suit and reading a book, looked up.

It had been eight years.

For a moment, Han San was speechless.

His younger brother had grown. His once-cute face had become well-defined. He wore glasses, his hair brushed back. He looked refined.

Han San shook his head, driving away the sudden image of the imperial baron's face.

“Bada.”

“Hyung.”

His younger brother smiled as he set down his book.

“You came.”

“Yeah.”

Han San silently looked at his younger brother. Bada continued smiling at him.

Damn.

Han San realized he had far less to say than he had expected. Maybe nothing at all. So he forced something out.

“Um... Have you been well?”

“I've been well. Gotten into a little trouble too.”

“Trouble? What kind?”

“Nothing much. I gathered some people to try doing something and ended up spending a little time at the police station. When I went to Japan, I knocked out some guy talking nonsense and nearly got expelled again. Things like that.”

“What?”

Han San blinked. Bada's letters had not said anything like that...

Han Bada smiled as calmly as ever.

“Mr. Toono had to go through a lot because of me. He really is a good person.”

Han San felt something catch in his throat.

Toono. Baron Kannoizuna Toono.

“Where is that baron now? Anyway, since you've been indebted to him, I ought to repay him somehow.”

“You?”

Han Bada laughed.

Han San recognized the quality of that smile.

It was the sort of smile one gave someone adorable.

Han San, well, Han San felt his face grow hot.

What could he possibly give that baron in return?

[ Not enough. ]

Just a few words.

Thank you. Please call on me if anything happens. I'll do my best. A few hollow phrases like that.

[ Not enough. ]

He remembered telling Shin Cheol-min just last year, [What could you have done?]

It was the same. Han San could repay nothing. He simply did not have the ability to repay it.

Han Bada took a sip of coffee.

“Mr. Toono is in Tokyo. He says he's going into politics. It suits him. We exchange letters often.”

“Right.”

Han San thought deeply, but once again, all he had to say was, Right.

He forced out another question.

“What are you going to do from now on?”

“I don't know. Um... I suppose I'll become a teacher first, given the current situation.”

“A teacher?”

“Yes. I got into teachers college.”

As he said that, Han Bada showed him his student ID.

Gyeongseong Teachers College[3]. It was the prestigious university standing right beside this coffeehouse.

The older brother was happy, at first. His younger brother had gotten into university. And a prestigious university in Gyeongseong at that.

A teachers college, no less...

“Then you'll become Teacher Han Bada? A graduate of Gyeongseong Teachers College?”

Han Bada smiled.

“Yes. Though I think it will probably be Seoul Teachers College by the time I graduate. They said Gyeongseong will soon be renamed Seoul.”

“Seoul?”

Han San frowned. What was this Seoul?

“Why make such a fuss changing a name everyone's used to?”

“I suppose they want to put new wine into new wineskins.”

Han Bada answered as though it were nothing, then took something from his coat.

Han San stiffened.

Crisp banknotes and a gold bar were laid before him.

“Hyung.”

Pushing them toward him, his younger brother said,

“First, use this to find a house. Settle your livelihood too. If you need anything else, tell me. Things money can solve are not a problem.”

The older brother looked down at them.

He could barely breathe. In thirty-one years of life, the greatest amount of cash he had ever seen had been the bundles of ten-won bills in Ham Byeong-cheol's wallet in the spring of 1938.

And then there was this.

Not hundreds of times more, but thousands.

“Where did you get all this...?”

“Stocks. And various other things.”

Han San opened and closed his hands.

He did not pick up the money.

Looking up, the older brother looked at his younger brother.

“Let's live together.”

“No.”

The answer came at once.

As the older brother parted his lips slightly, his younger brother smiled and said,

“Because it would be pathetic.”

The older brother was speechless.

The words felt somehow familiar. Then, as he thought, Ah, come to think of it, he remembered saying it to his father back when they lived in Sebeom Valley.

That living like this was pathetic. That he would go to Gyeongseong, to Manchuria, to the Mainland and succeed. That he would not live like his father. That he would live splendidly, stylishly. That was what he had said back then.

“...Right.”

Han San nodded.

Right.

And then,

“I don't need the money.”

Han Bada adjusted his glasses.

“Hyung.”

“I said I don't need it.”

Hey, wouldn't it have been nice if he could grin and say, What kind of pride would a hyung have if he took money from his younger brother?

Would it have been better if he could shout, You little brat, you've got some money now and think you can look down on your hyung? Would it have been better if he could get angry?

He could not.

He did not want to.

He simply could not accept it. At that moment, Han San did not possess the one decisive talent needed to take this money.

“All right, then.”

His younger brother did not press him further.

Han San rose from his seat. He tried to stop looking at the money and gold bar, failed, and simply stared at the two for a long while before finally saying to his younger brother,

“Let's see each other often.”

His younger brother smiled and nodded. The older brother left.

The younger brother remained alone in the coffeehouse. He quietly looked down at the stack of banknotes and the gold bar on the table.

He closed his eyes.

He opened them.

Closed them. Opened them. He did that for a long time.

Then.

“He gets in the way...”

It was only a mutter, but an answer came back.

“Should I kill him?”

It came from behind him.

Han Bada adjusted his glasses and turned around, a pleasant smile on his lips.

“Ms. Su-jeong.”

At some point, a woman had appeared behind Han Bada.

Kim Su-jeong.

Her eyes were as clear as crystal.

She was short. She would not grow any taller. First she had been among the Chuncheon beggar gang, then, when she had grown a little older, a child assassin used by the Baekbaekgyo cult[4].

Having spent her childhood that way, Kim Su-jeong had missed her growing years entirely.

But she was sharp.

That was enough for Han Bada.

The first person he had ever taken under his wing.

His own pocketknife.

Even Mr. Toono had not learned that Han Bada had Kim Su-jeong until much later. Han Bada must have been a rather troublesome person to him.

“If I go after him now, I can kill him.”

Well, Kim Su-jeong caused him trouble too.

“Don't kill him.”

“You said he gets in your way.”

Bada smiled as he looked at his own reflection in her crystal-clear eyes.

“I suppose I'm still a person.”