WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: ZERO_SUGAR

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ The Hunting Genius of the Japanese Colonial Era

Chapter 31

──────

The Second Trip into Town (2)

The road to town.

The sound of pushing through the rough mountain trail was lighter than it had been last time.

'A bit of side work today, too.'

Partway along, Han San turned toward the scree field out of pure habit.

A steep slope blocked his path, but it was the same one he'd climbed ten days ago in nothing but straw sandals. With rubber shoes on his feet now, it might as well have been flat ground.

He scaled the boulder in a single push, and his eyes flashed.

'Spring's here, no question.'

There, in a crack between the rocks. Banded kraits, tongues flickering, came straight into view.

Swish, snap!

The tip of his staff pinned a snake's head, and he bent at the waist and snatched it up, the two motions nearly one.

"Hssssss!"

The snake thrashed, but Han San just dropped it into the carrying sack without a flicker of feeling.

"That's one."

A few steps on, another, swish, snap! Into the sack it went.

"That's two."

Another, scooped up like coins dropped on the road.

"Three."

One more snake joined the rest in the carrying sack.

Counting his past life, Han San was seventy-four years old—the sack-grandfather of every snake in these hills. To him they were just unruly children, grown-ups who kept turning into money.

"Well, who told you to be worth money?"

The snakes flicked their tongues. Had they known human speech, the scree field would have been buried under the curses they'd have hurled.

"Wait your turn. I'll come pick you up soon enough too."

Han San smacked his lips and turned to go.

Only the mournful writhing of three snakes inside the sack gave any sign of what had happened in this spot.

By the same route as before, Han San entered Inje town and went straight for Cheonbo Pharmacy.

"Hello, sir."

Ma Jong-sung was in the middle of his newspaper. He lifted only his eyes to glance at the boy who'd come in, and this time, instead of ordering him out, he pursed his lips.

"So you did know to come back. And here I thought I'd lost a hemp sack for nothing."

"You think a man catches one snake a day? If it were that easy, the whole world would be out chasing snakes."

Rattling off the banter, Han San set down the badger oil and the carrying sack with the three snakes inside.

Ma Jong-sung lifted the oil bottle with a fussy eye and held it up to the light. A golden liquid without a speck in it. Flawless quality, as ever.

"Oil, 3 won 50 jeon. Same as last time. The snakes... three of them? One more than before. 2 won 10 jeon."

"Anything happen while I was away?"

"Nothing that'd push these items up, no."

Han San smacked his lips. Well, they weren't goods that swung around much in value.

Ma Jong-sung counted out the money as he spoke.

"Say, do you work with a partner?"

Han San handed over the snakes, sack and all.

"No. I work alone."

"That so? Good thing."

"Good thing how?"

"There's a reason."

Ma Jong-sung said nothing more and held out the money. Even as Han San took it, wondering what the man meant, he stole a glance at the newspaper Ma Jong-sung had been reading.

[Snake-Catching Gang in Pocheon, Bloodshed After Internal Strife... 2 Dead]

The evening edition, dated April 17, page two, carried one gruesome article. A wandering four-man crew who'd made their living catching snakes had killed one another over how to split the take.

All over a sum of barely ten won.

"Hah."

A bitter smile crossed Han San's face.

"Ten won is real money, sure. Whether it's a fair price for a man's life, that I couldn't say."

"What's there not to know? It's a world where a man's life comes cheapest of all..."

Ma Jong-sung shook his head and clicked his tongue. Then something struck him, and he looked at Han San.

"You. Can you read?"

A young fellow dressed like a slash-and-burn settler. A knack for catching snakes was one thing, but reading an article and grasping its meaning, too—and a newspaper piece in mixed Korean and Hanja, no less.

Han San nodded calmly.

"Of course I can. How's a man with no letters supposed to get a fair price anywhere he goes?"

"Well now..."

Ma Jong-sung stroked his chin.

In the head of the former Gaeseong merchant, Han San's value climbed another notch.

Catching that subtle shift in the air, Han San grinned.

"Anyway, sir, you weren't pulling one over on me back there, were you?"

"Hm? Pulling what over on you?"

"You said nothing would push the price up. But look here—a whole snake crew, wiped out. Wouldn't that mean one fewer snake supplier left in the world? And then snake prices going up would just be, well, the natural order of things."

Ma Jong-sung's face crumpled like a bellflower root.

"What's a bunch of fellows caught in Pocheon got to do with Inje? Listen to you, dressing up nonsense to make it sound just right. You a Red? You're not mixed up with the Hyeongpyeongsa[1] or any of that, are you?"

"The Hyeongpyeongsa, please. And why's that a Red's talk? That's a merchant's talk."

"A long tongue and a headache to follow—that's all Red talk."

"A born merchant, that's what you are. Anyway, they say even a brush of the sleeve makes a bond. I came to sell snakes and there's a snake article sitting right here. How about something extra?"

Han San said it smoothly, glancing sidelong at the paper. Ma Jong-sung stared at him a moment, then snorted a laugh.

"Take it, take it. Lord, the newspaper this time? Plenty of uses for it—wrapping medicine and all—who's the born merchant here, honestly... Last time you walked off with a hemp sack, and you never leave empty-handed, do you."

"Why do you figure I won't be taking a hemp sack this time too?"

"Ah, you crazy punk! Just buy yourself a big batch of sacks and bags and stock up!"

"Thank you for the advice. By the way, sir, I'd like to sell some hides as well, and I was wondering if you might point me to a place..."

Ma Jong-sung pressed a hand to his forehead, dumbfounded.

"Ah, this fellow, really. Hey—the newspaper, the sack, and now a letter of introduction too? You got a conscience in there?"

Han San only thrust his chest out further.

"I'll bring my snakes to you and you alone, I swear it. And it's not just snakes. It's full spring now, isn't it? Won't the herbs start springing up all over the mountain? When I dig those up, will I be thinking of you, or won't I?"

"Knock it off, knock it off. A grown man thinking of me—that just gives me the creeps."

He said as much, but Ma Jong-sung tore off a section of newspaper and scribbled something onto it.

As a rule, he didn't take herbs dug by slash-and-burn settlers. Digging an herb wasn't the end of it—processing took labor too, and what the settlers brought in came caked in dirt and half-rotted more often than not.

But this fellow could read.

Worth a gamble. A letter of introduction was well worth the investment.

"Go on down to the end of that street there and you'll find Daeseong Leather. Run by a fellow named Park Dong-po. Say I sent you and he won't give you the cold shoulder."

"Thank you."

"Forget it. Next time you come, bring some herbs too. Let's see how you carry them in."

"Yes, sir. Wild ginseng... well, that's a stretch, but I'll do my best to bring in a geun or so of reishi mushroom."

Ma Jong-sung snickered at that.

"Listen to the boasting. Like you could dig up three or four wild ginseng on the spot if you just put your mind to it."

"Haha."

"Forget it, forget it. Well, a young man ought to have that much spirit, I suppose. Off you go now."

"Yes, sir. I'll be back again."

Han San left Cheonbo Pharmacy with 5 won 60 jeon, a letter of introduction, and the April 17 evening paper in his hands.

'Saved myself 5 jeon there.'

Don't go scoffing at 5 jeon. Five pieces of rock candy. Enough to send his little brother to heaven for five days.

He turned the pages with quiet satisfaction as he walked.

[U.S. Navy Expansion Bill, Passage Through Congress All But Certain]

[The Empire's Navy Guards Shanhaiguan in North China and Central-Southern China]

The big picture was simply 'this era.' America building up its military, the Japanese navy massing off Shanhaiguan[2] and along the Yangtze River...

One article tucked into a corner caught his eye, though.

[Yi Cheong-cheon Confirmed Alive... Appointed Commander of ■■]

That article, blacked out here and there by the Government-General's censors, was about Yi Cheong-cheon,[3] the man who would one day be supreme commander of the Liberation Army.[4]

The gist of it: at Dongning[5] he had joined forces with China's Wang Delin,[6] gathering the scattered Korean troops to prepare for a war of attrition.

'General Ji Cheong-cheon...'

For a moment, Han San felt a weight settle in one corner of his chest.

He had sworn he would shoot beasts, but somewhere out there a man was hard at work preparing to shoot men. While he struggled to protect his family, someone was fighting for the whole nation.

His seventy-four years in his past life were nothing less than Korea's modern history, an unbroken run of every kind of upheaval. The heart that might once have run hot over patriotism or love of country had withered and dried up long ago.

But that did not mean he could simply hand all of it over to cynicism.

'I really am not my brother.'

To carve out one's heart that thoroughly was, in its own way, surely a kind of talent.

Bada had a great deal of that talent. He himself had little.

His thoughts drifted.

'Whenever I come into some money, or get a little breathing room...'

Ah, his thoughts really had wandered. A fellow who didn't even have six won on him right now, what was he going on about—the old man's particular brand of self-reproach lodged in his heart, bitter as quassia.

But then again, the young were simply made that way, and wasn't he young now too? He let himself off the hook with that bit of brazenness and lifted his chin.

Pinning down only a few vague plans, he moved on to another article.

An advertisement at the bottom caught his eye.

[ Placer Gold, Soil Gold Bought at High Prices ]

There were plenty of sharp-eyed people in the world.

America, that giant of a nation, was making noises about gold this and gold that, so people figured the price of gold would rise one way or another, and they moved on it.

Again—the more a thing got talked about, the more its value followed along on its own.

'People.'

Han San let out a short breath and folded the paper, pressing all that information down hard into his head.

Right on cue, he arrived at the leather dealer he'd been recommended.

[Daeseong Leather]

Han San opened the door and stepped in.

"Good day."

"Aw, dammit!"

The instant he walked in, a string of curses came out to greet him ahead of the door chime.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

The owner of Daeseong Leather was huffing and puffing at his workbench.

"Goddammit, is the nail impotent or is the hammer impotent? Limp as a wet noodle, the thing—aagh! Won't drive in for the life of it."

On the workbench sat a leather sole for a work boot. A thick piece of full-grain hide, by the look of it, and the gongs wouldn't seat properly.

Han San set down his A-frame carrier. The male badger hide fluttered with the motion.

"I came to sell hides."

"Ah, I'm busy! Later—aagh, this damn nail head just..."

The owner didn't even look up. You could see the irritation rising clear to the top of his bald, gleaming head.

Han San strode over to the workbench.

"Step aside a moment."

"Huh? Who the hell are you?"

For an answer, Han San snatched the hammer out of the owner's hand.

"Wha—wha? Hey, you..."

While the owner stood there dazed, Han San took up a fresh gong in his left hand. He set it on the leather sole and gripped the hammer short by the haft.

He swung.

Tak! A light tap to set the nail's place, then ta-tang! With a crisp ring, the nail sank deep into the leather.

"...Uh, uh."

The owner's mouth fell open.

Han San didn't stop.

He picked up a fresh nail, tak! Ta-tang! Picked up another, tak! Ta-tang! In no time, five gongs sat in a line, driven in as neat as if a sewing machine had set them.

The owner marveled at the masterful skill.

"Well, I'll be. A green young pup, and it doesn't suit you—no, it doesn't. There's something about you, more an old man's air than your face lets on."

"I'm not driving nails. I'm just riding a rhythm for a few dozen minutes."

"...Now there really is an old man's air about you. The way you put things, lord."

How could that be? He'd thought it a fairly youthful way of putting it. Han San went a touch glum...

Well, it wasn't important.

Han San spread the male badger hide he'd carried in across the workbench with a flourish.

"So how about this one? Far better than that hide you had a minute ago."

"This is..."

The owner ran his eyes over the hide. They narrowed.

"Badger hide? Pretty big one."

"You know your stuff. Badger, that's right."

"You dress this yourself?"

"With my father."

The owner looked back and forth between the badger hide and Han San. His gaze slid over to the gongs Han San had just driven in.

Right at that moment, the letter of introduction Ma Jong-sung had written was laid down over the gongs.

"Boss Ma did? Doesn't suit him, no it doesn't."

But it made sense. The fellow had skill, after all.

The owner offered no more objections and held out a hand thick with callus.

"Park Dong-po. I was thinking 1 won. How's that sound?"

Han San clicked the beads of the abacus in his head. The top of the range he'd expected.

'You really do need connections and skill both.'

A man got proper treatment only with both. He grinned and took the offered hand.

"Han San, sir. If I come across more good goods, I'll come see you."

With a trade opened up at the leather dealer too, a smile rose over his fat pocket.

Six won 60 jeon in all.

Enough to buy six Leghorn hens outright on the spot.

But Han San didn't head straight for the marketplace.

'The notice board first.'

It had been ten days since his last trip to town, after all. Checking the board on top of the newspaper was what made his information complete.

The front of the police substation was sunk in commotion when he reached it.

"You see that? The reward, oh my goodness..."

"That's insane, insane. That kind of money for one wolf..."

The murmuring of the crowd was something out of the ordinary. A strange heat poured off the mix of Korean and Japanese.

Han San's eyes narrowed.

'A reward?'

He pushed through the crowd and craned his neck to see the board.

Dead center, a wanted notice that looked freshly pasted came straight into view.

[Special Wanted Notice]

[Man-Eating Wolf 'Ginsei']

The instant he read the figure written below it, Han San's heart dropped with a thud.

[Reward: 300 won]

[1] The Hyeongpyeongsa (형평사, 衡平社) was a social-equality movement founded in 1923 to combat discrimination against the baekjeong, Korea's traditional outcaste class; the colonial authorities often branded it as subversive.

[2] Shanhaiguan (산해관, 山海關) is the strategic pass where the Great Wall of China meets the sea, marking the gateway between northern China and Manchuria; Japanese forces seized it in early 1933.

[3] Yi Cheong-cheon (이청천, 1888–1957), also known as Ji Cheong-cheon, was a Korean independence general who led armed resistance in Manchuria and later commanded the Korean Liberation Army.

[4] The Korean Liberation Army (광복군) was the regular armed force of the Korean Provisional Government, formally established in 1940 to fight Japanese rule.

[5] Dongning (동녕, 東寧) is a county in Manchuria near the Soviet border that served as a base for Korean-Chinese joint anti-Japanese operations.

[6] Wang Delin (왕덕림, 王德林) was a Chinese commander of the National Salvation Army who allied with Korean independence forces against Japan in Manchuria.

Join our discord at https://dsc.gg/wetried