WeTried Translations

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◈ The Hunting Genius of the Japanese Colonial Era

Chapter 38

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Exit (1)

Sawada Kazuo's face was blank.

He tucked the hand holding the walnuts behind his back, adjusted his eyepatch with the other, and spoke.

"An impudent sign."

At some point his single eye had fixed on the words [Wolf-Catching Tavern].

"I've received a report that there are irreverent Koreans here who sneer and snicker over game the Empire has placed a bounty on. Is this the place?"

One of the customers, frozen stiff with his ears pricked, hiccuped.

A report?

What rotten bastard had thrown what kind of report at the Imperial military police?

But Han San only bowed his head and spoke.

"Out of the question, sir. There are only good, loyal subjects here, struggling just to make a living and doing everything they can to answer the bounty the Empire has set. That is all, my lord."

Han San's voice was low and calm.

Sawada snorted without even listening. From the start, the Korean before him wasn't worth the dignity of a reply.

It was the idle man who lent an ear to the sound of a rolling stone. That was the sort Sawada held in the deepest contempt.

He ground the straw mat under his mud-caked military boots and pointed at the food storeroom off to one side of the tavern.

"I'm requisitioning this as operational supplies."

Ham Ssang-sim's body went rigid with a jolt.

"No..."

She tried to say something. She couldn't. Her husband, Han Man-seok, had come up beside her without her noticing, quietly taken hold of her sleeve, and stepped one foot forward.

Sawada only snorted at this too, then shot a glance at Han San.

"I'll process it as a [voluntary donation] to the Empire."

This, too, was not said in hope of any answer. It was only to see what sound the walnut he turned in his hand would make, where the kicked stone would land and strike.

There are people in this world who become the very kind they hold in the deepest contempt.

And Han San had known well, in his past life, that Sawada was exactly that sort of man.

Han San bent low at the waist—a perfect posture of the lesser party, crafted by the heart of a seventy-four-year-old borrowing an eighteen-year-old's body.

"It is an honor, Commander."

There was not a speck of complaint in that voice. If anything, it even trembled, as though he were moved to tears.

"Surely it's only natural to help the men who carry out the nation's work. There isn't much, but please, take it."

Sawada's eyebrow twitched. He had braced to stamp down the resistance he'd expected, and instead a submission this smooth came at him.

Han San flung the storeroom door wide open himself.

Sawada's eyebrow twitched once more.

"This is all of it?"

The storeroom was nearly empty.

The sacks of potatoes and arrowroot were thin, the jars of grain showed their bottoms, and the only thing you could call meat was half a rabbit, a few pig bones, and the scraps of flesh clinging to them like the picture on a label.

Han San bowed his head as though flustered.

"I picked the wrong time to go down to town for goods, and so... It's my first time running a tavern like this, you see... There's a little liquor left, though..."

Sawada Kazuo looked at the liquor barrels too—at the way they sat there, undefended, left out in the open.

'So he didn't catch wind of it ahead and spirit it away.'

Had there been even a trace of cunning at work, he would have flown into a rage. For a mere Korean to dare deceive an Imperial soldier was unthinkable.

But there was no such trace. Sawada Kazuo gave a short order.

"Take all of it. Leave the liquor."

There was an operation underway, and liquor was not to be drunk. And since olden times, what ruined a military unit was liquor brought in from some unknown source.

The Inje military police detachment was used to Sawada's style.

The military police moved in a swarm. The sacks of grain in the storeroom, the pig bones and meat, a sack of salt, even the firewood and charcoal Im Baechil had split—all of it swept up.

It took them less than three minutes to clean out the storeroom.

For all three of those minutes, Sawada's single eye trailed Han San like a snake creeping along the ground. It was the gaze of a man probing for the smallest thing to seize on, but when he found nothing he wanted, it wilted.

The adjutant snapped a salute.

"We've taken everything, Detachment Commander."

"Mm."

Sawada, his eye still on Han San, rolled the walnut in his hand with a sharp crack and said,

"Tip the liquor out."

"Sir?"

"Did you not hear me?"

"...Sir."

The adjutant walked over and kicked the liquor barrel.

Thunk! The cask toppled, and the liquor inside gurgled out over the ground.

The sour smell of makgeolli spread thin through the air.

"Aigo!"

Ham Ssang-sim let out a single cry, but she couldn't move. The precious liquor, perfectly good to drink, trickled out and was thrown away onto the ground.

Down to the last drop.

Still, Han San kept his head bowed and said nothing. Had it been a true eighteen-year-old with hot blood, it might have gone otherwise, but what dwelt inside him was an old man who had passed through eras of cold, blue steel.

Of course.

To Sawada, who had no way of knowing that, the sight of Han San looked entirely different.

'A man with no guts at all.'

Sawada snorted.

"We withdraw."

With a sharp crack of the walnut in his hand, Sawada turned his back on the emptied tavern and walked away.

As precisely as they had come, the military police left.

What remained was the heavy reek of liquor, the trampled straw mat, the stunned people, and Han San, standing quietly with his head bowed.

"Fucking..."

"Those rotten bastards..."

The curses didn't burst from the people's mouths so much as gurgle out of them.

They said cultural rule had come since the March First Movement of 1919 and all that, but everyone knew. Colonial power could never be parted from gun and blade, and it left a scar wherever it touched.

"Tsk, tsk..."

"Let's go, let's go. Well. This whole thing's ruined now."

The customers clicked their tongues and drifted off one by one, afraid the military police might come back and pick some new quarrel.

In an instant the tavern fell as quiet as an abandoned house.

"Th-that... San..."

Im Baechil came over, hesitant.

"Um... that, you must be awful angry, but you mustn't get angry... so, the thing is..."

His words went no further. Honestly, he didn't know what more to say, and when he thought about it—with San's mother and father both silent—he grew afraid he was in no position to be saying anything at all...

That was the very moment.

"What!? What in the world, huh? What kind of axi-dent went and happened here, huh!?"

A blustering shout split the tavern.

In the all-red hour when dusk had stretched long, a man flung open the brushwood gate of the Wolf-Catching Tavern and stepped inside.

A clatter-clatter followed him—the sound of the donkey he'd brought along.

"No, no... well now, San. What on earth is this state of things, huh?"

Go Tae-chon had shown up, slicking back his pomaded hair.

"Is this a tavern, or is this a bomb crater? Don't tell me the military police, the guard-ians who protect this great Empire of Japan, went and paid you a visit?"

There wasn't a soul who'd miss the mean pleasure soaked into that voice.

Ham Ssang-sim's eyes lit with fire. [Report.] She had not forgotten the word.

"Go Tae-chon! It was you who ratted to the military police, wasn't it!?"

Go Tae-chon flinched—for an instant. Then at once he squared his shoulders and slicked back his pomaded hair.

"Oho. Now, Madam Ham. What do you take a man for? You got any proof? You've got to have evi-dence, you know, evi-dence. We're meant to be civilized folk now, huh? You can't just go saying whatever pops into your head, can you?"

"L-look at this dog of a man...!"

Ham Ssang-sim clutched at her chest. Not just that lout Kim Tae-yang, but even gentle Im Baechil went red in the face.

"This son of a bitch, really!"

"Un-uncle Tae-chon... you can't do that...! W-we're folk from the same village, we ought to help each other get by..."

No matter how Sebeom Valley was split into its three branches, no matter that cheating one another was the daily life of a slash-and-burn village—to rat out a man from your own village to the Japanese military police dogs?

This was crossing a line that should never be crossed!

"Ah, that's exactly it—do you have evi-dence, evi-dence!"

Go Tae-chon bellowed, even jabbing his finger in the air as he raised his voice.

"Carrying on like that, huh? Mob rule, that's what! Trying to settle some unconfirmed matter of fact with nothing but the loudness of your voice and no fact-che-ck—that's exactly why people say the peninsula folk are backward!"

"The one who farted gets angry—that, that one...!"

"Farted, my foot. Ah, never mind that! Seems to me your meat and your grain have all been cleaned out and you're about to fold up shop. Now, as it happens, I went down to town and picked up some goods, you see? With a kind of foresight only an educated man can feel?"

Go Tae-chon thumped, thump, thump, at the load he'd brought on the donkey.

"You buying, or not? If you're buying, I'll sell. As that Baechil there said, with the kind of volun-teer spirit of [folk from the same village helping each other get by]."

"Selling, you say..."

"Ah, at market price, of course. That market price might be a bit spe-cial, but what can you do. The road from here to town isn't an easy one, and given the state you're all in, well."

"You dog of a bastard!!"

Ham Ssang-sim looked ready to lunge at him then and there. She couldn't. Han Man-seok had silently taken hold of his wife's sleeve.

"Dear..."

Ham Ssang-sim looked at her husband with pleading eyes, but he wordlessly nodded toward one direction.

Han San, who had kept his eyes on the floor until now, was lifting his head.

"Go-ajae..."

Han San looked slowly at Go Tae-chon.

Go Tae-chon flinched for a moment, but soon realized there wasn't a shred of fight left in Han San's eyes, and squared his shoulders.

"What?"

"Um... Go-ajae, no, Uncle Tae-chon..."

Han San's voice was wretched beyond words.

"Why don't you just... buy this tavern, Uncle?"

Silence.

Go Tae-chon's eyes went round.

"What?"

"This tavern... I'll hand it over for fifty won, no, forty won. The matting and everything... right down to that wolf hide."

Go Tae-chon doubted his own ears.

He'd only meant to fleece them by selling his goods dear for a quick score, and now the boy wanted to sell the whole tavern?

This goose that laid golden eggs?

"Hey, you mean that for real!? A man's word is—what is it—worth its weight in gold, you know that or not!?"

"How would an ignorant fool like me know such sayings... But yes, I mean it, of course I do."

Go Tae-chon's mouth split ear to ear.

How he had ached with envy from the sidelines all these days, working the abacus. He knew this tavern's takings plain. Fifteen won, twenty won raked in a day—and on some days the take had even hit thirty won!

And he'd hand all of that over for forty won?

'Forty won—that's money it'd pay back in three days, no, just two...'

It was as good as a giveaway. Even selling a company, you reckoned by eight years' total revenue, and this was two days' worth?

'This is what comes of an ignorant fool who never studied economics!'

But Go Tae-chon soon narrowed his eyes. Suspicion reared its head.

"You're not pulling some trick, huh? Selling up and then opening a brand-new tavern right next door...?"

The reason this tavern made money like this came down to one word: [monopoly]. If the boy took the forty won from him and set up a new tavern right beside it...

But.

"Haha..."

Han San gave a feeble laugh.

"Would I ever do such a thing, Uncle Tae-chon? And besides, you saw it. What goods would I have left to run a tavern with..."

That laugh was so wretched that the people fell under the illusion they were looking not at an eighteen-year-old youth but at a seventy-four-year-old man worn down by the storms of life.

"I learned a great lesson this time. How frightened I was when the military police barged in... My heart was just pounding and pounding. Running a business isn't for just anyone, it seems..."

Han San went on, gazing at the empty storeroom as if at the foundation of a house washed away in a flood.

"Really, when I think about it, I was out of my mind... Where does an unlettered fool like me get off thinking he can run a tavern..."

Watching that, Go Tae-chon felt elation surging up from his heart.

That's right!

This is it!

This was exactly the sight he'd wanted to see!

This ignorant fool getting a proper schooling and learning his place!

He'd wanted to see this young brat, this insolent son of a bitch, weeping and wailing and lamenting!

From the moment he'd dared open a tavern and rake in the money,

no, from the moment he'd dared team up with that thug Pi Sun-dae and laugh at him,

no, from the moment he'd dared come back from town with his shopping done, fine and dandy,

no, from the very moment he'd dared split a badger open in his own front yard and spread its chicken-feathered guts out for all to see!

"Right, right! Of course—a man's got to know his place!"

Swept head to toe in triumph, Go Tae-chon clapped Han San on the shoulder, pat pat.

"I'll take it off your hands special, you see, huh? On account of us being folk from the same village."

"Yes, thank you, Uncle Tae-chon..."

"Then let's do it right away! This tavern spot, you borrowed it from Brother Sun-dae, didn't you? So there's no funny talk later—not that this uncle doesn't trust you, mind, but it's best to make it certain, huh?"

"Yes, of course, Uncle Tae-chon..."

Han San just nodded along and said so. With a face full of glee, Go Tae-chon took one look around the tavern and ran off to the red brick house to fetch Brother Sun-dae.

In the spot Go Tae-chon had left empty for that little while, the people looked at Han San with tangled eyes.

Ham Ssang-sim stepped forward, hesitant.

"San..."

The servility wiped clean off Han San's face. A mischievous, imp-like smile hung at the corner of his mouth.

"Mother, you trust me, don't you?"

Ham Ssang-sim couldn't make sense of any of it. But that ignorance had no bearing on how she should answer.

She smiled along with her son.

"Of course. I trust my boy."

With that one line the matter was settled. Even hot-tempered Kim Tae-yang only faltered for a moment and didn't dare ask anything deeper.

Han San said,

"Tae-yang, Baechil-hyung. There are a few things I'd like you to get ready..."

A little while later.

Go Tae-chon brought Pi Sun-dae over and wrapped up the procedure of handing over the tavern.

Pi Sun-dae looked from Han San to Go Tae-chon with strange eyes, then asked Go Tae-chon,

"Go Tae-chon. But do you even have forty won?"

Go Tae-chon at once started rubbing his hands together.

"You'll have to lend it to me, hyung. Between us..."

"This son of a bitch, what 'between us'... well, fine. Han San!"

"Yes..."

Han San just turned his eyes aside with a wretched face and handed the money to Pi Sun-dae.

"This is two-tenths of this past week's takings. It comes to exactly forty won..."

"Right. Hey, Go Tae-chon! Here's the forty won you wanted to borrow."

"Yes, Brother Sun-dae, as expected, between us... ...? Huh? Wait, this forty won I just borrowed, so that means..."

"I'll be taking it as the tavern's key money, Uncle Tae-chon..."

"Uh... um...? Uh, uhh... mmmm???"

Go Tae-chon felt something a bit off, but it was buried under the keenness with which Han San—having pocketed the forty won that had gone full circle—picked up a pen.

"Then I'll write out the pledge, Uncle Tae-chon... I will absolutely not open a new tavern in Sebeom Valley, nor will I throw a report at the military police like a certain someone..."

"Ah, who said anybody threw a report, huh!? Doubting a man like that... but, well, that's right! Of course! You should write it! Write it, write it!"

Cold sweat ran down the back of Go Tae-chon's neck.

That was it—this little son of a bitch could take the forty won and rat straight to the military police, coming at him with a 'see how you like dying too'!

To think he hadn't thought of that!

'Lucky thing San isn't quite that low a piece of trash... no, no. It's just that he's a pushover.'

His relief quickly turned to scorn.

The boy was no good for anything big, in any case. He'd have gone belly-up before long even without him. He'd given the boy a lesson in how the world works, in a way—so one of these days he'd have to bill him a service fee.

'And on top of that, if two-tenths of a week's takings is forty won...'

Didn't that mean a week's takings was two hundred won?

'Two weeks of business is four hundred won, a month is eight hundred won! A year, why, heavens...'

Go Tae-chon's mouth hung wide open, unable to close. His head was already busy putting up a building in Gyeongseong.

Han San left Go Tae-chon to it and headed for home.

When he came back out after finishing his preparations, Kim Tae-yang and Im Baechil were waiting beyond the brushwood gate.

"Hey... San. You told us to bring them, so we've got the lantern and the A-frame carrier..."

"Wh-where are we going? At this hour..."

Han San grinned and shifted his grip on what he held.

[Cloth switch].

At his waist hung the [leaf spring blade], its repairs finished, and on his back rode three [spear throw] javelins he'd put together in his spare moments.

Han San's eyes turned to the sinking Dog Star.

"A hunt."

It was time to go end the feast.

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