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◈ The Hunting Genius of the Japanese Colonial Era

Chapter 74

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The Skirmish (4)

Typhoon 3383 made landfall on the southern coast at 9 p.m. on August 3rd, cut clear across the peninsula in a single day, and by around noon on August 4th had already slipped out into the East Sea.

Sebeom Valley, nestled at the foot of Seorak, took its beating in the mere few hours between dawn and daybreak.

And in those few hours, Sebeom Valley's political landscape had changed beyond any hope of reversal.

"Hah, dammit. Thought I was a goner... Thanks, San."

In the yard of the red-brick house on the outskirts of Lower Hamlet, Pi Sun-dae caught his breath. Kim Tae-yang, reduced to the state of a drowned rat, kept coughing between words.

"Ah, seriously! San, you—cough! You really are the savior of my life. Baechil-hyung too, thank you, really!"

Being a proper brick house, it hadn't come off as wretched as the others, but if Han San and his crew hadn't arrived in time to slit the throat of the water channel, the whole place would have turned into a sea of water.

Han San grinned.

"Never mind that. More to the point, spare me some men. The ones who can put their backs into it. I've been all through Middle Hamlet, but there are still a good number of spots in Lower Hamlet I haven't gotten to."

"Right you are. Hey, Gomchi! What are you standing around for! Take the boys and go help Sajang-nim Han San here, why don't you!"

Even in a moment like this, Pi Sun-dae didn't bring up money. And so the Lower Hamlet toughs, too, kitted out in the Han family's custom-made waterproof coats and gear, began to fall in behind Han San.

"All right, let's go!"

Watching Han San's rescue crew set off in majestic style, Kim Tae-yang's eyes shone bright.

"Whew... seriously. That bastard San's got style to burn. Wearing that glossy, dashing waterproof coat! Huh? And hefting that hulking iron pickaxe! Majestic as anything—puts the military police to shame."

"Jealous?"

"Ah, jealous of what. I'm just saying, is all."

Kim Tae-yang said it while smacking his lips.

Pi Sun-dae snickered.

"Don't be jealous. A seat like that, only a man born to it can sit in it. A lesser man tries and just tumbles off and gets himself hurt."

"Ah, I said I'm not jealous! ...But what seat? What seat's San even taken now?"

Kim Tae-yang asked it back with his eyes gone round, and Pi Sun-dae kept on snickering.

"What seat, he asks. That San—hasn't he just gone and planted his backside square in the seat of Middle Hamlet's village head with this?"

"Village head...!"

Kim Tae-yang's eyes lit up at the words, but then, thinking ah, that's a bit country-sounding, he quickly rephrased.

"So he's become the lord of Middle Hamlet, then! My friend San!"

"No, lord, what... you damn fool, where'd you go and pick up words like that? Was it that damn bastard Go Tae-chon?"

"Pick up, my foot. Don't even bring up that traitor Go Tae-chon. It's what I learned back when I went to common school in Gyeongseong, obviously."

Pi Sun-dae thought, for a moment, 'That's right, this young master did go to school after all,' and lamented, for another moment, 'school doesn't save a man's life, does it.'

Delighted, Kim Tae-yang snapped his fingers and muttered to himself.

"If San's the lord of Middle Hamlet, who's the lord of Lower Hamlet? Hmm... surely there's no candidate but this Kim Tae-yang? Hah, seriously. If only I didn't have to go down to Inje town soon to help my noona with her work... hm? No, wait. Even if my body's in town, being a lord's something you can do remotely, isn't it? Uncle Sundae, would you happen to be interested in the seat of Governor-General of Lower Hamlet... ow! Ah, why'd you hit me!"

"When in the world is this damn fool going to grow into a proper human! I pity your noona and hyung in Gyeongseong, I truly do! Take after your friend San even a booger's worth, you damn fool!"

"Ah, I asked why'd you hit me!"

Kim Tae-yang clutched the crown of his head as if wronged and kept up his shrieking, then spotted Im Baechil off in the distance, plastered in muddy water, scrambling to and fro in the rain.

It brought him to his senses at once.

"Ah, hold on. Now that I think about it, what am I doing hanging back here all by myself. It kills my style. Baechil-hyung's out there hard at it too. Hey, San! Give me one of those coats too! I'll pitch in as well!"

Watching Kim Tae-yang go dashing off, Pi Sun-dae heaved a sigh. In any case, it was a mercy that that good-for-nothing young master at least kept good friends.

"Anyhow, that San's a born somebody, all right. I'll have to catch my chance someday and get a line in with him."

Pi Sun-dae muttered it with that trademark smile spreading crinkles across his whole face.

Meanwhile, Han San, standing at the center of all that commotion, knew perfectly well what sort of seat he had now taken.

"San, thank you! It's truly all your doing!"

"Not the makings of a general—an outright general, that's what he is! A boy general's come out of our Middle Hamlet!"

At the pouring cheers and the heartfelt thanks, Han San wasn't the least bit carried away. On his lips he wore a bold smile and his voice brimmed with confidence, but inside his head ran cold and clear.

He was calling up the memory of the last time he'd faced this Typhoon 3383, in his past life.

In his past life, of course, he'd never bought up Meokbawi Valley, nor shared it with the village. So there'd been no one drawing water channels every which way, which meant flood damage hadn't been piled on top the way it was this time.

'But roofs blowing off and walls caving in—that was just the same then too.'

The eighteen-year-old Han San of his past life had been able to do nothing that time. While his lame-legged father lifted him and Bada up to high ground, while his mother gathered up the household goods wailing aigo, aigo, he had only stood there gaping.

'Literally out of my mind, I was.'

It was only a day later that his wits finally returned enough for him to venture outside. From Middle Hamlet all the way down to Lower Hamlet, it had been nothing short of utter devastation...

'But even that—even now, with the flood damage piled on top—is nothing compared to next year's flood.'

Han San gripped the pickaxe hard.

Set against the Great Flood of the Gapsul Year, this typhoon was no more than a vaccination, a [prelude skirmish].

A few morsels of drifting praise, some empty fame that could be flung down at any moment—none of that would do.

'I have to build a solid [organization].'

Han San glanced at the Middle Hamlet Husband Youth Corps and the Lower Hamlet toughs now trailing behind him.

Bumpkins who moved as a mindless herd?

The sort of human rabble who bowed their heads in gratitude when you looked after them a little, and spat curses first thing the moment they were left wanting?

'No.'

In Han San's eyes, only [labor] was visible.

'Surveyor Hajama put the construction cost at 3,000 won, and reckoned he'd need thirty laborers.'

Of course, Hajama couldn't have foreseen the variable of Typhoon 3383's arrival either. He couldn't predict the peninsula's summer weather in the first place, which was why he'd said let's meet again in September.

'But even so,' Han San thought, 'that 3,000-won construction cost would have included the hiring cost of those laborers too.'

If he could take complete hold of these hands before his eyes and mobilize them into an organization that moved as one body?

'Why is it only Upper Hamlet that gets to mobilize people for communal work like charcoal-burning?'

Couldn't they do a bit of that too?

Even if the most critical parts—say, the ones tied to the gold vein—called for hiring outside laborers, surely for the surrounding civil-engineering work and the peripheral construction, the muscle-work, the villagers' own labor would be more than enough and to spare.

The total construction cost would clearly be slashed dramatically.

'They've got to pay something for using my gorge valley.'

Nothing in this world comes free, after all. And in truth it would no longer be entirely free the way it had been.

'Using this whole affair as the reason, I'll set up a basic maintenance-and-management outfit for Meokbawi Valley too...'

With a clear body responsible for management, accountability arises, and the tragedy of the commons can be avoided as well.

Even without charging any admission fee, having that managing body take turns at the duty, doling out the work by rotation, amounted to the same as making money.

And.

'While I'm at it, I ought to let these people build up some construction experience too.'

That part was especially easy.

"You've worked hard, gentlemen! Now steady yourselves and rest up good. If your bellies get to grumbling and there's nothing left to eat because your food got washed away, come to our house! Rice I can most certainly feed you!"

From the next day, Han San's clock started running busy again.

"Whoa, this one's just completely come down. Looks like it'll have to be built new from scratch, huh?"

Han San said it in front of Choi Seo-bang's house.

Sure enough, Choi Seo-bang's house, with one whole wall caved in, had been pressed into service as an open-air buffet for Mount Seorak's mosquitoes.

Choi Seo-bang scratched hard at a bite and said in a hollow voice,

"Build it. Build it I must. At least it's summer now, that's a mercy—come autumn the wind alone... But when I'll ever find the means to build, who knows. Never mind the crops being ruined; everything I had to set on the table washed away too, so it's food and survival I've got to fret over first..."

Han San cut him off with a smile.

"Ah, I told you to come to our house for meals. And as for building—well, we can build it right this minute."

"What? Right now?"

"Yes. I'll help you."

Choi Seo-bang's eyes went wide as saucers.

"Y-you really!?"

"Of course."

"But there's no money in our house..."

"Come now. Does everything have to be reckoned in money? I'll put it on the tab, so later, when I ask you to pay me back, just pay me back in the way I ask."

Once again, labor made splendid collateral. Stocking up a fat supply of Choi-Seo-bang-summons vouchers like that, Han San called out.

"All right, gentlemen of Middle Hamlet! Gather up in full, just like yesterday! The place is in front of Uncle Choi's house!"

Han San and the hired hands had, over these past few months, put up, repaired, and remodeled the houses they themselves would live in, and had banked plenty of house-building experience.

The Han's Myriad Commerce crew summoned the Husband Youth Corps, put that experience to use, and started raising new houses in order, beginning with the ones nearest the Han family.

"Uncle Choi! It's the house you and your family'll live in, right? I'll hear you out if you've got requests, but there's a line of people waiting behind you right now. So we're going to stamp them out to spec, like from a mold. Even if your house loses a bit of its own character, bear with me, all right?"

Choi Seo-bang, still looking as if he couldn't believe it, bowed his head with an awestruck face.

"No, they say even a flea has its shame, so what could I ask for. Just... if it's a bit wider than the one I lived in before, and sturdy enough that no draft gets in, I'd have nothing more to wish for..."

"Good. Naturally we've got to build it sturdy. With all the strength of us Middle Hamlet folk put together."

The cost that went into the flood recovery was, unexpectedly, small.

It wasn't as if they were putting up some grand tiled mansion, but standardized supply-housing with unified spec and structure.

The materials that went in were the rubble from the collapse, boulders rolled down from the mountain, mud bricks fired from Meokbawi Valley clay, and the like. The irreplaceable materials and tools for the critical parts had likewise been laid in well before the typhoon.

'Prices right now must be all gone mad, no doubt.'

Above all, the labor cost was free, wasn't it.

Speaking of labor cost, the Lower Hamlet toughs weren't stingy with their help either.

"Aigo, Sajang-nim San. Sundae-hyung says we're to go and help you, Sajang-nim, right to the end."

When Gomchi came and passed that along, Han San raised one eyebrow.

"I'm grateful for the help, but what's the labor cost you're after?"

"Aigo, what money. Split into Lower Hamlet and Middle Hamlet as we are, it's still the same village's business. We ought to just help. Sundae-hyung says so too."

At that, Han San cocked one eye up, yet grinned all the same.

"Oh yeah? You lot aren't feeling put out over something again, are you?"

"No... ah, Sajang-nim San, honestly... uh, where on earth would there be anything to feel put out over with you, Sajang-nim, that we'd..."

The memory of the beating they'd taken before the tavern opened came back to Gomchi's crew, and they laughed sheepishly.

Han San laughed too, and didn't needle them any further.

'If they'll be my hands of their own accord, that suits me fine.'

Of course—once again—nothing in this world comes free.

But Han San himself knew that plainly.

Whatever bill Pi Sun-dae later slid across the table, if it seemed fair he'd accept it, and if not he'd knock down the price or settle the debt some other way. That was all. Han San feared nothing.

'How's a man to run a business if he's scared of taking on debt.'

The days rolled over.

"Right, next house! Now it's Uncle Park's turn... Hmm, but say. Rather than where your house originally stood, I think it'd be better to dig out the slope a little higher up and build it over there. What do you think? The original site's come down too badly, too..."

When Han San brought it up, Park Seo-bang clapped himself on the knee.

"Me too! I thought the very same thing!"

"Yes. If we build it up a bit like that, and run a path through here like so, it'll be easier to go back and forth to Uncle Choi's place as well."

"Just so! Truly, San, your discernment is no common thing!"

Nearly all the available manpower of Middle Hamlet and Lower Hamlet turned in mesh, pivoting on a single pillar named Han San.

A job that takes one man ten days finishes in a few hours when ten men set to it properly. And as people's experience piled up all the while, they could, quite literally, stamp out houses far wider and sturdier than the ones they'd lived in before.

Before September had even come, the redevelopment work across the whole of Middle Hamlet was wrapped up clean.

"Wow! A new house! A new house!"

"Sparkling and gleaming, all of it! And the paths have gotten real easy to travel too! Looks like an ox cart could come and go to any house now!"

"It really was too scattered before, no denying it."

"Every time a new person rolled in, they'd just throw up a house anywhere on the spot and live there—that's why. But pull our strength together and build it exactly to plan like this, and it's a regular Gyeongseong all its own!"

"Come now, man. Gyeongseong's going too far. Sure, it's fine and proper, easy on the eyes, easy to get around, good to live in—all of it good. But still."

Watching the delight of the Middle Hamlet folk as they took in the solid houses they'd all built with their own hands and the straight, well-graded paths, Han San looked on with a broad smile.

Just then, Chuk Jae-seok, tidying tools beside him, scratched at his temple and tossed out a mutter to himself.

"But you know, Myeong-su-hyung. Looking at these paths and the way the houses are laid out... there's something a bit odd about it."

"What's odd about it?"

"Hmm, I can't quite explain it well... from way down below up to the top, it's as if every house in Middle Hamlet is wrapped in layer upon layer around Sajang-nim's house, standing guard over it. How should I put it—like some kind of dam, or a military formation..."

"You're right. Sajang-nim's house has quite literally become the commander's house."

At such talk passing back and forth beside him, Han San smiled with confidence.

"What of it. Is our house not allowed to be the commander's house?"

Chuk Jae-seok laughed too.

"What's not to allow. Getting back as much as you put in—that's only natural."

The summer of 1933 drew to a close like that, crowned with victory in the prelude skirmish that pointed toward next year's flood.

And, just as Teacher Han Bada said, wherever a war has victors, losers are bound to exist.

"Yun Cheom-ji! Come out here a minute!"

"Our house came down—so why is it we can't get a single hand to help!"

Around the time Middle Hamlet had grown great, in the once-great Upper Hamlet, raised voices were being traded back and forth.

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