WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: ZERO_SUGAR

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◈ The Hunting Genius of the Japanese Colonial Era

Chapter 76

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Landmine (2)

'A steward's whelp, of all things!'

That little runt, a base-born boy from a steward's household — how dare he...

'Endure it. You must endure.'

Yun Cheom-ji brushed off his sleeve and drew a deep breath.

In any case, today was the day everyone gathered at the Upper Hamlet meeting hall. A steward's whelp who'd forgotten his own place could be dealt with right there, the matter dropped into conversation as if in passing.

'If you cannot bear the small, it breeds great disorder! A moment's patience wards off a great calamity!'

Reciting the sages' words to himself, Yun Cheom-ji made for the Upper Hamlet meeting hall.

A broad, tiled-roof floor — the seat where the "high places" of Upper Hamlet gathered to weigh matters great and small.

Upper Hamlet's political system was a theocracy built around Old Woman Wangdae, but no theocracy has ever stood on that alone. Every single word a god lets fall is itself an expenditure of power.

So there must always be a supporting wheel to handle the practical work. And in a pre-modern theocracy, that role generally becomes an oligarchy.

So it was in Upper Hamlet.

Upper Hamlet had no village head, no chairman. Precisely because of that, a chasm lay between the backsides that could sit on this floor and the backsides that could not.

"Yun Cheom-ji, you've come?"

"A touch late, aren't you."

The usual faces offered their greetings.

The blacksmith Mr. Baek, who kept a grip on the village's iron and tools. Father Cho, of a Catholic family said to have set foot in Upper Hamlet more than a century past. And so on.

Old Woman Wangdae and Park Il, the head of her palanquin bearers, weren't present, but those two rarely showed their faces at the meeting hall anyway.

"There was a bit of business," Yun Cheom-ji said, swallowing his temper. At that, the oligarchs of Upper Hamlet traded quiet glances. Yun Cheom-ji caught the smug air of a few of them, and his gut was starting to boil again when it happened.

"Yun Cheom-ji, did you hear? Seems a few of our Upper Hamlet young ones went down to Middle Hamlet."

Yun Cheom-ji's eyes twitched.

"To do what?"

"Who knows. What are the kids thinking... I'm the one who ought to be asking, really. Your daughter's boy was in among them."

"Cheol-min?"

Yun Cheom-ji's brows shot up.

His grandson, only fifteen now. A green age, sure, but what on earth had he gone down to Middle Hamlet to do at a time like this?

'Went to play, did he?'

Yun Cheom-ji's mood, already low, sank clear to the bottom.

There was even a cellar below it.

"Looks like that Baechil fellow lured him along."

At that name, Yun Cheom-ji's brow crumpled hard.

'That dim-witted stammerer.'

Upper Hamlet had children too. But when would the children of Upper Hamlet ever keep company with a half-wit like that?

So that half-wit Im Baechil had run around with the loafers of Middle Hamlet and Lower Hamlet.

Had he stayed a useless loafer as before, no one would have paid him any more mind. But some ghost must have gotten into Han San, one of those very loafers, for in a mere few months he'd stirred up this entire mess.

"That Baechil fellow. Last time, when the base-borns went and set up that tavern or whatever, didn't he go scampering off to help again?"

"That's not the half of it. This time, during the whole Water Tiger uproar, they say he went down that very day to help that Han San fellow."

"I took him for a half-wit, but isn't the boy actually mad?"

"Ha. And a fellow like that takes our Upper Hamlet children down to Middle Hamlet? Our own Yun Cheom-ji's grandson, no less."

Yun Cheom-ji's lips were about to quiver as he listened to the talk pass back and forth, when Father Cho spoke up out of nowhere.

"Come to think of it, our village hasn't done a straw-mat rolling in a while now, has it?"

The air over the meeting hall shifted oddly.

"About ten years? Ho-sik was the last, I think."

"That's right, Ho-sik. That scoundrel."

"His screaming was really something."

"Squealing and squealing as he choked, no different from a pig. My family's nephew went around imitating it, and for a while it was a barrel of laughs for the whole household."

Laughter spread among a few of the faces.

"Ahem."

Mr. Baek, the blacksmith, and a few others of the so-called "moderate faction" cleared their throats as if uncomfortable, but Father Cho paid them no mind, licking his lips and carrying on.

"Weren't we near doing it once more, some five or six years back?"

"Ah, that gambler."

Someone snorted along with the sound of a tobacco pipe being tapped out.

"Right before we rolled him in the mat, that thug Pi Sun-dae dragged in a gang of town toughs and yanked him out. And after a few rounds of pushing and pulling like that, Lower Hamlet latched on."

"That's right, that's right."

"The funny part is this. After all that trouble hauling him off, later on they went and cut each other's wrists off and killed one another among themselves, so I heard."

"You don't say."

"Anyhow, the base-borns make a mess of everything they touch. Should we thank them for sparing us the effort?"

"That's the lowborn for you."

Ridicule went round like a wine cup. The air of the meeting hall loosened visibly.

"So? That Baechil fellow, should we roll him in the mat while we've got the chance?"

"No harm in tightening discipline once, eh?"

Across the way, Father Cho fingered his cross and made the sign of the cross.

"In any case, ten whole years have passed. My nephew's all grown too. Young ones only become men once they've had a taste of it, wouldn't you say."

"Ahem."

Once more, with Mr. Baek at the head, a few of the so-called moderates waved their hands.

"Now, come... that Baechil boy may be a bit slow, but he's usually well-mannered..."

"That's right. He never shirks the hard jobs either. Last time too, he came along to burn charcoal without a word of complaint."

Father Cho clicked his tongue.

"Mr. Baek's trouble is he's just too soft a man."

"No, it's not soft... hah. Anyhow, all I'm saying is it's best the children don't do such things."

"That's what soft is. And you, a man who beats iron."

"In any case, I'm against it. Against it."

Watching the talk pass back and forth, Yun Cheom-ji clicked his tongue. Seemed the more useless a fellow was, the longer his thread of life — that was the way of the world.

'If only that base-born Deok-tae and that rascal Ju Ssi could be rolled in the mat one day too.'

Well, never mind. There'd be plenty of chances ahead.

Yun Cheom-ji spoke.

"The straw-mat rolling does seem to go too far."

Eyes turned to him. On Yun Cheom-ji's clean, refined face hung that particular cultured smile of his.

"Wait a while. I'll come up with a scheme before long, and set Middle Hamlet and Lower Hamlet to biting and tearing at each other."

The oligarchs of Upper Hamlet looked at one another.

"True enough, that sort of thing is a born gift of Yun Cheom-ji's."

"Now we really can trust and wait, it seems."

The men nodded, one after another. Even the moderates with Mr. Baek among them did not oppose this. Power, in truth, is in every case simply power.

Yun Cheom-ji went on.

"If we mean to set others to biting and tearing so, then first the people of our own hamlet must become one body.

Brothers may quarrel within the wall, but when contempt comes from without, they must stand together to ward it off. So it goes.

The same holds for the matter of the children going down to Middle Hamlet this time. It's a matter within the wall, so the rod should not be brought out."

"Ha-ha, this fellow. One has to hand it to the way he wields the sages' words as a shield. And it just so happens Yun Cheom-ji's own grandson is inside the wall."

Snickering could be heard here and there over the meeting hall, but Yun Cheom-ji recited to himself — if you cannot bear the small it breeds great disorder — and kept the smile at the corner of his mouth.

"Surely enfolding them with virtue is best. I'll set the boy straight with a good word."

"Let's do that."

"At the least, we ought to save Yun Cheom-ji's face for him."

Every face at the meeting hall nodded and smiled.

Yun Cheom-ji breathed a little easier. Only now did it feel like some control over the situation was coming back to him...

Just then, it grew noisy outside the meeting hall.

"You sent for us, elders! Grandfather!"

"H-hello..."

Yun Cheom-ji's grandson, Shin Cheol-min, at the head of the Upper Hamlet boys' band, had come in together with Im Baechil.

Having to stand in a gathering of adults, the timid Im Baechil trembled all over his hulking frame, but Shin Cheol-min wore a smile brimming with confidence.

And it wasn't only the air of a boy with a powerful grandfather behind him.

'Because I came having done something worth praising.'

A woman of a Confucian scholar's house is one married out of the family. Yun Cheom-ji's daughter, naturally, lived with her husband. So Cheol-min's home stood apart from his grandfather's.

But where in this world is there a bond between grandfather and grandchild that isn't close?

These days, whenever Shin Cheol-min saw the throng crowding before his grandfather's house and clamoring, his heart grew heavy.

Half the thought was the usual — base-borns — and half was, isn't there some way I could help Grandfather.

That was when the rumor reached him.

'Cheol-min, they say the Middle Hamlet lot are all going around building houses together!'

'Really?'

'Yeah. And that traitor half-wit Baechil is tagging along with them too, no backbone at all. Shames all of Upper Hamlet, I tell you.'

Ordinarily he'd have had a good laugh at the half-wit traitor and let it go, but that time Shin Cheol-min thought of his grandfather.

'Want to try joining in too?'

'What?'

'Then we could learn how to build houses, couldn't we? And then we could fix up the houses of the base-borns in our own hamlet...'

So Shin Cheol-min took the Upper Hamlet boys who followed him and went to Im Baechil. As fellow residents of Sebeom Valley, they said, they couldn't stand by and watch Middle Hamlet in trouble, and volunteered their help.

That half-wit Im Baechil didn't suspect a thing. Moved to tears, he brought Shin Cheol-min and company to Han San.

'When it came time to actually meet that Han San, I got a bit nervous, though...'

He was, after all, the notorious rebel ringleader. Just what sort of fellow was he, to turn Upper Hamlet upside down in a few months? Honestly, the wish to satisfy that curiosity was there too.

But Han San only grinned.

'Welcome, all of you. We were just short of hands.'

That was all.

He didn't press them about what Upper Hamlet's young masters had come for, nor did he play them for fools by shoving only drudge work onto them.

Children feel these things more keenly, after all.

'You press mud bricks like this. Wooden boards — if you haven't got them, weave together bush clover. Then you put it in the kiln and...'

'How do you patch a hole in a wall, you ask? Try it like this. If the hole's bigger than this, then it's better to just build it fresh from scratch.'

While receiving Han San's heartfelt teaching, the scheming of Shin Cheol-min and company melted away of its own accord, and only wonder remained.

'I see why they say he's special.'

Of course, it wasn't as if the man were perfect.

'Getting the hang of the work? Say, watching you all work like that, a really amusing bit of wordplay came to me...'

Now and then he'd toss out something rotten, truly, no different from a base-born, some bit of wordplay — but those they scrubbed from memory quick as anything. So there had been no such wordplay. There must not have been.

'Let's just say there wasn't...'

In any case, a few days. He'd picked up a fair bit of skill and knack. Cheol-min had always been the sort who could do most anything well after only a few tries.

Now we can fix up the houses of our own hamlet's people ourselves!

That was why Shin Cheol-min's face was so triumphant as he stepped into the meeting hall. He meant to tell his grandfather. Don't worry anymore. Your grandson's all grown up now.

'Grandfather will be pleased, won't he?'

He might say what a fine boy, that the child he'd thought so young had grown up without his noticing, and for the first time in ages stroke his head. Yes, his head...

At that moment, just as Shin Cheol-min, triumphant-faced, was about to open his mouth, Yun Cheom-ji spoke.

"Cheol-min, you... what happened to that head of yours?"

Shin Cheol-min faltered.

"Sir?"

"Your hair... how did it come to be cropped so short..."

Shin Cheol-min let out an "ah."

Then, grinning, he said,

"When I went to Middle Hamlet, everyone had shaved theirs right off and went around nice and cool. Seemed comfortable and good. After watching a while, I asked to have mine done too. They say it's good for hygiene and it's the fashion in town. It really does feel so cool and refresh—"

With a slap, the triumphant boy's voice shattered to pieces.

Silence.

Cheol-min lifted his face, clutching his stinging cheek. His expression was blank.

Had he just been struck across the face?

By his ever-dignified, ever-kindly grandfather?

Raising his face like that, he saw that his dignified, kindly grandfather, lips trembling, said,

"You wretch! You half-baked fool — the base-borns do such a thing and so you go and shave your head the same! And you still call yourself my grandson!"

The oligarchs of Upper Hamlet blinked. Setting the boy straight with a good word, was he?

Shin Cheol-min himself, struck across the face the moment he was called in, was, quite literally, dumbstruck and choked speechless.

"Grandfather, why are you doing this!"

"Why am I doing this! Is that a thing to say! You wretch with neither father nor mother!"

"Wha—"

Shin Cheol-min's hands trembled. No. No.

No!

"How have I got neither! My mother and father are perfectly well! She's your daughter and he's your son-in-law!"

"You wretch!"

Yun Cheom-ji burst out with a roar.

"A boy whose parents are living does such a thing! Do you not know that body, hair, and skin are received from one's parents!"

Yun Cheom-ji could not stop his head from throbbing and his heart from pounding, thud, thud!

When Kim Hong-jip and Yu Gil-jun, those traitors, coerced the king and crown prince into cutting off their topknots, was it merely hair that fell?

No, it was the last pride of this land, carried on for five hundred years!

And now his own grandson had gone and done the very same thing!

"You senseless little fool! Fifteen years old and not a thought in your head!

At your age I waged siege warfare in Chungju[1] and fought the rebels who threw the country into disorder! When we shot Kim Baek-seon, that base-born hunter, I too pulled the trigger!

And yet you! Is there nothing in that head of yours but the thought of running off to play!"

But how was fifteen-year-old Shin Cheol-min to know his grandfather's life and all that lay behind it?

A landmine is a landmine because the one who steps on it does so without knowing. The fellow whose ankle gets blown off only hurts and rages.

And besides — senseless and thoughtless?

'I did it to help Grandfather...'

A grinding of teeth came from Cheol-min's mouth. His eyes went red all over and tears welled up.

"It's just a shaved head, what of it! Why are you suddenly hitting me and screaming and carrying on!? Have you gone senile, Grandfather!?"

At his grandson's words Yun Cheom-ji struck his own chest.

"What — screaming, carrying on!? Senile, you, y-you wretch! Where, where did you learn such base-born talk to throw at me, you wretch!"

That was when Im Baechil hurriedly stepped in to hold him back.

"S-stop, please! Cheol-min, hold it in! You, to your grandfather, to an elder, you can't say things like that! F-first Elder Cheom-ji! We're... the same village, the same family..."

Yun Cheom-ji's fiercely glinting eyes turned toward Im Baechil. And he saw that Im Baechil's hair, too, had been shaved off just the same.

"Im Baechil! And just what are you, to butt in while an adult is speaking! And into another family's affairs, no less! Must you show so plainly that you were raised without a father!"

Struck at once by the flying sparks, Im Baechil froze up with a jolt.

[1] Chungju was a site of fierce fighting during the 1896 Righteous Army uprisings against pro-Japanese reformist officials and the topknot-cutting edict.

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