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Chapter 99: Chicken and the Cross

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Since the regressor had set foot in Chuncheon, Blue-Gold Pavilion had been enjoying an unprecedented boom.

At sunset, the sound of chickens being slaughtered rang out from the kitchen. At dawn, gentlemen clutching takeaway bundles under their arms could be heard hailing rickshaws outside the entrance.

And in the hours between, voices like these filled Blue-Gold Pavilion.

"Are these the new dishes they've started serving here?"

"Huh, this dakgalbi is a little spicy for my taste, but that sweet aftertaste really brings it all together."

"This fried chicken is more intense than it looks, isn't it? It just looks like battered chicken, but when you bite in, even the meat is nicely salted. They must've been generous with the pepper and salt."

"I had something similar when I visited the Western world. This seasoned chicken seems to be based on chili sauce. I never thought I'd live to eat such advanced cuisine in the middle of Gangwon."

"Both the chicken and the dakgalbi go down so smoothly with alcohol. You could drink forever with this stuff."

"Blue-Gold Pavilion has really struck it rich."

This had once been a place where nouveaux riches who knew nothing about taste simply poured expensive liquor down their throats. Now, everyone eagerly discussed flavors that anyone could appreciate.

For a moment, as the stale atmosphere cleared, thoughts of their families suddenly crept in.

"They do takeaway too? I should bring some home."

"Me too. For the kids, my wife, and my father... one fried chicken and one seasoned chicken..."

"Three fried chickens, three seasoned chickens, and four boneless dakgalbi too!"

"Sir, isn't your family only four people?"

"There are servants at home, you know. I thought it'd be nice if they got a piece each too."

The Korean official laughed heartily as he said it, but his subordinates exchanged looks.

He was doing something he normally never did.

Generosity had a way of blooming wherever alcohol flowed. In this case, it was probably better called bravado.

The Korean official kept up that bravado even after sobering up. The following afternoon, he bought fried chicken for a provincial government meeting and passed it around.

He also aired his grievances.

"Those Cheorwon bastards are trying to butter people up so they can move the Gangwon provincial government to Cheorwon. They said they'll even bribe the press and sway public opinion. Does that make any sense? Naturally, Chuncheon should be the head of Gangwon."

When the Gangwon provincial government's only Korean official complained like that, the Japanese officials tearing into chicken around him did not laugh and say, "Ho! Ho! Ho! How amusing, Koreans fighting each other to protect the collar of the head slave."

Instead, they glared.

"Have those Cheorwon bastards lost their minds? They have one railway station and suddenly they think they're something special?"

"This provincial government is a cultural treasure once used by the Joseon royal family! How dare those lowborn Cheorwon trash, with no roots to speak of, make a fuss?"

"We need to put them in their place. Let me catch one of those burakumin[1] bastards."

Spatial hierarchy was part of human nature. That did not change just because people belonged to different ethnic groups.

Of course, that was not the only reason.

It was not just because they had been treated to fried chicken.

"Those bastards already took more of the typhoon recovery budget because they have a railway station."

"Honestly, what use are blood vessels if you don't have a brain? Who cares about a railway? This place is naturally more important."

Their interests were tied up in this too!

Whatever the origins of the provincial government might have been, and whatever sort of place Cheorwon was, the Japanese officials did not care in the slightest.

(In truth, the Korean official did not care either.)

Yet everyone present, Korean and Japanese alike, cared deeply about the Government-General's budget allocated to Gangwon and how it would be divided among them.

That was why they suddenly went on about cultural heritage from the Joseon royal family and lowborn burakumin from Cheorwon. It made it sound as though they had some kind of justification, did it not?

After work, one Japanese official visited Blue-Gold Pavilion and continued the conversation.

"So, the railway right now..."

"Yes, the North Manchuria Railway[2]."

The man seated across from him was roughly the operations chief of the Chuncheon military police.

The operations chief picked up a piece of mildly seasoned dakgalbi and began to speak.

Dakgalbi, potatoes, and onions lay scattered across a broad plate, forming Northeast Asia.

"Long ago, Russia laid a railway across Manchuria. Then we fought those bastards and won.

"We took the land south of Changchun then and made it into the South Manchuria Railway, but the main line running through Harbin and the region north of Changchun were still held by those Russkies."

A fork and knife stirred the dakgalbi across the plate before flipping it over.

"But Manchukuo has been established now. What do you think happens?"

A fried chicken drumstick was placed atop the overturned piece of dakgalbi.

"It means a Soviet railway cuts straight through the middle of another country. Can that be allowed?"

The Japanese official sighed.

"No."

"Right, it can't. The Soviets know that too. So they put their shares up for sale. We've been negotiating the price since May...

"Do those red bastards know how business works or not? They just throw out some outrageous price. Then naturally we wonder, are these bastards trying to sell or not? Do we wonder that, or don't we?"

"We do."

"Exactly. And last week, those Soviet red bastards did something else... Forget it.

"So the General Staff is thinking, 'Damn it, should we just crush them? We've already beaten them once.' But the Cabinet is wondering, 'Are we sure we'll win? We beat Russia, not the Soviet Union.' That's the sort of doubt they have...

"The Empire has enough to worry about already, so imagine how complicated things must be for the Soviets."

That was why Japan and the Soviet Union only circled each other around Manchuria, reluctant to start a war.

"Anyway, there's only one conclusion. The Empire's next thousand years lie on the continent. Manchuria lies on the road to the continent, and the peninsula lies on the road to Manchuria. Those routes need to be connected from end to end!

"That's why the value of railways in Gangwon is shooting up. Do you think the Cheorwon bastards won't get cocky?"

The Japanese official's face fell.

"Then... are we going to lose to Cheorwon?"

"We win."

With that declaration of victory, made without the slightest hesitation, the Chuncheon military police operations chief raised the fried chicken drumstick to his mouth.

"I just explained it all. The only reason those Cheorwon bastards are acting up is because they have a railway station. So what does that mean?"

The Japanese official's eyes lit up.

"If Chuncheon gets a station too..."

"Exactly. So what do you need to do? Gather everyone in Chuncheon with money and work them up to push for a railway here too.

"You know the people involved in the typhoon recovery project? Start with them, then bring in more people as you assess the scale. Right?"

"That's crystal clear. Talking to you always clears my head, Chief."

"That's why I'm the operations chief."

The puffed-up operations chief bit into the drumstick he had raised.

"But this is damn good."

The operations chief took chicken and dakgalbi back to the base.

The Chuncheon military police commander tore into a seasoned drumstick.

"Hey, Operations Chief. This seasoning is good, I admit that. It's different from karaage and tatsuta-age[3]. But it doesn't have any subtlety. Isn't it a little too openly lewd?"

"Your words are absolutely correct, Battalion Commander. Don't they use too much garlic, especially? I could never eat this during the day."

Here, the racial difference between Japanese and Koreans became apparent. Koreans could stuff themselves with garlic and still go to work, while the Japanese made a big fuss about how they could not possibly do that.

That was why, if one turned Imperial Japan into fantasy, it became a vampire empire.

"Still, it tastes good. Where do they sell it?"

"At Blue-Gold Pavilion for now."

"For now? What about later?"

"They're in the middle of building a restaurant. Some bastards called Han's Myriad Commerce will be opening soon."

"Han's Myriad Commerce?"

A man who was the commander of the Chuncheon military police could not possibly be stupid. His troop count might only be at battalion commander level, but under Japanese rule, the Chuncheon military police commander held authority close to that of a division commander.

"Chief, wasn't the kid Sawada was told to meet the sajang of Han's Myriad Commerce?"

The operations chief was not stupid either, so he nodded as if he had been waiting for the question.

"That's right. The young man who took that photograph with him."

"That picture came out well."

"I heard the people above gave it high praise too."

"I see."

The Chuncheon military police commander sucked all the meat and skin off the bone, leaving only bare chicken bones.

"So that's how it is..."

After a brief silence, he chewed on a chicken bone and asked, "That kid doesn't have any problems, does he?"

"I heard he's close to the Hajama family."

"That doesn't explain a damn thing. What are you even saying, Chief? He's close to them, so what?"

"My apologies. Other than that, the baron from Central Command said he was a good young man. And if he gets along with that Sawada bastard, then you know Sawada has a natural talent for finding dirt on people."

"Right. If he's been around Sawada without any major trouble, there can't be much to hold against him."

Everyone had a use. Sawada was extremely useful as a discipline officer.

Naturally, no one planned to help him rise too high.

What if a discipline officer who had risen through the ranks started policing their discipline too? It was best to give him only enough rank to harass the low-ranking bastards in their place.

In any case.

"I was just asking. It never hurts to be careful."

"True enough, Battalion Commander. Things have been chaotic lately."

"Yes. There aren't many factories here, so we can keep the reds from spreading too far. The problem is those Baekbaekgyo[4] and Inwang Gang bastards... Baekbaekgyo bothers me most of all."

A chicken bone landed on the plate with a clack. It crossed the bone already there, forming a cross.

"More precisely, religion itself bothers me. Those Jesus freaks make me sick too.

"Chief, I sincerely respect Lord Takamori, but abolishing the ban on Christianity was the one thing he truly got wrong. Whether it's Baekbaekgyo or those Jesus freaks, those bastards high on their own beliefs are bound to cause a major incident someday."

"Your insight is beyond reproach, Battalion Commander. But as the operations chief, allow me to propose an operation. Have you heard of divide and rule?"

At the operations chief's words, the battalion commander looked over the plates where dakgalbi, chicken, and chicken bones had been separated.

"You mean make them fight each other? The religions?"

The operations chief went one step further.

"If one side seems weak, we quietly support it a little. It's no secret that the more fiercely people believe in something, the less they trust those who believe in something else."

"Hmm..."

The Chuncheon military police commander sank into thought. It sounded plausible.

Still, something caught in his throat like the chicken bones on the plate.

"Chief, what you're saying does sound reasonable... but would it work that well? Say, with Baekbaekgyo..."

"Battalion Commander."

The operations chief smiled confidently.

"What can such clowns do? At most, they lure a few ignorant fools and make them chant useless spells.

"Baekbaekgyo isn't the only one. That's what these heretical sects are like."

Those who could not come out into the sunlight were only a handful anyway.

The operations chief firmly believed that tracking down hidden people was only irritating because it was like playing whack-a-mole. If they made up their minds to do it, they could wipe them out whenever they wished.

"On the other hand, as you fear, the officially licensed Jesus freaks act like they own the place under the Rising Sun just because they received approval. Their influence over the public is on another level."

"Hmm..."

"So these are people we'll clear out eventually anyway. If we keep them balanced, make them bite, tear at, and shove each other, we can save administrative resources for other matters."

The operations chief spoke with complete confidence.

The Chuncheon military police commander wondered if it could really be that simple, but could not be bothered to think any further.

"Fine. If there's anything to squeeze out, it's better to squeeze it out before slaughtering them. Sometimes you have to toss them food too..."

"I'll make sure the men understand. I'll also have them give more money to the informants."

"Mm."

The Chuncheon military police commander picked up another drumstick.

"Anyway, this chicken and dakgalbi stuff is excellent. Pass it around to the men doing the actual work under you.

"Ah, make sure they only eat the seasoned chicken after work."

Several days later, Ishihara, a corporal among the staff working under the Chuncheon military police operations chief, sat across from a man. As he unwrapped the bundle of seasoned chicken he had brought, he smacked his lips.

"This is the hottest thing in Chuncheon these days. They say it divides people into classes, those who've eaten it and those who haven't. I brought a whole chicken only because it's you."

The man seated across from him was Father Cho, one of the oligarchs of Upper Hamlet in Sebeom Valley and a member of a Catholic family.

Licking his lips, Father Cho made the sign of the cross.

"Oh! Thanks to Corporal Ishihara and Jesus, I get to taste something truly wonderful. In all this vast kingdom of God, Corporal Ishihara is surely the only one who'd bring me such a thing."

"You've brought me plenty of leads. We help each other."

Father Cho offered a prayer of thanks. Corporal Ishihara bit into a seasoned chicken drumstick.

"So, nothing new? You're the big name around here, Father Cho."

Father Cho finished his prayer of thanks before answering.

"You know Mogok School, don't you?"

"I do. Hongcheon is under our jurisdiction."

Just as Sawada Kazuo, the military police detachment commander of Inje township in Inje County, was under the command of the Chuncheon military police, the military police detachment commander of Seomyeon in Hongcheon County was under them as well.

Only the Cheorwon military police, those traitorous bastards, had an independent command structure separate from the Chuncheon military police in all of Gangwon. It was infuriating.

As Corporal Ishihara inwardly lamented the Cheorwon bastards' failure to know their place, Father Cho held a chicken wing in his mouth and began his own lament.

"There's been subversive activity at Mogok School."

"What kind of activity?"

"Well..."

Father Cho swallowed the meat, looked around several times, made the sign of the cross twice, and only then spoke in a trembling voice.

"They're planting rose of Sharon[5]!"

Corporal Ishihara paused.

"Rose of Sharon?"

"Yes. Can you believe it, Corporal...?

"What is this? Isn't it idolatry? Isn't it?

"First Corinthians, chapter ten, verse fourteen. First John, chapter five, verse twenty-one. Even the Old Testament, Exodus and Deuteronomy! They strictly forbid such things!

"On top of that, Mogok School also serves as a house of Jesus. How could they do that? They've read the Bible for nothing. What else would you expect from those counterfeit Protestant heretics?"

As usual, Corporal Ishihara let Father Cho's long-winded speech pass by him.

He picked out only the important point.

"Rose of Sharon... This is a serious matter. Too serious for me to act rashly on my own.

"Mogok School and Namgung Eok[6] both have some standing. We can't strike based on a rumor alone... We need a reliable witness, but we can't expose you either."

An exposed informant lost their value. Corporal Ishihara thought there was still much more to be extracted from Father Cho.

"Don't worry, Corporal. Am I not a priest?

"Unlike those counterfeit fools who call themselves pastors and make their own crosses, this cross passed down through four generations of my family is a real cross made by the Holy See."

With fingers stained in grease, Father Cho lovingly stroked the cross that had been passed down through his family for the last hundred years.

"What is a priest? A fatherly person who hears confessions and guides the flock. Don't worry, Corporal. I'll guide them properly into the kingdom of God."

A day later, Father Cho sat across from another man in Hongcheon.

"Guhwan, take this."

Father Cho handed over a paper bundle. It contained seasoned chicken bones.

"Father, this is...?"

The Adam's apple of the man named Jeong Guhwan bobbed. Though a day had passed since the chicken had been picked clean, the faint smell of oil and seasoning leaking from the bundle was enough to tempt any Korean of this era.

Father Cho smiled kindly.

"I wrapped it up especially for you. Chicken bones. Boil them well and build up your strength. There's still some meat and marrow left on them."

Jeong Guhwan lowered his head, overcome with emotion.

"Oh! Thank you. You're the only one who truly thinks of me..."

"Have you made up your mind?"

Jeong Guhwan flinched. The hand holding the paper-wrapped bones trembled.

"Well... I don't know whether what I'm doing is right..."

"My friend."

Father Cho spoke as if in sorrow.

"Recite Luke, chapter ten, verse seven."

After a moment of silence, Jeong Guhwan recited with his head still lowered.

"The worker deserves his wages..."

"Exactly. How much have you done for that school? And how have those people treated you?"

"..."

"If those heretics refuse to give you what is yours, then all you need to do is accept the share God gives you."

Father Cho's voice could not have been gentler.

Jeong Guhwan tightened his grip on the paper bundle of chicken bones.

"You're right, Father."

"Of course I am. I only speak what is right. Every word I say is God's word."

Father Cho patted Jeong Guhwan's shoulder with one hand and made the sign of the cross with the other.

"There's one of my believers at the police constable post here. As it happens, that person is also named Jeong, like you."

Father Cho smiled.

"God has made you sworn brothers."

The calendar turned.

November 4, 1933.

That day, eight plainclothes police officers stormed into Mogok-ri, Seomyeon, Hongcheon.

"Mogok School! Seditious organization! It ends today!"

That same day, a restaurant opened in a prime spot in downtown Chuncheon.

"Han's Chicken! Han's Dakgalbi! We open today!"

Students and teachers were dragged out into the courtyard of Mogok School.

"Get on your knees, you seditious bastards!"

The officers kicked the backs of their knees with their boots, forcing them down.

A long line of customers formed outside the Han's Myriad Commerce restaurant.

"Try it! Our valued customers!"

The Chuk Brothers personally poured a cup of ceremonial liquor for each customer and placed it in their hands.

Crash!

Desks and drawers flew out of the school office. Beside them, a large box was filled with confiscated documents.

Sizzle!

Chicken and potatoes tumbled across the wide iron griddle specially made for the restaurant. Beside it, oil bubbled furiously in a huge cauldron.

Corporal Ishihara put on his coat and entered Mogok School. Father Cho stood at his side.

"You've helped me score another big case. Keep up the good work."

Father Cho licked his lips and made the sign of the cross at the people of Mogok School being dragged away with their eyes covered.

"Of course, Corporal. To build the kingdom of God, people must work hard."

Ishihara smacked his lips.

"There's one shame, though. Of all days, I had to be assigned this job today. I said I'd definitely go eat seasoned chicken on opening day."

Wearing an apron Han San had made himself, he fried chicken and flipped dakgalbi. Kim Seong-ja stood beside him.

"Business is doing great thanks to you, noona. I look forward to working with you from now on too."

Kim Seong-ja lounged in the shade of the parasol Im Baechil held for her and answered in a lazy tone.

"Mhm, me too... But I don't see several regulars who said they'd definitely come on opening day..."

Han San smacked his lips.

"I know. Especially that military police officer called Corporal Ishihara. He said he'd definitely come eat seasoned chicken on opening day."

November 4, 1933.

On the day Han's Myriad Commerce opened its restaurant in Chuncheon, the incident that would later be called the [Cross Society Incident][7] in Han San's previous life began in neighboring Hongcheon.

Han San knew little about such so-called [historical events], and he had believed they were matters beyond his control.

But that was an underestimation.

Events that had occurred even in his previous life, when Han San had remained buried away in Sebeom Valley, were now shaped at every turning point by the greasy smell of fried chicken and cooking oil.

The "precious liquor bottles" and "rice cakes freshly steamed at the mill" that would have changed hands without Han San were replaced, because Han San existed, by "that food everyone says is popular at the market these days."

This was how someone entered history. It did not begin with the creation of one from zero, but with an existing one being replaced by another one.

Han San was no different.

He had now earned the right to set foot on a page of history. Han San himself would realize that fact not long afterward.

[1] Burakumin were a hereditary outcaste minority in Japan, historically subject to severe discrimination despite being ethnically Japanese.

[2] The North Manchuria Railway was the Japanese name for the northern Chinese Eastern Railway, then controlled by the Soviet Union and bought by Manchukuo in 1935.

[3] Karaage and tatsuta-age are Japanese styles of deep-fried seasoned meat or fish, the latter traditionally coated with starch.

[4] Baekbaekgyo was a Korean new religious sect later notorious for mass killings uncovered during a 1937 police investigation.

[5] “Rose of Sharon” refers in Korean usage to mugunghwa, Hibiscus syriacus, a potent symbol of Korean identity under Japanese rule.

[6] Namgung Eok (1863-1939) was a Korean educator, journalist, and independence activist who founded Mogok School and promoted mugunghwa.

[7] The Cross Society Incident was a 1933 colonial police crackdown in Hongcheon involving Mogok School and an alleged anti-Japanese Christian group called the Cross Society.

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