“I’ll walk you out, Chief,” YoungGu said as they went back through the bustling courtyard. “It’s so hot already, and summer has only just begun . . . Why, what’s the matter?”
JungHo had stopped walking. In the middle of the queue, his eyes had found a man he knew better than he would care to admit. With his factory worker’s shirt and pants, and somewhat more filled-out shape, HanChol had no trace left of the raw intensity of a penniless graduate. Even in the midst of war, he had the strapping look of a man ideally poised between youth and maturity, past accomplishments and future ambition. JungHo had heard that he had opened up an auto repair shop and was skillfully expanding the business even as the whole country fared like a paper boat in a hurricane. Nonetheless, he wasn’t so successful that he could avoid coming to beg for food from YoungGu—JungHo thought with some satisfaction. He realized that this was his moment of revenge, a chance vindication that happens only once in people’s lives. It was about three o’clock in the afternoon, an in-between time of day, and dead leaves were rustling on the sand where the dog used to lie in the sun. JungHo unconsciously took in these details so that he could recollect later the precise moment at which he felt the happiness of humiliating someone who had deeply humiliated him in the past. His ears drummed with blood and all of his veins were humming, from fingertips to toes. It was one of the most pleasant sensations he’d ever experienced.
“Do you know that guy?” YoungGu asked.
“It’s a long story but he’s a real”—JungHo searched for the right word—“coward. Yes, that’s what he is,” he said, satisfied that even MyungBo couldn’t say he wasn’t being fair.
“I’ll make him leave right now. Or beat him to death, whatever you prefer.” As the words left YoungGu’s lips, five or six of his underlings filed behind them automatically, clenching their knuckles and cracking their necks.
“No, I’ll take care of him myself,” JungHo said, walking up to the queue with balled-up fists. The crowd instinctively quieted down and lassoed their attention on the two men. JungHo’s recognition wasn’t returned; in a gesture of mild suspicion, HanChol narrowed his dumb eyes that women inexplicably liked so much.
“You’re Mr. Kim HanChol?” JungHo asked, without bowing or offering his hand. “I’m Nam JungHo. You may not know me, but we both know Jade Ahn.”
HanChol’s face was transformed at the mention of her name, as if it were an antidote that turned arrogance to sorrow. “I have heard of you. Jade used to tell me you were one of her closest friends,” he said, casting his eyes low.
“Did she?” JungHo wondered, more to himself. He flushed a little imagining what they’d said about him, but he brushed this aside.
“She told me about you as well, Mr. Kim HanChol. You were not a good friend to her.”
JungHo saw with satisfaction how his enemy’s face paled and lost its self-absorbed equanimity. So that was his weakness—the need to appear to be right. HanChol was the kind of man who could convince himself that he had always done the best he could. JungHo knew that this look of sorrow was just one way he protected his own self-regard. The best revenge against HanChol would be shaking his conceit, and that wasn’t going to happen just by pummeling him with fists.
“The likes of you don’t deserve to breathe the same air she breathes. Never, ever appear in front of her again, you hear me?” JungHo snarled, taking a step closer to his rival and barely resisting the urge to spit on the ground. HanChol hadn’t moved an inch all the while, like a lizard that has sensed a predator and decides to play dead until the danger passes. He did not look so fine now—only cowardly, just as JungHo intuited. If only Jade knew!
“Boys, make sure Mr. Kim HanChol here gets whatever he needs,” he said, turning around. YoungGu snapped to attention and sent his underlings off in all directions in search of food.
“And don’t accept any payment from him.”
He knew without looking that HanChol, with his tiresome nobleman’s rules, was humiliated by having to accept the generosity of someone who clearly despised him. And no matter what happened in the past, ultimately it was he, JungHo, who was going to see her this evening. She needed him. The pleasure of revenge was so great that he felt as though he were a furious star, aligned perfectly in a constellation.
*
JUNGHO MANAGED TO BARTER THREE of YoungGu’s potatoes for a yellow melon on the way to Jade’s house. He had hardly finished knocking when she appeared and opened the gate for him. She accepted the heavy linen bag from him with both hands, opened it, and gasped.
“Barley, potatoes, anchovies . . . And what’s this? A chameh melon! I feel like I’m looking at a mirage. JungHo, what would I do without you?” she said, ushering him inside.
“I only wish there’s something more I can do. How is Aunt Dani?” he asked, taking off his fedora.
“She’s still struggling with fever. I think it’s the shock from the raids, and this steamy weather isn’t helping, either. She hasn’t had much to eat in months and has lost too much weight.” Jade blushed. She herself had become gaunt, and there were dusk-like shadows under her cheekbones that he hadn’t seen before.
“Did they take everything?” The police had been raiding people’s homes to collect not just rice and jewelry, but also metal pots, pans, clothing irons, furnaces, fire pokers, and the like. Without discrimination they were all melted down and remade into artillery, ships, and airplanes.
“Almost. In the garden, I dug a hole under the cherry tree and buried a few of our most expensive jewelry. But what use is a diamond necklace or a gold comb when the rice is half mixed with sand and there’s nothing to eat?”