“I like the chickens. I didn’t get pecked even once this morning when I got the eggs. The barn is nice to sleep in, especially since Aunt Kyunghee made us those hay blankets.”
“Well, you’ll feel differently when you get older,” Noa said, cradling the thick volumes of the examination books in his arms. “Appa would’ve wanted us to go to university and become educated people.”
“I hate books,” Mozasu said, scowling.
“I love them. I could read books all day and do nothing else. Appa loved to read, too.”
Mozasu plowed into Noa in an attempt to wrestle him, and Noa laughed.
“Brother, what was appa like?” Mozasu sat up and looked at his brother soberly.
“He was tall. And he had light-colored skin like you. He wore glasses like me. He was very good at school and good at teaching himself things from books. He loved learning. He was happy when he was reading; he told me so.”
Noa smiled.
“Like you,” Mozasu said. “Not like me. Well, I like manga.”
“That’s not real reading.”
Mozasu shrugged.
“He was always nice to umma and me. He used to tease Uncle Yoseb and make him laugh. Appa taught me how to write my letters and remember the multiplication tables. I was the first one in school to know them by heart.”
“Was he rich?”
“No. Ministers can’t be rich.”
“I want to be rich,” Mozasu said. “I want to have a big truck and a driver.”
“I thought you wanted to live in a barn,” Noa said, smiling, “and collect chicken eggs every morning.”
“I’d rather have a truck like Hansu ajeossi.”
“I’d rather be an educated man like appa.”
“Not me,” Mozasu said. “I want to make a lot of money, then umma and Aunt Kyunghee wouldn’t have to work anymore.”
9
Osaka, 1949
After the family returned to Osaka, Hansu gave Kim the job of collecting fees from the store owners at Tsuruhashi market. In exchange for these fees, Hansu’s company gave the owners protection and support. Naturally, no one wanted to pay these not-insignificant sums, but there was little choice in the matter. On the rare instances when someone cried poor or foolishly refused to pay, Hansu sent his other men, not Kim, to address the situation. For a store owner, such fee payments were a long-established practice—just one more cost of doing business.
Any agent who worked for Hansu had to look the part of the larger organization, and the men who worked for Hansu, both Japanese and Korean, took special pains to keep a low profile, avoiding any unnecessary negative attention. Except for his nearsightedness, corrected with his thick eyeglasses, Kim was a pleasant-looking man—humble, diligent, and well-spoken. Hansu preferred Kim to do the collection because Kim was effective and unfailingly polite; he was the clean wrapper for a filthy deed.
It was Saturday evening, and Kim had just collected the week’s payments—over sixty packets of cash, each covered in fresh paper and labeled with the name of the business. No one had missed a payment. When he reached Hansu’s parked sedan, Kim bowed to his boss, who was just stepping out of the car. His driver would pick them up later.
“Let’s have a drink,” Hansu said, patting Kim on the back. They walked in the direction of the market. Along the road, men continuously bowed to Hansu, and he acknowledged them with nods. He stopped for no one, however.
“I’m going to take you to a new place. Pretty girls there. You must want one after living in a barn for so long.”
Kim laughed out of surprise. His boss didn’t normally discuss such things.
“You like the married one,” Hansu said. “I know.”
Kim kept walking, unable to reply.
“Sunja’s sister-in-law,” Hansu said, looking straight ahead as they walked down the narrow market street. “She’s still good-looking. Her husband can’t do it anymore. He’s drinking more, nee?”
Kim removed his glasses and cleaned the lenses with his handkerchief. He liked Yoseb and felt bad for not saying something. Yoseb drank a lot, but he was not a bad man. It was clear that the men in the neighborhood still admired him. At home, when Yoseb felt well enough, he helped the boys with schoolwork and taught them Korean. On occasion, he fixed machines for some factory owners he knew, but in his condition, he couldn’t work regularly.
“How’s the house?” Hansu asked.
“I’ve never lived so well.”
Kim was telling the truth. “The meals are delicious. The house is very clean.”
“The women need a workingman to watch over them. But I worry that you’re too attached to the married one.”
“Boss, I’ve been thinking more about going back home. Not to Daegu, but to the North.”
“This again? No. End of discussion. I don’t care if you go to those socialist meetings, but don’t start believing that horseshit about returning to the motherland. The heads of Mindan are no better. Besides, they’ll kill you in the North, and they’ll starve you in the South. They all hate Koreans who’ve been living in Japan. I know. If you go, I will never support it. Never.”