Legacy 3
“You really... look a lot like your grandfather.”
“I didn’t realize it until today, but I’ve been hearing that a lot.”
“......You really do look just like him.”
“Please, make yourself comfortable.”
“Well. Maybe next time we meet. It’s hard right now.”
The grandmother spoke while gazing down at her warm coffee.
“It’s warm. Yes. He was warm, too. So warm that you could thaw in that heat without realizing you were getting burned.”
“Pardon?”
The grandmother seemed to see something through me—a expression that was sadly joyful, as if nothing could happen anymore—before lifting the corners of her mouth and sliding a business card toward me.
“This is the contact for Mr. Kim that your grandfather sent me.”
Mr. Kim
[Phone Number]
“This is...”
“I don’t know the details. But when I was settling in America, he was worried about me and sent this reliable person. Mr. Kim changes his number often, so your grandfather asked me to pass it on since he didn’t have the latest one...... It’s too late now. But I feel like a weight has been lifted, being able to pass it to someone like this. I owed your grandfather a great debt.”
“Who should I say introduced me when I call?”
“Just say... Grandmother Hong referred you.”
Hurried footsteps echoed through the quiet funeral hall corridor, feeling urgent in the silence. As the funeral hall grew noisy when it should have been hushed, I turned my attention from the business card in my hand toward the entrance.
Then the grandmother stood quietly, speaking softly.
“I should get going. The living must move on with time, after all.”
“Yes. Thank you for taking the time to visit despite your busy schedule.”
“You make time, even if you have to carve it out. That’s the kind of man he was.”
At the funeral entrance, a man in a black suit waited for Grandmother Hong.
‘That kind of man...’
I pondered, holding the small business card that carried the weight of my grandfather’s life.
‘What kind of person was Grandpa?’
I approached a man occupying a table at a crowded coffee shop during peak hours and greeted him.
Despite the cold weather, he sat on the terrace—an ordinary man with an oddly peculiar air.
“Hello. Mr. Kim?”
“Call me Kim.”
“Then I’ll call you Mr. Kim.”
“......”
Maybe because he looked like some uncle you’d pass by once or twice on the street? I glanced around and said,
“Grandmother Hong sent me.”
“......”
“The person I was supposed to meet...”
“He was my grandfather. But... you’re the Mr. Kim he was looking for?”
He nodded once with a stoic expression—that was it.
Before his nod even finished, I had to focus to not miss any unfamiliar scene, enduring a dizzying headache I couldn’t get used to and the ringing in my ears.
It felt like scenes from a blurry old photo, and at the same time, like the photo was coming alive with a strange sense of floating.
As the ringing mixed with my hearing, the conversation gradually sharpened.
Suddenly, the photos seemed to speed by, as if something was interfering with reading the memory. My senses twisted, pages flipped with a rustle, shifting to another scene.
‘Screech.’
The twisting senses eased, nausea subsided, and conversation resumed.
“This is a hospital. No need to act like a wounded beast.”
“......”
“I’m speaking casually because of my age. Complain if you dislike it.”
“......”
“No reply, so I’ll assume as I please.”
“......”
“Plenty call you a commie or spy, but I couldn’t let a living soul die. I owe my nephew here. I worried about his soft heart growing up, but he turned out fine...”
“They must’ve blocked the surgery...”
“My nephew’s the head of surgery here. I covered the costs—what couldn’t he do?”
Mr. Kim gazed steadily at Grandfather, eyes cautious like a wounded animal sizing up a threat, laced with suspicion.
“You’ll face backlash for sure.”
“My life hasn’t been easy; no need to worry.”
“The company I worked for...”
“Enough. I know. I hated commies too, lived blind and deaf my whole life. Lost what mattered most. I won’t let black propaganda cloud my sight anymore. Just don’t be a spy. After my little sister suffered at the hands of a northern soldier, I can’t think well of them. Old age makes me blunt, but young, I was rough too—joined the flames knowing it exploited the wounded. Realizing it was wrong, I’d come too far. Call this my atonement. Heal up and go. My nephew will handle your treatment.”
“......”
The dizzying sensations returned; the overheard conversation slowed like taffy, senses fading back as I felt myself sitting.
Mr. Kim’s memories flooded in. He didn’t look puzzled or worried at my confused expression, mistaking it perhaps for distress over explaining Grandfather’s passing to a stranger.
I let my jumbled thoughts flow out.
“Do you know why Grandpa wanted your contact?”
“......”
He nodded silently, staring. Despite his ordinary attire, cold sweat trickled down my back.
“I never met him, so I don’t know for sure. But I’d guess... finding someone.”
“Ah...”
“Probably wanted to find his daughter. Too late... but not. Lucky.”
“Pardon?”
“If he found who he sought...”
“Ah...”
‘Mr. Kim seems dangerous but not bad. Then why did Dae-baek-gong call this contact a singularity reward?’
Dae-baek-gong said meeting Grandmother Hong was the reward, but she gave Mr. Kim’s card—so it must be him...
Calming my confusion, tension cleared; my vision widened, revealing what I’d missed.
Mr. Kim’s black jacket looked too thin for midwinter. His expression stoic, but red-rimmed eyes—grieving Grandpa’s news? His weary face didn’t fit this open-air cafe in winter.
‘If the memory’s real, forced retirement?’
“This is a token of appreciation.”
“What?”
I pulled an envelope of prepared money from my pocket and slid it to Mr. Kim.
His calm demeanor shattered into bewilderment.
“If you knew Grandpa sought his daughter, you’ve investigated. So, a retainer fee. I’m clueless, but this seems right... Tell me if it’s short.”
He pondered, then pushed the envelope back.
“I take pay for work done. This is beyond scope.”
“Think of it as an advance on a contract?”
His sharp gaze observed me, but I shrugged, stressing no ulterior motive.
“I need someone who’ll hear out a kid like me and take jobs. I’m straight on the money, at least.”
His eyes darkened on the envelope.
“Well, you seem precise enough.”
“And I need someone reliable.”
“Trusting a stranger?”
“I trust Grandpa. If he reached out at the end, he’s trustworthy, right?”
“......”
“I don’t do illegal work.”
“Me neither. I’ve got family to protect.”
“No doubts about my skills?”
‘Doubt a ex-NIS type?’ I couldn’t say, so I reinforced my shield.
“I trust Grandpa.”
“No illegal jobs, so no money without clear contract terms. Could get tangled in something shady.”
‘Then... time to ask about what’s been nagging me?’
“Let’s make it clear. I want you to look into a PE teacher named Han Young-chul.”
“......?”
“You might know—he’s been in the news lately.”
“The underage rapist?”
“But under our laws, he’ll likely get probation. He’ll beg victims for settlements. Nicely put, pleading; worst case, stalk and spread rumors.”
“Fuck.”
I ignored Mr. Kim’s curse and continued.
“Handle that...”
“What?”
His face twisted in shock at my request.
But I turned away innocently.
“It’s not illegal, right?”
“I’ll take this as retainer. Extras may arise—okay?”
“Yes. Call if more’s needed.”
Surprised a student wasn’t stingy but wanted results, his expression shifted to resigned acceptance. He asked detailed questions, discussing the job.
Satisfied with info, Mr. Kim vanished into the crowd.
Gazing at his disappearing back, I murmured—to no one, soothing my heart’s turmoil.
“I hope you find happiness, Mr. Kim.”
A small wish.
‘Someone Grandpa saved should live happily.’
That’s why I asked the deathly-faced Mr. Kim to handle my nagging worry.
As Grandmother Hong said, the living’s time must flow.
I just pointed the direction.