The Mountain of Pencil Stubs
"And where are you rushing off to in such a hurry?"
Before I could answer, Chairman Park's eyes were already tracing where I meant to go. They found the annex at the far end of the garden.
"Off to see your father, then."
The corner of his mouth lifted, just a little.
"Grandfather, you didn't go in to the office. Is something wrong?"
"It's Sunday."
"You usually go in on Sundays, too."
"Why? Can't stand the sight of your old grandfather loafing around the house instead of making money?"
"It's not that..."
"If you've got something to say, say it."
"No. It's just—even a kid like me is running around like this, and a grandfather who can tilt the whole economy is resting at home. I wondered if that wasn't a loss for the nation."
"Listen to this little rascal, laying on the flattery. What is it? Business got you needing your grandfather's help?"
"...Mm."
When I hesitated, Chairman Park looked faintly expectant.
"I always need your help, Grandfather."
Sure enough, a smile rose to his mouth.
"All right, then. What should I help you with?"
"I'm fine for now."
"...?"
"If I stick my hand out the moment things get hard, my share gets smaller."
"What?"
"You weren't going to help me for free anyway..."
"Greedy little thing. Won't be satisfied until you've swallowed the whole lot yourself?"
"Wanting a little more isn't a crime, hehe."
I couldn't have said why, but something about Chairman Park kept pulling the truth out of me. And always with a joke folded in.
"So. Can you actually hold on to as much as you're greedy for?"
"That's what all this running around is for."
"And once you've made the money, got somewhere to spend it?"
"Mm... I'll have to think about that."
Was I imagining it? His smile seemed to grow.
"Your father's waiting. Get on, then."
I bowed and hurried toward Park Jongin's annex.
Knock, knock.
My hands were so small I wasn't sure the sound had carried. I counted to about five in my head and was reaching for the door when the latch clicked. It opened as if it had been waiting.
"Jihun."
Park Jongin met me with a gaunt face.
"What's the matter? Coming to find your father at this hour."
"Do I need a reason to see you?"
At that, Jongin looked as if he'd been caught short.
"You're right. Come in. It's been too long since I talked with my boy."
"Great!"
I had never been inside Park Jongin's study before. It must have been close to a thousand square feet. A large desk and a handsome audio system were about the only things still intact. Everything else was appliances taken apart until you couldn't tell what they had been, strewn across the floor.
"Dad, what is all this?"
"Studying. This and that."
"Grown-ups have to study too?"
"Of course."
He went on, peeling off gloves worn soft with use.
"Your father is responsible for a lot of people. I can't afford to be lazy about learning."
"Isn't it hard?"
"Hard, he says."
He brushed it off, but his eyes looked hollow—proof that exhaustion of body and mind had stacked up, layer on layer. Even in a good mood, permission to go to America would have been a coin toss. Like this, it was worse. I would have to lighten the room first, then feel my way into asking.
My thoughts were still tangling when he spoke.
"Want something to drink?"
"I'll get it myself."
"No. Dad will."
While Jongin went to the refrigerator, I looked carefully over the desk. A leather-bound notebook, dense with notes. Beside it, a thick stack of documents waiting for his signature. But what caught my eye was something else entirely.
On one corner of the desk, piled high, were pencil stubs no bigger than a fingertip.
A chaebol. Who would say a word if he threw a pencil away half used? And yet he had worn them down to nothing, and then kept every last one. Why?
A seat that decided a company's future. One signature, and the fates of tens of thousands of employees swung this way or that. Was this choice the right one? Was the judgment sound—and how could he ever be sure? Maybe, just to shake off that endless weight, Park Jongin stacked those stubby pencils, layer upon layer. The machine parts covering the study floor were the same. So were the days at the food subsidiary, when he ate nothing but plain bread to sharpen his tongue. All of it was a device for remembering that he had worked to the very limit. A spell, a talisman, a totem: I threw myself into this until I was raw, so please—trust me.
"What are you thinking so hard about?"
The voice came from behind me. I turned, pretending to be at ease.
"Nothing... just looking around."
"You like orange juice, don't you?"
"Of course."
I gave an awkward little laugh and drained the glass.
"Dad, have you been really busy lately?"
"Hm?"
"You've been getting home later..."
"Now that you mention it, I haven't talked with you much these days, Jihun."
He smiled, awkward and sorry. Then he started asking me this and that. Even so, his eyes kept drifting to the receiver on the desk. He was waiting on a call. I could guess.
The semiconductor investment must be going badly.
Why wouldn't it? Chairman Park had thundered that if a thing was certain, he should swallow it alone—so Jongin was no doubt wearing himself out, scraping money together from every side. Those hollow eyes are probably from that.
But there was nothing to worry about. I couldn't remember every step, yet Park Jongin would come through this crisis whole. Of course he would. I had seen it plainly in my previous life: Hyeon-gang, with semiconductors out in front, rising into one of the finest companies in the world. Which meant one thing. Park Jongin's gamble had paid off beautifully.
What help could a man like that need? He was going to succeed anyway. All I had to do was give him my full support.
Perhaps because my mind was settled, I looked at him slowly and asked.
"Dad. Those pencils. Did you use them all yourself?"
"What?"
"I was wondering if you kept studying until they piled up like a mountain."
Instead of answering, Jongin gave a shy smile. His heart, I suspected, was still turned toward the phone that would not ring.
"And these machines. Did you take them all apart and test them?"
"I did."
"Wow! Every one of them?"
He nodded. Nodded again.
"Then you must be the best expert in the country."
"Not necessarily."
"Come on! Who else has used as many products as you have? You take them apart, fix them, write it all down... you've done so much research."
The thing Park Jongin most wanted to hear.
"You've worked harder than anyone, so you're going to succeed. Right?"
"Jihun, I'm sorry to say effort doesn't always bear fruit."
"But there are so many smart people around you. If you work that hard, imagine how hard those excellent employees must have worked."
A man like Jongin couldn't fail to see why I was saying it.
"You trust your father one hundred percent. Is that it?"
"Of course."
"Because I'm your father?"
"No. Because you're a more passionate businessman than anyone."
"...!"
"You're a manager who studies until the pencil stubs pile up like a mountain. If I were a shareholder, I think I'd be very happy."
"So—hang in there, Dad. Is that it?"
"You don't even have to push."
"Hm?"
"You've already worked so hard. It's going to go well. It has to."
Because I saw it.
Had the absurd trust in my eyes reached him? A grin broke across his face. For the first time, Park Jongin gave me his whole attention.
"Is that what you came to tell me?"
"Well... sort of..."
Bringing up America in a moment like this felt wrong.
"Y-yeah. I came because I wanted to cheer you on."
Permission for America... I'll get that from Mom. No—from Song Suhee. Ahem.
"Then I'll get going, Dad."
"Jihun."
"...?"
"Didn't you have something to say?"
"What?"
"Like asking me to send you to America."
Huh? How did he—!
"Your grandfather told me a few days ago. He said you'd come find me before long."
A few days ago... I hadn't even thought of going to America then. I was forcing myself to meet Jongin's eyes, hiding how thrown I was.
"He said if you pestered me to let you go, I should pretend to lose and give in."
"Oh. I see."
"He sounded absolutely certain."
Ha... how many moves ahead is that old man looking?
"Then why didn't you just get permission from your grandfather yourself?"
"I'm your son. Of course I come to you first."
"Is that why you came?"
"...Mm."
"And once you got here, I looked so awful you couldn't bring it up, so you were just going to turn around and leave?"
I scratched at my head.
"Still, it's a good thing."
"...?"
"Your grandfather was lying in wait. If you went to him ahead of your own parents... business or not, he was going to give you a serious scolding."
I winced. Knowing Chairman Park, he had probably put it like this.
'If that little brat goes blind for money, ignores who's above him, and comes charging in—business or whatever else, I'll smash the lot of it!'
So this was the bottom-up chain of command, earning its keep. Anyway.
"Jihun. Are you doing this because you feel pressured?"
"Pressured?"
"The thing you're going all the way to America to do. Your grandfather called it a business."
"..."
"Are you worried that when you grow up you'll have to inherit the company—and this is practice, because of that?"
Instead of answering, I waited for Park Jongin to go on. I wanted to hear what he would say.
"If that's really why, it's all right. You don't have to force yourself down the path the adults have laid out. I'll let you do all the literature you love..."
"Dad, I'm going to America so I can do all the literature I love."
"What do you mean?"
How was I supposed to explain it? Would it be easier if I laid out the actual plan? I was still turning it over when—
Ring-ring-ring!
The bell suddenly shrilled. Was this the call he had waited so long for? Jongin looked from me to the phone and back, his eyes asking whether the rest could wait until after. I nodded.
"This is Park Jongin."
Whatever he heard was not good. His face darkened. But he did not bend. He spoke more firmly than I had ever heard him.
"I'm sure you gave it everything you had. That's all right. Please proceed as I said earlier. The loss doesn't matter."
I couldn't hear it, but the voice on the other end must have pushed back. Jongin answered even more firmly than before.
"This is a business that will succeed. No question. I'll take responsibility, so please settle the equity within two weeks."
At that, the other side must have had no choice but to yield. Jongin set the receiver down. For a while he stared at the pencil stubs, as if the call were still in the room. A moment later, remembering I was there, he came over.
"America... should I go with you?"
"No. You're busy. Going with someone from the staff is enough."
"You'll really be all right?"
"Of course!"
"All right. You'll go alone this time, but when this busy stretch is over... I'll take both my boys on a trip. Your father promises."
"Thank you, Dad."
The permission I had been waiting for had come through. And yet, somehow, it wasn't the pleasure of having gotten what I came for that stayed with me.
Those words from Park Jongin's call would not, for a long time, leave my ear.