Welcome to Heaven
Yongjin drained the soju glass beside him in one shot mid-sentence. Talking about it had clearly gotten his blood up.
"People get chances. Big ones, small ones—but among them, there are rare opportunities that can change a life, even change the world. I believe that. And I think this is one of those chances."
I looked at Yongjin's face, then emptied my own glass.
"I don't know about anything that grand. I don't get you, hyung, and I don't get that Go Myeongsuk woman either. Why you're suddenly so set on doing something like this."
Yongjin suddenly reached out and grabbed my hand. I flinched and pulled free. Part of it was the surprise of being grabbed, but I genuinely hated physical contact with other men. Yongjin didn't care about my reaction and kept talking.
"You're the core of this whole thing. All you have to do is stand in front of people and tell them stories that become blood and flesh to them, with that silver tongue of yours. Myeongsuk and I will handle everything else."
I studied Yongjin's face. It looked ready to detonate some enormous incident at any second—and I could see a flicker of real resolve there too. Honestly, I had nothing left to lose. My family wasn't rich, and even if I graduated and entered society, our circumstances weren't going to improve overnight. I took a mental step back and thought it through. I could do nothing for a while, just go with the flow, and if things went south I could simply wash my hands of it, get a job, and that would be that.
"I don't know. I really don't. But I trust you, hyung. I like talking in front of people. So for now I'll just do what I like. I won't worry about anything else."
A smile rose on Yongjin's face.
"Good. Leave everything to me. Then I'll take that as your agreement."
After that we dropped the subject and simply drank more. Eventually Yongjin and I collapsed in my room and passed out.
When I woke in the morning, Yunchae was in my room. I sat up with a face that clearly asked why she was there. She had brought takeout from a hangover-soup place. Yongjin and I dragged ourselves upright and ate the soup to clear our heads. Watching us, Yunchae spoke.
"I couldn't get through…"
Yongjin grinned like an idiot and kept spooning soup. Yunchae continued.
"That… Go Myeongsuk-ssi kept calling…"
Yongjin lifted his head.
"Give me that woman's number. I need to meet her today."
Hearing Go Myeongsuk's name, I couldn't look at Yunchae's face. At the same time, my lower body seemed to remember the thrilling edge of Myeongsuk's Bangjungsul. I buried my head in the soup bowl and focused on eating.
The crowds grew. I couldn't begin to understand where all these sudden new people were coming from or what they had heard. Yunchae's house was too small to gather everyone at once. In the end I stood in front of them five days a week, and on weekends I did it twice a day. It was hard—exhausting—but every Sunday evening came settlement time, and a week's fatigue melted away at once.
Enormous amounts of money were coming in. More people meant more cash, sums a student like me could barely imagine. Yet neither Yongjin nor Myeongsuk looked satisfied.
"Haa… this still isn't enough…"
Yongjin muttered as if to himself. Myeongsuk nodded.
"You're right. We can't keep going like this. Meetings this small won't let us scale any further. And our Jisin will wear himself out."
Yongjin stroked his chin.
"A place… we need a bigger place…"
He had named the problem, but no one offered a solution. With the money we had, renting a large venue was impossible. We would only burn labor and end up with nothing. The four of us sat with our heads together for hours, but in truth only Yongjin and Myeongsuk were thinking; Yunchae and I watched them like empty dolls. The meeting ended without results.
As I was about to leave Yunchae's house, she caught my sleeve.
"Are you going home again tonight? Can't you stay?"
I smiled, took her hand, and said,
"I've got a report to write and stuff…"
Yunchae didn't press a second time. I left her house and started down the hill. Go Myeongsuk was waiting for me. As if it were the most natural thing in the world, she linked her arm through mine and led me to a motel; after three climaxes under her dazzling technique I went home drained of every last drop of energy.
The question of a venue did not linger long.
Day after day of lectures left my body wrecked, so I skipped every class and lay in bed. That was when Yongjin called. I was too tired and annoyed to answer, but the phone kept ringing. I forced myself up and took the call.
"Why didn't you pick up? You sick?"
"No… I was sleeping."
My well-being and my answers seemed to be nothing more than polite noise to him. He went straight to the point.
"I think we can get a place."
It was good news, yet I felt no real joy—as if I were listening to someone else's story.
"Yeah?"
Yongjin's rising excitement plunged.
"Yeah. Why are you reacting like that? Am I the only one happy here?"
"No… I'm happy too."
"Anyway, I'm on my way there with Go Myeongsuk-ssi right now. I'll call you later."
The line went dead. I tossed the phone aside and tried to sleep again.
I woke late in the afternoon. Left alone any longer I felt I might die of loneliness, so I got up, washed, and was eating something simple when the door opened and Yongjin walked in. His face was full of excitement.
"I found an incredible place. Once we put a little work into it, it'll be perfect. Get up—we're going together."
He hauled my listless body along without waiting for consent. I had no desire to go out, but I dragged myself upright, splashed water on my face, and followed him. Yongjin talked nonstop the whole way.
"Heaven's helping us, I swear. I never thought we'd find a solution this fast… of course Myeongsuk-ssi is the one who tracked it down…"
I glanced at him.
"Myeongsuk-ssi?"
Yongjin nodded hard.
"Yeah. Turns out she knows someone with serious real-estate connections. The guy's owned the place for years, had it on long-term lease, then the tenant left and he didn't know what to do with it. We agreed to fix it up ourselves and pay monthly rent."
Typical Myeongsuk. How far did that woman's network reach? Yongjin seemed to share the thought, because he kept going.
"Her connections are way wider than we imagined. From now on I should stick to her and learn the secret."
Was a wide network a secret technique? I thought of it as time. The tattoos on her body, those sexual arts—thinking of them, I realized she was a woman who had lived through years we could not even imagine.
We rode the subway and arrived near Yunchae's house. When I looked bewildered, Yongjin read the question on my face.
"That's right. It's very close to Yunchae's place."
Yunchae's house sat in a neighborhood at the very edge of Seoul. Development was still underway there; a short walk from her house brought you to the upper reaches of the Han River. The area had the classic look of those riverside stretches—rows of motels, restaurants selling whole boiled chicken, bars with live acoustic guitar. It had once been a playground for middle-aged affairs.
Lately demand had dried up, sales had fallen, and one by one the shops began to close. Yet the entertainment businesses could not quickly sell the buildings and land. Most owners had paid key money to move in, so unless property prices hit a certain level they would take a loss. But in a collapsed commercial district prices never rose; ownership and sales both stalled, debts piled up, and empty shops and buildings lined the streets.
Eventually owners crushed by debt dumped the properties at fire-sale prices, and the waiting bosses from Seoul snapped them up to build private villas. So now half the area was the old, half-empty entertainment district, and half was newly built luxury vacation homes.
I had naively assumed Yongjin meant some restaurant or similar place that had sat unsold and unused for years. That innocent guess shattered the moment we stood in front of it.
Yongjin stopped and stared at a three-story building. Every light was out; against the darkening evening sky a signboard stabbed upward. Enough daylight remained for me to read it.
And beneath it, another sign that had almost completely fallen away.
Motel.