A Sacred Place
“By then, whether from the sickness of the heart or not, my body truly fell ill. I was struck with an incurable disease, and day by day my strength drained away. With no children to lean on, we had no choice but to come into this convalescent hospital.”
The old man seemed short of breath; he drew a deep breath once or twice and took another sip of water. His wife watched him with a face full of pity. He began again.
“Living here, I came to see how utterly empty everything had been. What was money, that I would sell even the place I was meant to return to, and cast away my memories? The sense of loss was of a different order entirely. I took it all as heaven’s punishment. I had become a man who, for worldly greed, had lost what mattered more.”
Strangely, every word of his story struck home. I found myself absorbed in what he was saying.
“Since the year before last, the commercial district in that area collapsed. After an investigative program labeled it a den of adultery, foot traffic dried up overnight. Markets of that kind fall that fast. By early this year the reputation was ruined for good, and as people left one by one it became impossible to do business. Then the people who’d leased the place from me got in touch. Sales had dried up, they said; they’d decided to pull out, and if I wanted, they would revise the contract and return it early. I amended it at once, and the property became mine again.”
Ah. I nodded. Even in the short time I’d known him, the old man and that motel had never seemed to fit the same image.
“Once the contract was revised, I meant to tear the building down right away. I was going to put up a modest little house, the kind of guesthouse I’d once run, and spend the rest of my days there. I was making those plans and others when… I received a terminal diagnosis. The time I have left is less than a month. There was nothing I could do in that time—not the official paperwork, not the physical construction…”
Despair passed over the old man’s face.
“In the end, the chance that my last wish would come true grew small. Watching me sink into despair, my wife must have gone searching the fortune-tellers again, hoping for some way to stretch my life, some way for me to live a little longer. And there, she says, she met Jisin. From that day she came back and spoke of nothing but Jisin, and little by little we found peace of mind. We came to accept our fate as natural, and to repent the empty greed we had carried.”
I wondered which of my words had so moved the grandmother. Whatever it had been, that her feeling had reached the grandfather as well struck me as a profound relief.
“Then my wife made a proposal. Why not lend that building to Jisin? I would never have the ending I had once imagined for myself, born of the vain desires of my youth—but if the people who had given our hearts rest could use it to give rest and hope to others, then that too would mean something.”
The grandmother laid a hand on her husband’s back and spoke.
“We wanted to transfer the place to Cheonsiman-gyo outright, but there are so many complications—taxes, permits, and the rest. So for now we’ll leave the ownership with us, and you may remodel and use it however you wish. When I met Myeongsuk last time, I offered to cover the renovation costs as well, but she insisted on declining.”
I glanced sideways at Myeongsuk. I could not make this woman out. I had assumed money was her purpose. She had been instrumental, from the start, in turning us into a religious organization. From the moment I learned she had taken a cut of people’s offerings, I had put no trust in her. I had believed her zeal for gathering people and extracting donations was entirely personal and financial. So why refuse an opportunity this good? The grandfather opened his mouth.
“Even if not right away—if you ever need money for construction costs, or anything urgent—contact this person anytime. She has nowhere left to spend all that money now, and no children… and soon she won’t have a husband either…”
He smiled a lonely smile. The grandmother looked at him with tears welling in her eyes. Watching the two of them made my chest ache, and at the same time I thought it was beautiful. I bowed my head. Startled, the grandmother bowed with me.
“Simply letting us use the place is already more than enough. I ask for nothing further. We are not people who pursue profit. As long as those who come to our gatherings seeking hope and rest for the heart find no discomfort, that is enough.”
The grandfather and grandmother smiled at each other, then turned back to me.
“And if I may be so bold—I imagine you will already have a fine burial ground prepared for when you pass. But if you would permit it, I would like you to entrust us with some keepsake you treasured, or even a part of your remains. We would inter it in the finest spot before that building, where the river is in view. Even after death, I hope you might look out over the river at sunset and feel at peace. And we will keep that resting place as a sacred site, and tend it with care.”
As I spoke, Myeongsuk turned to look at me as well, and the grandmother pulled her husband into her arms and at last broke into tears. The grandfather held her and wept thick tears of his own. Watching them, emotion surged up in me until I could not remain seated any longer. I rose, bowed deeply once more, and left. As I was coming out of the building, the grandmother hurried after me. She took my hand, bent at the waist, and greeted me.
“Thank you.”
I bowed in return.
“Not at all… We’re the ones who should be thanking you.”
Her tears still would not stop, and I turned away, leaving her behind. On the subway ride back, Myeongsuk looked at me and said,
“Every day, Jisin looks different to me.”
I turned to her face. There was a smile at the corners of Myeongsuk’s mouth.
“Different how?”
“I’m starting to feel ashamed of how insolently I strutted around, thinking I had something to teach you. At first I thought of you as nothing more and nothing less than a clueless young man. But as time went on, I came to understand why that shaman clung to you so desperately—and as more time passed, I’ve come to feel that you have a breadth of heart ordinary people can’t even approach. I’m starting to think that maybe, just as that shaman said, you really are someone heaven sent down.”
I knew why she was saying this, but it made me bashful, so I tossed out a light joke.
“What, so you thought I wasn’t the real thing?”
Myeongsuk seized my hand and said,
“No. I believe. I do believe. And I will keep believing.”
Afraid of the eyes of the people in the subway car, I quietly slipped my hand free of hers and glanced around. There was clearly more than a generation between this woman and me, and neither of us had an appearance that stood out, so to anyone watching we would look like nothing more than an aunt and her nephew. In a way, that was why I could walk the streets with her without the slightest awkwardness. Lately, though, Myeongsuk’s behavior had often been the sort that invited misunderstanding. It wasn’t her that made me uncomfortable—it was other people’s stares.
When we returned to the motel, Yongjin was supervising the construction as always. The place was beginning to shed the grime of a motel; the interior, once little more than guest rooms, was transforming into a wide main hall, a smaller hall, and little meeting rooms.
I told Yongjin about the building, and the faintly worried look on his face brightened. He must have been fretting that the landlord might suddenly demand rent. Smiling brightly, he said,
“Good… That’s great. So what’s the old lady’s name?”
I shook my head and looked at Myeongsuk. She rummaged through her handbag and pulled out a business card. When Yongjin saw it, his mouth fell open. He looked from me to Myeongsuk and back.
“Neither of you knows who this is?”
I shook my head with a face that said I didn’t. Myeongsuk kept her mouth shut, her expression stiff.
“I ran into her once at the shaman’s house, and after that whenever I went around to fortune-tellers I’d call her and we’d go together. Looking at how she dressed and carried herself, there was nothing special about her, so I didn’t pay much attention—but this time, lending us the building…”
Yongjin cut her off.
“You don’t know the riverside restaurant? You don’t know the Gangha Group?”