Ganghajeong
I knew of the Gangha Group, and I knew of Gangbyeon Restaurant. Gangha Group was a major conglomerate built on food service and distribution, and Gangbyeon Restaurant was the finest Korean-restaurant franchise in the country—dozens of locations nationwide, as far as I knew.
"Gangbyeon Restaurant is the parent company that grew into the Gangha Group, and the woman on this card is the chairman of that group. The founder was her husband. When his health failed, he handed everything over to her and retired. She herself stepped back not long ago—installed a professional CEO and now stays out of day-to-day management as the owner."
Damn. I had just been sitting with some seriously powerful people. I had taken them for nothing more than a well-off elderly couple with a bit of walking-around money. Yongjin's mouth was curved in a greedy little smile.
"Whoa… you reeled in a monster catch. Looks like we'll never have to worry about money again…"
I thrust a hand out to cut him off.
"Hyung. Let's not go asking these people for anything. They lent us this building out of pure goodwill. They're carrying their own grief, too. I want to leave it at that. I don't want to stab them in the back."
Yongjin flushed, looking embarrassed.
"Hey—what did I even say? I just meant…"
I stood and went back to my room. I lay down on the bed, and a moment later Myeongsuk came in. She sat beside me.
"I explained everything carefully to Yongjin. He said those things without knowing the full story, so don't let it bother you too much…"
I smiled and nodded. Then Myeongsuk rose and began to undress. I stripped as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and we had sex while the sun was still up, the noise of interior construction carrying through the walls. After that day Myeongsuk never again brought up Bangjungsul. Rather than trying to teach me anything, she seemed focused on wringing every last bit of pleasure for herself. At some point she had begun climaxing before I came, and the number of times she finished only kept climbing.
About a week after our meeting, I learned of the grandfather's death through the news. Every channel reported it at once; online news was blanketed with the story. Alongside the death notice, the press ran what felt like planned pieces on Gangha Group's succession and ownership structure, and countless articles showed the grandmother with her face covered.
Stories like that go quiet after a few days as if nothing had happened. This one too was already fading from people's memory after only three days. But I had a promise to keep. The day I heard the obituary of the late Noh Hyeongu—founder of Gangha Group—I sat down with Yongjin to discuss the memorial. The very next day we brought in people and started the design and construction. Across from our building, on the riverbank at the spot with the best view of the water, we found the angle where the sunset looked most beautiful and raised a small freestanding pavilion. Barely a couple of square meters, oriented so that when the sun went down it would hold the finest view imaginable.
The space for the grandfather was already ready, but I didn't call the grandmother first. Myeongsuk and Yongjin suggested reaching out; I stopped them. I didn't want to look as if I were expecting something from her. I had made the offer, and I had done everything I could to prepare. If she never got in touch, I was content to leave it as a simple memorial that remembered him.
Nearly a month passed that way. That day was one of our gatherings. After another fervent sermon I stood at the door and greeted every person as they left. Myeongsuk and Miryeong disapproved. They wanted me to cultivate a more mysterious, hard-to-meet cult-leader image. But I was still grateful to the people who listened to my words, and I wanted to stay close to them.
Once most of the crowd had gone and even the little clusters of conversation were thinning out, I stepped outside for the river breeze. Walking toward the water, I saw someone standing in front of the small pavilion we had built for the grandfather. Looking closer, I recognized the grandmother. Glad to see her, I quickened my pace.
She turned and smiled at me with that gentle kindness of hers. When I came to stand beside her, she spoke, still smiling.
"You kept your promise."
I smiled back.
"Of course. For the person who made it possible for us to settle here, I intend to do everything I can."
Her kind smile remained. She turned her gaze toward the little building.
"The location is perfect. There used to be a jar stand here. In the evenings my husband would climb up onto it and watch the sunset on the river. Somehow you found the exact spot."
For a moment I stood silent beside her, looking at the same place.
"I've set aside some of his keepsakes. I'll bring them—his nail clippings and photographs. I'd like him to rest here in peace."
She looked at me.
"I've been busy with company affairs. In the end they said the shaky company needed a center, so I returned to the chairmanship. A figurehead, of course—but we have good executives, so I simply occupy the seat. Which brings me to something…"
Sensing a request coming, I bent at the waist and leaned my head forward in a posture that said I was ready to listen carefully.
"I'll arrange a gathering soon. Would you speak to the people at our company? They're all good people, but when work and life grind them down, the heart can go dark. I would like Jisin to give them peace of mind."
I nodded. That was no difficult request at all.
"I would be glad to."
She hesitated a beat, then spoke again.
"And… please don't misread my true intent. As you've heard, I have no children. There's no one to leave my estate to. I meant to give everything—my husband's and mine—back to society before I closed my eyes. But before he died, my husband asked me to remain Jisin's patron until my own last day. To help every person in the world hear Jisin's words and find peace. To make sure, at the very least, that money never becomes a hardship for you."
I went rigid. She continued.
"I agree with him completely. But you have your own will as well, and while I can freely use what I personally own, I thought it would be better if the company itself could help. That's one of the reasons I accepted the chairmanship, actually. If even the executives alone can follow Jisin's path, then support at the corporate level becomes possible. That's why I want to create a place for you to speak with them."
My heart was pounding. What am I hearing? A company people would recognize by name wants to sponsor our gathering—at the corporate level? When I couldn't answer, she turned fully toward me.
"I thought Jisin wouldn't answer easily."
No—that isn't why I can't speak… Look, that isn't it… While I wavered, half-afraid of letting something already in my hands slip away, her words kept coming.
"So for the time being—until our side has a proper system in place—I will personally provide the patronage."
I couldn't bring myself to say yes or no. Of course, inside I was thrilled beyond words. She seemed to take my awkward silence for reluctance to accept the kindness.
"This is the only kind of worldly help I can offer. If I've offended you, please forgive me. Think of it as my devotion and accept it."
From the small handbag she held, she drew out a business card and offered it. On it were the simple words of her office and name, along with a cell-phone number—probably her company line. Beneath that was another number.
Company line: [mobile number]
Personal line: [mobile number]
Private secretary: [mobile number]
"That number is my personal phone, the one I carry with me. I have a separate line for company business. So if you ever need to speak with me directly, call that one. The number below is my personal secretary's. I've told her everything, so it would be nice if you met her once and put faces to names."
Her? A woman? While I was staring at the card, Chairman Park bowed in farewell.
"I'll take my leave. My husband's keepsakes will be brought by that secretary within a few days. Please take good care of them. I'll attend the next gathering."