I Bought an Abandoned House (13)
"Why on earth would I deliberately damage an artifact of such historical value!"
Lee Ho-young went on, looking so distressed he didn't know what to do with himself.
"I was so careful with it. The preservation state was just terrible to begin with. So I handled it as gently as I could, but the corroded section just... cracked..."
Ho-young launched into a long explanation of everything he had done to keep the artifact in its original condition — the precise air composition, the humidity controls, the whole works.
Though apparently even he drew the line at defying gravity.
[I won't let this go, Lee Ho-young, you bastard.]
But the cat, it seemed, couldn't hear a word of Ho-young's excuses. It puffed its body up to a monstrous size and tried to shove Ho-young's entire head into its mouth.
Hey, yelling isn't going to un-break it, you know?
Hold on, though. Couldn't the sword be restored by a professional restorer? With famous paintings, restorers sometimes discover an even more valuable work hidden behind the canvas mid-restoration. That's exactly how a Van Gogh portrait was found.
Of course, keeping it as-is does seem to be the proper way to preserve an artifact's value.
Either way, I wasn't the one who'd wrecked the longsword, and I had no idea how to stop the cat from rampaging over it.
"Mr. Ho-young, run!"
"I'm sorry — what?"
"Run, now!"
[RAAAWR!]
Just as the cat moved to swallow the backpedaling Ho-young whole—
Pfffffft! Like a balloon losing its air, the cat shrank.
What the—?
I stared down, dumbfounded, at the evil spirit, now no bigger than a kitten.
[Pay for my home! I said pay for my home!]
The cat flailed a flurry of kitty punches at Ho-young's leg.
And it wasn't just its size that had shrunk. Its strength had gone with it — Ho-young didn't seem to feel so much as a tap.
"Run, you say? Run where, exactly, if I may ask?"
At Ho-young's utterly bewildered look, I gave an awkward smile.
"Ah, well, you see..."
I shrugged.
"It was an agility test. Haha. You've got to be quick on your feet if you want to get your hands on meteorites, after all."
Listen to me rambling. I must have sounded like a lunatic.
Still, one thing was now certain: when the place an evil spirit inhabited was destroyed, it lost its power. I'd had my suspicions, and seeing it with my own eyes made them rock solid.
Next time I run into an evil spirit, I'll just tear down its house.
No more danger of Ho-young getting mauled, either. With an easy mind, I decided to wrap things up.
"Oh, right — I could have that appraiser who identified the Malgal general's sword take a look at the porcelain too, couldn't I?"
"Then when should we schedule the porcelain appraisal?"
Ho-young swallowed hard. He was obviously itching to close the porcelain deal and get his hands on that meteorite.
"Keep digging around for more buyers interested in the porcelain."
The wealthy Hong Kong collector had long since fallen out of the running. Of the two remaining candidates, one was a gallery owner and the other lived in an apartment in Cheongdam-dong.
The White Porcelain Grandmother will be getting antsy.
I couldn't match every single condition she wanted, but I had to try my best, didn't I?
"If someone comes along who wants a house with old-world charm and a spacious yard, we'll talk then."
Having said everything I needed to say, I turned to go.
[Where do you think you're going! What am I supposed to do?]
The cat came scampering after me on tiny feet.
Don't throw a fit just because your house fell apart — figure out a way to endure it. I'm camping out on bare dirt while my own house gets repaired, you know.
[I'll die. If my home is ruined, I'll die.]
Poor thing. What can you do. Tsk, tsk.
I stepped out of the office and offered the cat a farewell bow.
May you ascend to heaven. Well then, goodbye.
I left Miho Gallery and headed for the parking garage.
Vrooom! I started the engine with a lighter heart and was just pulling out of the underground lot when the car ahead of me slammed on its brakes the instant it cleared the entrance barrier.
Screeeech!
I nearly rear-ended the guy, and a curse burst out of my mouth.
What the hell! Why would you stop dead right there?
I rolled down my window and stuck my head out, and the driver of the car ahead was already shouting.
"What do you think you're doing, throwing yourself at my car? Are you insane?"
The pedestrian who had blocked the car scrambled to his feet and yelled back.
"Hey! You saw a kitten — you should have hit the brakes! How could you just run it over?"
"How was I supposed to tell if it was a cat or a rat? It darted out of nowhere! Move! Get out of the way, now!"
Vroom! Vroom!
The driver stomped menacingly on the gas, revving the engine at the pedestrian and shouting for him to move.
Run over a kitten and just drive on?
Had the evil-spirit cat been hit by a car trying to follow me?
No way. Ordinary people couldn't even see evil spirits.
Vroom. The car ahead swerved around the pedestrian and tore off down the ramp.
"Hey, wait a second! You can't just leave!"
The pedestrian took a few steps after the car, then came back and waved at me not to move mine.
"The kitten got hit. It's not breathing. What do I do?"
On the pavement lay a little ball of white fur.
I hesitated with one hand on the door, but the moment I heard the cat wasn't breathing, I settled back into my seat. If there had been even a flicker of breath, I might have tried something — but right now, there was nothing I could do.
The pedestrian gathered the kitten into both arms and stepped aside.
That's a shame. Rest in peace, little one.
Silently offering a prayer for the kitten, I pulled away slowly.
Then—
"Oh my gosh! Ohhh? A mira-miracle! A miracle just happened!"
I heard the pedestrian muttering, arms outstretched toward my car.
A mirage? What's he going on about a mirage for?
I paused for a moment, but when the man beamed at me, I just tilted my head and drove off.
Completely unaware that the dead kitten had given itself a shake, snapped its eyes wide open, and leapt straight into my car.
"I told you plain as day he was coming today, and you still grumble."
At Village Head Park Dae-hyung's words, Carpenter Jang's face soured.
"Says he's going to fix up the house, then scurries off to Seoul? Doesn't look like a man planning to stay long. How's someone who can't stand a little discomfort supposed to live out here in the sticks?"
"Oh, come off it. Young Yunho isn't like that. He's more honest and deep-hearted than any young person these days."
Truth be told, Park Dae-hyung had nursed the same prejudice the first time he laid eyes on Kim Yunho's clean-cut face. This was no man built for country living, he'd thought.
The township center was full of young men who'd come down swearing they'd live in the countryside, only to crawl back to Seoul within a few months. And Ugok 1-ri was even more remote than the township — a village of nothing but old folks. Even though Yunho had bought an abandoned house, Dae-hyung had never once believed he'd actually settle here.
But Kim Yunho had proven different.
"He donated a whole pig for the village feast, plus heating costs for the entire winter, did you know that? And when he found out Grandma Park at the blue gate had been abandoned by her own children, he said he'd file a lawsuit on her behalf."
"Sticking his nose into other people's business like that? Strange fella, if you ask me."
"Strange how? And while we're at it, Carpenter Jang, you're looking an awful lot like a man who's been ground down one time too many."
Park Dae-hyung offered the advice of an old friend and a senior in life.
"A little wariness never hurts, but treating every soul on earth like an enemy isn't right. Do you know that? Your face has turned right sour these past few years."
"M-my face has changed?"
"It has!"
Dae-hyung pressed on in a lowered voice.
"Why do you think they say that once you pass fifty, you're responsible for your own face?"
"Ah, that's just from the grind of the work, isn't it? Sun-burned black as pitch, day after day."
"You think I don't know you've had it hard? I heard plenty about jobs where you broke your back and then got stiffed on the pay. I know it soured your heart — but that's no reason to assume everyone else is a crook."
At that, Carpenter Jang's face went hot, and he fiddled with his phone for no reason.
The neighborhood was small, after all — apparently even the lawsuits he'd filed over jobs where he'd been cheated out of his wages had made the rounds as gossip.
None of that was my fault.
He worked more meticulously than anyone, and what came back was trash. So when he'd first started out, he'd clenched his teeth and resolved to project an intimidating first impression.
And Park Dae-hyung had seen straight through all of it.
The truth was, Carpenter Jang was soft-hearted, nothing like his gruff looks. He'd scraped his scowl on harder and harder to hide it — and ended up with an ugly face to show for it, hadn't he?
"He didn't keep the appointment time we first agreed on. That's why. People like that always get fuzzy about the final payment later, too."
"Isn't it a bit early still? You said five o'clock, didn't you? Ten minutes left on the clock."
"You think he'll make it in ten minutes? If he's running late, the least he could do is call and say so—"
Park Dae-hyung cut him off and pointed a finger toward the village entrance.
"Well, looks like he's coming now."
A single sedan was winding its way up the village road as the last light drained from the sky.
Dae-hyung studied the car carefully, and the moment he saw it matched Kim Yunho's, he hurried to add:
"There, see? None of your needless grumbling. A young man deciding to come live in a mountain hollow like this — you think that came without its share of heartache? He's all our sons, every one of them. That's how you ought to think of him and take him under your wing. Right?"
"My own kid's only twelve, though."
"And who told you to marry so late, hmm? That's why you listen to your elders, boy."
Carpenter Jang blinked, wondering if getting chewed out by the village head over his late marriage was somehow also part of the job.
By then the sedan had rolled into the abandoned house's yard and stopped.
"Hello, Village Head. And you must be Carpenter Jang? We've only ever spoken on the phone, but I'd know you anywhere."
Kim Yunho climbed out with a warm greeting, and his first impression was the very picture of a healthy, handsome young man.
But he couldn't let himself be taken in by a face like that.
Stay tough! Come out swinging!
Jang lifted his chin.
"I'm Jang. The carpenter."
"Finally, we meet. Kim Yunho."
"Why are you so late? You had me waiting quite a while, didn't you? I'm a man who values precision."
If a homeowner got catered to from the very start, the work slowed to a crawl. Do this, change that — the demands never stopped coming.
The real problem was that they knew nothing about houses, so if you accepted every word, the whole project turned into a mess. It was like commissioning a cow and then begging for horns. Add the horns, and they want wings too. Give them wings, and suddenly the legs ought to be longer. It always went like that.
And more often than not, once you'd granted every request, the owner would fly into a rage afterward — what is this thing? — insisting that they had asked for a cow, and you'd handed them a grotesque winged monster.
After working himself to the bone and walking away unpaid, Carpenter Jang had laid down a principle.
Not one thing added beyond what was written into the original contract.
Keeping that rule meant acting like a stubborn, arrogant son of a gun.
"I'm one of the few men left in this country who can build traditional homes or temple halls. That makes me expensive. Repairing that house of yours will cost a pretty penny — you're looking at thirty million won at the very least. You sure you can manage that?"
"Don't lie to me. Thirty million won, please."
There it is. Told you so.
Trying to slap the price down from the very first meeting? Or did he mean he wanted a shoddy patch-up job, since it wasn't a house he'd live in for long?
"Listen here, young man. The earthen walls have to come down entirely, and the maru flooring has to be torn out. Re-plastering is the bare minimum, and that goes for floor insulation and the ceiling alike. Didn't you say you wanted to keep the ceiling rafters exposed? Then the insulation has to be fitted by hand, piece by piece, before the plaster goes on, doesn't it? And for the roof, real tiles would look far more dignified than zinc sheeting — that's all I'm saying."
And that wasn't the half of it.
"The outbuilding — I'm not sure the rafters there can be saved. Frankly, you'd be better off tearing it down and building it fresh as a separate wing, which would run you another thirty million won or so, if you ask me."
"That's impossible."
"Heh, see here. We can't even hold a conversation, you—"
"What I meant was, thirty million won won't even come close."
"What?"
So he was willing to spend more, was he? Did he even have that kind of money?
Kim Yunho watched the carpenter blink dumbly for a moment, then went on.
"It's a house I'll live in for the rest of my life. Look over the interior blueprints and set your rate per pyeong, however you see fit. I have no intention of pinching pennies on materials — or on labor, for that matter."
"You're — you're not going to scrimp? Do you have any idea what people will do to you if you say things like that?"
"That only happens to folks who don't know the first thing about home repair and fall in with shady contractors."
Carpenter Jang started and waved his hands frantically.
"I-I'm no shady contractor."
"I know. I've heard you often work yourself half to death and end up unpaid for it."
"Damn it."
"Carpenter Jang, when it comes to money, I'm a precise man. We sign the contract, the down payment goes out the same day. Then the interim payment, then the balance — all settled cleanly, every stage. But first, let's eat. Honestly, the only reason I'm late at all is that I stopped to pick something up."
The icebox Kim Yunho hauled out of the car was packed full of pine nut makgeolli — the carpenter's favorite.
"We'll light a fire, grill some meat, wash it down with makgeolli, and talk through the repairs. Shall I get the fire going?"
When Carpenter Jang didn't answer, Park Dae-hyung jabbed him with an elbow.
"What did I tell you, eh? Didn't I say young Yunho was different?"