Preparing for Winter - 1
When I climbed far enough up the Back Mountain, a downward slope opened out before me. There was a valley nestled there, right before the steep ridgeline that continued on and up.
This is the place.
Stream water ran between boulders that looked as though they had tumbled down along the valley floor. Quite a few of the rocks were large enough to muffle sound in every direction and block the view entirely.
"Let's test the hammer first."
When I'd brought down the old stove with the five-pound hammer, that superhuman strength had kicked in, so I reached for the hammer most similar to it first.
"Whew."
Letting out my breath, I swung the hammer down onto a boulder.
THUD!
I hadn't even put much force into it, but the hammer shuddered with the impact.
CRAAACK! A fracture began to spread across the rock.
POW! Then an explosion erupted from deep inside the boulder itself, and the hammer handle crumbled to splinters in my grip.
"So it wasn't a one-off freak accident."
For the same thing to happen again and again couldn't be coincidence.
"Let's try the axe this time."
I brought the axe down on a log that had fallen in the last heavy rain.
THWACK! The blade buried itself in the log with absurd ease.
As if I'd driven an axe into a cake, the wood simply crushed apart — and split clean in two.
The shovel and the pickaxe produced the same results.
"Should I even try my fist?"
When I punched the log, strength flowed into the blow and it shattered on contact. My hand was completely unmarked, and I felt no pain at all — it seemed even my body's nature had changed.
Why on earth have I become this strong?
With my Yeongan — my spiritual vision — fully opened, everything happening to my body defied explanation. It was as if I had strolled straight into an unknown world whose existence ordinary people never even suspected.
"Well, either way, I'd better be careful."
My fist was now basically a weapon. If I couldn't learn to control its strength, sooner or later someone close to me would get hurt.
"Sniff, sniff!"
Among the flood of scents assaulting my newly sharp nose, I picked out one in particular — the bittersweet fragrance of deodeok, a wild mountain root prized for its flavor.
Isn't this the single greatest skill you can have living out in the mountains?
The moment I locked onto that deodeok scent, my head turned on its own and my feet followed.
"There it is — deodeok!"
When I found the trailing vines, a single thrust of the shovel lifted the surrounding soil out wholesale. It felt like scooping up pudding with a spoon; the plump root came to rest on the shovel blade intact, down to its finest rootlet.
After only a short while of digging, my backpack hung heavy on my shoulders. Just picturing grilled deodeok brushed with gochujang made my mouth water.
"Maybe I'll brew some deodeok liquor, too."
The Village Head's house had glass jars on display filled with every kind of medicinal liquor under the sun. I'd once talked my way into a glass of his deodeok wine, and the taste had been truly exceptional.
"All right, liquor it is."
I was making my way down the mountain in high spirits when my phone buzzed. It was Lee Ho-young, the broker I'd chosen to handle the white porcelain sale.
"Yes, hello?"
"Sunbae-nim! I finally found them. The person you insisted on — living in Seoul, in a hanok."
"Good work."
The photographs of the porcelain were ones I'd taken with my phone and sent to Ho-young. He'd said that if the jar was preserved in its original condition just as it appeared in the photos, it would fetch around a billion won — all that remained was for a certified appraiser to issue an appraisal.
I'd looked into how antique transactions worked, and it turned out past sale prices set the benchmark. Based on that price, buyer and seller negotiated an agreed sum, and that became the final sale amount.
"Go ahead and set up a meeting with the appraiser."
"I'll bring the appraiser to visit you directly, Sunbae-nim."
"No — let's meet somewhere in the middle. Gapyeong should do nicely."
"I understand exactly what you mean. I'll arrange the appraisal discreetly so word doesn't get out, and wrap up the transaction just as quickly."
Choosing Lee Ho-young as my intermediary had been the right call. There wasn't a single thing left for me to worry about.
Just as I finished the call and started down the mountain, my phone chimed — a text from Ho-young.
Tomorrow?
There was no real reason to refuse, and once the appraisal was done the sale would go through at full speed.
Which means it's time to say my final goodbye to the White Porcelain Grandmother.
I headed into Eupnae, took a bath, and bought liquor, fruit, and rice cakes before returning to the village. On the abandoned house hill, where only the roof beams and pillars remained standing, the roof insulation was nearly finished.
"Tomorrow we'll do the electrical work, then start on the floor. We can't cut corners on the waterproofing and insulation — that's non-negotiable."
"Understood. Looking forward to working with you. You've been putting in long hours."
"Ah, it's nothing."
Carpenter Jang said that the renovation permit for Grandma Mak-sun's house had come through, so his crew would be starting that work in earnest tomorrow.
Once Carpenter Jang led his workers home for the evening, I flipped the switch on the LED lights I'd rigged up in the courtyard. Strings of bulbs draped over the nut trees twinkled to life.
I wiped down the camping table until it was spotless and began setting out the offerings. But with just the liquor, rice cakes, and fruit arranged in dishes, the table looked a little sparse.
Somehow I don't think the White Porcelain Grandmother would care for anything like a boiled pig's head.
Just then, my eye caught on the wild chrysanthemums blooming in profusion around the house. I picked only the prettiest blossoms, arranged them in a water bottle, and set it at the center of the table.
Now it looks a bit more respectable.
The White Porcelain Grandmother was a spirit of rare refinement — hair pinned in a tight traditional bun, forever dressed in a white jeogori and a skirt painted with bamboo. She had suffered terribly being treated as a chamber pot, but I hoped she'd long since forgotten every memory of that.
"Grandmother, you can come out now."
I lifted the porcelain from its box and peeled away the bubble wrap that had swaddled it so tightly.
The Grandmother rose smoothly from the porcelain, glanced around at her surroundings, and immediately burst out with her grievance.
"You said you were sending me to Gyeongseong. Then why am I still in the middle of nowhere?"
"It took some time to find you the right house."
"So have you actually found one, or haven't you?"
"I have. But first — please, have a drink."
I offered her a cup.
"Cheongju? Clear rice wine?"
"Yes. I bought the most expensive cheongju they had at the mart in Eupnae."
Only then did the Grandmother's gaze drift across the flowers, the rice cakes, and the fruit. Her frosty expression thawed, and she took a slow sip of the wine.
"How lovely. It's been so long since I tasted cheongju. Wonderful, simply wonderful."
"I'm glad."
I refilled her cup and went on. "I did tell you, didn't I — that Gyeongseong is called Seoul now? I intend to have you living in a hanok in Seoul, treated with the honor you deserve."
"Truly? Do you mean I could live in a ninety-nine-room minister's mansion again?"
"Not ninety-nine rooms, but it's a very wealthy household all the same."
"Then that's good enough. So long as I'm not scorned and left out in the wind and rain like before, that's all I ask."
"That will never happen. I promise you."
I described Seoul as it looked today. I told her, too, how our country had become a global leader in information technology, and an advanced nation that exports automobiles the world over.
At that, the White Porcelain Grandmother's tears began to fall, one after another.
"I watched war break out and burn down houses as grand as a whale's back. I was swept up among the bundles of people fleeing to Busan, and that was when I lost my master. After that I drifted from place to place until I came to this mountain village..."
She said that once the porcelain cracked, she feared she too would cease to exist — and that dread had haunted her day after day. Then she had found me, a medium, and worked up the courage to speak to me.
Some courage. She wasn't the least bit careful about it.
When we first met, I'd never seen anyone so haughty. She'd carried on about how I was hardly fit to live in the same place as her, forever preening and looking down her nose.
I took the White Porcelain Grandmother's hands in mine.
"All that's left for you now is a life of ease."
"Thank you."
And for the very first time, the White Porcelain Grandmother smiled at me.
"I have a gift to give you."
"A gift? But I'm the one receiving a billion won or more for sending you off to a wealthy home."
"That's not a gift from me, now is it? And here you are, already accepting a present from the Former-Former Village Chief while refusing one from me?"
A gift from the Former-Former Village Chief? What on earth had he given me?
As I tilted my head in confusion, the Grandmother explained.
"You spent the whole day up the mountain smashing boulders and sawing through logs, didn't you? That strength you used — wasn't that what the Former-Former Village Chief left behind for you?"
"W-wait, so that means...?"
So it hadn't simply been a side effect of bonding with the cat after all — my strength had grown on its own.
"They say the Former-Former Village Chief could cross the mountains carrying two full sacks of rice on his back in his youth. That power is what he passed on to you."
The strength I carried went beyond even that. On top of the Village Chief's power, I had somehow received the monstrous strength of another spirit without ever realizing it — or so it seemed.
The White Porcelain Grandmother continued.
"I have no power like that to give. Instead, I'll give you the eye that knows how to recognize precious things. You'll come to tell apart old and valuable objects, the way I can."
"You mean I'll be able to identify antiques?"
The Grandmother took another sip of wine and gave a small shrug.
"It would be more accurate to call it an eye that perceives an object's worth. You see, my final master worked in that very trade."
She had told me before that after living in the ninety-nine-room minister's mansion, she had moved with her master into a modern Western-style house.
"I sat on display among the things Westerners had brought over. And the child living in the clock beside me gave me a gift — that gift was my connoisseur's eye."
"Can you even give something like that as a gift?"
"I received it, didn't I?"
The White Porcelain Grandmother reached out toward my eyes.
"It's yours now. My gift to you."
With both hands, she swept them gently down over my eyes. The inside of my eyelids grew warm, then instantly, refreshingly cool. When I opened them again, nothing seemed much different — so at the time, I had no idea what exactly the Grandmother's gift was supposed to be...
"How do you do. My name is Moon Sung-il."
The moment I met the antique appraiser at the Korean restaurant in Gapyeong the next day, I saw something I would have walked straight past before.
That watch!
I knew at a glance that the brown crocodile-leather wristwatch worn by the man introducing himself as Moon Sung-il was a 1960 piece.
A Patek Philippe 2526. An 18K rose gold case with an enamel dial.
Enamel dials of that model are exceedingly rare.
It had to be worth north of a hundred million won, easily.
It was strange enough that I could recognize it at all — and no less remarkable that a man would wear such a treasure on his wrist. Keeping a piece that belonged in a display case strapped to your arm meant one thing: he was acutely conscious of the occasion. This meeting with me.
No way...
I shook off the thought for a moment and introduced myself.
"I'm Kim Yunho. This is the porcelain I've come to sell."
I hadn't noticed when I'd cleaned it up and packed it into its box just yesterday — but looking at it again now, the truth registered with perfect clarity. It was blue-and-white porcelain from the late Joseon dynasty.
That's got to be the Grandmother's gift at work, too.
The moment Moon Sung-il took the porcelain into his hands, his whole expression changed.
"To be honest, I didn't come expecting much. Late Joseon porcelain varies enormously. Same era or not, the difference between one kiln and another, one artisan and another, is the difference between heaven and earth."
Moon Sung-il turned the piece slowly, examining it from every angle.
"One must handle ceramics barehanded. With gloves on, it can slip through your fingers and shatter."
He held the jar up to the light, then rapped it lightly with a fingertip and listened to the ring it gave off.
"And yet this..."
He fell silent for a moment and swallowed hard.
"That this has survived three hundred years in this condition can only be called a miracle. Porcelain of this caliber was precious even in its own day."
"I'd imagine so. porcelain this flawless couldn't have been easy to produce."
At my words, Moon Sung-il nodded vigorously. "Precisely. And do you know how exacting the potters of the late Joseon were? Of every ten jars fired, eight were smashed on the spot. The glaze is uneven, the color is muddy, the form is crooked — on and on, every excuse in the book, because they were determined to produce only work of the highest finish."
He pointed to the blue design on the porcelain.
"Look at this bamboo. The brushwork is alive. This isn't mere decoration — it's an ink wash painting in miniature. Depth of pigment and soft bleed captured in one stroke, with a sense of movement besides!"
Lee Ho-young murmured in admiration. "You can even see the bamboo leaves trembling in the wind."
"Only a man who was both potter and painter could accomplish something like this."
Moon Sung-il set the porcelain down carefully.
"Before we speak of price, there is one thing I must ask. Is this a piece that has been passed down in your family for generations?"
I answered flatly.
"No comment."
How was I supposed to explain that it had spent its life as a chamber pot?
I leaned back in my chair.
"When could you have the appraisal drawn up?"
"There will be no need for one. Because I intend to buy this porcelain myself."
My hunch had been dead on.
The man who had arrived wearing a hundred-million-won wristwatch — Moon Sung-il — was the buyer all along.