Preparing for Winter - 2

The price Moon Sung-il quoted for the white porcelain jar was 1.2 billion won.

I had been thinking anything over a billion would do. So I could have simply accepted the buyer's opening offer of 1.1 billion, but...

"Let's make it 1.2 billion."

Since I'd have to pay Lee Ho-young a brokerage fee, I tacked on an extra hundred million. If Moon Sung-il balked at that price, I could always find another buyer.

I'm not the one in a hurry here.

Had my inner thoughts leaked through to the surface? Faced with my take-it-or-leave-it attitude—selling or not selling made no difference to me—Moon Sung-il agreed to pay 1.2 billion.

There were two ways he could deliver the money. One was for him to transfer shares in the company he represented to me, then buy them back afterward. The other was for him to invest in the corporation of which I was the representative.

Moon Sung-il opened his mouth, saying he would pay however I preferred.

"With antique art, the quieter the deal, the less fallout there is. There's always the risk that someone claiming to be the original owner might appear out of nowhere and accuse us of trafficking stolen goods."

The white porcelain had drifted into Ugok 1-ri forty years ago. It must have passed through countless hands before that, which made tracing the true owner nearly impossible. And for my own part, I couldn't exactly explain how the jar had come into my possession either.

I nodded and gave my answer.

"Understood. I'll establish an agricultural corporation, so you can deliver the payment as an investment."

My plan was to buy the land that had originally belonged to Grandma Park Mak-soon under my own name.

If I put it in her name, Kim Chang-soo will try to snatch it away.

Of course, acquiring farmland wasn't as simple as signing a check. You had to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠apply for farmland acquisition eligibility, submit a plan detailing what crops you intended to grow, and clear several other procedural hurdles. Even with the village head's help in qualifying me for the purchase, that wouldn't be the end of it. I would have to actually farm the land every single year.

From what I'd heard, people who bought farmland for pure speculation would leave a paper trail—buying fertilizer, renting farm equipment—just to create records.

Then they'd never set foot on the property themselves, quietly hiring someone else to cultivate it illegally.

I'm different. I actually intend to farm.

Unlike an ordinary corporation, an agricultural corporation could be founded by me alone, and people like me—city dwellers who'd moved to the countryside—were eligible for a whole host of benefits. It was killing several birds with one stone.

I spoke calmly, in the measured tones of my former banker self.

"I think it would be best to draft the contract and receive the payment through an escrow account. That way, once the agricultural corporation is established, I can withdraw the funds by presenting the supporting documents."

With that arrangement in place, the money from the meteorite I'd sold Lee Ho-young could later flow into my corporate account without triggering a tax audit.

Moon Sung-il accepted my proposal without hesitation.

"Very well. Let's do it that way."

Watching him comply with my terms without a word of protest put me further at ease. It seemed Moon Sung-il would truly cherish the White Porcelain Grandmother.

Grandmother, I hope you live out a comfortable old age in Seoul. And thank you—truly.

Thanks to the White Porcelain Grandmother, I'd gained both the staggering sum of 1.2 billion won and an eye for recognizing the true value of objects. With that ability, I could appraise things even better than Moon Sung-il, whose name was being trumpeted across the industry as a master appraiser.

Meaning I could make a living just appraising antiques and fine art.

It felt as though a door had opened onto a path I'd never even imagined. At the thought, my heart pounded with anticipation.

"Now, shall we eat?"

We had reserved a private room at a fine-dining Korean restaurant, but hadn't yet ordered the food brought out. Seeing the staff waiting outside the door with hands clasped, Lee Ho-young asked how I felt about it.

"Come to think of it, I am a little hungry."

"Hahaha! Then I'll tell them to start the special A-course service. I hear celebrities come here often, apparently."

Privacy protection was airtight, and the food was said to be elegantly delicious. When Lee Ho-young pressed the bell, a woman in a white blouse, black vest, and skirt entered and bowed deeply.

"Yes, honored guest."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"Please bring out the food."

"Certainly, sir. Will you be choosing your soup and stew?"

For soup, there was a clear cod jiri; for stew, a soybean paste jjigae with beef and shiitake mushrooms. Since each of us could order differently, I chose the clear cod soup.

I eat soybean paste stew practically every day, after all.

The doenjang that Madam Han Su-ja fermented herself had a rich, nutty depth so profound you could throw nothing but sliced cabbage into plain water and it would still be exquisite. When I'd once asked how on earth anyone made doenjang that delicious, she'd said it was because she used barley meju made without extracting the soy sauce.

I have no idea what that means, but it's the best taste in the world either way.

No matter how upscale this restaurant was, it was still a commercial establishment. There was no way it could match the doenjang that Madam Han Su-ja lovingly brewed for her own children.

"We will begin the service with a porridge of ground rice, pine nuts, and perilla seeds."

The porridge arrived on a delicate plate. It was fragrant and served at just the right temperature—and of everything I ate that day, it turned out to be the most delicious.

Everything else felt like the food had been fussed over far too much.

The namul wild greens were cut to identical, ruler-straight lengths, strand by strand—I honestly wondered whether the head chef suffered from obsessive-compulsive disorder. The cabbage kimchi had been stripped of its filling, with only the outer leaves selected and halved; the radish kkakdugi had its corners trimmed into flawless cubes.

Most appalling of all was the grilled deodeok root. Served swaddled in an elegant dish, it tasted of nothing but gochujang and sesame oil.

How can there be zero deodeok flavor at all? Did they wash it in water?

Having lived in the countryside savoring ingredients in their natural state, this kind of fine-dining fare did nothing for my palate. While I picked listlessly at my rice, Lee Ho-young and Moon Sung-il carried on a conversation.

"Master Moon, about that Japanese samurai's dagger they unearthed during the road construction..."

A samurai's dagger? I looked up, chopsticks frozen mid-motion, and Lee Ho-young smiled as if he'd been waiting for exactly this reaction.

"The man who determined that the long sword I owned belonged not to a Goguryeo general but to a Malgal chieftain—that was Master Moon, you see."

"Ah. Yes."

Why go out of his way to bring up something we both already knew? When I gave only a cursory reply, Lee Ho-young pressed on.

"W-well, Sunbae-nim, where do you plan to store the samurai dagger once you've purchased it? It does seem like the kind of blade steeped in... lingering grudges."

"Haha. Worried there might be a ghost attached to it? I don't believe in any of that."

"I didn't either. I used to think ghosts and such didn't exist."

Lee Ho-young took a sip of tea and continued.

"But when I kept that Malgal ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠general's long sword in my office, truly strange things kept happening. Headaches, nightmares... it was miserable."

He lifted his eyes to me, silently pleading for help.

"You saw how much I suffered because of that long sword, Sunbae-nim."

So what was I supposed to do about it? Talk him out of dealing with Moon Sung-il?

If I said right now that the dagger might be possessed by a vengeful spirit, they'd probably decide I was the strange one.

Above all, I still didn't know the full extent of my own ability. Revealing powers I didn't even understand myself, in front of a stranger, would have been foolish. I had no desire to be seen as some crackpot. I didn't want to get tangled up in troublesome business either. The only reason I'd chased the cat out of Lee Ho-young's head was that it was right in front of me and getting on my nerves.

What was I supposed to do?

I deliberated for a moment, then spoke.

"If it's an object that's unquestionably taken countless human lives, it's probably better not to keep it in your home."

Leaving all else aside, why would anyone keep an instrument of slaughter in the house?

At my words, Moon Sung-il burst out laughing.

"Haha. Aren't you two taking superstition a bit too far?"

He chuckled as he went on.

"If you agonize over all that, how could anyone appraise antiques at all? Everything we handle belonged to dead people."

"Is that so?"

Wanting no further part in this topic, I offered a noncommittal nod and steered the conversation elsewhere.

"Lee Ho-young, have you been to the hospital? You should get a thorough checkup."

Sensing that I had no more advice to give, Lee Ho-young said,

"I-I'm fine now."

Then he turned straight to Moon Sung-il with a question.

"Has the dagger been dated yet? Is it from the Japanese invasions of the 1590s, or the later colonial period?"

"When an ancient blade is excavated, we normally run radiocarbon dating—C-14. Measuring organic material like the wood or leather of the hilt yields a precise date."

But in this case, that wasn't necessary. Japanese swords, it seems, display distinct techniques and stylistic signatures for each era. The blade's form, the curvature of its edge, the pattern of its temper line—one could identify the period at a glance.

"It's presumed to be a Japanese commander's short sword from the later stages of the Imjin War. As for why it turned up in a Joseon man's grave, that's something we'll need to investigate."

Moon Sung-il's eyes gleamed as he spoke.

"We suspect there's an episode here that history never recorded, so I'm rather looking forward to it."

"You haven't already put the dagger on display at your home, have you?"

Lee Ho-young offered his advice with a worried expression.

"If I were you, I'd keep it at the office and keep my distance."

"Haha. I've stored countless long swords and blades over the years, and I've never once been troubled by headaches or nightmares."

Moon Sung-il laughed heartily. At the sight, I opened my mouth, which had been firmly shut.

"I'd ask that you avoid keeping it alongside the white porcelain jar."

"Pardon? Why is that?"

"I intended to explain in detail later, once we'd finished the meal and moved on to drafting the contract, but I suppose I'll say it now."

I took out my phone and read my notes in an even voice.

I had added that third clause so that the White Porcelain Grandmother would never cross paths with whatever spirit might cling to the Japanese dagger.

"Sunbae-nim, when might we see this meteorite of yours?"

Once Moon Sung-il—who had even set up a bank escrow account in the meantime—departed for Seoul, Lee Ho-young caught hold of me and asked.

"We'll talk about it after the 1.2 billion actually lands in my hands."

"Aren't you being a bit too thorough?"

Lee Ho-young practically vibrated with eagerness, as if he couldn't wait to get a look at the meteorite.

"It's business."

I gave the short answer, then turned to face him.

"And why did you say something so strange in front of Moon Sung-il?"

"I was right, wasn't I? You see things other people can't see."

"The only answer I can give you..."

I shrugged.

"...is that I'm a man whose body only moves where his heart leads. I have no interest in persuading someone who doesn't even believe what I say. Don't pull a stunt like that without consulting me again."

"I apologize. It won't happen again. And from now on, I'll be a man whose heart is with you."

"Don't just say it—show it."

My expression hardened, and I delivered a sharp word of warning.

"Prove that you can be trusted."

"Yes, sir!"

Lee Ho-young bowed deeply at the waist.

After parting ways with Lee Ho-young, I arrived back at the village to find more than a dozen cars parked around the abandoned house.

So where had all these people come from?

"Hello. We're with the Remains Excavation Team."

A man who introduced himself as the team leader of the remains excavation unit extended his hand for a handshake.