Three Conditions
"It seems you were planning to come collect the porcelain commission fee in person. Well then, you should have at least replied to my text."
We weren't exactly close, so what was with the '^^'?
"I sent it hoping you'd smile, Sunbae-nim. I guess it wasn't funny."
"No, it wasn't."
"Aww, come on, Sunbae-nim, let's be friendly. I respect you—I saw the news. You were even on TV."
There had been an event when the joint Korean-American excavation team withdrew from the Ugok-ri site, announcing the discovery of fourteen sets of remains and personal effects. I'd received a commendation and given an interview, and apparently Lee Ho-young had watched the footage.
"I know it was no coincidence that you found those remains, Sunbae-nim. Haha! My lips are sealed."
"Do you genuinely want to be on good terms with me?"
"Of course."
"Then keep three things in mind. Smooth communication, honoring agreements, and keeping secrets."
We had agreed to settle the porcelain payment through escrow, which meant the money would land in the account of the agricultural corporation I'd established, once it completed its court registration. Afterward, I was to pay Lee Ho-young his commission—and that was where the communication problem arose.
While I had been busy giving my interview, he'd called me twice. The moment I realized it, I'd fired off a text asking for the Miho Gallery owner's account number.
And what had come back was a seagull flying in with a '^^' attached.
Then, out of nowhere, Lee Ho-young had appeared before me, grinning.
That was the second problem.
He'd made a promise to trade for the meteorite, and now he couldn't keep it.
Why? Because the meteorite wasn't here.
And finally, the third—
Keeping secrets!
Knowing about my ability but choosing not to speak of it for now meant that one day, he intended to open his mouth about it.
Unless Lee Ho-young earned my trust, I had no reason to keep carrying him along as a business partner. When I laid out my feelings this calmly, the grin drained from his face and his expression sobered.
"I thought we had to tear down walls to get close. Breaking through formality and barging right in—that approach used to work for me."
"I don't think that approach is going to work on me."
"Understood. I'll keep that in mind."
He seemed to have registered that I was someone who took time to warm up to people. His manner turned properly formal, a marked change from moments before.
"Then, when might we be able to arrange the meteorite transaction?"
I rummaged in my jacket pocket and held out one of the meteorite fragments. When I'd sold the meteorite for 1.5 billion won, a portion had to be forcibly broken off for composition testing. A larger piece had come loose than expected, and this was part of what had been returned to me after the analysis.
I carry it with me everywhere, like a lucky charm.
Lee Ho-young had only ever suspected I had it. He had never laid eyes on the real thing.
"Take this and request a composition analysis. Then let's meet in Seoul after the new year and close the deal."
"Th-that's a meteorite."
"It is. The test will confirm it, but yes—it's a Martian meteorite."
Unlike porcelain, a meteorite couldn't be appraised and priced on the spot. Its value varied wildly depending on the minerals it contained.
Cradling the meteorite carefully in both cupped hands, Lee Ho-young's eyes gleamed.
"I'm moved, honestly. To think this flew here from Mars."
"Once it's analyzed, you'll find there's plenty more to be surprised about."
When the government had taken my meteorite for study, they'd said it was extraordinarily rare—that it would become invaluable material for unlocking the mysteries of the universe.
I figured I'd said everything I needed to say.
"Give me your account number. I'll wire you the brokerage commission."
"If I give you my account number, you'll just deposit the money and leave, won't you?"
"Then what am I supposed to do?"
"Well, I drove all the way from Seoul without a single break to get here. Let's at least have a meal together."
I still had to buy the wire mesh and pipes for the chicken coop, plus lumber, tools, and supplies, and get back home. Grandpa Hosik had promised to build the coop for me if I just picked up the materials.
He said he'd give me a few hens, too.
Starting tomorrow, I could eat eggs from hens I raised myself, every single day. Fresh warm eggs, lightly fried in an olive-oiled pan—how nutty and delicious would that be? My mouth watered at the mere thought.
Oblivious to all of this, Lee Ho-young grabbed my arm.
"I'll buy you something delicious. What do you like?"
"Haa."
A faint sigh escaped my lips.
Say I showed up at Lee Ho-young's door unannounced, without so much as a warning. Say I clung to him whining that I hadn't eaten anything. How would he feel?
What I dislike, others must dislike too. What doesn't work for me doesn't work for anyone else.
Please, put yourself in the other person's shoes for once and act accordingly.
"I'd prefer you not show up unannounced like this again. Smooth communication, honoring agreements, keeping secrets. Those three things—please, really keep to them from now on."
"Understood. It won't happen again."
Lee Ho-young would be continuing in the relic business, and with my mediumship, there was no telling when I might stumble upon the next artifact. With that much said, he'd understood.
"Fine. Let's eat something simple, then. The dumplings here are good, and their hotteok isn't bad either."
"Oh, there's a Chinese restaurant over there. Not sure if they have a private room, though."
Lee Ho-young smirked slyly, pointing at the Jageumseong sign—the same chain you'd find in every town across the country.
It seemed he had more he wanted to say to me.
"Actually, the real reason I came all this way without warning is..."
Once we'd ordered jajangmyeon and the waiter left the room, Lee Ho-young opened his mouth, watching my expression carefully.
"Mr. Moon—the gentleman who appraised and purchased the porcelain—has asked for my help. He seems to be in a very difficult position."
"A very difficult position how?"
"Ever since he brought a Japanese tantō into his home, he says he keeps seeing and hearing strange things."
"You warned him when you met before, didn't you? That there was no need to keep an ancient dagger that had likely taken many lives in his house."
What had Moon Sung-il said back then? I couldn't recall exactly, but I remembered him laughing it off with something like, I'll take care of it.
And then he'd apparently gone and put the tantō right by his bedside. The man simply would not listen.
Lee Ho-young shot me another careful glance.
"He says he regrets brushing off your advice. He's been feeling ill and having nightmares—and even when he wakes up, the woman is still there."
"Tell him to get the dagger far away from him, immediately. Or better yet, bury it back in the ground."
A thought flashed through my mind, and I blurted out:
"Is the porcelain safe?"
"I beg your pardon?"
Lee Ho-young lifted his eyebrows in confusion.
"He promised not to display anything that could serve as a weapon near the porcelain."
"Ah, yes. The porcelain is on display by the window of his study, overlooking the yard. I checked the photos he sent me personally. And he's already put the tantō in his storage warehouse. But the woman keeps appearing anyway..."
Lee Ho-young kept muttering that Moon Sung-il was halfway out of his mind these days, but my eyes had drifted to the window, and I couldn't focus on a word he said.
Bang Seonghyun?
Bang Seonghyun, Han Mija's eldest son, was being herded down the alley beside the restaurant by a group of boys his age—and something about it looked off. Like he was being dragged along against his will. The kid with a headlock around Seonghyun's neck was even throwing punches at his head.
A hazing ritual for the new kid?
Han Mija hadn't managed to buy him a uniform with the money I'd given her yesterday, apparently. Every other boy wore the identical uniform—only Seonghyun stood out. His sneakers were worn to shreds, and his backpack was no brand-name product.
Showing up to a new school dressed like that, he was bound to become a target for the cruel ones.
"Ah, seriously!"
The moment I scrunched my brow, Lee Ho-young—who had been rambling on—turned his head and looked out the window.
"What is it? What's going on?"
"Looks like a kid I know is being bullied."
"Who? Don't tell me it's the one in the different uniform? If it's him, you need to go help him right now."
I hadn't known Lee Ho-young was capable of saying something like that. Startled, I turned, and he whipped his head toward me.
"I briefly studied abroad in America back in middle school. The reason was school bullying."
"Even golden spoons get bullied?"
"There's always a diamond spoon above the golden spoon. Damn, the things they put me through. Anyway!"
Lee Ho-young's expression turned urgent.
"The kid you know isn't going to be one of those punks out there, right?"
"Of course not."
"Exactly. So what are you waiting for!"
Lee Ho-young shot to his feet, as if to say we had to go save Bang Seonghyun this instant.
"Get up, quick!"
For the first time, I saw Lee Ho-young not as a business contact, but as a human being. The kind of person who could burn with anger at injustice—golden spoon or not.
Back when Bang Seonghyun had gotten into a physical fight with a friend over a misunderstanding, his mother had received notice to attend the school violence committee—and she had wept as she spoke.
"Is this why you trained? This isn't it, Seonghyun."
Even when the restaurant went under, even when they had nowhere to live, his mother had held her head high and endured. But that day, she had sobbed as she said it.
"I've become a criminal for raising a son who hits people, and you've become a thug who only knows how to throw punches. Is this why you dragged yourself to dawn training and practiced until you bled? Why did you do it, Seonghyun? Hnngh!"
After that day, Bang Seonghyun never raised his fist again, no matter how angry he got. When people cursed at him, when they sneered at his poverty—he decided he would endure it.
I hated making Mom cry because of me.
So even while attending a high school notorious as one of the worst pits in the metropolitan area, he stayed out of trouble. He was confident he could beat anyone who came at him, but the moment a fight seemed likely to start, he avoided it without exception. He looked the other way even when his friends got hit, and when the delinquents tried to bait him into a brawl, he would run home instead.
And now.
And here I am, being dragged off by these kids.
He'd expected everyone to take a poke at him at least once, starting from his very first day as a transfer student. But the town was small, and that was the problem—they had learned far too quickly where he'd moved to and what his circumstances were.
Watching them treat him so carelessly, so casually dismissive, told him one thing: none of these kids knew how to fight.
Fighters recognized each other at a glance.
Like the uncle from the house up the hill—one sweep of his eyes and you knew he was strong.
These kids were weak. All mouth, muttering under their breath.
"I heard tons of squatters come live in the empty houses out in the country like a bunch of beggars."
"They should just demolish every abandoned house. Otherwise the vermin keep breeding, you know?"
"Isn't Ugok 1-ri all old folks anyway? What's it like living in a senior center? Hey! You moved here from subsidized housing, didn't you?"
Bang Seonghyun could swallow all of that.
But—
"Did you guys skip town in the middle of the night owing money? I heard my dad's noraebang is hiring helpers. How old's your mom? I'll hook her up with a job."
The moment they mocked his mother, something behind his eyes snapped.
That much was only natural, wasn't it!
They were dragging him toward a shabby empty lot now that class had ended, and still, Bang Seonghyun was at war with himself.
Should I just take out one of them first?
Beat the ringleader so thoroughly he'd never dare meet his eyes again?
He was glaring at the kid who had been pounding on his head, fist slowly clenching, when—
"Seonghyun! Bang Seonghyun!"
At the sound of his own name, called out so warmly, he looked up. The uncle from the house up the hill, Kim Yunho, was standing there with a broad smile.
"Ah—Uncle?"