Windfall Side Hustle — 3
"Number 1?"
The spirit was nowhere to be seen, even though he should have been trotting at my heels the moment I stepped out of the car.
I walked back to the car and called for him.
"Hey! Number 1! Where'd you go?"
He'd definitely gotten his snacks at the highway rest stop. Walnut cookies, a hot dog, even a roasted sweet potato. He'd sucked every last drop of energy out of them, and that wasn't enough either — he'd polished off a can of cat food and a whole churro on top, stuffing himself until the possessed body's belly bulged out round.
He ate his fill and was snoring away when we left.
After pulling out of the rest stop, we'd opened the car door to drop Grandma Mak-sun off at the village hall. That's probably when he bolted.
Or maybe he ran off when we stopped the car again in front of Han Mija's house?
No, but why?
It wasn't as if I was locking him up at home, and it wasn't time to deploy him for a mission either. All he had to do was rest and relax, yet he just had to pull a stunt like this.
"And it's freezing out here."
The wind howling down from the Back Mountain felt like it was slicing my cheeks open. The things I'd just carried out of the car were turning rigid in my hands.
"Uuugh. It's so cold."
The biting chill snapped me wide awake, and Number 1's whereabouts suddenly dawned on me.
"With cold like this, he must've gone to check on Wife No. 1 and Wife No. 2."
The two cats Grandma Mak-sun used to feed were both pregnant — Number 1's doing, back before we harvested the peanuts. That's why I'd named them Wife No. 1 and Wife No. 2 and built them a little house, with Grandma Mak-sun and Han Mija looking after their meals.
While I was in Seoul, I'd asked Grandpa Hosik to feed them too. I suppose Number 1 wanted to see how they were doing.
"What's the point of going bare-furred, though? He should've at least asked me for some dried pollack to take along."
I'd left the boiler on low while I was out, so the house was pleasantly warm. The groceries from the mart went into the fridge, and the year-end gifts for the Village Head and his wife I set down in the living room.
"I should give Grandpa Hosik his gift right now."
Once I finished unpacking, I headed out through the kitchen's back door and left the entryway to the seonrum — the enclosed front porch — cracked open, so Number 1 could shelter from the cold when he came home.
"That rascal, always giving me something to worry about."
The wind off the Back Mountain showed no mercy. It slipped in between the strands of my hair like needles driving into my scalp.
"Wow. Now I get why all the elders in Ugok-ri walk around in roasted-chestnut hats."
My head felt like it was about to freeze solid.
"Grandpa, it's Yunho from up the hill!"
I stepped into Grandpa Hosik's yard and raised my voice toward the house.
"Oh, there you are. Thought I heard a car a while back."
"Yes, sir. I stopped by the house to drop off my things and came straight over. The chickens doing all right?"
I'd left the chickens in Grandpa Hosik's care while I was in Seoul. The water in their coop kept freezing over and needed constant changing, and they needed exercise too — there was no way around it.
"They were my chickens to begin with. Of course they've been eating well and living it up."
"Haha, thank you so much."
"So you've come to take them back now? It's about to get dark. Why not just leave them be? Come sunup tomorrow, I'll drive them over myself."
"I didn't come for the chickens, actually. I brought you something."
I held out the shopping bags I carried in both hands.
"Wh-what's all this?"
"Some long underwear, socks, and work pants. I bought them for you."
When he'd built the chicken coop for me last time, I'd noticed how threadbare his pants were, the fabric worn thin and papery.
"What's an old man who could drop dead tomorrow need new clothes for?"
"Then I'll just have to throw them out. Can't exactly return them now that I've hauled them all the way from Seoul."
"Th-throw them out? Why would you waste perfectly good things like that?"
"Exactly, so you wear them. They're too small for me anyway — wouldn't fit."
I pressed the gifts into his arms.
This was the only way I'd feel at ease.
I'd wanted to arrange a thorough checkup for Grandpa Hosik too, back when I was getting one for Grandma Mak-sun. All I had to do was tell Moon Sung-il to book one more appointment.
The reason I didn't was that Grandpa Hosik has children of his own.
If I stepped in and took care of him, what would his kids think?
Who do you think you are, taking someone else's parents to the hospital?
Put myself in their shoes — if some total stranger took my own parents to the hospital for a checkup, I'd feel uneasy too. More than anything, it could have put Grandpa Hosik in an awkward position, so I decided to skip the checkup this time. Next time I met his children, I'd start by getting to know them, build a real rapport first, and then ask whether they'd mind if I arranged a health exam for him.
"You should get inside, Grandpa — it's freezing. I'll come pick up my chickens tomorrow myself."
"Supper?"
"Sorry?"
"Dinner. Have you eaten or not?"
"I grabbed something quick at the rest stop on the way here."
"So that's a no on a proper meal, then? Hold on a minute."
Grandpa Hosik, who'd been standing on the wooden maru floor, slipped on his shoes as he spoke.
"We'll have doenjang stew with steamed egg. I was planning on cooking dinner tonight anyway."
"You're going to cook dinner for me yourself, Grandpa?"
"What, worried my cooking won't be any good?"
"Haha, no, of course not. It's just..."
The words to politely decline a free home-cooked meal from an elder simply wouldn't come out of my mouth.
"Don't you fret. Back in the day, I had quite the hand with a knife, let me tell you."
"You worked in food service?"
"That wasn't the half of it. Widowed mother, eight younger siblings. From the age of fourteen there wasn't a job I hadn't done. Worked on boats, delivered for a Chinese restaurant, ran machines in a factory."
Right up until he'd married off every one of his siblings and raised five children of his own, he said, there was no work he hadn't tried.
"Follow me this way."
Grandpa Hosik headed toward the back yard. Inside a plastic tent stood a row of oak logs, each one drilled full of holes, and from those holes mushrooms were growing.
"Wow — shiitake!"
"This is how everyone grew shiitake in the old days. These days they sell you these grow kits, I hear. Sprinkle the spores in, add water, and the mushrooms come up. Hah. What a convenient world we live in now."
He trimmed the bases off the shiitake with his knife, and a mellow, earthy fragrance drifted through the air.
"I collected the spores from wild ones I gathered in the mountains and cultivated them myself. What do you think? Nice aroma, eh?"
"Yes, sir. It's like you can smell the oak through the mushroom itself."
"Then we'll boil these into the doenjang stew, and you'll have yourself a proper bowl of rice before you go."
Grandpa Hosik sliced the shiitake, some dried zucchini, and sweet potato stems, and dropped them all into a pot of dissolving soybean paste.
"You fond of potato pancakes?"
"You're making those too?"
"Well, you spent over a hundred thousand won buying me gifts. Seems only right I pay back twenty thousand or so, no?"
"Oh come on, Grandpa. A potato pancake goes for about fifteen thousand won these days, you know. And a set meal with shiitake doenjang stew and steamed egg as sides? Over twelve thousand for sure."
Grandpa Hosik listened to this with great attention as he pulled potatoes out of storage.
"So two potato pancakes makes thirty thousand, then? If I hustle, I could have you paid off fifty grand by tonight. Heh heh."
Before long, the dinner table was laid.
Doenjang stew, steamed egg, potato pancakes — plus side dishes of mountain greens he'd gathered from the forest all summer long, and kimchi on top. The dishes crowded the round table edge to edge, sending up mouthwatering aromas. My mouth watered on its own, and hunger came rushing in.
"This looks amazing."
"Care for a drink with it?"
Grandpa Hosik asked as he ladled freshly steamed rice into bowls.
"If I drink on top of everything else, I'll owe you another hundred thousand won."
"Haha, is that so? Then I'll put it on your tab."
He opened the closet and brought out a glass bottle filled with clear liquor.
"This here's soju I distilled myself."
"Soju's a distilled spirit — that can't be easy to make."
"It takes a fair bit of work, sure. But it's not beyond an old man's hands."
He apparently brewed makgeolli now and then as well. As for the soju, he'd make a big batch at once, store it in the closet, and sip his way through the winter.
Winter nights were so long and quiet, he said, that he'd brew a little drink, have a glass or two before bed, and somehow spring would arrive.
"Have a glass."
"Thank you, sir."
Grandpa Hosik's homemade soju tasted similar to Andong soju. The nuruk fermentation aroma came through a bit stronger, but after that signature distilled burn down the throat, the finish lingering on the palate was surprisingly light. One second of nuruk, then a soft, mellow aftertaste — exactly to my taste.
"Clean and smooth. Really good."
"Haha, that's a relief."
Grandpa Hosik urged me to eat, saying you got drunk less if you drank alongside your rice.
"Then I'll dig in."
The moment I took a spoonful of the doenjang stew, an admiring sigh escaped me of its own accord. The chewy shiitake, the tender dried zucchini, the crisp snap of sweet potato stems. The flavor of mushroom and mountain greens seeping into the broth and melding with the soybean paste — it was genuinely delicious.
The steamed egg had a splash of liquor in it to remove any fishiness, seasoned with salted shrimp, layering a clean, refreshing sweetness over a deep savory richness. The potato pancakes had a satisfying bite from the shredded strips, and every single mountain green was fragrant and bright.
"The stew, the side dishes — everything is just incredible."
"What did I tell you? I know my way around a kitchen."
"You really can't find anything you're bad at, can you?"
Watching me eat with such relish, Grandpa Hosik gazed at me fondly, then made a sly proposal.
"Would you like to try growing mushrooms yourself? You seem fond of shiitake, after all."
"Could I actually manage that?"
"All you need to do is bring back fallen oak logs from the mountain. Once the weather warms up, you go gather the wood, and I'll teach you how it's done."
"Yes, sir!"
Chicken raising, and now mushroom growing on top of it. At this rate, Grandpa Hosik ought to be the one opening a farming school. After a hearty dinner, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was the one walking away with the better end of the deal.
My heart felt so warm that I could have shrugged off the brutal cold wave without a second thought.
"Thank you so much for the meal, Grandpa. It was wonderful."
"Glad it suited your palate. Oh — hold on! The Village Head hasn't gotten in touch with you yet, has he? I heard they're holding a village-wide meeting tomorrow."
"No, I haven't heard from him. Did something happen?"
A meeting meant there was an agenda worth discussing. And there was nothing in our village that could possibly call for one — especially in the depths of the farming off-season, with a cold wave bearing down on top of it.
"Might be on account of that business over in Ugok 2-ri?"
"What happened in Ugok 2-ri?"
"Heard there was a brawl. Two men got their heads cracked open, and another broke his arm."
"Wait, what?"
Ugok 2-ri had always suffered bitter strife between its longtime residents and newcomers. Income gaps, cultural differences, clashing interests — arguments flared up all the time. But violence had never once broken out before.
"What were they fighting over?"
"Something about a solar power project, or the like?"
The solar farm was a problem either way — build it or don't. For the environment, they said; no, it destroys the environment, others said. The arguments never ended.
Were the seeds of that enormous conflict now drifting all the way into our village?
The silver lining is that I'm the only young man in our village.
Even if I wanted to throw punches, there was no one around to fight.
Though — was that really something I should be calling a silver lining?
Should I call the Village Head?
He'd have to be facing some momentous decision to commit to a village-wide meeting for tomorrow. If I gave him a listening ear, maybe things would become a little clearer — for both of us.
"Hm?"
A heavy thudding sound came from the direction of the seonrum, like something being flung around.
Is that Number 1?
I pricked up my ears and caught the rough, snorting rasp of labored breath.
That's not Number 1's breathing.
My five sharpened senses picked it apart at once — the reek of musk, and the scrape of a beast's claws on the seonrum floor.
A wild boar. A huge one.
I'd heard that in the dead of winter, boars desperate for food often came down into the villages. The standard advice was to make loud noises and drive them off. But what if the startled boar went on a rampage and smashed the seonrum to pieces?
Not happening.
I grabbed the broom I'd left standing by the front door for sweeping snow.
One blow. It has to end in one.
Gripping the broom tight, I opened the kitchen door that led to the seonrum.