A Windfall of Money Even While Spending It (18)
After my call, Jeong Hyeoncheol had rushed over to Bae Jung-hee's house with his fellow detectives.
Bae Jung-hee had died in a grotesque state. Security footage and CCTV recordings from around the property confirmed that no intruder had entered, and the case was ultimately concluded as a suicide — she had gouged at her own eyes and strangled herself to death.
Hyeoncheol handed the case over to the precinct with jurisdiction and came back with No. 1 in tow.
He didn't possess anyone this time — he just hitched a ride in Hyeoncheol's car.
Arriving straight at my house, Hyeoncheol peppered Seo Jinwoo with questions. Bae Jung-hee's financial entanglements, whether she'd ever talked about wanting to die, whether she might have been on drugs — that sort of thing. Since Seo Jinwoo was apparently the last person she'd called before her death, this amounted to a brief witness interview.
Technically, it was me and No. 1 who made that call, but sure.
At any rate, Hyeoncheol passed what he'd learned from Seo Jinwoo along to his fellow investigators, which meant he ended up staying at our house a few more days. He'd originally been on vacation, but apparently the Bae Jung-hee situation had earned him some special leave.
An article came out announcing that Seo Jinwoo would be suspending all activities, having been devastated by Bae Jung-hee's suicide. The truth was that what had truly shaken Jinwoo was the possibility that his birth mother's death and Shin Hye-ra's death might not have been suicides at all.
The realization that Bae Jung-hee had likely manipulated both women into killing themselves weighed on him terribly. And yet — perhaps because he'd finally broken free of the evil spirit spawned from a piece of Shin Hye-ra — his body grew healthier by the day, and his recovery was remarkably swift.
A tormented heart, and a body falling apart. People assume the aching heart is the worse suffering, but once you've been sick enough that your body is actually dying, you understand: if your body is grinding itself down to nothing, then that's simply the end. There's nothing you can do about anything.
Day by day, the shadows lifted from Seo Jinwoo's face, until now he was even cracking jokes.
And so, my house had become this:
There are far too many people here!
Jeong Hyeoncheol, Seo Jinwoo, and even Chai.
First, I explained to Hyeoncheol that Chai was technically an undocumented migrant, while emphasizing that there had been unfair circumstances in his case and that it was currently under reinvestigation. Hyeoncheol's response was:
"I specialize in crimes committed by Korean citizens."
In other words, he couldn't care less what Chai's immigration status was.
And so a police detective, a top actor, and an undocumented foreign worker all ended up living under one roof. How this particular combination managed to get along so well, I honestly couldn't say. Maybe because, rather than worrying about laws and legal status, everyone's priority was simply catching their breath right here, right now.
"The weather's gorgeous, isn't it?"
Early in the morning, Chai had gone out and gathered the eggs laid by the hens Grandpa Hosik had given us.
"Yawn. Think something happened overnight? Let's see."
Jeong Hyeoncheol switched on the TV for the morning news.
The news of Bae Jung-hee's suicide had finally broken.
So the investigation's basically wrapped up, then.
As for all those dolls found in her house, it seemed the authorities had decided not to look any further into them, writing them off as a private hobby.
How could they possibly go public with the fact that there were dolls made from the hair of broadcasting executives and journalists?
Say Bae Jung-hee collected the hair from a salon. What about the nails? The blood? The deeper the investigation went, the more dirt on the dolls' owners it would have exposed — so they buried it.
A few officers did voice the opinion that Jeong Yi-yeong and Shin Hye-ra's deaths might not have been suicides, but with Bae Jung-hee herself dead, the cases were officially closed.
"Let's watch something else. A movie or a drama."
Seo Jinwoo picked up the remote and started flipping channels.
[Actor Seo Jinwoo, reportedly in deep shock after the...]
"Ugh!"
He changed the channel again, and there was — more news.
[To improve conditions for migrant workers abroad, the government will...]
Chai, in the middle of making egg fried rice, shook his head.
"Improving conditions is bad. Nothing gets better. Chai is angry."
I just switched the TV off entirely and turned to Hyeoncheol.
"Do you know how to fish? Catch us some fish and I'll make eo-juk for lunch."
"What's eo-juk?"
asked Seo Jinwoo, who had eaten nothing his whole life but the meal plans Bae Jung-hee had scraped together for him. Hyeoncheol smirked and answered.
"You boil the fish down until it falls apart, dissolve soybean paste and gochujang into the broth, and slurp it up with somen noodles."
"Sounds terrible."
"Then don't eat any, Mr. Seo Jinwoo. More for me and Chai, thanks to you."
At that, Chai looked up from stirring his fried rice in the kitchen and pouted.
"Chai can't eat spicy food. And fish is only good fried. Fried fish!"
"Catch some fish, and I'll fry it for you."
I turned to Hyeoncheol.
"Detective Jeong, you'll have breakfast and then go fishing, right? I'll drop Chai off at the community hall with Mak-sun Halmeoni, and you and I can head to the market."
We needed groceries. With so many people in the house, the food was disappearing fast.
Seo Jinwoo suddenly thrust a hand in the air.
"What am I supposed to do?"
What's a ten-million-viewer actor supposed to do? Go film your drama, obviously.
Oh, right — he'd mentioned his shooting schedule had been adjusted. The drama's director wanted to give Seo Jinwoo a few extra days of rest, so he wouldn't be needed on set for the time being.
Well, with Bae Jung-hee dead, I suppose there's nobody left to book his schedule anyway.
I mulled over what on earth to do with the ten-million-viewer actor I'd somehow ended up saddled with, and finally opened my mouth.
"Sign some autographs for me. The more, the better."
"Can't I sign them after I get back from fishing?"
Jinwoo shot a sidelong glance at Hyeoncheol, clearly angling to be taken along. Hyeoncheol caught my eye and answered with a resigned look.
"Fine, do that. Go fishing."
"Yes! Awesome!"
Everyone groaned and chuckled at how guileless the man was. How could a man past thirty be that untainted a shade of white?
Part of it was surely Bae Jung-hee wrapping him in cotton wool his whole career, but Seo Jinwoo simply seemed to be white by nature.
Come to think of it, maybe that blank-canvas quality is exactly why he can play such a wide range of roles.
Paint over a white ground, and every color shows its true depth.
Before long, breakfast was on the table — egg fried rice, courtesy of Chai. I'd made the soup.
I dissolved soybean paste into the broth and pulled out a whole napa cabbage from the earth where I'd buried it before winter, simmering up a proper soybean-paste cabbage soup. The leftover cabbage I washed clean, tore into bite-size pieces, and tossed with chili flakes, anchovy fish sauce, sugar, toasted sesame seeds, garlic, and vinegar — finishing with a generous drizzle of sesame oil.
Drawn in by the nutty smell of the sesame oil, Hyeoncheol wandered over, snagged a piece of the fresh kimchi, popped it in his mouth, and stared back at me as if he couldn't believe it.
"This is genuinely incredible. Crisp, sweet, tangy — to die for."
"Then set the table if you want to eat faster."
"On it!"
Watching Hyeoncheol lay out spoons and chopsticks, Seo Jinwoo took the hint and fetched water, pouring it into cups for everyone.
"Alright, everyone eat up."
"Thank you for the meal."
There was hwangtae-gui — half-dried pollack that had hung under the eaves, freezing and thawing over and over, rinsed, brushed with a gochujang glaze, and lightly grilled over charcoal. Soybean-paste cabbage soup, fresh cabbage kimchi, and egg fried rice.
Everyone dug into the breakfast I'd bustled around preparing since dawn, marveling between bites.
"I genuinely don't understand how anything can taste this good."
Seo Jinwoo wore an expression of pure disbelief.
"Must be the clean air."
"The water tastes amazing too," Hyeoncheol added.
Chai, who had been listening intently to their exchange, shot them both a sidelong glance.
"Chai fries rice very well. That's why it's delicious."
"Chai is the best."
"You know, I like Thai people second best, after Koreans."
At Hyeoncheol's remark, I burst out laughing.
Hm?
The sound of a car climbing the village road drifted up to us.
The place is already crawling with people — who else could it possibly be?
Sensing my wariness, Hyeoncheol spoke up.
"Could it be the police handling Chai's case?"
Jinwoo shifted uneasily.
"Or maybe they've come for me. My contract with CEO Bae was almost up, so company executives might be here to snap me up before another agency does."
Hyeoncheol shook his head.
"No agency moves at this hour in the morning. It might be my half-brothers, actually. I just filed an inheritance lawsuit."
Watching everyone — people who'd been laughing and joking only moments before — go taut with tension, I let out a quiet sigh.
So they were all fighting wars of their own, each with their own battles. That's why they'd been holed up at my house — catching their breath, gathering their strength.
Did that make me the only person here without a care in the world?
I rose to my feet.
"I'll go see who it is."
I walked to the front door and opened it. The car pulling to a stop in the lower yard looked awfully familiar.
"CEO Lee Ho-young?"
Deliberately raising my voice so the others inside could relax, I called out.
"CEO Lee! What brings you out here today?"
As I headed down to the lower yard to greet him, a sudden flicker of unease passed through me.
He's not about to ask to stay at my house too, is he? Because if that happens, I'm the one running away.
"Good morning, Sunbae-nim."
Lee Ho-young stepped out of his car dressed light and casual, like a man off to a round of golf. No suit — so this clearly wasn't a business visit.
"What on earth brings you all the way out here? Nothing urgent on these days, huh?"
Despite the fact that I'd told him to call ahead and come down at a set time — and not once had he ever kept that promise.
This man is simply impulsive. That's all there is to it.
He decides his destination the moment he walks out the door in the morning. Today, we go here. Just like that. Watching the trajectory of Ho-young's life — never once fitting any prescribed mold — I figured my read was probably right.
In any case, I no longer kept my guard up around him like I used to, so I met him with an easy smile.
"The antique book collecting not going well?"
"Some days it goes well, some days it doesn't — that's our business."
So it's not going well.
Ho-young laughed.
"Besides, seeing your face, Sunbae-nim, is the most important business of all."
He cracked his little joke, then turned his head to look around. The moment he spotted the cherry tree and the white pine, his eyes went wide and bright.
"Wow, that white pine has to be worth over five million won on its own, doesn't it? And this cherry tree — it came from the Moritake family, right?"
"That's right. It should be in full bloom next month."
"That must be quite a sight. Just imagining it, my heart's already racing."
Ho-young chuckled, then turned back to face me, his expression settling.
"The Cultural Heritage Administration scanned the letter the Moritake family sent over, and through the historians they've given a firm answer about restoring Shoichi's honor. However..."
He let out a sigh first, then continued, watching my reaction carefully.
"They say they can't offer more than two million won."
A handwritten letter from a hangwae — a Japanese defector to Joseon — sent to the head of the Moritake family in mid-Joseon. And they're offering two million? That wouldn't even cover the ferry fare.
Presumably it was a matter too delicate to discuss over the phone, which was why he'd driven all the way out here himself.
The mid-Joseon illuminated manuscript had gone for five billion won. No matter how I turned it over in my head, I couldn't shake the feeling that they'd slashed the price to something absurd.
"Then let's not deal with the Cultural Heritage Administration at all."