Spending Money Just Brings More Windfalls — 19
"How much did CEO Moon pay for that Japanese short sword, again?"
Lee Ho-young answered my question.
"From what I know, he bought it for thirty million won."
Apparently, back when they were developing the land along the Wangsuk River, the landowner had contacted Lee Ho-young first, before the government could step in.
The man said he had no idea what to do about a Joseon-era coffin containing a mummy.
If any artifacts turned up nearby, his construction project would grind to a halt. So instead of handing the mummy and its burial goods over to the government and hoping for the best, he'd asked for help negotiating terms that would let the work continue.
Either way, the thirty million won was pure principal recovered, then.
And now the Cultural Heritage Administration wanted to buy the Shoichi letter that had been traded for the Japanese short sword — for a mere twenty million won?
No way I could let that happen. Not when it might hurt Moon Sung-il, my own business partner.
"I could buy it myself — the original thirty million won for the sword, plus another ten million on top. Forty million total."
"I'm sorry — did you say you'd buy it, Sunbae-nim?"
I gazed at the cherry tree and white pine the Moritake family had sent as gifts and spoke.
"They went out of their way to send us such precious gifts. I can't exactly tell them to go buy back their own ancestor's letter."
The same logic applied to putting the letter up at a New York auction.
The Moritake side might hear about it later and feel uneasy about the whole thing.
It wouldn't sit well with anyone to learn that a letter taken from their own family had been flipped at auction.
So the conclusion I'd reached was simple: I would buy it back myself.
"Then later, when an artifact comes along that the Cultural Heritage Administration actually covets, we renegotiate the terms then."
In other words, a one-plus-one trade. That was all it would take.
Beyond the price, though, there was the question of where the letter would actually be displayed.
"What I'd really like is a promise of exhibition space for Shoichi's letter. I was thinking it makes the most sense to keep it close to Lady Wolyeong's mummy, given their history."
Having rescued Moon Sung-il from Lady Wolyeong's attack, I had proven what I could do — and earned his deep trust in the process.
That was how I became his business partner. Five billion won from the sales of the Bihwarok, plus another five hundred million — and half of it, two billion seven hundred fifty million won, had landed in my hands.
So spending forty million won here — thirty for the sword plus another ten? I'd decided that was nothing.
What I never imagined was that that one kindness would snowball into an enormous return.
How could anyone have guessed that Shoichi's letter would have a hidden code buried inside it?
Lee Ho-young said he wanted to look around the empty houses and asked me to show him through them.
He seemed to suspect there might be artifacts hidden in them somewhere.
The way he figures it, that's how I found the white porcelain — so why not him?
I didn't turn him down.
After all, Lee Ho-young might just spot something I'd overlooked.
"Then let's start with that house over there."
As I set off, Lee Ho-young followed me toward the empty house and began to talk.
"There were hangwae like Shoichi who fought for Joseon — defected Japanese who took our side. But the looters far outnumbered them."
"You mean men like Kato Kiyomasa?"
"Yes, exactly."
Kato Kiyomasa had hunted tigers all the way through Hamgyong Province, collecting their bones and pelts, then plundered gold, silver, and treasure before heading home.
"Plenty of Japanese warriors hauled off loot alongside kidnapped potters, taking both back to Japan. And those potters were honored as master artisans there, shaping Japanese porcelain with their hands."
Ceramics, textiles, movable metal type, Joseon Confucian scholarship — all of it had driven an enormous leap forward in Japanese culture.
But why bring up the treasures and artisans looted during the Imjin War all of a sudden?
I tilted my head and asked.
"So why bring all this up out of nowhere?"
"An old manuscript left behind by a Joseon potter who was taken to Japan has just been discovered."
"A manuscript left by a potter?"
"Yes."
Lee Ho-young's face had gone serious.
"They've sent me photographs of part of the document, and from what I can tell, it might reveal where the Japanese pirates hid their gold, silver, and treasure when they retreated."
Was he saying the potter's manuscript contained some kind of treasure map?
"Kato Kiyomasa drove all the way up into Hamgyong Province before the righteous armies and Ming intervention forced him back. After that, his forces built a Japanese fortress at Seosaengpo in Ulju, plus more fortresses in Ulsan and Busan."
"They garrisoned those strongholds — and then used them as a springboard to launch the second invasion, the Jeongyu War."
"As expected, you know your history."
Lee Ho-young pulled out his phone and held up a photograph.
What looked like Joseon-era Hangul script was written across the surface of faded paper.
"This is the artifact discovered in Japan. It records that Kato sent troops into Gangwon Province during the Jeongyu War."
Only part of the text was visible in the photo, so I couldn't guess at the full contents.
About all I could confirm was that it was written in Joseon-era Hangul.
"He sent troops to Gangwon Province?"
Weren't they supposed to be pushing toward Pyongyang after taking Han yang — not sending men off in the opposite direction?
When I showed my puzzlement, Lee Ho-young explained.
"You think it's strange too, don't you, Sunbae-nim? They needed every fighting man they could get — so why would Kato pull troops out and dispatch them to Gangwon Province?"
"To recover the gold, silver, and treasure they'd hidden away during their retreat?"
"That's my read on it."
Lee Ho-young looked straight at me, his expression grave.
"Keep the Moritake letter for now, and when the time comes, work out a deal with the Cultural Heritage Administration yourself. I doubt CEO Moon is in any hurry to recoup his thirty million won anyway — not after the vengeful spirit bound to that sword nearly killed him."
"You're just handing the letter over to me? For free?"
Nothing in this world came free.
He'd want something in return for it, that much was certain.
"So what do you need from me? There's something in that document you showed me a minute ago, isn't there?"
"Yes, there is."
Lee Ho-young nodded and continued.
"You know about Imari porcelain, of course?"
"Of course."
Yi Sam-pyeong — the potter dragged off to Japan during the Imjin War.
Once settled in Japan, Yi Sam-pyeong discovered high-quality kaolin clay at Mount Izumi, east of Arita.
With that kaolin he produced Japan's first true porcelain — which came to be known as Arita ware.
Named after the region where it was made, naturally.
Arita ware is also called Imari ware, because the pieces were shipped out through Imari Port, which lay close by.
Imari porcelain was exported to Europe in enormous quantities.
Even today, countless European palaces still display the Imari pieces their ancestors bought centuries ago.
And Yi Sam-pyeong was rewarded handsomely for his craftsmanship and extraordinary artistry.
For his achievements, he was made the village headman — the shoya — of Ishiba.
He was granted exclusive mining rights to the kaolin deposits and put in charge of some hundred and fifty potters of Joseon origin.
After Yi Sam-pyeong died, his descendants carried on the business — but the truly astonishing part is that Yi Sam-pyeong himself was buried in a Shinto shrine.
Not just any shrine, either. His remains were enshrined at Tozan Shrine — laid to rest alongside the ashes of Nabeshima Naoshige, the very warlord who had dragged him out of Joseon in the first place.
Seriously? A joint burial? Did the man want to spend eternity beside his kidnapper that badly?
Lee Ho-young spoke up.
"The manuscript you saw a photo of was found inside Imari porcelain — porcelain that traces its origins back to Yi Sam-pyeong. To be precise, someone sealed the manuscript inside a ceramic vessel and buried it in the ground to hide it. That's what was just unearthed."
"So a Joseon potter left the manuscript behind."
"That's right. But there's quite a lot about it that doesn't add up."
The Joseon potters had been taken to Japan, had their skill recognized, and been treated generously.
Yet according to Lee Ho-young, the manuscript seemed to tell a somewhat different story.
"The manuscript that came out of the porcelain was apparently written not in ink, but in blood."
"In blood?"
"Yes. The person who found the artifact is asking to have the document deciphered. They want to know who this Joseon person was, and why they sealed the manuscript inside Imari porcelain and buried it."
Sensing there was more to come, I stopped walking.
"Is the person who found it suffering from symptoms similar to CEO Moon's?"
Otherwise, I couldn't see why Lee Ho-young would bother laying all this out for me in such detail.
"You see right through everything, Sunbae-nim. The finder's daughter has been showing some very strange symptoms."
What came next was even more surprising.
"The person who found the artifact is a descendant of the Joseon potter — from a collateral branch of the family. Korean by blood, but he's lived his whole life as a Japanese man. And yet he's speaking Korean — a language he has never once studied. Joseon-era Korean, to be exact."
"So a Joseon ghost has possessed him?"
"That would seem to be the natural conclusion."
A collateral descendant of a Joseon potter dragged to Japan during the Imjin War.
And now a Joseon ghost had possessed him — speaking through a man whose roots lay four centuries in the past.
"We won't know anything for certain until we see the document itself."
If a ghost truly was attached to him, we'd need to talk to it to learn the full story.
"I told them I couldn't tell anything from a few photographs. So now they say they'll come to Korea and bring the girl with them. Would you be willing to meet them, Sunbae-nim?"
"Well, if you're throwing in the Shoichi letter, how could I say no?"
Frankly, my own curiosity was piqued as much as anything.
A Joseon-era potter had written a manuscript in his own blood and sealed it inside an Imari vessel?
I was dying to know what it said.
When I readily agreed to step in, Lee Ho-young made no effort to hide how pleased he was.
"If you treat the girl, it sounds like they'll let the document go to us at a fairly reasonable price. And if it really is a manuscript written by a Joseon potter, the sum involved could be enormous."
Joseon-era ceramics had been found in abundance, but books and writings left behind by the potters themselves were extraordinarily rare.
Rarity was exactly what set the value of an old manuscript — and so, they said, was the condition it had been preserved in.
Sealed inside Imari porcelain all these centuries, its state of preservation would be about as good as it gets.
"Sunbae-nim, thank you. Truly."
"Save the thanks for when everything actually works out."
I strode through the doorway of the first empty house.
"This place looks like it was built around the same time as that derelict house I bought. The layout is similar too, and the yellow-clay walls, the pillars, and the beams are all still sound — I'd wager the same builder put them up."
"Wait — all the appliances and furniture are just... still here?"
"According to the Village Head, an old man lived here alone, and after he passed, his children came down and burned his clothes and that was that."
As I listened, the story came together: after the old man died, his grandchildren would come down occasionally and stay for a few days at a time.
Memories, most likely — of summers spent at their grandfather's country house every school vacation.
Out here you could grill meat in the yard and catch marsh snails and fish in the stream. What more could kids want?
Right beside the house, a little kitchen garden had sprouted on its own — lettuce, scallions, perilla leaves, and chili peppers, all self-seeded from seasons past.
All they'd need to bring was rice and meat, and they'd never have to shop at all. It must have been a perfect little retreat.
But then even the grandchildren grew up, started families of their own, and no one came down anymore.
Which was why everything remained untouched — not just the ancient refrigerator, but the dishes and the pots and pans too.
"Oh, a rice chest!"
"That's right."
The old dweju — a traditional chest for storing rice — had survived in surprisingly good shape.
"When I took over ownership, I planned to sell off or discard everything in the empty houses, but I think this rice chest could actually fetch a decent price."
"I'll buy it."
Lee Ho-young had clearly taken a shine to it.
"It'd make a gorgeous statement piece in the office."
"If that's all you want it for, just take it."
I crouched down toward the chest and spoke.
"Well, Grandfather, looks like you're off to see Seoul."
"AAAGH! I changed my mind! I don't want it!"
Lee Ho-young flailed his arms, shuddering.
"I was kidding."
"God, you're the worst!"
He narrowed his eyes and glared at me, then looked back at the rice chest.
"It really would make a beautiful display cabinet, though."
"Take it. There's no ghost attached to this one."
Once Lee Ho-young and I had made the rounds of every empty house, it turned out there was a surprising amount of old goods worth selling.
This could fetch far more than I'd expected, couldn't it?
There were quite a few antique furniture pieces still in fine condition, along with farming tools like old plows.
And the sun-faded mother-of-pearl chest — scrubbed clean with a flour paste, its doors could be removed and reborn as a bed headboard, apparently.
The oil-lamp candlestand we'd found in the storage shed dated from before the house had electricity, which made it genuinely valuable.
There were even textbooks from the old elementary school days, and Lee Ho-young insisted collectors would want them as film props or interior decorations.
"Stay for a meal before you go, won't you? Look — the fishermen are heading back in."
As I walked back toward the house with Lee Ho-young, I spotted Jeong Hyeoncheol and Seo Jinwoo coming up from the reservoir.
"That one looks just like an actor, doesn't he?"
"He is one. He's staying with us for, ah, personal reasons."
"Oh — isn't he the actor from that CEO Bae Jung-hee who died—"
"Please pretend you don't know. He'd rather not talk about it."
"Understood."
I turned to Jeong Hyeoncheol as he came up to us.
"Catch much?"
"Caught the catch of a lifetime."
Oh no. Don't tell me.
He hadn't snagged the silk carp the head of the Moritake family sent... had he?