A Thousand Paper Cranes
"This old man is already past eighty! How long do you intend to keep me in suspense!"
It was the morning commute, and Chairman Cha's voice was booming through the car loud enough to rattle the windows. The sound blasting through the receiver was enough to make his ears ache. He held the phone slightly away, waiting for the tirade to ebb, then brought it back and spoke in a voice stripped of all inflection.
"Calling first thing in the morning—what on earth is this about?"
"What do you think it's about? I'm talking about Miss Dayeon. Didn't I tell you plainly to take that girl as your wife?"
The lectures had been repeated so often they no longer stirred a thing in him. He ought to say something that actually made sense. How on earth was he supposed to marry a girl who was still wet behind the ears?
"I've already told you. I have no intention of doing any such thing."
"Why on earth are you so against it? Finding a good wife, having a child who looks like you, holding that child in your arms and living a cozy little life—that's what happiness is..."
Siheon cut him off.
"So, Grandfather—did having children and living that cozy little life make you happy?"
Chairman Cha fell silent. As if he had expected as much, Siheon went on, blunt as a stone.
"It wasn't all happiness, was it."
The silence held a moment longer. Then Chairman Cha exploded.
"Enough! Whether you want this or not, I will see this marriage through by the end of the year—you'd better remember that!"
Having driven the point home like a nail, Chairman Cha hung up. A click. The disconnected tone filled the car for a beat.
Director Myeong, seated behind the wheel, flicked a glance at Siheon through the rearview mirror.
"Was that the Chairman, sir?"
"Yes. Last time he was hounding me to go to the U.S. branch and hone my skills. Now it's all about getting married." He smiled, bitter and thin, and added in a low voice, "As if anyone in our family ever found happiness through marriage."
His aunts and uncles, who had married suitable matches. His own parents, who had married the ones they loved in the face of every opposition. Every last one of them had ended in misery. Vows to spend a lifetime together, promises to love only one person until death—how worthless they all proved before the relentless flow of time.
After a moment's hesitation, Director Myeong spoke carefully.
"It's likely because of his age, sir. He seems to have a great deal more on his mind ever since that last visit to the hospital."
Siheon's brow twitched, almost imperceptibly. Come to think of it, it was around then that his grandfather had started pushing so insistently for him to marry. In that instant, Siheon's gaze turned cold.
"Director Myeong."
"Yes, sir."
"Look into Chairman Cha's recent hospital records."
"His hospital records, sir?"
Siheon kept his eyes on the window and spoke in a low voice.
"If Grandfather is in this much of a hurry, there has to be a reason."
After a brief pause, Director Myeong nodded. Understood.
Lost in thought, Siheon looked out at the passing street. As the car entered the approach road near the company and slowed, a familiar face surfaced among the drifting scenery.
"Peanut...?"
Surprise spread across his face the moment he spotted her. He wondered if his eyes were playing tricks on him, but no—the figure standing off in the distance was unmistakably Dayeon.
How on earth did she get here?
If anyone saw them together, word would inevitably reach Chairman Cha through the company's network of eyes. Siheon pressed a palm to his aching head. With his grandfather already breathing down his neck about marriage, a report like that would be pouring oil on an open flame.
The car glided to a stop right in front of the building lobby. Siheon stepped out and nodded toward the entrance.
"Go on ahead, Director Myeong."
"Sir? And you...?"
Leaving the question unanswered, Siheon headed back the way they had come. Director Myeong watched him with a faintly puzzled look, then shrugged and went inside.
Dayeon stood against the side of the building, tapping the pavement with the toe of her shoe. Each little kick made the shopping bag in her arms sway.
Did I show up too suddenly? What if Teacher is startled?
She pulled out her phone and put it away again, over and over, before letting out a small sigh. Inside the bag were a thousand paper cranes and a gift she had been holding onto all this time—things she hadn't been able to give him when Siheon had suddenly left for America. She had skipped meals back then and scraped together every last bit of money she had to buy it, but now that she was actually about to hand it over, worry crept in ahead of everything else.
Wrestling with herself, she tightened her grip on the bag.
No. If he understands how I truly feel, Teacher will like it. I'm sure of it.
It was nothing compared to everything he had done for her. But this was the very best she could offer.
She was still worrying away, taking it out on the innocent pavement, when a shadow fell over her head.
"Peanut. What are you doing here?"
At the familiar voice she turned—and there was Siheon, one eyebrow cocked, looking down at her. She hadn't even noticed him approaching.
"Teacher!"
Dayeon beamed and ran toward him. But unlike her wide, bright smile, Siheon's face was thoroughly furrowed.
"How did you get here? How did you even know I was here?"
"Well... I asked Butler Song."
Watching her glance up at him nervously, Siheon let out a sigh. Right. There was always him—the man who would answer anything you asked, without a second thought.
"How did you know when I'd arrive? And why ask Butler Song of all people? Shouldn't you have contacted me first?"
"I did, though."
"What?"
He asked it gruffly. Dayeon spoke with care.
"I sent you a text this morning. I said I had something to give you and asked if we could meet for just a moment..."
Siheon pulled out his phone, and sure enough, an envelope icon was blinking at the top of the screen. He tapped it with a fingertip, and a message she had sent quite some time ago appeared.
It was a text he hadn't seen in over an hour, having been occupied with Chairman Cha's call since morning. Embarrassed, Siheon grumbled for no good reason.
"Just sending it isn't enough. You're supposed to wait for a reply. A reply."
"You never reply anyway."
She smiled up at him, bright and white. She already knew—whenever he was at a loss for words, Siheon got all prickly like this.
"So what is it you wanted to give me? That thing?"
The tip of his chin pointed toward the shopping bag in her hands.
"Ah... yes. This."
She hurriedly held out what she had been carrying. Siheon glanced inside the bag and frowned. Nestled within was a large glass liquor jar of the sort you'd expect to find decorating some rustic countryside restaurant tucked into a mountain valley—and it was packed with brightly colored paper cranes.
"What... is this?"
"They're paper cranes I folded whenever I thought of you, while I was waiting for you to come back."
"Cranes?"
"Yes. I folded them in between studying. Memorizing things while I folded actually worked really well."
He said nothing.
"I looked it up, and apparently people used to give gifts like this in the old days."
Oh, for heaven's sake. They were only nine years apart, weren't they? And here she was treating him like some relic from another era. Wearing a distinctly displeased look, Siheon pointed with his eyes at the other box.
"And this?"
"That's a gift I bought to give you."
He took the shopping bag from her and unwrapped it right then and there. He untied the ribbon, lifted the lid—and a blue-toned necktie appeared.
"...A necktie?"
"Yes. I bought it a while ago to thank you, but then you left for America and I couldn't give it to you."
He was silent again.
"I've just been keeping it all this time, but now that we've met again..."
Her voice grew smaller, as if she were embarrassed. Siheon, for reasons of his own, couldn't take his eyes off the necktie for a long while.
"I'm giving it to you because I'm truly grateful. Please don't feel burdened. This is all I can manage right now, but later, when I make a lot of money, I'll buy you something even better."
Siheon let out a short, incredulous laugh.
"What money do you have?"
"I do have money! I've been working so hard lately. The hotel, the bakery—and I even found a tutoring job."
"A hotel? A bakery?"
"Yes! I even get leftover bread and food, and it actually adds up pretty nicely."
Director Myeong's last report had mentioned only that Jeong Dayeon was looking for tutoring work. The way her part-time jobs had multiplied, strung together one after another, made Siheon's brow crease of its own accord.
"Part-time jobs."
The thought of her on her feet for hours every day, carrying dishes, taking orders, ringing up the register—somehow it made his chest go tight.
"Don't."
His voice was firm. Dayeon looked at him, puzzled.
"Why not?"
"How much could you possibly make at a part-time job, buying gifts like this?"
"But I wanted to give it to you."
She smiled shyly, a little embarrassed, and went on.
"Because you're someone precious to me, Teacher. I want to see you smile—happily."
Her porcelain cheeks slowly flushed the color of peaches. And as Siheon watched, that day's confession rang vividly in his ears.