Japan's Finest Geisha (2)

Korea had no shortage of beautiful celebrities. So why had Kim Chirok taken such an interest in Hirosue Yoshiko?

It was because she didn't look coarse in the slightest — she appeared utterly, classically refined, as if some demure lady of a bygone age had been reborn in the present day. Hirosue Yoshiko was a woman he would never meet in this lifetime. And yet, for reasons he couldn't quite explain, he couldn't take his mind off her.

The translated materials appeared on his screen. Summarized, they read as follows:

A geisha's personal information didn't typically end up on the internet like this. But Yoshiko had become well-known through various modeling jobs, her work as a city tourism ambassador, and especially the incident involving the Wakayama Steel heir — that was likely why her details were out there.

Kim Chirok clicked through to the related incident. The Wakayama Steel heir's case.

Kim Chirok clicked his tongue as he read.

What a pathetic bastard. Died without even getting to hold Yoshiko's wrist once. Was this guy originally a hikikomori? He had a thing for one geisha, she wouldn't see him, and he killed himself over it? Completely insane. How was someone this fragile supposed to inherit his father's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠steel company?

So even a rich man's son could die this meaninglessly, he thought. And come to think of it, he himself — armed with a Seoul National University degree and a healthy body — was far better off. He might not have money, but it wasn't as if he had no pride.

Everyday life resumed. Kim Chirok worked hard at the office, and when he got off, he read books in his studio. He was the sort who poured himself into self-improvement, and he never skipped his evening reading. Going a night without a book would have felt like thorns in his mouth.

Work itself was going well enough. The problem was Oh Ha-young in General Affairs, who kept throwing him flirtatious looks until he thought he might lose his mind. Having a woman he had no interest in whatsoever carry on like that was genuinely stressful.

Then one morning he came in to find a directive from the President posted on the company intranet. In the interest of employee self-development, one-hour language lectures were being offered before the start of the workday — and attendance, the notice said, had been poor. Department team leaders were to urge greater participation, and those who attended would receive a performance-evaluation incentive.

Getting to the office an hour earlier than everyone else for a class isn't exactly easy.

The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠courses on offer were English, Chinese, Japanese, and Vietnamese. When the lectures had first been set up, quite a few people had signed on, but after a couple of months they'd all dropped away. At present, only three or four employees were still attending.

Kim Chirok's English was already well above a certain level, so he had originally signed up for Chinese as a second language. After about two months, though, dragging himself out of bed that early had become a struggle, and he couldn't see many opportunities to actually use it, so he'd quit. And now this directive from the President had come down.

Director Park read the notice as well and offered a comment of his own.

"If the company's paying the instructor fees and only three or four people are showing up, that's a problem. Maybe I should pick up Vietnamese as a second language next month."

Manager Lee, sitting beside him, chuckled.

"Careful, Director. You do that and you might just find yourself posted to Vietnam. Let word get around that you're good at Vietnamese, and they'll have you running the Vietnam office before you know it."

Director Park flinched.

"That won't do. I'd better stick with English."

"But Director, your English is already excellent, isn't it?"

"I've forgotten a lot of it. The President might tell the directors to set an example, so I suppose I ought to at least register."

Kim Chirok considered signing up for Chinese again, then decided on Japanese instead. Chinese had the four tones, which made it difficult; Japanese didn't have that kind of tricky pitch system. The word order was similar, too, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠which was a plus. And — a rather less wholesome thought — if things went well, he might even get to see Hirosue Yoshiko perform someday.

Right. I'll learn Japanese. I already know hiragana and katakana, so I'll just buckle down on the conversation practice.

And so Kim Chirok registered for Japanese. The company was offering it for free — he figured he ought to learn it while he had the chance.

Manager Lee caught sight of the registration and couldn't let it pass.

"Wow, Chirok. You studied Chinese for a couple of months and now it's Japanese? So you've already mastered Chinese, is that it?"

"I figured Japanese would be useful too."

"Seoul National University graduates really are different. Mastering Chinese in two months!"

"Aigoo, come on, why would you say that? I can barely manage greetings in Chinese. All I've got is xiexie."

"Then why Japanese?"

"Chinese is hard, and I don't see many chances to actually use it, so I switched."

"Even a Seoul National University graduate says Chinese is hard — imagine what it's like for me. Chinese is definitely tough. As they say, the sounds of our language differ from those of China. King Sejong really nailed it with Hangul."

From the next day on, Kim Chirok came in an hour early and sat through the Japanese lectures. The instructor was a woman who said she'd lived in Japan, and she seemed to teach reasonably well.

Then something stressful happened. Oh Ha-young from General Affairs walked into the Japanese class too. And every morning, the moment she saw him, she would look straight at him, raise her right hand, and belt it out.

"Chirok? Ohayou gozaimasu!"

I'm going to lose my mind.

Two months went by like that. Kim Chirok disliked running into Oh Ha-young so much that he even considered dropping the class. Besides, he'd learned enough by now that he figured he could keep studying on his own.

The Japanese instructor, for her part, was quite astonished by how fast he picked it up. She said he was the quickest learner she'd ever taught. A Seoul National University brain, it seemed, showed its quality here too.

Oh Ha-young, whether from a slower mind or not, was definitely lagging. She'd supposedly graduated from a university in Incheon, but she floundered quite a bit. Then the middle-aged instructor told Oh Ha-young to sit next to Kim Chirok and study there — he was doing well, so she ought to learn from him.

Oh Ha-young promptly grabbed her bag and came and sat right beside him, perfume billowing off her in waves.

One morning, Manager Lee from the Planning Office happened to walk past, glanced through the open door of the Japanese classroom, and saw Kim Chirok and Oh Ha-young sitting side by side, taking the lesson together.

When Kim Chirok finished class and came into the office, Manager Lee snickered at him.

"Hehe. Chirok! Sitting side by side with Oh Ha-young for Japanese class, were you? You two made a picture-perfect pair."

"A pair?"

"A bachelor and a young woman sitting shoulder to shoulder in class — how nice is that? I almost took a photo with my phone."

"Why would you take a picture of that?"

"It's a good look, isn't it? So the rumor that you like Oh Ha-young is true after all."

"Why would I like Oh Ha-young? The Japanese instructor just seated us that way!"

"The instructor probably picked up on whatever's going on between you two and sat you together on purpose."

"I'm going to lose my mind."

"I told you, didn't I? Oh Ha-young's father runs motels in Juan, so there's money there."

"Who dates someone for money?"

"Didn't you join this company for the money too?"

"I'm busy. I have a business plan to write."

"Oh Ha-young's an only daughter. That family's got no other children. Which means those motels will naturally go to her."

"I'm not interested."

"If you married Oh Ha-young, you could just sit there counting the money rolling in from the motels."

"That's enough. Stop with the pointless jokes."

Kim Chirok scowled and went serious, and only then did Manager Lee retreat to his own desk.

The next day, Kim Chirok was in the middle of analyzing the half-year earnings when Director Park called him over. The director's face was a little stiff.

"Sir?"

"It's not even transfer season, but the notice came through. The personnel order should go up on the intranet shortly."

"Is that so?"

"I'd hoped you'd stay here in Incheon and become a mainstay of our H Chemical. But there it is."

"It's not even personnel season. Why would they do this?"

"Your credentials are strong, and you've built a solid career here. They seem to have handpicked you."

"I'll go, of course, but I'm a bit dazed."

"If you want to rise in the organization, Seoul is the better place for it. The Chairman is there, and so is President Jeong-hee — the most powerful of the powerful. She was running the Americas subsidiary; this time she's come in as President of the Strategic Planning Office."

"I did see that on the intranet, yes."

"Didn't President Jeong-hee ask for your name a second time at the Osaka Expo exhibition hall? You're going to go far."

Kim Chirok could only sit there, dazed. If he was going to Seoul, the group headquarters building was on Teheran-ro in Gangnam, which was a plus — he'd be commuting from the house in Bongcheon-dong, so he wouldn't have to pay for a studio anymore. And above all, he would finally be free of the insufferable Oh Ha-young.