Too Much Money to Refuse
The New Year’s commemorative service at the Chicago Korean Methodist Church began about thirty minutes after my family and I arrived.
"...The Bible says: 'And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.' Even if the reality we face is dark and arduous..."
As Pastor Jang Se-woon, who had taken his post last year, preached with all his heart, I struggled to keep my eyelids from drooping. Of course, it was all good advice, but good advice is one thing, and being bored is another—what can you do?
"...We must look with faith upon the fact that God’s justice and the grand flow of history will eventually break the chains of oppression and bring the morning of true freedom and liberation to our people. The upcoming March First Independence Movement Day is..."
To wake up my spirit, which was sinking as if someone had fed me sleeping pills, I averted my gaze from the pastor and scanned the people attending the service in the rows ahead.
The person sitting to the front left was Mr. Kim Gyeong, a famous businessman known by the nickname "King." A few chairs away sat Mr. Kang Young-so, the Chicago branch head of the Heungsadan (Young Korean Academy), an enlightenment organization founded by Dosan Ahn Chang-ho. There were also independence activists including Mr. Na Jae-won of the Korean National Association, and even Mr. Park, who ran the Chicago branch of Syngman Rhee’s Dongjihoe (Comrades' Society).
In my previous life, these were people I would have only seen in history books, but to me now, they were no different from the neighborhood elders who would slip me a dollar for pocket money whenever I showed my face.
Except for the young man sitting across the aisle with his wife—Lee Min-seok.
Well, he was better known as Jason Lee in my past life.
He wasn't there yet, but according to the documentaries I’d seen, he was destined to become quite famous in the Chicago gambling business about twenty years later. Given the timing, I figured he was probably just around the point where he’d failed at several other ventures and was starting to dip his toes into gambling. Perhaps, sooner or later, he might even reach out to our organization.
"...I earnestly pray that in the New Year, we may all become one in faith and never cease our prayers and devotion for the independence of our motherland. Amen."
That was when Pastor Jang Se-woon finished his sermon.
"Amen."
"Amen."
"Next, we will have a hymn. The hymn number is..."
The rest passed quickly. Hymns, announcements regarding the Provisional Government and news from Joseon, and finally, the closing ceremony.
"...As the pastor said, along with the hope of the New Year, we must not forget the reality of our motherland. The upcoming March First Day marks exactly ten years since our people cried out for independence. Even at this very moment, the Shanghai Provisional Government and our compatriots at home and abroad are desperately waiting for our helping hand. Today, let us gather our small sincerity and add strength to them!"
With Mr. Kim Gyeong’s final words encouraging donations, the service concluded. Now, all that was left to do was to greet the elders and share the news of my marriage.
It was a shame to miss out on the tteokguk (rice cake soup), but considering the looks I’d received earlier, it would be safer for my family’s well-being to just offer brief greetings and head back.
"Father."
"Yes, first, let's go see Mr. Kim..."
I glanced at my father, and he nodded, opening his mouth to speak. But before he could finish:
"Jun!"
At the sound of the familiar voice, I turned my head instinctively.
"Are you leaving without even having some tteokguk? The ladies will be disappointed."
"I have a lot of work to do, and I need to prepare for the wedding."
"My, my, that’s a pity."
What is this? Why is he suddenly acting so friendly? Did he like that I called him the "Gambling King" earlier?
As soon as the service ended, Lee Min-seok approached me with a strange smile on his lips. And then:
"If it’s work... you must be talking about Mr. Capone’s side, right?"
Soon, I understood why he was showing interest in me.
"Well... you could say that."
"That’s truly impressive. To have a connection with a big shot like Mr. Capone at such a young age. I’ve been through all sorts of trials and tribulations in my time, but I’ve never seen anyone like you, Jun! Haha!"
To be precise, it seemed he was interested in Al Capone—my father-in-law—not me.
"Mr. Capone doesn't have the best reputation among the people here, but he is a righteous bandit who helps the poor, isn't he? He’s a remarkable man."
"That he is."
"Since you haven't been serving Mr. Capone for long, it must be tough doing the grunt work. But you must endure it for the sake of the Koreans who have settled on American soil. Your strength will soon become the strength of the motherland."
"Haha, I will do my best."
He seemed to be under a misunderstanding. It appeared he thought I was just a low-level lackey or an errand boy for the organization. Well, there were nearly twenty people in that photo, including the organization members, so it wouldn't be strange for him to think that.
"What is it? I think I heard him say 'Capone' just now."
"Oh, it’s nothing. He was just complimenting my father-in-law for being a great man."
I whispered a vague excuse to Rita, as it was difficult to tell her the truth.
"Hee, really? I didn't expect to hear compliments about Father in this place."
Contrary to her words, she gave me a meaningful smile, as if she had figured it out to some extent. Still, since she had only just started learning Korean, she couldn't have understood our conversation. My parents knew the truth, but they seemed to be keeping their mouths shut to avoid stirring up trouble.
"Yes, a young man with a very good attitude!"
It was a bit absurd for someone who didn't look much older than me to be talking about "young men," but the problem was that he wasn't finished yet.
"Then, how about doing some patriotism before you go?"
"Patriotism, you say..."
"There’s only one kind of patriotism people like us can do, isn't there?"
With those words, he pointed to one of the church walls. There, on a desk, sat a box labeled —Donations for the Provisional Government of the Republic of Korea—along with a ledger for recording the names of donors.
"Even if it isn't 'clean' money, money is money. Isn't it our job to contribute to the liberation of the motherland, even in this way? And to encourage others to donate as well."
"I see. Haha."
I laughed at his transparent motives. Even if I worked under Al Capone, he clearly wanted to show me that he wasn't a pushover either. In three words: showing off wealth. Honestly, is he that desperate to show off his money to someone younger than him?
"Well, since I’m here, I was thinking of lending a hand. I may have been born in America, but my blood is in Joseon."
It wasn't just empty talk. Since I had to come anyway, it would have been awkward to show up empty-handed. It wasn't an exorbitant amount, but I had prepared a decent sum.
"Good, good! Even if it’s not much, doing what you can is patriotism! Let’s go, Jun!"
When I accepted so readily, Mr. Min-seok flinched as if surprised, but soon he led me toward the donation spot as if nothing had happened.
"Ah... did you come to donate as well?"
As we approached the desk, Mr. Na Jae-won of the Korean National Association, who was sitting there, looked at us with a somewhat sour expression. Mr. Min-seok nodded at his question.
"Does the source of the money matter for patriotism, sir? Isn't it enough that it’s used for the liberation of the motherland?"
"W-well, that is true. I am very grateful. The gentlemen in Shanghai will be very grateful, too."
For someone saying that, his expression still looked quite dark. As Mr. Na nodded with a look of lingering discomfort, Mr. Min-seok wrote his name in the ledger with a pen and pulled out his wallet.
And then.
"Gasp!"
Mr. Na’s eyes widened as he checked the bills coming out of the wallet.
"1, 100 dollars? And two of them at that!"
A total of 200 dollars—in my previous life, that would be well over 3,000 dollars. Considering that most Koreans were struggling to survive in a foreign land, it was by no means a small amount.
"200 dollars?"
"Did Mr. Lee have that much money?"
"Well, I heard he started a small gambling den recently, but..."
Naturally, the people in the church who heard Mr. Na’s exclamation stopped eating their tteokguk and focused their attention on us. 200 dollars was an amount that was hard to see unless you were someone like Mr. Kim Gyeong, who was running a business.
"What would I spare for the sake of the motherland?"
"Thank you, Mr. Lee. Thanks to you, independence will be even closer!"
As if he had never had a sour expression, Mr. Na grabbed Mr. Min-seok’s hands with both of his and expressed his gratitude. Well, that was to be expected, as that amount would be equal to everything everyone else would donate combined. It seemed 200 dollars was indeed too much money to refuse.
"Jun, it’s your turn now."
That was when Mr. Min-seok, having received several more well-wishes from Mr. Na, called out to me.
"Ah. Y-you too?"
Look... I’m not going to eat you, sir. Please, relax. Even if I am dressed in a fedora and coat—the classic mafia set—there’s no need to be that scared, is there?
Under the gaze of Mr. Na, whose eyes now held a fear that hadn't been there before, I nodded.
"Yes, sir. I also wanted to share some good news."
"Good news, you say..."
"Well, it’s a bit late, but I’m getting married. This is Rita, who will be my wife."
"Oh, oh. Is that so? Congratulations, Jun! Your parents were worried, but now they can finally rest easy."
"Thank you, sir."
Receiving congratulations that felt like 30% of his soul had been drained, I picked up the pen and wrote my name in the ledger.
"Honey?"
That was when Rita called me with eyes full of curiosity.
"What are you doing right now? Is it a charity fundraiser?"
Hmm, how should I explain this?
"It’s a donation for people working for our people. It would take a while to explain in detail."
"Hee, 'our people'..."
When I reduced an explanation that would have taken ten minutes into two sentences, Rita looked at the ledger and the donation box with a fascinated expression, then pointed to the ledger with her straight finger.
"Then, should I write my name next to yours, Honey?"
"Huh?"
Uh... is that okay?
At Rita’s unexpected question, my head spun rapidly. The conclusion came quickly.
"Well, it should be fine."
It’s just writing a name, so nothing big should happen. Even if some people might be surprised to see it.
I shrugged at her and wrote Rita’s name in cursive below mine.
"Rita Capone... Capone?"
Mr. Na flinched as he confirmed Rita’s full name in the ledger, but I had already pulled out the money I had prepared in advance from my coat.
And then.
"......!"
Mr. Na’s jaw dropped as he checked the stack of bills I held out.
"No, the 100-dollar bills... how many are there?"
To Mr. Na’s question, I dropped the bills into the slot of the donation box and said:
"It should be about 1,000 dollars. I might be off by a bill or two, though."
"1, 1,000 dollars......!"
At the very least, it didn't seem to be short.