Chapter 19
Chapter 19
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ace
Chapter: 19
Chapter Title: The Wind Blows (4)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
It was an unusually mild winter.
Even running a short distance would work up a sweat, so there were many days when Jin-hyuk exercised in a short-sleeved t-shirt.
They were a family that rarely caught colds no matter how cold it got, but for some reason, Han Yu-young coughed every night. Private clinics and the city medical center alike diagnosed it as just a cold. But the cough didn't subside easily even after taking medicine.
With Mom complaining of chest tightness and unable to sleep, Yu-jin ended up sleeping in her big brother's room on the second floor more often. It wasn't a hard decision anyway, since she preferred her brother over Mom. It was also for Mom's peace of mind, to keep her from worrying about passing the cold to her young daughter.
"Honey, should we go to a big hospital in Seoul?"
"Oh, why bother. Colds are common in mild winters like this. I'll be fine after some rest."
The lifelong countrywoman Han Yu-young waved it off as no big deal. Her voice came out hoarse and raspy.
"Yes..."
Son Gwang-yeon had no choice but to nod. He was the type to play dead if his wife said so. Her complexion was good, and there were no other symptoms besides the cough, so he felt reassured. Still, he couldn't help worrying, and his expression was grim.
Like Dad, Jin-hyuk's face darkened too.
'It hurts my heart too much.'
Mom mustn't get sick. He'd rather get sick in her place. Jin-hyuk set his swaddled sister down on the floor.
"Yu-jin-ah, big brother is—"
"Mommy, Mommy—."
Without even waiting for permission, Yu-jin toddled off toward Mom. As if she could read her brother's mind. She was a remarkably sensible little sister in many ways.
He put on his work clothes. A thin aviator jacket he wore when helping with field work in the fall.
From the shed, he grabbed a shovel, pickaxe, saw, and sickle.
'Gotta put some muscle into it.'
He bundled the tools together using a thin tube cut from a tire. Slinging the whole load over his shoulder, he headed to Choi Mi-kyeong's house.
Pant pant.
Of course, General stuck right by his side, walking in step.
Pant pant!
The moment they reached Choi Mi-kyeong's house, General charged straight for the food bowl of the local mutt. It wasn't even hungry—what was its deal? Like a total bully dog. Jin-hyuk averted his eyes and knocked on the door.
Ahem. Clearing his throat to call the homeowner, as politely as a kid could.
"Excuse me. Is anyone home?"
The formal phrasing slipped out naturally, fitting perfectly. Satisfied with himself, the corner of his mouth twitched up.
The door opened soon after, casting a massive shadow over the entryway.
"Who is— Eek! Jin-hyuk, is that you?"
It was Choi Mi-kyeong's big brother, Choi Tae-yang. He was home for a rare day off during winter training camp. Seeing Jin-hyuk, who looked as big as a middle schooler, his eyes went wide. He glanced back repeatedly at his little sister Choi Mi-kyeong peeking from behind him. You're small, but he's huge.
It had been a while since they'd seen each other. Still, could a kid heading into sixth grade grow this much over winter break? Must be because his family was well-off—they ate well and grew big, he figured. Choi Tae-yang had grown up in similar circumstances.
He was nodding to himself when Jin-hyuk's casual voice reached him.
"Hyung."
Come to think of it, he'd never heard Jin-hyuk call him "hyung" before.
It was just the natural neighborhood kid term, slipping out effortlessly.
For a moment, Choi Tae-yang grinned broadly.
"Is your dad home?"
"M—"
"Mom and Dad went to a funeral."
Choi Mi-kyeong's reply was quick. Her voice came from behind Choi Tae-yang's bulk dominating the entryway.
"Oh..."
A funeral home meant a wedding or funeral. Leaving the kids home pointed to the latter. Jin-hyuk turned to leave, disappointed. He'd meant to ask the uncle for a favor.
Then Choi Tae-yang's voice stopped him.
"What's with all the tools?"
Splat! Splat!
Huff huff.
Choi Tae-yang was strong. With his sturdy build, he'd transferred to Tae-yang Elementary in town at age eleven and joined the wrestling club. Now in high school, he was still a wrestler. Seven years in.
When he offered to help with farm work, his parents waved him off, worried about muscle strains from training. So even at home, he'd just do tube pulls in the yard. That was why all the ginkgo trees around Choi Mi-kyeong's yard bent inward.
The old shaman from An Village had named him Tae-yang, saying he'd become the hero of Tae-yang Township.
Anyway.
"Whew—this ain't easy."
As you could see, his shoveling was clumsy.
Heroes grabbed loincloths, not shovels.
Despite the age gap, the kid felt familiar thanks to his little sister yapping his ears off about Son Jin-hyuk. Like feeling close to Hong Gil-dong without ever meeting him.
Anyway, he'd asked out of curiosity about the pile of tools.
'Didn't mean I'd help...'
Who knew he'd end up pickaxing and shoveling in a thicket of underbrush. Jin-hyuk was digging kudzu roots for his coughing mom—he couldn't just ignore that. And that casual "hyung" had softened his heart.
His breath came in gasps, back threatening to snap. Labor and exercise weren't the same after all. Different muscles, tough breath control. But Son Jin-hyuk was something else.
'Man and shovel as one.'
Shovel, pickaxe, sickle, hands—they moved like water, clearing vines, stems, leaves without a hitch. More rocks than dirt in these woods, but he didn't care.
The target hid behind a thick, twisted tree root snaking through boulders. Yet the elementary kid mobilized every tool, relentlessly digging like...
'A grave robber.'
Catching his breath, Choi Tae-yang nodded. That persistence must be why he excelled at studies. His sister Mi-kyeong was the same—stubbornly good at school. He stood dazed for a while, admiring Jin-hyuk's tomb-raiding skills.
While Choi Tae-yang alternated between awe and reflection, a kudzu root as long as an adult's arm emerged imposingly. The thickest part was still buried. No telling how big.
"Jin-hyuk-ah, get out. Let hyung do it."
Choi Tae-yang rolled up his short-sleeved shirt past his bulging deltoids, flexing his thick forearms. Shoveling might be weak, but raw power? Top-notch. Trophies from nationals since age thirteen—over twenty. He hefted rice sacks like nothing. A mere plant root? Piece of cake.
"Hngh—argh—haah—!"
Gonna shit himself. Jin-hyuk thought it inwardly.
Perfect squat form—not that it'd help if he actually did; shovel and dirt were handy for burying it.
Ugh—huh—huh. Pitiful, gasping Choi Tae-yang. No wonder he only made it to Baekdu Champion. I do farm work with Dad whenever free—I'm stronger. At nine, I lifted a grinding stone one-handed. Lost in such thoughts, he admired Choi Tae-yang's straining face and arms.
Pant pant.
Even General seemed to look down on him.
Despite the wrestler's trembling legs pouring power in, the deeply rooted kudzu wouldn't budge. Too tough to snap, too thick to saw.
Jin-hyuk patted Choi Tae-yang's shoulder and said childishly.
"I'll do it."
"Hah—huff—this thing's insanely tough; maybe just cut the top—"
As the red-faced Choi Tae-yang squatted, panting.
Jin-hyuk gripped the root with both hands and gave a short kiai.
"Hup!"
Rumble.
Thunder underground. The ground vibrated thickly underfoot, dirt clods rolling.
Rooooar—crack.
The buried root yanked free entirely. Over two meters, thigh-thick monster kudzu. Bizarre how the unmovable beast came out so easily.
Choi Tae-yang muttered blankly. Why'd you dig if you were just gonna pull...?
"Pulling from the start snaps it."
Sensible, Choi Tae-yang nodded.
Could've come alone after all. Jin-hyuk dusted his hands. Maybe hormones surging, making him even stronger?
He sawed the root in half.
Handing the heavier piece to Choi Tae-yang, he spoke childishly. Kids should be polite, right? He'd learned that recently.
"You got rekt."
"Uh... yeah."
Choi Tae-yang accepted it politely with both hands without thinking. The speech, the strength—way too adult. Still, he was thrilled with the score. Time to brew some booze on the sly for Dad.
Whoosh. Leaving the woods, cool wind blew.
The high schooler and elementary kid closed their eyes, breathing deep.
"Take care."
"Uh..."
Watching Jin-hyuk stride away, Choi Tae-yang thought.
'I did most of the pulling.'
Just needed a bit more oomph.
Failed 'cause strength went to his sphincter.
Son Gwang-yeon made a huge fuss. His missing son returned with a root thicker than a python. Adorable in his wife's forced-on slippers, toes hairy like Dad's.
"Eeeee—this is huge! Look at this girth."
Son Gwang-yeon held the kudzu up to his arm, then leg.
When he lined it up at crotch level, he even pouted his lower lip. Pure envy in his eyes, pointless challenge.
Jin-hyuk sighed, looking away. Why measure there?
"Did our Jin-hyuk dig this for Mom?"
Mom emerged holding Yu-jin just then. Dad had reverted to suave Seoul guy mode.
"Mom, boil this and drink—"
"Yeah. Looks tasty. But my cough's gone now."
Just dug the root—did she eat something good in the meantime?
Her voice really was clear. No more raspy chest-hurting tone.
"Holding the baby kept me warm, I guess."
Is that words or fart-talk, Mom? Jin-hyuk's lips fluttered like a horse's involuntarily. Country folk said the darndest things.
Still, glad she looked truly better.
Watching Yu-jin beam, stroking Mom's throat nonstop—must be the lucky charm, he thought.
"Jin-hyuk-ah, what do we do with this?"
"Brew booze, duh."
Hong Gi-jun Uncle would love it.
Jin-hyuk washed the kudzu, chopped it on the cutting board, spread it on the porch to dry. Plan to brew tea once dried.
While Jin-hyuk worked, Son Gwang-yeon...
Slurp slurp.
"Mmm—juicy and bitter. Delicious."
"..."
On cold days, they sledded; on mild ones, loach-hunting all vacation.
Neighbors sold at town market for extra cash, but moneyed Jin-hyuk and Dad did it for fun, exercise, play—catching just a few.
On especially mild days, Mom, Yu-jin, and General tagged along to guard the rice paddy banks. Dad would whip out the film camera, snapping nonstop.
"Wheee—hey there pretty miss, what's your name?"
"Oh, ho ho ho."
Never forgetting cheesy uncle lines. Wasn't he not even forty? Too old-school. Mom played along, but I won't do that. So he thought.
Hong Gi-jun, down from Seoul yesterday, bellowed.
"Wahahak—! This is fun. Su-jeong-ah! Dad caught a loach! Uhahahaha!"
Hong Gi-jun couldn't skip shoveling. No, he seemed to enjoy it. Shouting like he'd hooked a monster, waking the neighborhood dogs with his booming voice.
Hong Su-jeong, glued to Jin-hyuk like velcro, ignored her dad.
'Raising a daughter...'
Embarrassed, Hong Gi-jun focused on loaches. Impeccable form and moves for a Seoulite—military service made the difference.
While Hong Gi-jun shoveled furiously, Jin-hyuk dug holes expertly, and Hong Su-jeong scooped loaches into the basket quick. Perfect duo.
"Oppa, is this yummy?"
"Yeah. Super tasty."
"Do you dry it like gudgeons?"
"Nah. Stew it into soup."
"Oppa, this one's like a snake."
"Sure is."
A snake loach.
Popped up often while loach-hunting. Loach-like but longer, slimier, tougher. Old country folk tossed them as inedible, but stewed like eel, they were great for joints.
Creepy-looking, but Hong Su-jeong examined closely without freaking.
"Can you eat this snake too?"
"Course. Boil and mash fine—no telling what from what."
Squatting in the paddy mud, Hong Su-jeong gazed up at Jin-hyuk.
This oppa's gotten chattier lately. Always short answers, felt constipated inside. Guess guys open up for girls.
She recalled her parents' words. Fighting over the last pizza slice—Mom won, probably.
— "Whoever licks it owns it."
— "I licked you, you're mine, so the pizza's mine."
Enlightened Seoul kid nodded solemnly.
She peeled off the sock she'd worn as a glove.
Dipped her finger in saliva, then poked Jin-hyuk's cheek—busy shoveling.
"Huh? Why?"
Not getting the surprise attack, Jin-hyuk asked. Kid Hong Su-jeong just ducked her head, giggling. Muttering "pizza, pizza".
Click.
Son Gwang-yeon caught the moment perfectly.
Yu Se-ra, who'd watched her daughter's mischief, narrowed her eyes.
'That little rascal?'