The Weight of 1 Gram
Min-ho and Lawyer Choi arrived in Bongcheon-dong. After parking the car, they stepped out. Even Lawyer Choi was unfamiliar with these hillside slums. He gaped up at the staggering number of stairs stretching endlessly before them.
"Young master... you climbed those last time?"
"Exactly those stairs," said Min-ho, who already knew the drill. He placed one foot on the first step and adjusted his shoelaces as he spoke.
"I've got good news and bad news. Which first?"
"The good news, please."
"These stairs actually have an end. That's the good part. The bad news? See that blue roof up there at the top?"
"Yeah... no way..."
"That's where we're headed. If you think you can't make it, wait here—I'll go alone."
"No, I'll come with you."
"Tie your laces tight. It's brutal."
Lawyer Choi followed suit, stepping onto the stairs and fixing his own shoelaces. Just then, a voice called out Min-ho from behind. Turning around, he saw the corner store owner from his last visit approaching with a broom in hand—the same man he'd asked for directions.
"Figured it might be you, and sure enough, it's the young fellow."
"Hello, sir. Keeping well?"
"Can't complain."
"How'd you recognize me just from my back?"
"How could I forget a polite young man in a sharp suit who greeted me so kindly? That said, looks like another dead end for you today."
This was a place where debtors fled like fugitives. Naturally, the old man assumed Min-ho was just like the rest, chasing empty leads.
"Even dead ends are part of the job sometimes."
"Job or not, know when to cut your losses. Squeezing a thousand won out of folks around here ain't easy."
"Thanks for the advice."
"I've got grandkids myself—that's why I'm saying it. Don't burn yourself out. Heed my words."
"Will do, sir."
"Aigoo, listen to me. Hang on a sec."
The old man set down his broom and ducked into the store. Moments later, he emerged with milk cartons in both hands.
"You look like you haven't eaten properly. Have some milk at least."
"Thank you, but I feel bad taking it for free."
"Nonsense. If I wanted money, I wouldn't offer. Busy folks like you—get climbing. And don't forget those sturdy laces."
"Much appreciated."
With empty stomachs warmed by the milk, the two began their ascent to meet Hwang Ki-cheon, climbing in determined silence. Lawyer Choi, puffing steadily, couldn't wrap his head around something no matter how he thought about it. Pausing to catch his breath, he turned to Min-ho.
"Young master, there's something I just can't understand, no matter how I look at it."
"Go ahead and ask."
"If the goal was collection, you could've let it go for around 300 million at auction. Why push the price to 450 million with all that strategy? Is there another reason?"
"That's why you've been glancing at me sideways?"
"Yes."
"You'll see for yourself when we get up there. I'll explain the rest on the way down."
Lawyer Choi knew the basics about the debtor Hwang Ki-cheon. Still, he couldn't fathom why Min-ho was going to such lengths. Sure, part of it was to impress Grandfather Kang Jin-gwang, but there was a deeper, unspoken motive no one knew.
In truth, Min-ho had a connection to Hwang Ki-cheon. Even after all these years, he remembered the 1 gram of money the man had given him.
In his previous life, Min-ho's father and Hwang Ki-cheon had grown up in the same hometown, thick as vague old friends. On a day when rain drizzled endlessly, they sat under the eaves as usual, the patter of drops their companion as they shared drinks and stories.
"Just in case— if something happens to me, look after our Seon-hui, will you?"
"Come on, hyungnim, what's with the sudden talk?"
"And if it's the other way around, I'll take care of your boy. Promise."
"You always say this when you're drunk. Got it—now drink up."
That joke over drinks soon became harsh reality. Min-ho's father died in an accident, and Hwang Ki-cheon lost everything to his brothers, fleeing to this hillside slum under cover of night. Stripped of his fortune and saddled with debt, he made a bad choice that cost him his lower body, leaving him wheelchair-bound for life.
In his dire straits, Hwang never forgot that half-joking promise from the rainy day. With no legs, his options were few, but he was grateful even for the work. He pasted envelopes until his hands blistered and scavenged empty bottles in his wheelchair during spare moments to scrape together pocket money for Min-ho.
Once a month, on hospital visits, he'd summon Min-ho and press a single, neatly folded 10,000-won bill into the boy's hand.
"You're in college now—sorry I can't give more, kid."
"I know your situation, Uncle. You don't have to."
"If I want to share a drink with your dad later, this is how it has to be. Take it, you rascal."
A single 10,000-won bill, weighing less than a gram. Min-ho never knew the lengths Hwang had gone to for it. For years, the man kept his promise, until he and his wife vanished like smoke. Min-ho searched desperately but found no trace.
Years later, as head of the secret task force, Min-ho's first act was to track him down. He finally did—in a remote rural cottage. Hwang sat dead in his wheelchair. Even as task force head, there was nothing left to do. Min-ho held back tears and gave him a grand funeral, his final gesture.
***
The two climbed what felt like endless stairs. When their breaths burned at their throats, the steps finally ended.
"Lawyer, you need to work out. You were lagging on the jog, and your stamina's really dropped."
"Yes... Is that the house?"
"Yep, that's it."
They pushed open the rickety gate hanging precariously. Hwang Ki-cheon still sat alone in his wheelchair, gazing into the distance.
"It's cold—why are you out here?"
Min-ho's concern fell flat; to Hwang, he was an unwelcome intruder. The man stared at him blankly with wide eyes.
Min-ho yearned to call him "Uncle" and say thanks, but seeing the shock on his face, he held back, burying his feelings deep.
"I'm not here to collect. Don't worry."
"Ah... yes, you're here."
"How's the pain?"
"How'd you know?"
"Saw it on TV. The brain thinks the legs are still there. Asked the doctor at the hospital—said painkillers are all there is."
"On days like this, when rain threatens but doesn't fall, it throbs worse. Don't want my daughter worrying, so I sit out here."
Min-ho glanced around the house.
"Where's your wife?"
"Restaurant's closed today—she went down to the ward office for rice."
"She carries a 20kg bag up these stairs?"
"Every month on this day, my heart breaks. If only my legs worked..."
Climbing barehanded was tough enough; with rice on top, impossible. No sooner had he spoken than the gate creaked open. Mrs. Hwang staggered in, sack of rice on her shoulder. Despite the winter chill, sweat poured down her face.
Min-ho swiftly took the sack and set it down. She reluctantly handed it over, but her eyes on him brimmed with wariness.
"Sir... you're here?"
"Ma'am, just a quick word."
"You know our situation. Even if you come, we have nothing to give."
"Not here for collection. How's Seon-hui?"
"Same as last time. No improvement."
It was a heartbreaking sight at a glance. But they couldn't stay trapped here forever. Min-ho got to business with questions.
"Excluding the 300 million with JK, how much other debt?"
"Let me think... around 40 million. Add in the small stuff—ten, twenty thousand here and there—and a bit more. Why do you ask?"
"If you had about 100 million, what would you do?"
"Pipe dream, but I'd pay off debt second—first, surgery for Seon-hui."
Even in hardship, Hwang thought only of family. Judging it safe, Min-ho nodded to Lawyer Choi, who carefully placed the bankbook in Hwang's hand.
Auction price: 450 million. Minus JK's 300 million plus interest: 148.5 million left. Enough for Seon-hui's surgery and a proper house.
"Want to check the bankbook?"
"Pardon? Why give it to me..."
Hwang opened it hesitantly—and froze speechless.
"Honey, what's wrong?"
His wife peered over. Unbelievable. She rubbed her eyes and checked again: an enormous sum.
Staring at the book, she turned wide eyes to Min-ho.
"S-sir... what is this? Jeong Young-mi—that's my name. Must be a mistake. No way 148 million's in my account."
"You have that liquor bottle your boss used?"
"Yes, the one where he cut interest a bit."
"I auctioned it. 450 million. Minus your 300 million debt to us—that's what's left."
"Oh my God..."
"You've suffered enough."
Was it the rice climb, the shock, or gratitude? Mrs. Hwang collapsed onto the cold floor, tears streaming. Hwang placed a hand on her shoulder, his own tears finally breaking free after years of holding back.
Watching them wasn't easy for Min-ho or Lawyer Choi. The lawyer turned away, dabbing his eyes with a handkerchief. Min-ho approached the sobbing woman and gently patted her back.
"This money's for a fresh start."
"Th-thank you... truly... thank you."
Time passed; she calmed a bit. Wiping tears with her sleeve, she asked cautiously.
"Last time, you took that bottle for interest. This money's rightfully yours."
"Wondering why I'm giving it back?"
"Honestly, if you'd kept it, we'd never have known."
Min-ho silently pulled a neatly folded 10,000-won bill from his pocket—just as Uncle Ki-cheon had given it to student Min-ho years ago. He pressed it firmly into Hwang's hand.
"I owed you a debt. Glad I could pay even a little. Thanks for the chance."
His cryptic words baffled them all.
"Pay your debts, move out. Ma'am, book Seon-hui's surgery ASAP."
"This is really ours?"
"Yes, ma'am—yours."
"We can clear debts, live in a leak-proof house, stretch out both legs. Surgery first, of course. Sir, thank you so mu—"
She burst into tears again, collapsing into Hwang's arms for a long sob. Min-ho had done all he could. Their choice to come here mirrored their remaining lives—theirs alone. The second collection ended thus.
Business done, Min-ho bowed.
"We'll be going."
To Hwang, this money meant more than currency. Min-ho had saved his daughter Seon-hui's life.
"How can I live if you just leave? Wait—my wife'll withdraw a million from the bank. More if you want."
"If that was the plan, I wouldn't have come."
"Still, you gave us a chance..."
"Then, one request?"
"Yes! Anything but 'get up and run.'"
No better time. Min-ho hesitated, then spoke.
"Call my name, say 'good job.' A hug would be even better."
"Me?"
"You said anything."
"But... even so, that's a bit..."
Hwang wavered; Min-ho spread his arms first, embracing the frail, shrunken man he'd longed to hug. Patting his back, he whispered just loud enough.
"Uncle... thank you."
Everything here was done. One last pat for the still-weeping wife, then a bow.
"Time to go."
"We'll call after we move. This grace—we'll never forget."
The two descended the stairs they'd toiled up. Having seen it firsthand, Lawyer Choi finally grasped Min-ho's intent—belatedly.
"Never guessed you'd factor in Hwang's daughter's surgery."
"Heart condition—fatal without it, and expensive. Best I could do."
"Didn't realize you saw so many moves ahead."
"Sudden compliments giving me chills. I'm starving—let's eat."
"Right away. That pork belly joint ahead."
Soon, Lawyer Choi laid charcoaled samgyeopsal on Min-ho's plate.
"You first. You're hungry too."
"Young master... that last thing you said keeps nagging me."
"What?"
"'Thank you' fits, but you said 'thanks'—like you knew him. Any other reason I don't know?"
No point explaining the truth—it wouldn't compute. Min-ho joked instead.
"Hunger made me slip."
"Ah... thought it meant more."
"You worked hard today. Mountains to do tomorrow—eat up."
As Min-ho's long day wound down, the phone on Kang Du-seong's desk rang.
"President, this is Moon Sang-oh, the butler. I have something to report."