The Living Chair
"Th-that's incredible. It's not like you're a fortune-teller. Even doctors don't know where it hurts until they take an X-ray..."
I smiled as I answered.
"To make something truly good, you have to understand a person's condition as it stands right now. That's why I always make a point of studying my clients carefully."
"Hahaha... You're still so young, and yet truly remarkable."
I rose from my seat, measuring tape in hand.
"General. Would you mind if I took your measurements for a moment?"
"Ah, yes. Of course."
I took every measurement slowly, one by one, recording each with meticulous care.
Huh...
A few peculiarities caught my eye.
The length of his thighs, and the length of both legs...
I was beginning to understand why sitting in a chair made the pain so much worse.
Once I had written down every last measurement, General Hwang asked about the price, his voice careful.
"Ah, by the way... what would something like this cost?"
I considered it for a moment, then named the figure.
"Ordinarily, a chair like this would run five million won."
"F-five million won...?"
It was probably far more expensive than he had expected. He had surely anticipated that a handmade piece would cost a fair amount — but five million won was more than twice the price of even a Herman Miller, and those were already considered expensive.
Well, that had been the original plan. But Jeonghwan is serving under this man. I can't take his money.
I offered a faint smile.
"Ordinarily, yes. But this commission happens to be the All-Around Workshop's very first. And you've been looking after my little brother on top of that. Please consider this a gift from me to you, General."
"You mean you're giving it to me for free?"
"Just think of it as a gift. No need to make it complicated."
General Hwang thought it over, then shook his head.
"To be honest, five million won is a bit more than I had in mind. Even so, as a public official, I cannot accept it for free. I will pay the full five million."
Fair enough. If the pain is gone, what's five million won?
"Hmm... Then how about this. Receive the piece first, then pay me. If you're satisfied, you pay. If you're not, you don't."
"N-no, I couldn't possibly..."
I spoke in a firm voice.
"As a craftsman, I cannot take money for something that fails to satisfy the customer."
"......"
General Hwang hesitated, then nodded.
"Very well. We'll do it that way. Ah, but even if I'm not satisfied, please at least let me cover the cost of the materials."
Not satisfied? As if that would happen.
I had said I wouldn't take his money if he was unhappy with it — but I had no intention of putting out something a customer wouldn't be satisfied with in the first place.
If I can't even make a chair that satisfies the customer, my years as Olympus's blacksmith would be a joke.
I looked at him, my expression full of confidence.
After he left, I spent nearly every hour I had — aside from the time I spent at university and at the company — on making that chair.
The first thing I confirmed was the direction the chair itself needed to take.
I ran through a simulation of his body in my mind once more. Then, together with the measurements I had recorded last time, I worked out why sitting in even an expensive chair made his pain worse rather than better.
The conclusion I reached came down to two things.
The first was a disc problem concentrated at the fourth and fifth lumbar vertebrae. It was probably not severe enough for a hospital to have caught it — but a pelvis twisted the way his was pointed to the L4-L5 with absolute certainty.
Heracles was always suffering because of those same vertebrae...
The second problem, in truth, was the more decisive one.
It was the matter of his thighs and the length of his legs.
General Hwang's thighs were far shorter than most people's. On top of that, his two legs were different lengths. Standing was manageable enough — but once he sat down, the unusual sitting height and the imbalance between his legs compounded the pain even further.
It might have been fine when he was young. But as he got older, and his muscles and everything else started to weaken, the symptoms would have begun to show.
I had identified the problems. All that remained was to solve them.
"Let's start with this."
The L4-L5 issue had to be approached in reverse. The point was not to support that area — it was to open the space there.
Most ready-made chairs are built to brace that spot, if anything.
For someone whose spine was still sound, that kind of support might help as a preventative measure. But for a man whose L4-L5 disc was already degenerating, the opposite was required: that area had to be left open, so nothing would compress it.
It'll look a little strange. But this is the right way.
I used titanium and a specialized memory foam, building it in a form that would last as long as possible. The material costs were considerable — but you should never cut corners on materials for a piece like this.
"Hoo..."
After two full days of painstaking work, the support structure was complete — perfect.
Now for the rest...
The most important part of the chair still remained.
The seat — built for a body whose structure was nothing like an ordinary person's.
I'll have to make it asymmetrical. There's no other way.
Asymmetrical, yes — but I also had to account for comfort over long hours of sitting. I lowered the left side a fraction below the right. Then I built the foam in two layers, so that the pain of sitting would be dispersed.
Hoo... this isn't easy.
Making something merely good was one thing. Making something tailored to a single individual had never been easy — not in Olympus, and not in Korea.
We've been apart for a hundred years. The least I can do is act like a proper older brother.
I didn't know much else, but I knew this: the moment this chair was finished, my little brother's military life was going to turn into paradise.
"Jeonghwan. I'm going through all this because of you."
I grumbled once at a brother who couldn't possibly hear me, then went back to work.
One night, two, three, four — I stayed up through all of them to finish the asymmetrical seat. Then I spent two more days, and the All-Around Workshop's first commissioned piece was complete.
"Hoo..."
Not bad.
With the tools of Olympus, a more perfect piece would have come out of it. Even so, this was a thoroughly excellent chair.
I still couldn't tell exactly what kind of Soul had taken root in it. This chair had been made for General Hwang and General Hwang alone — which meant I would only know what Soul inhabited it once he sat down.
Well then. Shall we?
I wrapped the chair carefully in plastic and called General Hwang.
"Yes, General. This is Kang Cheolwoo. The chair you commissioned is finished. If you're at the base now, I'll have it sent over right away."
It's already done...?
Far faster than he had expected. He had thought it would take a month at least. Instead, he had received word that the chair was finished in a mere week.
Kang had said he would send it by courier, so it would arrive before long.
Honestly, he was not expecting much. He assumed there would be no real difference. And yet a sliver of hope remained — the faintest what-if he could not quite extinguish.
A short while later, the door opened, and his orderly came in huffing and puffing, the chair in his arms.
"Loyalty! Division Commander, sir. I've brought the chair you mentioned."
"Right. Good work. Set it down and you're dismissed."
"Loyalty!"
The orderly left, and General Hwang looked the chair over.
What is this?
It was, without question, a luxurious piece. From the leather on the surface to the materials themselves, you could tell at a glance that a considerable sum had gone into the materials alone.
What struck him even more, however, was how different it looked from any chair he had ever used.
Why is that part open? And why is that side asymmetrical...?
A strange, unidentifiable shape. And because it was strange, a small hope stirred in him that it might actually be different.
General Hwang swallowed, stared at the chair, then steeled himself and sat down.
Please...
The moment he moved to sit, his face instinctively tightened at the pain he knew would follow.
And then—
"Huh...!?"
He had sat down. There was no question about it. And yet the instant he settled into the chair, he felt none of the pain that always came with sitting. Not a trace.
"Wh-what..."
Wondering if he had imagined it, he stood up and sat in his old chair.
"Urgh..."
Just as always — the moment he sat, the pain was there.
He stood again and sat in the chair Cheolwoo had made, and as if the pain had been a lie, he felt nothing at all.
"Is this even possible...?"
Suspecting it might only work at the moment of sitting, he pushed his old chair aside, moved Cheolwoo's chair up to the desk, and started on his work.
And how much time passed after that?
When General Hwang came back to himself, more than two hours had gone by.
I was sitting in a chair for two hours...?
Ordinarily, his back would start aching after about twenty minutes, and he would have to stand up and stretch at the very least. With this chair, there was none of that. Not a trace.
He had surely been twisting and shifting the whole time he worked — and yet every time he moved, it felt as though the chair moved with him, conforming itself to his body.
"Ahahahaha."
General Hwang laughed, loud and unrestrained, like a man who had taken leave of his senses. He was a division commander, of course — no one here would dare say a word no matter how loudly he laughed. Even so, he never laughed like this. Dignity would not allow it.
But he could not help himself.
The problem that had weighed on him more heavily than anything else these past few months had been solved in a single stroke. He could not have held the laughter back if he had tried.
"Ahahahaha!!!"
"Time to head out."
I finished tidying the workshop and was about to leave when I heard footsteps.
Very cheerful footsteps.
"Master Kang!!!"
The owner of those buoyant steps was none other than General Hwang.
"General. You didn't even call. What brings you here?"
The moment he reached me, he threw his arms around me and thanked me over and over.
"Thank you so much! Thank you so much! The chair you made is the absolute best. Thanks to that chair, every worry I've had is gone!"
I gently peeled the excited man off me and spoke in a calm voice.
"Is that so. I'm glad the chair was to your liking."
"Master Kang, you truly are the finest craftsman there is!"
Even the way he addressed me had gone up a notch, and the look on his face was one of genuine, unguarded gratitude.
The chair turned out well — and the Soul took hold properly, too.
"It's as if the chair is alive. Even when I move, it shifts to fit my body perfectly. I can sit for hours without a hint of discomfort!"
Then he reached into the bag he had brought and pulled out an envelope.
"Here. It's hardly enough compared to the chair you made, but I put in as much as I could. Thank you so much!"
Oh...?
The envelope looked quite thick at a glance. A peek inside revealed yellow fifty-thousand-won notes; judging by the thickness, this was ten million won.
But the reward did not end there.
General Hwang asked carefully,
"And Master Kang. I'm sorry to impose, but could you make just one more chair? I need one for home as well. Of course, I'll pay for this one too."
I smiled.
"Of course. Shall we talk a little more over here?"