A Gift for Mother

After Jae-hak's interview, my once-silent phone burst into life.

Most people hung up the moment they heard the price, or started haggling, insisting it was too expensive. Well, it is expensive, I'll give them that...

Still, golfers tended to be people of relatively comfortable means. If even they were calling it expensive, then yes — it was, in fact, quite expensive. In purely monetary terms, the price sat right around what you'd pay for a high-end set from a top-tier golf brand. Nobody was going to casually drop that kind of money on a workshop that hadn't even been properly proven yet. So people would call out of curiosity after watching the interview, then hang up the second they heard the number.

That didn't mean I had any intention of lowering my prices.

To bring the cost down, I'd have to use cheaper materials or cut the time I spent making each piece. And that was something the soul of Kang Cheolwoo the blacksmith would never permit. The idea of making anything less than a hundred-percent piece of work was absurd. I had no interest in underselling my own worth, either.

Well. The people who actually want something made will come in person.

The workshop address was already public online, and I'd told them they'd have to come see me to confirm the exact price. Anyone who was serious about commissioning a piece would find their way here.

And right now, I had something far more important than answering the phone.

"Hoo... a little more this way..."

The forge hissed and popped. My hammer rang against the metal, once, twice. It was a piece I'd poured roughly two weeks of heart and soul into, so I was extra careful with the finishing work.

Hours later, I engraved the last of it — the words MADE IN KANG — and set down my tools.

"Now that's something."

Even I had to admire it, and I was the one who'd made it. The piece that had drawn that kind of praise from its own maker was, of all things, a single kitchen knife — a knife I'd spent a full ten days pouring everything I had into.

Ordinarily, a kitchen knife didn't take ten days. But this one was for someone very particular, and that had left me no choice but to give it everything I had. It was a birthday present. Today was my mother's birthday, and I had made this for her. Maybe that was why I'd put even more of myself into it than usual.

And it really did come out well, didn't it...?

This was a piece so finely made that even across a hundred years on Olympus, I could count on one hand the works that compared. A blade that gleamed with near-perfect brilliance. A grip so precise it felt as though it had been molded to the user's hand. The materials, too, were the finest alloy paired with the very best wood.

Ah. And one more thing...

I'd nearly forgotten the sheath.

"Let's try this."

I used the leftover cowhide from the golf bag I'd made last time, fashioned a blade cover, and stood up from the bench.

The phone buzzed in my pocket — an unknown number. A customer, most likely. Unfortunately, I had no intention of taking any more calls today. I ended it with a light tap, gathered up the handmade kitchen knife, and walked out to the truck. The engine turned over, and I headed home.

"Mom. Happy birthday."

The moment the candles on the cake went out, I offered my congratulations and held out the gift.

"Oh, you. What did you go and buy all this for?"

I smiled.

"I didn't buy it. I made it myself. Go on, open it."

"What? You made this?"

Mother eased the kitchen knife free of its cover.

"Oh my... it's a kitchen knife. Cheolwoo, did you really make this?"

"I did. Lately, when you've been chopping, your hand's looked like it's been bothering you, so I thought I'd try making one. I fitted it to your hand, so it should be comfortable."

"Fitted it to my hand?"

She carried the knife into the kitchen and tried it on an apple sitting nearby. And then—

"Good heavens, it cuts like this? And why is it so comfortable? I'm barely putting any strength into it at all."

The look on her face was no empty courtesy. She was genuinely startled.

"I spent ten days on it. If you tried to buy something like this anywhere else, you'd be looking at ten million won."

"Oh my. Listen to you, joking around. Who on earth spends ten million won on a kitchen knife?"

I'm not joking.

I wasn't. If a piece like this ever went to auction, I suspected the people who understood its worth would pay tens of millions at the very least.

"Anyway, I love it. Thank you, son!"

She was smiling, just about to cut the cake, when I held out the second gift.

"Mom. I've got one more present."

"What? You prepared two?"

"Just a second."

I opened my phone, signed into the banking app, and transferred the money I'd set aside. A moment later, her phone buzzed.

"Check your phone."

"Hm?"

She pulled it out, read the alert, and the words died in her throat.

"Wh-what on earth is this..."

"Use it to pay off the debt. It's a capital loan as it is — the interest rate's high."

Baek Jeongsun drew another breath and counted the zeros all over again.

"Ch-Cheolwoo... where did you even get thirty million won to send me! Did you take out a loan for this?"

"No. The workshop landed a fairly big job recently, so a good amount came in. On top of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that, I'd been putting a little aside here and there."

She thought it over for a moment, then shook her head.

"Cheolwoo. I can't take this. How am I supposed to spend money my son earned with his own sweat?"

I kept my voice even, trying to settle her.

"Mom, just take it. If you're struggling because of the debt, I can't focus on my work either. And once it's paid off and things ease up a little, you'll be able to give Jeonghwan a proper allowance, won't you?"

I brought up Jeonghwan on purpose — the one argument that might actually get her to accept the money.

"Ah, even so..."

"I'm really fine."

"......"

She slipped the phone back into her pocket.

"Thank you, Cheolwoo. Truly. But you're really all right...? Just a few months ago you were the boy who used to swipe money from my wallet so you could go drinking..."

A hundred-year-old embarrassment flared up, and I clapped a hand over her mouth in a hurry.

"Mom — why are you dragging up ancient history? Come on, eat your cake."

It was a modest birthday, just the two of us. But a warmth I had not felt once in a hundred years filled the house from wall to wall.

"Congratulations, Chairman!"

"Hahaha. Thank you. Thank you."

"Jae-hak's been on another level lately, hasn't he? At this rate, he might even take a PGA title."

"The PGA? Ahahaha. Listen to you. Laying it on a bit thick, aren't you? Still, it's a pleasure just hearing it. Ah, Jae-hak — come over here and say hello."

Jae-hak put on an awkward smile, stepped forward, and bowed.

"Good evening. I'm Jeong Jae-hak."

"Ah, Jae-hak! I've really been enjoying watching you play. You've been extraordinary lately."

"But is that All-Around Workshop fellow really all that? Maybe I ought to pay him a visit myself."

At that, Jae-hak's father, Jung Tae-geun, bristled.

"Now look here, what kind of talk is that? My boy won because he's that good. What do a pair of clubs have to do with anything!"

"Ha — well, I suppose that's true."

Jae-hak couldn't manage an answer. He held the awkward smile ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a moment longer, then slipped away from the cluster of guests as neatly as he could.

The party had been his father's idea — a half-forced celebration of Jae-hak's KPGA championship. Jung Tae-geun's Daesan Group was what people called a conglomerate. It sat at the very tail end of that category, perhaps, but a conglomerate was a conglomerate all the same. The room held a fair number of businessmen and recognizable faces.

Father, honestly...

Even as the son of a chaebol household, Jae-hak was not in line to inherit the company. He had spent his entire life as an athlete, and gatherings like this sat poorly with him. Unused to being the center of a room like this, the guest of honor drifted to a corner and let out a long breath.

"Haa..."

That was when a woman came up beside him.

"Jae-hak. It's been a while."

He lifted his head at the voice, and found a face he hadn't seen in some time.

"What the— Choi Seo-ah? What are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here? I'm a Daesan Construction model. You didn't know?"

"Ah. Right..."

The woman in front of him was Choi Seo-ah — a rookie actress whose stock had been rising fast on the back of a few successful dramas. Her father and Jae-hak's father had been close since they were young, so the two of them had known each other just as long.

That said, Seo-ah was not, from Jae-hak's point of view, a woman at all. Tall, a small face, striking looks, a figure with a perfect S-line — she was, by any measure, a beautiful woman. But he had known her since they were children, and as far as romantic appeal went, the number was zero.

"Hey. Go stand somewhere else."

"What? I haven't seen you in ages."

"If you come over here, those guys keep looking this way."

A handful of men who had been talking among themselves a moment ago had turned their eyes toward Seo-ah. She pulled a face at the sight of it.

"Honestly. You're just as uncomfortable at these things as you always were."

"I'm an athlete. What's the point of being comfortable at stuff like this?"

She tossed a smiling glance toward the men watching from a polite distance, then turned back to Jae-hak.

"Anyway, Jae-hak. There's something I've been curious about."

"Curious? About what?"

"That All-Around Workshop owner you mentioned in the interview. Is he really that good?"

"Master Kang?"

"Master? How old is this guy that you're calling him Master?"

"Younger than I am, probably."

"What??"

The idea that he was younger than Jae-hak left Seo-ah staring at him in disbelief.

"Younger than you means mid-twenties, or even younger than that? Jae-hak, did you join some kind of cult? What could someone that young possibly—"

Jae-hak's expression flattened.

"Choi Seo-ah. Watch what you say. If it weren't for Master Kang, I never would have broken out of that slump. I was thinking about retiring."

The sudden seriousness caught her off guard.

"I— hey, why the face...? Jae-hak, I'm sorry. I was just kidding..."

There was still no humor in his voice.

"Master Kang is like a lifesaver to me. Don't talk about him carelessly from now on."

"Okay... but is he really that incredible?"

The question didn't even buy her a breath. Jae-hak launched into praise without a pause.

"Is he incredible? Master Kang isn't just some blacksmith. How do I even put it. He reads the person who's going to use the thing. He figures out exactly what they need, and then he designs it and makes ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it so that it fits them perfectly. Even calling him a master craftsman doesn't cover it."

From the moment he had felt what those golf clubs could do, Jeong Jae-hak had become a complete devotee of Kang Cheolwoo.

Seo-ah was, frankly, thrown. She had known Jae-hak her whole life, and she had never seen him like this. What's going on with him...? He's too proud to praise anyone that easily...

A flicker of unease crossed her mind — the worry that he really had fallen in with some strange new religion — but alongside it, curiosity about Kang Cheolwoo began to take root. Just how well did a person have to make things to earn praise like that?

She asked the next question carefully.

"So what does this Master Kang mostly make?"

Jae-hak thought for a moment, then answered.

"Well... I commissioned golf clubs, but looking at the golf bag he made, he's excellent with leatherwork too. And from what Chef Lee Jin-seong said, he handles wood and all sorts of other materials just as well..."

Seo-ah, who had been listening along, startled.

"Wait — who? Lee Jin-seong? Cheonghak's Lee Jin-seong?"

"That's the one. That grouch. I went on his recommendation."

"Chef Lee recommended someone? That prickly bastard?"

"That's what I said."

Seo-ah had been to Cheonghak a few times herself. The food wouldn't have lost to a Michelin three-star, but the owner-chef's temper had always been the problem. He was extraordinarily high-strung. Some days he would pick a fight with the guests.

If he just fixed his personality, three Michelin stars would be a lock — and that Lee Jin-seong recommended someone...?

The curiosity was only growing. She opened her phone, ready to write it down, and looked at Jae-hak.

"Jae-hak. Give me that Master Kang's phone number."