The Father in His Dreams
"Don't you have something to say to me?"
The sky was so brilliantly clear it felt almost wasted on a Monday — and had Shin Jeong-ah not been glaring at him with that dissatisfied scowl, he might have felt it all the more.
"Hooooo—!"
Leaning against the railing, Shin Jeong-ah smoked, one hand smoothing her wind-tangled hair.
"I said, don't you have anything to say to me?"
Kang Hyeong-seok brought the 2,700-won convenience-store coffee to his lips and let out a sigh no one was meant to see.
"I really couldn't say what the matter could be."
"You 'really couldn't saaay what the matter could be'?"
Throwing his words back in open mockery, Shin Jeong-ah fixed him with a fierce, frigid stare.
"If you drag me into the office on a holiday to sprinkle salt, the least you can do is manage a thank-you."
Right. The salt. He had, in fact, asked her to scatter some — and the vengeful ghost in the warehouse had driven it clean from his mind. Caught out, Kang Hyeong-seok bowed his head without protest.
"Thank you, Section Chief."
"Hooooo—!"
Exhaling a plume of smoke, Shin Jeong-ah wore a face every bit as terrifying as the vengeful ghost's.
"So you forgot. Assistant Manager Kang, do you have any idea how much trouble I landed in, sprinkling salt on Saturday?"
"...You did?"
Nothing had reached him, so he hadn't even been able to imagine it.
"Do you know how much they lectured me — 'salt kills every root in a flower bed'...?! The things they said. The things!"
Having wrung out her grievance, Shin Jeong-ah pressed a knuckle hard against the corner of her eye. Then, drawing a deep breath just as she was, she took a long drag on her cigarette.
"So is it settled, then?"
Kang Hyeong-seok inhaled deeply and lifted his gaze to the sky. That stretch of blue brought back the image of Kim Soon-hee, ascended at last.
"It's all been resolved."
"...Yeah?"
"Yes."
Kang Hyeong-seok had resolved to absorb whatever complaints or disappointments she cared to pour out.
"Fine, then."
Contrary to his expectations, however, all she sent over was a voice drained of every ounce of fight.
"What do you mean?"
"You said it's resolved. Then it's resolved, I suppose."
Watching her gulp down her irritation bit by bit, Kang Hyeong-seok managed a stiff, apologetic smile.
"It isn't that everything is finished."
"I know! There's Assistant Manager Lee, too. But what's going to become of him?"
"That... honestly, I can't say."
"What?"
"The root of it all — the spirit in the warehouse — has been sent on to the afterlife. But the fact remains that Assistant Manager Lee was hurt."
Understanding him, Shin Jeong-ah twisted her lips, her conflicted feelings plain.
"This is driving me up the wall."
"For the rest, we can only hope time does its work. If the treatment goes well, he'll recover."
Kang Hyeong-seok had done all that was his to do. The shamanic side of things was finished; what remained hung on modern medicine and on Lee Jin-pyeong himself. Even so, he was not gravely worried.
Because something was watching over him.
Lee Jin-pyeong was not alone. The spirit of his Spitz stood guard at his side. What must that feel like — the heart of a dog that had to strain not to reunite with its master? The touch it longed for, the face that would welcome it, the voice that would call its name: all of it could only come after Lee Jin-pyeong's own passing.
"Are you satisfied, Assistant Manager Kang?"
Not sure what she meant, Kang Hyeong-seok looked at her.
"Satisfied with what, exactly?"
"With how things turned out. Right now."
It sounded like a question with several meanings folded into it, so Kang Hyeong-seok weighed it for a moment — but in the end, no other answer came to mind.
"I can't say it sits well with me."
With a face that said you feel it too, don't you?, Shin Jeong-ah carried the cigarette to her lips.
"Assistant Manager Lee as well — I suppose it's because I never got to see the end of the ones who committed the sin."
Lee Jin-pyeong, guilty of nothing, lay in a hospital bed. Then what of those who were guilty? Deputy Ma, and the president? Perhaps, bearing the sins they had sown, they had never lived easy lives — and perhaps they had not gone anywhere good after death, either. But Kang Hyeong-seok knew nothing of their ends. And that was what left the taste in his mouth so sour.
Creeeak.
Just then, Department Head Kwak Young-ho shouldered the door open, a cigarette already wedged between his lips.
"Oh? What's this — all of you together?"
"Did you enjoy your meal?"
Kang Hyeong-seok offered the greeting, and —
"Company cafeteria? Taste went out the window."
"You should have gone somewhere nice."
At Shin Jeong-ah's words, Kwak Young-ho gave a wry laugh and flapped a hand in dismissal.
"The home loan I still have to pay off is astronomical. Astronomical, I tell you."
Click.
For all his grumbling, Kwak Young-ho looked to be in perfectly good spirits as he lit his cigarette.
"Whew. Weather's lovely, though. Ah! Section Chief Shin."
"Yes?"
It came after Shin Jeong-ah answered, stubbing out her burnt-short cigarette.
"Mind if I borrow Assistant Manager Kang for the afternoon?"
"Hold on, why are you asking me... No — more importantly, why?"
"Nothing major. We have to go out to the warehouse together."
"The warehouse?"
Shin Jeong-ah's eyes swung to Kang Hyeong-seok, and there was unease in them. Anything bound up with the warehouse did that.
"Has something happened?"
"Nothing's happened."
"Really? Then I'll go along."
"No. It's about amended contract terms — I'm the one who ought to go."
"The contract's already drawn up and signed. What could there possibly be to change?"
Shin Jeong-ah's brow knitted sharply. A shift in contract terms was a serious matter — every bit as serious as something happening at the warehouse.
"He says he'll redraw it in our favor."
"I'm sorry... what?"
"Got a text while I was eating. We'd best get the new stamp down before he changes his mind."
"No, but — I don't understand any of this."
The contract already bore both seals. For the other party to come back offering to rewrite it to the company's advantage defied all common sense. Kang Hyeong-seok felt the same, and just as the thought crossed his mind that something had to be wrong, Kwak Young-ho's eyes came up and met his.
"Did something happen between you and the warehouse owner?"
"No. Nothing beyond what I saw when we signed."
"Really? Hm."
"Has something happened?"
"The owner, Ma Jin-soo — he insists you come along with me."
Ma Jin-soo? Brow creasing, Kang Hyeong-seok rifled through his memory. The warehouse owner had certainly borne that name.
Wait. Ma Jin-soo?
Ma was no common surname — and just then, another figure flashed unbidden through Kang Hyeong-seok's mind.
Deputy Ma?
The man who, on the president's orders, had held the door shut so Kim Soon-hee could never leave the warehouse. Could these two be connected? Kang Hyeong-seok glanced without thinking toward Shin Jeong-ah — but she only shot back a look that said, why are you suddenly staring at me?
Arriving at the Osan warehouse, Kang Hyeong-seok headed for the meeting spot with Kwak Young-ho. It was a self-service café — five tables, two vending machines — a converted shipping container whose interior had been done up respectably enough.
"You're here early."
Ma Jin-soo, the only soul seated in the empty café, rose from his chair. His face carried a restlessness he couldn't quite hide.
Kang Hyeong-seok sat down across from him, Kwak Young-ho at his side.
"Roads were wide open. We made good time because of it."
A smile sat at the corners of Kwak Young-ho's mouth — laughter he was failing to suppress. Understandable. For a company plotting its expansion, this warehouse mattered enormously, and now they were re-contracting it on terms favorable to the company. It would mean a handsome gain for the business — and might even earn Kwak Young-ho and Kang Hyeong-seok a measure of credit besides. All the same, there was no need to display himself this incapable of holding in his glee.
"Department Head?"
"Hm?"
At Kang Hyeong-seok's prompt, the smile drained from Kwak Young-ho's face.
"I'll go draw the coffees."
"Oh? Oh, right. Then — you remember the one I had last time?"
"Caramel macchiato?"
"That's it! I'll leave it to you. Thanks, Assistant Manager Kang."
And along with his thanks, Kwak Young-ho handed over the company card to boot. With two coffee machines on hand, it took no time at all to come back with the cups. Kwak Young-ho took a sip of coffee so bracing it felt like a jolt to the scalp, then met Ma Jin-soo's eyes with his mirth finally settled.
"Might I ask what has prompted you to wish to renew the contract?"
"Do I have to explain even that?"
"We have to give our own company a reason, you see."
Just then, Kang Hyeong-seok looked at Ma Jin-soo — and their gazes caught, briefly. As if the man were taking his measure. A gulp. Ma Jin-soo wet his mouth with coffee, rubbed at his forehead, and tipped his head back toward the ceiling.
"I hardly know where to begin."
"Take your time. Say only what you're comfortable with."
"Forgive me if this is rude, but I'd like to speak with that gentleman alone."
"I'm sorry?"
Kwak Young-ho's head swung toward Kang Hyeong-seok — because Ma Jin-soo was pointing at him.
You're quite sure nothing happened between you and the warehouse owner?
To the question Kwak Young-ho flung with his eyes alone, Kang Hyeong-seok could only answer with a shake of his head.
"This gentleman is my direct supervisor. Since the matter concerns the company, wouldn't it be best to carry on as we are?"
At that, Ma Jin-soo pressed his lips shut for a long moment — then nodded hard, as though he had finally made up his mind.
"I know how strange it will make me look, but last night my father appeared to me in a dream."
"A dream? Your father — don't tell me he's..."
As Ma Jin-soo nodded, Kwak Young-ho let out a soundless sigh. The two men were of much the same age, so the news that Ma Jin-soo's father had passed did not feel like a stranger's affair.
"It's been quite a while now. Ten years or so."
"Oh, my..."
"And yet he comes to me in my dreams all the same — five times a year, give or take. And every time, he tells me he's in agony. That it's more than he can bear."
Kwak Young-ho's eyes narrowed with puzzlement and pity in equal measure, while Kang Hyeong-seok drank his coffee wearing a look of understanding.
So it was true, then. Ma Jin-soo was Deputy Ma's son.
President's orders or no, Deputy Ma had still lent his hand to the taking of a life — and it seemed he was paying for that karma even now, beyond death.
"It gnawed at me so badly that I tried a temple, and then a church. Strange, isn't it?"
"Not at all. I'd have done the same."
As Kwak Young-ho agreed with every appearance of sincerity, a bitter smile settled at the corners of Ma Jin-soo's mouth — and still his gaze kept drifting back to Kang Hyeong-seok.
"One deeply learned monk told me: the warehouse is the problem. Deal with the warehouse first, he said."
"The warehouse? Is there some history there?"
And then it happened. Ma Jin-soo rubbed at his mouth — as though something too terrible to hold between his lips were squirming on his tongue.
"It was my father's affair. I don't know the details."
He might have been lying. His expression was grim enough to plant the thought, and even Kwak Young-ho seemed to reach the same conclusion at a glance — so Kang Hyeong-seok let his eyes fall to his coffee cup.
Hard to speak of, that much is certain.
The kind of story where, even knowing it, one could only pretend ignorance. The warehouse's ownership had passed from the president to Ma Jin-soo's father — and somewhere in that transfer, it appeared, the two had struck a private bargain, an ugly and filthy one. A factory taken as the price for a hand in murder. That, most likely, was what the deal had contained.
"Excuse me... by any chance, is there something you would say to me?"
It was Ma Jin-soo — many years his senior — putting the question with scrupulous courtesy. Kang Hyeong-seok set down his cup and opened his mouth with care.
"It seems you have something you wish to say to me."
Ma Jin-soo looked like a man trying to confirm something. So Kang Hyeong-seok let a long breath slip through thinly parted lips and handed over the question Ma Jin-soo had been aching to have asked.
"What, if I may ask, was the relationship between the warehouse's original owner and your father?"
And then —
Clunk!
Ma Jin-soo went into convulsions, as if a bolt of lightning had struck him where he sat — hard enough that a few drops of coffee slopped over the rims of the cups on the table.