The Crows Fly West
"A-are you all right?"
Kwak Young-ho stammered, completely thrown. Ma Jin-soo stared at Kang Hyeong-seok with eyes wide in shock, while Kang Hyeong-seok himself simply reached for a napkin and wiped up the coffee splashed across the table.
"I'm sorry. It seems I asked a question I shouldn't have."
"N-no, not at all!"
Ma Jin-soo shook his head rapidly, then dabbed the cold sweat from his face with a clean napkin. When he looked up at Kang Hyeong-seok again, his face was drained of all color — and his eyes brimmed with fear.
"How much do you know?"
"I'd like to hear about the original owner first."
With Kwak Young-ho watching in open bewilderment, Kang Hyeong-seok kept his focus fixed on Ma Jin-soo's lips. The tightly sealed mouth twitched several times before finally parting with effort.
"Yesterday I was contacted by the original owner's family. They told me he had passed away."
So the boss was dead. And yet — yesterday? Kang Hyeong-seok recalled the hour at which Kim Soon-hee had been sent on to heaven. So they did meet. Whether the timing had simply fallen into place by chance, or whether Heaven itself had been waiting all along for that very moment, he couldn't say. Either way, the boss seemed to have left this world.
"From what I hear, his story wasn't a good one. They said he was no soul that had earned a good death."
Karma truly is a terrifying thing. Thinking of the boss, who must have received that karma in full, Kang Hyeong-seok narrowed his eyes. Then, without shifting his gaze, he looked straight at Ma Jin-soo.
"And your father — is he at peace?"
The question only deepened the confusion in Kwak Young-ho's eyes. But Ma Jin-soo paid him no mind; the hand wrapped around his coffee cup was trembling violently.
"I believe your father would have left word with you."
Ma Jin-soo nodded as if in a daze, then let his head sink.
"Last night... my father appeared to me."
Kwak Young-ho let out a groan and looked back and forth between the two of them with a face that plainly demanded to know what on earth was going on. Before him, Ma Jin-soo pressed on, wringing the words out of himself.
"It was the first time. The first time he ever came to me looking at peace."
"W-well, that's good news. Right, Assistant Manager Kang?"
"Yes."
It was the instant after Kang Hyeong-seok had answered him—
"He said he has finally been forgiven."
Ma Jin-soo looked at Kang Hyeong-seok with trembling eyes. Even under the strange looks Kwak Young-ho kept sending his way, he only fidgeted with his coffee cup and stared at Kang Hyeong-seok alone. The emotion in that gaze was unmistakable — fear, confusion, and beneath them, gratitude.
"My father asked something of me. He said there was just one favor he wanted. So I intend to grant it, as far as I'm able."
With a soft rustle, Ma Jin-soo drew a brown document envelope from the bag propped against the back of his chair and laid it on the table.
Kwak Young-ho's gaze dropped to the envelope. His eyes said he had a fair idea of what was inside, so the words that followed came as no surprise.
"It's the contract. Please, take a look."
Under normal circumstances, a contract like this was something both parties drafted together, clause by clause. Yet Ma Jin-soo, the warehouse's owner, had gone and rewritten the whole thing on his own. Even so, after everything that had led up to this moment, Kwak Young-ho pulled the contract from the envelope without a word.
"Wha— this is..."
A flustered Kwak Young-ho lifted his head to look at Ma Jin-soo, who answered with his eyes on Kang Hyeong-seok.
"Please consider it my father's will."
"S-still. No, honestly, this is..."
Three years of use, entirely free of charge. Rent would be charged only after that — and even then at thirty percent below the original contract. The first terms had already been cheap, so this went beyond unprecedented and into the outright revolutionary. And topping it all off: the company itself would decide when the contract came to an end.
"I hear the warehouse you'd been using had its contract terminated when the property changed hands. If you lease mine, that will never happen."
Even if the warehouse someday passed down to Ma Jin-soo's son, the company would be guaranteed steady use of it. At terms too outrageous to believe, Kwak Young-ho's mouth opened and closed wordlessly — and Ma Jin-soo drew a deep breath and straightened his back. Then, fixing his eyes on Kang Hyeong-seok, he spoke.
"There's also an apology I'd like to offer. Personally."
Kang Hyeong-seok gave a silent nod.
Ma Jin-soo was an ordinary man — and so, within him, good and evil coexisted. He had never said so aloud, but he must have known all along that the warehouse was whispered to be haunted, that there was something inside it. Back when they'd signed the first contract, Ma Jin-soo had waited outside the building. No doubt because he knew there was nothing to be gained from setting foot in that place.
"...You knew, didn't you?"
Ma Jin-soo asked, and Kwak Young-ho's stare latched on as well. Kang Hyeong-seok took one slow, deep breath, then nodded.
"Yes."
"I'm sorry."
Beside them, Kwak Young-ho was shooting looks that plainly said, What kind of conversation is this? — while Kang Hyeong-seok turned to Ma Jin-soo.
"What happened happened, and what's been settled is settled. I'm glad your father has found some peace."
"Do you really believe he's at peace?"
"He told you so himself, in your dream, didn't he? That he'd been forgiven. Your father will have gone on to a good place."
"...I hope so."
"Being forgiven is no easy thing. No easier than forgiving someone else."
Then Ma Jin-soo raised his head, and his eyes were damp.
"Your father must have spent his whole life blaming himself. Because of that, he was given a chance — and only now, at last, has he been forgiven."
To Kwak Young-ho, Kang Hyeong-seok looked like a stranger. The air around him, the very way he spoke — it was as if someone else had taken his place. It felt close to what he'd received from the shaman that time his wife had taken him by the hand to her shrine. He kept a wary eye on Ma Jin-soo, half afraid the man might take offense — but Ma Jin-soo was hanging on Kang Hyeong-seok's every word.
"Has my father truly been forgiven?"
"Do not seek to know what he was forgiven for."
Ma Jin-soo flinched, then nodded, and Kang Hyeong-seok went on in a voice weighted like lead.
"What is done is done. Your father's karma has been dissolved, and he will now set out on the road of reincarnation. But your own karma has yet to be resolved."
"Hey, Kang—"
Kwak Young-ho lunged to cut him off — but Ma Jin-soo raised a hand, silently begging him to let it be, and he had no choice but to swallow the words.
"What must I do?"
Leasing out a warehouse he knew was haunted. Trying to turn a haunted place into profit. Providing the cause of Lee Jin-pyeong being struck down. That was Ma Jin-soo's karma.
"Live a life of service. If you give to those in need as well, all the better. Do that, and you will wash your karma clean."
"...That's all it takes?"
"That depends on the heart you bring to it."
When Kang Hyeong-seok gave his answer clean and without hesitation, Ma Jin-soo's head sank low.
"Thank you. Thank you so much. Truly, truly, thank you, sir."
Ma Jin-soo's face had gone light — the face of a man from whose chest a long-festered knot had finally been cut away. And that was exactly why Kwak Young-ho, though he could feel that something about this entire scene was deeply strange, found himself unable to say a single word.
Vroooom.
In the car heading back to the office, Kwak Young-ho clamped a cigarette between his lips. Kang Hyeong-seok rode in the passenger seat, his usual bag settled on his lap.
Click!
"Phew!"
"Are you all right?"
"With what?"
"You don't look so good."
Kwak Young-ho glanced over at Kang Hyeong-seok as though he found this amusing, the corner of his mouth curling up around the cigarette. But the smile didn't last long.
"So what was all that back there?"
"You mean the conversation with the warehouse owner?"
Kwak Young-ho's eyes widened briefly; then he answered with a nod. They were on a dedicated car-only road, a quiet stretch at that, and the cruise control was carrying them along without a single bump. That was the only reason he could give the conversation his full attention behind the wheel.
"I've lived a long time, and I have never seen anything like this. The man suddenly rewrites the contract to his own loss — then hands it over and thanks us for taking it."
Kang Hyeong-seok pressed his lips shut and swallowed a groan.
Did I overplay it?
There had been another way — accept the new contract, offer a polite word of thanks, and slip away. But it had never felt like the right way. With what he'd said, Ma Jin-soo had found peace. He'd even learned how to wash his karma clean. All that remained was Kwak Young-ho's gaze — and if he didn't smooth that over as neatly as possible, his office life would pay for it.
Kang Hyeong-seok cracked his window open and spoke.
"I just told him what he wanted to hear. That's what the man seemed to be hoping for, so I obliged."
He studied Kwak Young-ho's reaction, and Kwak Young-ho took a long, deep drag on his cigarette before opening his mouth.
"You majored in folklore, right?"
"Sorry? Ah — yes."
Cigarette pinched between his fingers, Kwak Young-ho gripped the wheel and tipped his head sideways.
"Because I don't know the first thing about folklore, see? So I'm just asking — do they actually teach you this kind of thing at school?"
"What kind of thing, sir?"
"Talking like a shaman."
Kang Hyeong-seok rubbed his forehead. His head was growing hot, but if he played it well, he might just steer his way past this.
"Well, uh — to be perfectly honest, no. That part wasn't something I was taught."
"Really?"
Kwak Young-ho was so startled he actually turned his head, which only startled Kang Hyeong-seok more in return. Still — cruise control these days truly was a marvel. The car hadn't so much as twitched, even through a moment like this.
"For my coursework I had to go out into the field for research. One thing led to another, and I ended up speaking with shamans fairly often. I suppose I picked it up on the side, just from being around them."
"I see..."
"Yes."
It wasn't a complete lie, so Kang Hyeong-seok could answer with an easy conscience. Kwak Young-ho, however, looked more lost in thought than ever.
"Is something wrong, sir?"
"Mmph — no, it's nothing."
"Please tell me. Otherwise it'll gnaw at me."
Kwak Young-ho stole a glance at him and hooked one corner of his mouth upward. Then he smoked in silence for a while, and only after flicking the butt into the empty cup — the ice from the cafe long since melted — did he finally speak.
"Truth is, the missus has been visiting a shaman's shrine."
"A shrine?"
"I don't know what it's about, but all weekend she's been watching her step around me — like she'd done me some wrong or something."
"Ah..."
"And you remember saying the energy felt off, before we signed the contract? So early this morning she went to get a talisman — and you know what they told her there?"
"What did they say?"
Kwak Young-ho turned to look at him, and a deeply enigmatic smile spread across his face.
"Said no talisman was needed. And that a benefactor had taken up at my side — so I'd best look after him well, and hold on tight."
"Shamans do have a way of saying exactly what people want to hear."
Kwak Young-ho was not a man who believed in shamanism. That was precisely why Kang Hyeong-seok couldn't come out and admit the truth — that he was the one who had sent the grudge-bound spirit on to heaven — and had deflected with a convenient half-truth instead.
"That's what I told her, too, mind you."
Kwak Young-ho glanced briefly down at the navigation screen and went on, his expression still unreadable.
"When talk of renewing the contract first came up with the warehouse owner, I remember thinking — could it be? And then I watched you talk to the man the way you did, and I started to think maybe that shaman knew exactly what she was talking about."
"And does that make me your benefactor, sir?"
"BWAHAHA!"
It had been meant as a joke, and Kwak Young-ho received it with a booming laugh.
"God, I wish it were true. But listen, Assistant Manager Kang — as far as I'm concerned, a 'benefactor' is a subordinate who does his work well and does this company some good."
"Yes, sir."
"And in that spirit, you were my benefactor today. From the looks of it, you had a rather large hand in that renegotiation."
So that settles it, then? Was this how Kwak Young-ho had chosen to file the whole thing away in his head? Kang Hyeong-seok watched the man's profile for a moment, then pulled his bag to his chest. The cloth-wrapped handle of the sacred shaman bells dug into his breastbone.
"Anyway, we've still got to file a report with the company, and honestly, this one's a headache."
Muttering half to himself, Kwak Young-ho changed lanes — and his eyes suddenly lit up as though a brilliant idea had struck him.
"Assistant Manager Kang, let's give this report a good toss before we send it up."
"Sorry?"
"If we file it exactly as it happened, we're going to catch hell for it. So let's fold in a little truth, give the whole thing a good mix, and send it up like that."
No one had said a word about bibimbap.
When Kang Hyeong-seok shot him a look asking precisely how, exactly, he planned to season this situation, Kwak Young-ho reached on instinct for the cup with the cigarette butt in it, yelped, and set it right back down.
"We'll say the warehouse owner took a shine to you, and that you read him so well you landed us these terms. How's that sound?"
"W-wait just a moment. Then what about you, sir?"
He would be reduced to a bit player. The two of them had gone on this trip together — if the report shone on Kang Hyeong-seok alone, what would the higher-ups make of Kwak Young-ho? That was what worried him, but Kwak Young-ho's face simply said, so what?
"If we spin some wild tale and it comes back around mangled behind our backs, that's what really does you in, kid."
"Sir..."
"Let's just go with it. And hey — I've sat in this chair long enough to know better than to do this without thinking it through."
In other words: he would collect his own share, in due proportion, along the way. That was the gist of it. The heavy lifting and the decisive part had all been Kang Hyeong-seok's work, while Kwak Young-ho had planned the operation and laid the groundwork — that framing would be the strongest play of all.
"And to think I was planning to be the one pushing you up the ladder. Honestly."
Kwak Young-ho murmured it so quietly that it never reached Kang Hyeong-seok's ears.
"Sorry?"
"Hm? Nothing. Nothing at all."
Kwak Young-ho waved it off, but his face gave Kang Hyeong-seok a fair idea of what he'd said. Kang Hyeong-seok let the corner of his mouth curl upward and spoke.
"I hope it all turns out well."
"Of course it will! We landed a hell of a contract — how could it not? You, my boy, were a genuine benefactor this time."
He must have taken a real liking to the word, because Kwak Young-ho kept murmuring "benefactor" to himself for the rest of the drive. As for the unfamiliar figure Kang Hyeong-seok had cut at the cafe, he seemed to have decided not to carry it with him.
Once the last of the cigarette smoke had cleared from the car, Kang Hyeong-seok rolled the window shut. Silence settled over the interior — as though telling him this matter need trouble them no longer.
This much makes for a good ending. The han had been untangled, and the case was closed. He even knew what lay ahead; there was nothing left to linger over.
Just as the tension drained from him and he allowed himself a moment's rest in the car bound for the office—
Clack. Clack.
Perched on a tree branch, a crow that had been watching the car Kang Hyeong-seok rode in clacked its beak. Then it hurled itself high into the air, and the crows that had been lying hidden among the branches rose after it as though in pursuit.
Caw! Caw! CRAAAW! Caw!
A preternaturally large flock of crows wheeled once, wide, across the sky — then fled west, as though shunning the sun.