Byeong-hwa spoke with passion, spit gathering at the corners of his mouth and his hands gesturing wildly. As soon as he had graduated from secondary school, his beliefs had changed as though he had been waiting for just the right moment. His ideas, then, were like buds about to open, and he was sincere and enthusiastic, if naïve.
Today, with the same Byeong-hwa walking in front of him, Deok-gi made his way down Seokdari, outside Seodaemun, and thought about his friend’s life since their last encounter.
After his brief meeting in Kyoto with Deok-gi, Byeong-hwa had indeed gone to Tokyo and attended school for about one semester, registering as a student in the Department of Political Science and Economics at Waseda University. His father, just as Deok-gi predicted, refused to pay the tuition. Byeong-hwa’s father had approved of his son’s original plan to apply to the Law Department at Keijo Imperial University, and had he supported Byeong-hwa on this new path, things might have sorted themselves out more smoothly. But the clash between the equally stubborn father and son meant no financial support for Byeong-hwa.
This state of affairs partly grew out of a rebellious letter Byeong-hwa had sent home. Everything might have been fine if he had just kept quiet and pretended to get along with his father, even though his view of the world was changing, but his young heart, unwilling to compromise, drove him to assert his new outlook.
As he scraped by for a year in Tokyo, barely avoiding starvation, his disposition grew ever more radical and his resolve was toughened by the kind of life he now led. Never mind that he had broken ranks with his father — what was more surprising to Deok-gi was his discovery that Byeong-hwa’s ideology had undergone a radical shift from his own. Byeong-hwa, however, finally gave up and, after scrounging just enough to get from Tokyo to Kyoto, came to borrow the rest of the money to return home.
Back in Seoul, less than two months after his homecoming, Byeong-hwa had it out with his father. It all began when Byeong-hwa refused to pray before a meal. His father upbraided him, saying that if he intended to ignore paternal instruction and discard his faith, he should either move out or die.
“Well, since I’m not planning to die any time soon, I suppose I’ll just have to go,” replied Byeong-hwa, and he left in a fit of anger.
As the two of them walked along, Deok-gi said out of the blue, “So, my friend, I’ve been thinking it would have been better if you had gone to theology school.”
“What? What did you say?” Byeong-hwa asked sharply, his eyes, teary from the cold wind, glistening behind his glasses. He knew Deok-gi mentioned this because his situation looked so pathetic. The thought enraged Byeong-hwa so much that if he had still had that five won in his hand, he would have thrown it back in his face. Instead, he swallowed his anger.
“Well, I was looking at your long hair from behind, and I suddenly remembered that time we met in Kyoto.” Deok-gi forced a laugh. He was amused by Byeong-hwa’s reaction and wanted to hear what his friend had to say. That was why he was quite deliberately, indeed mischievously, baiting him.
“So, what about it?” Byeong-hwa sounded angrier.
“Don’t lose your temper. I just meant that if you’d gone to theology school, you’d be able to keep your eyes comfortably on the charity pot.” Deok-gi laughed again. By repeating Byeong-hwa’s own words, Deok-gi was insinuating that Byeong-hwa would have been better off had he become a minister. This didn’t go over very well.
“I didn’t steal your five won from the charity pot, you know. I’ll give it back someday!” Byeong-hwa shouted. He wheeled around and stalked off without saying good-bye. Deok-gi looked on with a smile, then walked after him.
“Why are you acting like a child?”
“I’ve got a headache; I’d better go home and lie down,” Byeong-hwa said. He kept walking.
“I’m sorry I said something so pointless, but why make a fuss over such a small amount of money? Do you think I brought it up because I miss it? I was only trying to convince you to change your mind and go back home a bit humbled.” Deok-gi grabbed his friend’s hand to try to calm him down.
Byeong-hwa stopped short. It suddenly occurred to him that he should put their friendship behind him; it would be too difficult to maintain a real relationship, or even keep up appearances, with a friend who had money. “I don’t think we can go on being friends — unless you come a step closer to me or I take a step back for you. That’ll be hard for both of us. If we continue to see each other, it’ll be meaningless, and I’ll just keep owing you money.”
“Well, it’s not as if I haven’t ever felt the same way, but let’s go out now anyway. We can at least relax and talk a bit before we say good-bye.” Deok-gi held his friend’s arm and headed downtown. Byeong-hwa followed quietly.
As they reached the street near the prison, they looked for a place to eat but continued on toward Namdaemun until they found themselves in front of a Japanese noodle shop. A cold evening wind swept through the darkening streets. Deok-gi led the way to the door, brightly lit with an electrical bulb. Byeong-hwa, a few steps behind, was about to enter, when he suddenly turned on his heels and walked away. Thinking his friend was being difficult again, Deok-gi followed him out. Byeong-hwa stood with his eyes on Namdaemun, where about a block away, a young woman in a white blouse, black skirt, and a scarf drawn high up to her cheeks, was approaching with quick steps. Byeong-hwa seemed to be waiting for her.
Her hair was pinned up, but she was young, only about sixteen or seventeen. Deok-gi surmised she must be Pil-sun, the daughter of the man who owned Byeong-hwa’s boarding house.
“What brings you here?” Pil-sun asked Byeong-hwa, casting a sidelong glance toward Deok-gi. Recognizing him, she quickly turned away in embarrassment and looked as if she might dash off.
“Chilly night, isn’t it?” Byeong-hwa was about to say more when Deok-gi caught up with him and whispered, “How about asking her to warm up inside? It’s freezing out here.”
That was exactly what Byeong-hwa wanted to do, though he was reluctant to take her to a restaurant with a stranger and figured she almost certainly would refuse. He also didn’t think it was a good idea after having just quarreled with his friend. But Deok-gi sounded sincere, and Byeong-hwa wanted her to have something to eat before going home; she must have gone to work with little breakfast and then walked all the way from Yongsan in the cold. Besides, he had once shown her pictures of his friends, and when she commented on Deok-gi’s good looks, he had joked that he’d introduce her to him the next time he came over. Come to think of it, she’d probably be quite happy to join them.
Yet Byeong-hwa still hesitated, staring at her as she walked away. At last, he took several steps after her and called, “Pil-sun, wait a minute.”
“Why?” She turned swiftly.
“Just come over here for a minute, will you?”
Pil-sun slowly approached him.
“Aren’t you cold? Your legs must be tired, too, from walking such a long way. Why don’t you come inside with us for a while?”
“No, thanks.” She looked over at Deok-gi, who was standing a few yards away.
“Don’t worry. He’s one of the friends I told you about. We’ll just chat for a while. Come on. Warm yourself up a bit before you go home.” Byeong-hwa pulled at her.
Pil-sun couldn’t make up her mind. When Byeong-hwa’s friends came to visit, she usually spent time with them, for they were, for the most part, her father’s friends as well. She knew them all and wasn’t reluctant to be with them. But now, knowing that this friend was Jo Deok-gi, the son of a rich family, she felt embarrassed by her appearance and ashamed of being taken to the shop. She was even more hesitant to go in because she was so hungry.