The Grandchild Yet to Be Born
The shaman lighting incense frowned at the commotion filtering in from outside. A moment later the door opened, and her attendant appeared.
"What's all this racket? I told you we're not seeing anyone for a while because of the move."
"I'm sorry. It's just... the person who showed up is being extremely insistent."
The man approached with a troubled look, leaning in to whisper to the shaman who it was — but before he could, the shrine doors swung wide.
"Getting a look at our shaman's face is no easy thing, is it?"
And there stood Myeong-hui.
"Didn't this boy get in touch with you? As you can see, we've relocated the shrine."
The shaman indicated her attendant with a jut of her chin. Myeong-hui was the sort of woman who, if you didn't pick up, would leave missed calls until you did. That was why they'd sent word through the attendant that they wouldn't be operating for the time being.
"A shrine that hasn't even hung its sign yet, and Director Pyo found it remarkably fast."
They'd only passed along news of the move. They hadn't even given out the address of the new location in Gyeonggi Province. That Myeong-hui had tracked down a place no one yet knew about was astonishing in itself.
Myeong-hui looked at the shaman and snorted. Then she straightened from where she'd been leaning against the threshold and walked inside.
"Shaman. Have you known me a day or two? There's nothing I don't know."
"I came to collect what I asked you for last time."
Myeong-hui strode forward without hesitation and dropped herself down in front of the shaman. She set the handbag she'd brought on the paulownia table.
"The auspicious date?"
Instead of answering, Myeong-hui gave a small nod. When the call had come last time, she had said she needed an auspicious date for Chairman Gu and his fiancée's wedding.
"It's been a whole month. You've got it, haven't you?"
A date took a week at most to determine. Naturally she'd assumed it was ready, which was why she'd come looking.
"I'll be honest with you, Director Pyo. No date is showing."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
Myeong-hui's neatly drawn eyebrows shot up. The end of her voice cracked, sharp and ringing, her temper clearly ruffled.
"Both families have a death hanging over them this year. And that's not even all — they're in a three-year run of misfortune on top of it. That means you wait at least three years."
"It's not just that this year won't work — you're telling me we have to wait three more years?"
It had already been five years since Je-heon and Yo-eun held their engagement ceremony. The shaman knew that better than anyone, and Myeong-hui's face crumpled.
"You said the two of them were a good match."
"That was five years ago, and it was fine then."
At the answer that came back like a verbal sleight of hand, Myeong-hui shoved the table over with both hands. The gilt-bronze incense burner that had sat on it went rolling across the floor with a clatter.
The attendant stared in horror. The shaman, as if this were far from the first time, simply watched in silence.
"This shrine. No — this building is in your name, isn't it. How much of my money went into putting this place up."
"And that's not all. Those two houses in Seoul. You bought those selling me your rituals, didn't you. Hmm?"
The shaman shot her attendant a look telling him to leave. Understanding, the man who had been watching with concern rose from his seat and left the shrine.
Watching him go, Myeong-hui moved. With the table that had stood between them gone, she closed another step, pressing in on the shaman.
"If you can't see it, then make it. Shaman. That's what our shaman's role is."
Then she picked up one of the ritual implements lying beside her, pressed it into the shaman's hand, and went on.
"Perform a rite. Make it happen even if you have to."
"You know what this marriage means to me, and you're still pulling this? Do it the way you've always done it."
Myeong-hui smiled, her eyes glittering with a feverish madness. Eyes narrowed viciously, yet the corners of her mouth pulled endlessly upward. Even looking like a madwoman, the shaman didn't avert her gaze in the slightest.
"If you keep grasping like that, you won't come away with anything, Director Pyo."
She had been in charge of Myeong-hui's fortune readings for over a decade. She had delivered unfavorable readings before, but in all those years she had never once gone against Myeong-hui's will.
"So I should just sit on my hands because I won't come away with anything? Do you know how I've been surviving in this household?"
Myeong-hui shrieked, her voice thick with fury. It was so agitated that veins stood out on her slender neck.
"You don't know, do you, shaman? That wretched bitch who shows her face whenever I smile! The impulse I have to hold back every time I see that woman."
Myeong-hui's shoulders shuddered as if something had come to mind.
"I've waited thirty years. The finish line is right in front of me, and an auspicious date? You think a mere date is going to stand in my way?"
Myeong-hui reached out and clasped the shaman's wrinkled hands.
"Our beautiful grandchild. You know how long I've been waiting."
Gently stroking the back of the shaman's hand, Myeong-hui smiled with terrible sweetness.
The shaman, who had kept her silence for a long while, slowly parted her lips.
"That woman who came that time."
As if recalling someone, the shaman continued, then abruptly stopped. Resignation flickered briefly through her eyes.
"Never mind. I'll draw the auspicious date again and send it. Have Chief Ju come."
But with a wedding on the line, such things didn't matter to Myeong-hui.
The storm of the lunch rush had passed, and a brief calm settled over the cafe. An hour remained until her shift ended. Having finished tidying up, Yeon-jae let her gaze sweep the room.
Sunlight streamed through the large windows, stretching long across the interior. With so many sizable plants, the scene was as beautiful as a botanical garden.
Looking at that view, Yeon-jae lowered her eyes. The phone she looked at was still silent.
Has he not seen it yet?
At the end of the weekend, having finished her piled-up housework, Yeon-jae had sat at the living room table and stared at a video for a long time. It was the autumn concert footage of Ji-woo and Seo-ha that Hye-gyeong had sent her.
The children giving their stage greetings. Ji-woo walking onto the stage and taking his seat, then those tiny hands producing the first notes. When a child so small played the piano, it was full of force.
Watching the recording, she noticed things she hadn't seen when she'd been there in person. When the violin was meant to shine, Ji-woo deliberately played to match Seo-ha. At an age when wanting to be the star should come first, he understood precisely what the piano's role was.
Of course, the ensemble teacher's coaching played a large part.
And the child at the piano was genuinely happy. Even watching the video again, that happiness reached Yeon-jae. And that was what made her hesitate.
Couldn't Ji-woo be different from me?
Did she have the right to take his happiness away?
After wrestling with it fiercely through the night, Yeon-jae sent Je-heon a message. That she would accept the foundation contract.
It was a message she'd agonized over all weekend. And even while working at the cafe, she found herself checking her phone now and then.
She was looking at the unresponsive screen, then shifted her gaze out the window — when a short vibration sounded.
It was a message from Je-heon. Not expecting him to send someone immediately, Yeon-jae hurriedly set down her phone and approached the manager in the roasting room.
"Manager. I'm sorry, but you'll need to find a replacement for my position."
"Huh? All of a sudden?"
She'd already been working part-time here for two years. It was a cafe she'd grown thoroughly attached to, but now that she'd decided on the foundation contract, going to Seoul was inevitable. It was time to start wrapping up her life in Daejeon.
"Why? Are you sick or something?"
"It's not that... I'm going up to Seoul."
"Seoul? Congratulations! I don't know what it is, but it's something to celebrate, right?"
The manager's eyes went round. At first she smiled, offering congratulations, then suddenly her face fell.
"But how am I supposed to live without you around, Yeon-jae? I'll be so bored."
Then the corners of her eyes drooped.
After the concert, Ji-woo had become famous at kindergarten. Kids from this group and that were seeking him out more and more.
Today he was with a cluster of friends who'd asked him to play at the playground together. From a distance, Seo-ha came running, calling his name.
"Here comes Jang Seo-ha."
"Ji-woo, are you dating Seo-ha?"
"No?"
Ji-woo waved his hands in disgust at the out-of-nowhere question.
"Then why does she only follow you around?"
"I dunnooo."
Ji-woo mumbled a vague answer, brushed the sand off, and stood up.
Seo-ha came running and stopped in front of him. What was she rushing over to brag about this time. He already felt tired, but he didn't show it.
"Yesterday I told my dad I was hungry and he bought me a hamburger on the way!"
Chattering away, Seo-ha launched into yesterday's story. She'd eaten the hamburger her dad bought her and said she was sleepy, so he'd carried her all the way home.
Listening without much interest, Ji-woo suddenly remembered yesterday.
"I got carried too!"
"By who?"
The broad arms that had held the sleeping Ji-woo. When he'd buried his face in the soft silk shirt, a pleasant scent had tickled the tip of his nose, and it still lingered. The world he'd glimpsed through half-open eyes. Unlike what he was used to looking at, it was high up. People seemed to be below him.
When they entered the station, the sleep had fled completely. But being held felt so good that Ji-woo pretended not to know and kept his eyes closed.
"The mister!"
"Huh? Really?"
"Seo-ha, you left first so you didn't see, right? I was way up high!"
It was a vantage point impossible for Seo-ha's short dad.
"The mister's gotta be like seven feet tall. Everybody was under me!"
Unlike her earlier excited chattering, Seo-ha's expression turned sour.
Until now, Ji-woo had only ever had a vague sense of what a dad was. All his other friends had one, but he'd never experienced it even once since he was born. What it would feel like to have a dad. He'd always wondered and tried to imagine, but it was hard to picture in his head.
But yesterday, when he'd been held in Je-heon's arms, he'd understood a little. If he had a dad, maybe it would feel like this — like floating in the sky.
Chattering excitedly like that, Ji-woo suddenly arrived at another thought.
"Did we say bye-bye forever?"
"I dunno. I think we might see him one more time."
If that one more time had been yesterday's meeting, then maybe yesterday had been the last with Je-heon.
...I don't want that.
I like the mister.
When the thought reached that point, the corners of Ji-woo's mouth drooped. Just as a wave of disappointment washed over the child —
"But did the lady and the mister already know each other?"
Seo-ha's question broke Ji-woo's reverie.
"She said they're friends."
"Friends don't get along that badly, though?"
"Hmm."
After pausing as if considering, Ji-woo shook his head.
"No. The mister said he's gonna make up."
And just as he was about to add something —
"Ji-woo."
At someone's call, Ji-woo turned around. His homeroom teacher was approaching. The teacher beamed at him.
"Ji-woo, your mom is here."
"Mom?"
Ji-woo hurriedly turned his head to look at the clock. There were still two hours left until class ended. Thinking it strange, he tilted his head.
"There's still a long time until class is over?"
"She came to pick you up early today."
Holding the teacher's hand, Ji-woo walked into the kindergarten. Inside the building, not far from the shoe cubbies, a familiar back came into view. The child let go of the teacher's hand and ran toward Yeon-jae.
"Mom! Why'd you come?"
He didn't know the reason, but just seeing Yeon-jae made him happy. The child wrapped his arms around her waist and grinned.
"We have to go to Seoul."
"Seoul?"
Ji-woo tilted his head. Seoul — hadn't the two of them gone there just a few days ago. As if trying to figure out what she meant, he closed his eyes and opened them again.
Watching him, Yeon-jae bent her knees to meet the child's gaze. Then she smiled softly at him.
At first his eyes flew open as if they might burst. Then, as if her smile were contagious, the corners of his mouth were pulled upward. A deep, mischievous dimple. A smile even brighter than Yeon-jae's bloomed on the child's lips.