"Ah, we were just about to each state our purpose—what we'll use to save the Korean people in the future."
"Yes, well, let me listen too!"
The young women found his planed-wood hat and the way he spoke so amusing that they gulped down their laughter. Only Yeongchae didn't know what to do; she blushed for a moment, but Useon pretended not to notice her.
"Whose turn is it?" U Seon asked.
"I suppose it's mine."
"Go ahead, then," he said, closing his eyes and lowering his head as if to listen. Byeong-uk nudged Yeongchae in the side. Seon-hyeong turned her head away slightly, stifling a laugh.
"I'm going to become an educator. And my specialty will be biology."
But no one listening understood what biology meant. Even Hyung-sik, who said this, didn't truly know the real meaning of biology. He'd simply decided on it because he valued the natural sciences and felt biology suited his temperament best. Pitiable were these young people who vowed to build a new civilization without even knowing what biology was—and pitiable was the era that put its faith in them.
Hyung-sik turned to Byeong-uk. "Music, I suppose?"
"Yes—I'm going into music."
"And Miss Yeongchae?"
Yeongchae looked at Byeong-uk without a word. Byeong-uk signaled with her eyes: go on, say it.
"Music, as well."
"And you, Seon-hyeong?"
The question died in his throat; Hyung-sik sat quietly. The others laughed. Seon-hyeong's face turned red.
"What about you, Seon-hyeong? Education, I imagine," Byeong-uk said with a laugh. Everyone laughed. Hyung-sik also bowed his head. Seon-hyeong envied how Byeong-uk had answered so briskly the moment she was called on: "Yes, I'm doing music!" So she said, mustering all her strength, "I'm going to study mathematics." She remembered being praised by her teacher at school for doing well in math. The others knew math was a good thing, but they had no idea what relation mathematics had to life.
"Next is your turn."
"I'll just take up the brush!"
A long silence followed. Each of them pictured their own future. And the destination of all those futures was the same.
Seeing Useon bow his head and stare off into space, Hyung-sik said, laughing, "What's this? You've turned so proper today?"
Useon raised his head. "Didn't you say to me once that life isn't a game, that I was treating life like a joke? That I don't take things seriously?"
"Did I? I don't recall."
"Well, you were right. I've always seen life as a game. Drinking too much… loafing around as I please—that was proof I was treating life like a joke. I actually laughed at you for being too serious, for being narrow-minded. But the bottom line is, I was the one who was wrong!"
By this point, Hyung-sik realized Useon's words today were no joke. He straightened his face and looked at Useon. The three young women also listened solemnly. Indeed, on Useon's face one could see the light of some resolution. Useon continued.
"I realized it today. When I heard about the charity concert at the station, it finally dawned on me. On the train ride over, I saw people along the riverbank. I did feel sorry for them, but the way they stood there, all shabby and pathetic, struck me as funny at first. I didn't think about how to save them. I didn't shed a tear for them. Instead, I got off the train thinking I'd hurry over and watch the show, maybe compose a poem. I was laughing when I stepped off. But when I heard the story — my heart ached. Especially that a young woman…" He was so moved he couldn't finish. His listeners were silent. He went on.
"From this moment, at this place, I've become a new man. I'll wield my brush with all my strength, with all my heart, and contribute even a little to society. Before an hour passes, I'll have to part with you, and we probably won't meet again for four or five years. Even when I'm far away, know that I'm no longer the old Shin Woo-seon. I count it a great joy to have said this before leaving you."
He reached out and grasped Hyung-sik's hand. Hyung-sik gripped Useon's hand firmly and shook it.
"Those are happy words. Not that you ever did anything wrong, but I'm infinitely glad of this new resolution of yours."
Useon hesitated for a long moment, then said, "Miss Yeongchae, please forgive all my past rudeness! I too will become a new person from now on. Study hard and accomplish great things."
He let out a long sigh. Tears fell from Yeongchae's eyes in large drops. Seon-hyeong finally realized that everything Yeongchae had said to Hyung-sik was true. She quietly took Yeongchae's hand and said inwardly, Sister, I was wrong. Yeongchae squeezed Seon-hyeong's hand back, and more tears poured out. Hyung-sik cried too. Byeong-uk cried as well. In the end, everyone was crying. A clear breeze after the rain blew in through the window, brushing the drooping willow branches outside and cooling the flushed faces of the five people. All was still.
Hyung-sik and Seon-hyeong were now seniors at the University of Chicago in the United States, and had been in good health throughout. They planned to graduate in September this year, tour Europe front to back, and then return to their homeland. Elder Kim and his wife waited every day for their beloved daughter's return, already planning what she would do after coming back and what food they would feed her.
Byeong-uk had graduated from music school, earned money through her own efforts, studied abroad in Berlin, Germany for two years, and planned to wait for Hyung-sik's party this winter and return with them via the Siberian Railway. Yeongchae had graduated with honors in both the piano and vocal departments of Tokyo's Ueno Music School that spring and was still in Tokyo, planning to return to Seoul around September. What made them even happier was that Byeong-uk had made a unique impression on Berlin's music scene, and her fame was resounding—a recent Berlin magazine had printed it alongside a review by a noted critic. Meanwhile, Yeongchae had received huge applause for her piano, solo song, and Korean dance at a major Tokyo concert, and the event had been covered in Tokyo newspapers along with her photograph. Word had it that Hyung-sik and Seon-hyeong also achieved excellent grades each year. The three young women who had held a charity concert in the waiting room of Samnyangjin Station would soon become fine ladies, ready to make their mark in the heart of Gyeongseong.
Shin Woo-seon, from that day on, cut off all ties with the pleasure quarters, devoted himself to self-cultivation and writing with single-minded dedication, and his reputation spread across the nation. His recently published The Future of Joseon had already sold out four editions within two weeks of publication. His thinking grew ever deeper and broader, his pen ever sharper. The one worry was that he still drank too much, but from ancient times no Eastern writer had ever abstained from alcohol, so perhaps it wasn't worth criticizing. He had now discarded his famous planed-wood hat for a snow-white Panama hat, and a fine Kaiser mustache grew beneath his nose.
Kim Byeongguk of Hwangju had become a wealthy magnate with over a hundred thousand mulberry trees in Sangwon. He had suffered no small loss from a spring frost last year, but this year the mulberry leaves were very abundant—fortunate indeed. Sadly, Byeongguk's grandmother had passed away last summer without seeing her beloved granddaughter. Byeongguk's wife had now borne him one son and one daughter, but it was said that the harmony between husband and wife was not what it used to be.
At the old woman's house where Hyung-sik had been a boarder, medical school students now lived. The maggoty soybean-paste stew and the tobacco pipe were still as famous as ever, but the old woman was gradually weakening and could no longer even visit the mineral springs. Still, everyone who saw her would speak of Hyung-sik.
Yeongchae's "mother" had sold the house and moved to a village in Pyongyang, where she adopted a son and farmed the land. She had become a sincere Christian and was quietly preparing her path to heaven. According to Useon, when he had told her that Yeongchae hadn't died but had gone to Tokyo, she was so overjoyed she wept. After that, Yeongchae wrote to her once a month. The mother always mentioned in her letters that she truly believed in Jesus, urged Yeongchae to believe in Him too, and said that when Yeongchae graduated she should come straight to her house. Sometimes she even sent money for clothes, and often sent items like gochujang and salted pollack.
One pitiful story: Gyehyang—the girl Hyung-sik had taken through Chilseongmun when he was in Pyongyang—had become the concubine of a wealthy man's dissolute son, contracted syphilis, and was even thrown out by her husband, ending up in utter misery, enduring great hardship. When Hyung-sik returned and heard this, he would surely be deeply grieved. Her once-beautiful face had become indescribably haggard, and now no one even looked her way.
Readers may or may not recall: the talented young man Lee Huigyeong, whom Hyung-sik had admired, had passed away with his talents unfulfilled. Kim Jongryeol, of the dark face, had gone to Northern Gando and elsewhere, and no news of him had come since. Bae Hak-gam had later clashed with the school principal and was now said to be working at a gold mine in Hwanghae Province, still apparently not having come to his senses—a pathetic situation.
Another thing to mention: the old man outside Chilseongmun, whom Hyung-sik had called a stone Buddha, was still healthy. For the past ten days or so he had been sitting out on the wooden veranda, rocking his body. The only difference was that his headband had grown even shabbier.
Last to speak of: after Hyung-sik's party boarded the ship at Busan, the whole of Joseon had changed greatly. Whether one looked at education, economics, literature, journalism, or the spread of all civilizing ideas, there had been remarkable progress. Most worthy of celebration was the development of commerce and industry. With Gyeongseong at the center, there was no major city where coal smoke and the sound of iron hammers were not heard. Our commerce, which had declined to an extreme in recent years, was gradually reviving. Students returned from abroad, including from China, adding to the ferment.
Ah, our land grows more beautiful by the day. Strength builds day by day in our once-weak arms. Light shines brighter day by day in our once-dark minds. At last, we will shine as brightly as any other people. And the more we do so, the harder we must strive. We need greater figures—great scholars, great educators, great industrialists, great artists, great inventors, great religious leaders. We need more and more of them. And this autumn, we will welcome back outstanding individuals like Hyung-sik, Byeong-uk, Yeongchae, and Seon-hyeong, along with other students returning from abroad. How can we not rejoice? Every year, sturdy workers pour out from the specialized schools. Every year, through the gates of the elementary schools, enter lovely and energetic young masters and young ladies! How could we not be happy?
The dark world will not be dark forever. The heartless world will not be heartless forever. With our own strength, we will make it bright, make it affectionate, make it joyful, make it prosperous, make it strong.
Let us close The Heartless, offering cheers and cries of manse to the age that is past.