Then the married life he had envisioned while sitting across from Yeongchae earlier came back to him. The wedding at the chapel, the happy home they'd built, the birth of a son and a daughter—all of it appeared before his eyes as vividly as if he were recalling actual memories.
"So Yeongchae has become a gisaeng after all!" Hyung-sik muttered to himself as he turned over. He shook his head, trying to force the thoughts away. He deliberately made his breathing louder, hoping to fall asleep. But before long, the thoughts burst forth again. The image of Yeongchae staring at him with tear-filled eyes, lamenting her sorrowful fate, emerged suddenly.
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Tears streamed down Yeongchae's face. Her pretty fingers, lying limp on her knees, trembled. Hyung-sik thought: Hadn't Yeongchae come to him because she trusted him, wanting to tell him everything and entrust herself to him? Even if she had become a gisaeng, hadn't she heard he was in Seoul and come to ask him to rescue her from that painful situation? Hadn't she come looking for him like a child seeking her parents—like a sibling seeking a brother—because in all the world she had no one else to talk to, no one to trust, no one to lean on except Hyung-sik? Earlier, when he'd said, "I am Lee Hyeong-sik," she had been so startled she'd stepped back and immediately burst into tears. And while telling him about her circumstances, she had kept looking at his face. So she had surely trusted him, seeking his sympathy, asking him to embrace and save her. Yes, Yeongchae had indeed come to him for protection. After being battered and battered by the cold, cruel storms of the world for six or seven years, she had learned he was in Seoul—the one who should have loved her—and, overjoyed, had come to find him. Yes, that was it. He had a duty to save Yeongchae. She was the daughter of his benefactor, the woman his benefactor had promised to be his wife. Even if fate had been harsh and she had fallen into a filthy place temporarily, he bore the responsibility of rescuing her. If anything, it was regrettable and shameful that he hadn't gone looking for her first. Now that she had come to him, how could he pretend not to know? He would save her. He would save her and love her. As he had first thought, if possible, he would make her his wife. Even if she had become a gisaeng, she came from a noble family's bloodline and had received much family education as a child, so she surely possessed all the beautiful qualities of womanhood. Moreover, if she was a gisaeng, she would know human feeling and the world well, and would be skilled in poetry and song. That would make her most suitable for a man like him, who intended to spend his life in letters. Hyung-sik quietly opened his eyes. He stared blankly at the mosquito net, listened to the mosquitoes buzzing outside it, then closed his eyes again and smiled to himself. Yeongchae's demeanor earlier had been truly beautiful. The makeup and the scent of perfume had been a little unpleasant, but her skin tone, the shape of her eyes, and the way she sat were genuinely lovely. Especially the way her white teeth glistened when she spoke, and how she would turn her body slightly and furrow her brow just barely when she sighed—it was unbearably charming. Earlier, Hyung-sik had been too overwhelmed to have the leisure to examine Yeongchae's face and manner in detail, but now, thinking quietly, every word and movement, even the way she had tied her jacket strings, seemed unbearably lovely. Hyung-sik closed his eyes, traced Yeongchae's image once more, and smiled. Even Elder Kim's daughter, Seon-hyeong, could not compare to Yeongchae in that demure bearing. Seon-hyeong's face and manner were not without refinement, but compared to Yeongchae, they lacked variation and vitality. If Seon-hyeong was like a quietly seated Buddha, Yeongchae was like a fairy dancing and singing on a cloud. Seon-hyeong's face and manner seemed painted; Yeongchae's seemed to move. Yeongchae's face never held still for a moment; its color and expression constantly changed, as if a thin mist was whisking past it. And each change was indescribably beautiful and graceful. Her voice, too, rose and fell, thickened and thinned with the ebb and flow of emotion, like listening to some subtle music. Truly, what had moved Hyung-sik and the old woman to such sorrow and tears was not so much Yeongchae's pitiful history as the beautiful way she spoke of it. Hyung-sik forgot all the unpleasant feelings he had held toward Yeongchae and stood lost for a while before the image of her that appeared before his eyes. In Hyung-sik's vision, Yeongchae seemed to look up at him with tearful eyes and say, "Hyung-sik-ssi, I trust only you in this world. Hyung-sik-ssi, please love me. I throw this lonely body into your arms." In his heart, Hyung-sik said, "Yeongchae-ssi, beautiful Yeongchae-ssi, daughter of Mr. Park, I love Yeongchae-ssi. I love you this much." If he loved her like this, how joyful her father would be, lying beneath the earth. And later—he spread his arms as if to embrace her. In Hyung-sik's mind, Yeongchae's warm cheek touched his, her breath reached his lips. His heart pounded, his breathing quickened. Yes, his beloved Yeongchae was his wife. They would hold a joyful wedding ceremony at the chapel, have sons and daughters, and build a happy family.
But where was Yeongchae now? Where was she now? An unpleasant feeling rose in Hyung-sik again. He saw an image of Yeongchae playing with some man—an image of her sleeping embraced in a man's arms. In his mind, he entered the room where Yeongchae slept, and she was tightly clutching some man, lifting her head to look at Hyung-sik and laughing, "Hee hee hee."
"Yeongchae, what is this?" Hyung-sik imagined kicking Yeongchae's head, and he really lifted his leg and kicked the mosquito net hard. The string holding the net snapped, and the net fell over his face. Hyung-sik sprang up, threw off the mosquito net, and lit a cigarette. The old woman seemed to have already fallen asleep. A cool breeze blew in, carrying some scent. Hyung-sik stared blankly into the yard, not noticing the cigarette burning down in his hand, then, as if struck by a thought, he ran out into the yard.
In Gyo-dong street, the sound of late-night footsteps echoed, and in the clear summer sky, stars twinkled. Hyung-sik looked up at the sky, then spun around and muttered to himself,
"Life really is ridiculous."
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The next day, Hyung-sik woke up after eight o'clock because he had fallen asleep late the night before. He washed his face and, while thinking about Yeongchae over breakfast, two students from Gyeongseong School, where he taught, came to see him. Hyung-sik was kind and warm to all his students, so many of them were devoted to him. In particular, because of his own past circumstances, he showed special sympathy to poor students, and beyond that, he used his meager income to help two or three students who couldn't afford tuition. But Hyung-sik had a habit of favoring talented and well-behaved students. Of course, everyone favors such students, but others cleverly hide it. Hyung-sik, being emotional, didn't know how to conceal his special affection for certain people. Some friends had even advised him, "You have a habit of showing favoritism." At the time, Hyung-sik had laughed and said, "What's wrong with loving someone more lovable?" The friend replied, "But someone in a teaching position needs to love all learners equally." To which Hyung-sik said, "But what's wrong with giving extra love and teaching to someone who will grow up to benefit society greatly?" And so, Hyung-sik was known among colleagues and students as a favoritist. Some who disliked him even said he only liked pretty-faced students. Among the students, some mischievous and ill-tempered third and fourth graders claimed that Hyung-sik only loved good-looking students, gave them higher test scores, and taught them better. They spread unpleasant slanders against the students Hyung-sik favored. When that happened, the favored students defended Hyung-sik in various ways, but the mischievous ones only mocked them further. Of the two students now visiting Hyung-sik, one was a seventeen- or eighteen-year-old gentle-looking boy who was among Hyung-sik's favorites. The other, tall with a dark complexion, was among those who disliked Hyung-sik. The student who liked Hyung-sik was named Lee Huigyeong, the top student in the fourth year at Gyeongseong School. The other was Kim Jongryeol, also a fourth-year student who barely scraped by without failing. But Kim Jongryeol was older and, though untalented at studies, had a very clever knack for scheming. Since the second year, he had taken charge of all class affairs. Moreover, when Kim Jongryeol proposed an opinion, nine out of ten of the students in the class agreed. The class didn't necessarily respect or like him—rather, they hated and ridiculed him for his poor grades, his improper behavior, and his stubborn, unkind nature—but when it came to getting things done, they trusted and obeyed him without hesitation. He was, of course, honest. He said what was on his mind without restraint and had the courage to express his opinions fearlessly even in front of adults. He was a man with a special kind of ability. Now, as a senior student, he had influence not only in the fourth year but across the whole school, so much so that even the newly enrolled first-year students knew his name and saluted him when they saw him. If a younger student failed to salute him, he would immediately scold them with a stern demeanor and voice: "Hey, why don't you salute an upperclassman?" So the younger students would salute, then stick out their tongues and laugh behind his back, but they saluted him respectfully to his face. Among his classmates was a student named Kim Gyedo, similar to Kim Jongryeol. Kim Gyedo was a bit milder and more polite, making him more pleasant to associate with, but they matched in their love of doing things and acting grown-up. Moreover, since they were similar in age and interests, Kim Jongryeol and Kim Gyedo were close friends. In Kim Jongryeol's mind, the only people in the world worthy of his heart and with whom he could discuss the affairs of the world were Napoleon and Kim Gyedo. He had never read a detailed biography of Napoleon, but with the scraps he'd picked up from Western history, he had instantly decided what kind of man Napoleon was and made him his one and only idol. Whenever he talked with friends, it was Napoleon; whenever he gave a speech at a class reunion, it was Napoleon. He referenced Napoleon in everything, so the students nicknamed him "Napoleon." Because of his dark complexion, they added the adjective "Black" and called him "Black Napoleon." Some clever students—Lee Huigyeong among them—shortened it to "Black-Nap" for convenience. But he knew Napoleon was the emperor of France, but not that he was originally from the island of Corsica in the Mediterranean. He had heard from his history teacher that Napoleon was defeated by General Wellington of England at Waterloo and died on a lonely island called Saint Helena in the Atlantic Ocean, but he had forgotten the difficult words like "Waterloo" and "Saint Helena," remembering only that Napoleon was defeated and died on some island in the Atlantic. Yet Napoleon remained his only idol. In other words, Kim Jongryeol's so-called Napoleon was not the Napoleon born in Corsica who became emperor of France, but one he had made in his own image, like the legend of God making Adam in His own image. After greeting Hyung-sik, this Napoleon worshiper knelt gravely and began, "The reason we have come to see you, sir..."
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Hyung-sik lit a cigarette and faced Kim Jongryeol and Lee Huigyeong with a smile. He didn't know why these two students had come, but seeing them together, he guessed it was about something concerning the entire student body or at least the fourth year. Generally, for matters affecting the whole school or the fourth year, these two often served as representatives. Formally, Lee Huigyeong, as the class president of the senior year, should be the representative, but since Huigyeong was still young and lacked Kim Jongryeol's enthusiasm for handling affairs and his skill in dealing with them, he was always under Kim Jongryeol's control. Even when Huigyeong had business to attend to, Kim Jongryeol would follow him, as if uneasy about sending a child alone. He would then take over the conversation before Huigyeong could say two words, leaving Huigyeong to stand back, smiling, like an escort. Although Huigyeong initially felt that his personal dignity was being infringed upon, he soon got used to it. He came to consider it fortunate that Kim Jongryeol handled his tasks for him. Sometimes, when Huigyeong was busy with studies or simply didn't want to do something, he would even go to Kim Jongryeol and entrust his duties to him. Kim Jongryeol would immediately accept and set aside his own affairs to arrange things. At such times, Huigyeong would laugh to himself. Hyung-sik knew that this visit was nominally led by Huigyeong, with Kim Jongryeol as his attendant. But the actual representative sat smiling while the attendant, Kim Jongryeol, opened his mouth and said, "The reason we came to see you today..." — it was so amusing that Hyung-sik laughed inwardly. He thought that people like Kim Jongryeol had many uses in society. Such a man, though entirely untalented, had a temperament that loved doing things, so if properly utilized, he could facilitate the execution of various good projects. If you gave a person like Kim Jongryeol a small task and spoke of it as if it were important, and when he achieved a small success, praised it as a great success beneficial to society, saying, "Without you, this couldn't have been done," then he would take on any task, regardless of the consequences, without regard for fire or water. Hyung-sik knew that Huigyeong, whom Kim Jongryeol regarded as childish and naive, would soon become the one directing Kim Jongryeol and would be more respected by society. But Kim Jongryeol didn't realize that—and his ignorance was his happiness.
Wondering what matter the students had discussed and sent Kim Jongryeol to bring up, Hyung-sik asked very gently,
"So, what's the matter?"
"Sir, a serious incident has occurred at school." Kim Jongryeol liked using legal and political terminology even for small matters. He had no talent for memorizing other things—he couldn't even memorize that his only idol Napoleon's surname was Bonaparte—but he was remarkably good at remembering legal and political terms. Once he heard a term, he would apply it in practice. Sometimes he misapplied it, but four or five times out of ten, he got it right. This time, saying "a serious incident has occurred" to Hyung-sik was an example of appropriate application. Hyung-sik said,
"Yes, what serious incident?"
"We—the third and fourth years—are planning a joint withdrawal from school. Because we are dissatisfied with the school's right of disposition toward students, we have formed this alliance." He handed over a petition for mass withdrawal. Kim Jongryeol had misapplied two phrases: "right of disposition" and "formed an alliance" — the latter being too grandiose. But Hyung-sik was surprised to see that the petition, a full foot long, had over two hundred names and seals. Indeed, it was a "serious incident," and they had "formed an alliance" in a grandiose manner. Kim Jongryeol presented the petition to Hyung-sik and moved closer to read it aloud. Hyung-sik felt irritated by Kim Jongryeol's lack of decorum and quickly placed the petition on the desk and read it silently to himself. As Kim Jongryeol tried to follow him to the desk, Huigyeong smilingly pulled him back, signaling him to stay where he was. But Kim Jongryeol didn't understand the signal and glared at Huigyeong, as if to say, "Why are you being rude?" Huigyeong turned red, turned his head, and pretended to blow his nose with a handkerchief, laughing. Kim Jongryeol finally went to the opposite side of the desk and sat facing Hyung-sik. Hyung-sik was about to turn away but couldn't bring himself to do so, so he handed the petition back and said,
"Jongryeol, this is not a good thing. Whatever the reason, a student strike against the school is not good."
Kim Jongryeol didn't fully understand the meaning of the word "strike," but since he knew the word from baseball, he assumed it meant attacking the school in general. He folded the petition and said in a solemn voice,
"No, sir. The authorities of our alma mater have reached the utmost corruption. Faced with this situation, if we courageous young men do not raise a great revolution, our school will be ruined." His determination showed in his speech. Hyung-sik realized there was no stopping him, so he turned to Huigyeong.
"Huigyeong, do you share this opinion?"
"Yes, sir. After school the day before yesterday, the third and fourth years gathered and decided to do this."
"So, is the evidence reliable?"
Kim Jongryeol raised his voice.
"It is reliable, sir. Several of our students witnessed it directly." He shook his fist. "The evidence is solid. We can't overlook this."
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The reason for the withdrawal petition was as follows: Superintendent Bae Myeong-sik, who served as both academic dean and teacher of geography and history at Gyeongseong School, was drinking and visiting the pleasure quarters. This made him unfit to be a dean or teacher of youth. Moreover, he constantly ignored the opinions of the entire student body, arranging the allocation of subjects and everything else arbitrarily, and his rewards, punishments, and attendance records were always unfair, based on his own will. Superintendent Bae had graduated from the Geography and History Department of Tokyo Higher Normal School and returned to Joseon two or three years before. Through the request of Baron Kim, the principal of Gyeongseong School, he immediately obtained the important position of dean. Among the ten or so teachers at Gyeongseong School, none had the legal qualifications for secondary school teachers, but Superintendent Bae boasted that he had graduated from the prestigious Tokyo Higher Normal School and ran all school affairs arbitrarily. According to his own claims, Tokyo Higher Normal School was the best school in the world, and he, as a graduate, was the foremost educator in Joseon. He knew everything about education, and everything he did was in accordance with the principles of pedagogy and the trends of Joseon. But to outsiders, he didn't seem any better than the other teachers without higher normal degrees. Shortly after taking office, he advocated for curriculum changes, claiming that geography and history were the foundations of all learning, so he doubled their hours, while mathematics and natural history, he said, weren't very necessary for secondary education, so he reduced their hours by twenty to thirty percent. He called himself a proponent of the history-geography-centered education theory and told students that history and geography were the most important and valuable subjects among all, and therefore the teachers of those subjects were the most important and hardworking. Other teachers opposed his claims based on the Government-General's higher ordinary education ordinance and the Japanese middle school system. Superintendent Bae laughed and said, "You don't understand the principles of education," insisting on the rightness of his theory. When someone objected, "But this is how subject allocation works in Japanese middle schools," he would reply, "Ha! Are there any great educators in Japan? Japanese education is extremely incomplete." He claimed that, like the saying "the disciple surpasses the master," although he had studied in Japan, he possessed new theories and ideals of education that surpassed even all the first-rate educators of Japan. However, the education bureau disapproved of his revised subject allocation, and in the end, they kept the old system. The teachers laughed at him and rejoiced in their victory. But Superintendent Bae was indignant, saying that the world was still too immature to implement his most advanced theories. Once, Hyung-sik, half in jest, asked him,
"Sir, whose theory is your new educational theory based on? Pestalozzi's? Ellen Key's?"
Superintendent Bae had heard the names Pestalozzi and Ellen Key somewhere, but couldn't recall them quickly. However, it would be shameful for a first-rate educator in Joseon not to know names that third- or fourth-rate educators knew. So Superintendent Bae laughed heartily and said,
"Yes, I've seen the theories of Pustal and Ulleun Key as well. But those are all old-fashioned now." Hyung-sik pitied Superintendent Bae's ignorance—he had forgotten the names so badly that he said "Pustal" and "Ulleun Key," yet claimed to have read their theories thoroughly. And his courage in saying without hesitation, "But those are all old-fashioned now," was indeed admirable, and Hyung-sik had laughed at it privately. In fact, Superintendent Bae, despite constantly claiming new theories, didn't seem to know what a theory even was. Whether he had studied deeply during his time at the Higher Normal School was unknown, but it took him five years to graduate when others did it in four. Whether he had read all the various philosophical and educational works during that time was also unknown, but after returning to Joseon, no one saw him reading anything besides the third page of the daily newspaper, and no one heard rumors of him reading. Once, a fellow teacher at Gyeongseong School said to Hyung-sik,
"Superintendent Bae is a blank sheet."
"A blank sheet? What do you mean?"
"I mean there's nothing written on him—he's ignorant."
Hyung-sik laughed heartily.
"You're a bit mistaken, my friend. Superintendent Bae isn't a blank sheet; he's a black sheet. Black paper."
"Why?"
"Because a blank sheet, even if nothing is written on it yet, can still be written on in the future. But black paper can never be written on." And they laughed together.
Superintendent Bae also liked rules. "Systematic" and "strictly" were among his most frequently used words. Shortly after taking office, he personally revised the school rules. It wasn't a revision—he abolished the old rules, claiming they didn't conform to the principles of education, and established a grand new set of over two hundred articles based on his new theories. One day, he convened all the teachers for a faculty meeting and read out each article of the new rules, explaining the spirit of every one. Starting at one in the afternoon, it wasn't finished by four. Sweat ran down Superintendent Bae's forehead and nose, and his voice grew hoarse. The teachers' backsides ached and their lower backs hurt; they kept shifting in their seats. One teacher dozed off, snoring, until Superintendent Bae's roar woke him from a deep dream. Another teacher slammed the door and went to the restroom, never to return. At that point, Hyung-sik couldn't help saying, "This isn't a school rule; it's the law of a nation," attacking the excessive number of articles. The five or six remaining teachers (those who hadn't gone to the restroom) unanimously agreed with Hyung-sik. But Superintendent Bae used his authority to confirm the rules. The conflict between Superintendent Bae, the teachers, and the students had been escalating ever since.