Chapter Title: The Master's Verdict
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I do have a cellphone.
It's just that the service got cut off because the bill's overdue.
Tubby managed to make use of it by snagging some Wi-Fi or whatever.
But to me, it was still just dead weight in my pocket.
Why carry it if I don't use it?
Well, it seemed like all the 'modern folks' did, so I figured I'd give it a try.
But why's this woman asking for my number?
Is she one of Park Bong-gon's crew?
No confidence in holding me down with brute force, so getting my contact info instead?
Didn't peg her as the sly type.
"I can't give it to you. After causing this mess, how do I know who you are?"
"I'm not close to Park Bong-gon. To be exact, I hate him. So you can relax."
Didn't sound like a lie.
"If you're not gonna tattle to Park Bong-gon, why do you need my number?"
"Well, I can't say right now, but I won't cause you any harm. If anything, it might even benefit you."
"Still no. Do I look like an idiot?"
I have some sense.
I know this is a situation where I could get hauled off to the police station.
And she's asking me to leave my info behind?
I gave the woman a light smirk and walked out of the exhibition hall.
I'm more thorough than I look.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
"Wh-what the hell is this!!!!"
Park Bong-gon, stuffed full from a lavish Korean set meal, recoiled in horror.
All the white porcelain pieces he'd slaved over for months were smashed to bits.
"G-good heavens..."
"Oh dear. Who on earth would do such a thing...!"
The professors trailing behind were just as stunned.
As were the art magazine reporters he'd brought along from the Insadong entrance.
"Curator! What the hell happened here!"
Park Bong-gon stormed toward the curator cowering in the corner.
White porcelain shards crunched pitifully under his feet.
The curator was at a loss.
She could tell the truth, but that black-haired woman had warned her earlier.
'The artist will be furious when he gets here. Just ignore him and stay out of it. It'll sort itself out.'
"What happened! Who did this! And-...!"
Park Bong-gon finally spotted it.
Standing tall amid the wreckage—one solitary piece.
'The Moon Jar made by Lee Hee-so.'
Lee Hee-so? No way.
He'd kicked him out a week ago.
'Maybe he came crawling back to Insadong for revenge.'
"That bastard... This time, I'll make him eat prison slop."
The moment Park Bong-gon pulled out his phone to dial 112.
Tap, tap.
A familiar sound echoed suddenly.
Tap, tap.
With a sinking dread, Park Bong-gon whipped his head around.
"M-Master?"
A body thin as kindling, draped loosely in a faded gray suit.
Yet his eyes burned sharp and fierce.
His face weary from long travel, he tapped his cane once more.
The old man slowly scanned the devastation in the exhibition hall.
Gulp. Park Bong-gon swallowed hard.
Intangible Cultural Heritage Kim Sil-seop, White Porcelain Master.
And trailing him like a shadow, the black-haired woman—Seon Eun-kyeong, Successor Educator.
"Master. Wh-when did you get back? Ah, this is... well, some real scum tried to trash my exhibition on purpose. I gave those homeless ingrates food and shelter, and this is how they repay me, haha... ha..."
He let out a laugh that bordered on madness.
But he couldn't afford to lose it here.
Park Bong-gon squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them, steeling himself.
"Sorry for the ugly sight, Master. The floor's hazardous here—why don't you wait at a teahouse? I'll clean this up and come find you. And of course, I'll report these punks to the police."
Thud.
Kim Sil-seop nudged a shard with his cane tip, flipping it over.
His eyes gleamed coldly at the exposed cross-section.
"Faint greenish tint. Kyushu white clay, alright."
"!!!!"
Park Bong-gon jolted in shock.
His master, back after a year with no word, was digging up his dirty secret.
The secret he thought no one knew.
"Ah, I, that was..."
Clatter, clatter.
The cane tip scattered the shards willy-nilly.
Gazing at the rolling pieces, Kim Sil-seop intoned.
"To be precise, Izumi mountain clay vein from the Kohaku River in Arita region... No impurities in the particles means you didn't even knead it yourself—straight factory product."
"Ah, I... That... I..."
Park Bong-gon's face drained to porcelain pale.
What was going on? Was this a nightmare?
Click.
The sharp-eyed reporters snapped photos.
Recorders were already rolling, naturally.
Park Bong-gon shrieked at them.
"Don't take pictures!! How dare you fu-...!"
He barely choked back the curse that burst out.
Meanwhile, Kim Sil-seop paid no mind to his disciple's outburst.
Park Bong-gon was already a distant memory in his thoughts.
Park Bong-gon knew his master all too well.
His scrupulosity toward pottery bordered on obsession—enough to make the whole industry click their tongues.
As was his razor-sharp treatment of wayward students.
Only one card left to play.
A desperate blunder his master would despise, but his only shot now.
Crunch.
A shard stabbed into his knee as he dropped down.
"I-I'm sorry, Master. There was a snag with the Hadong clay shipment—I didn't want to, but I had no choice— No. It's all my fault. Forgive me just this once."
"Eun-kyeong."
"Yes, Master."
Eun-kyeong approached her master calmly.
"You knew it was Arita clay without even inspecting it?"
"Yes. He said it was plain as day to his eyes."
"...Hmm. Fair enough. That the Moon Jar you mentioned?"
"Shall I bring it closer?"
"Yes, please."
"M-Master! Master! Please, hear me out!"
Park Bong-gon nearly clung to his legs.
The professors who'd eaten their fill grimaced at the pathetic display.
Eun-kyeong nudged shards aside with her foot as she guided Kim Sil-seop to the center, ignoring Park Bong-gon.
"Hmmm..."
A low groan escaped Kim Sil-seop as he beheld the Moon Jar.
'Just like the moon itself.'
A perfect sphere by human hands? Impossible.
But approaching perfection? Entirely possible.
'Perfection isn't mere form. It encompasses the work's spirit, its aura.'
This Moon Jar seemed ready to burst at the seams with spherical perfection.
Like a full moon trembling, unable to contain its radiant light spilling everywhere.
The most uncanny part? Crafted from dry potter's clay.
What was this?
Like a mischievous spirit possessing children's toys, working its magic.
'Playful, without malice... yet chilling. Perhaps a jab at Park Bong-gon's sins—and ultimately, a critique of this stagnant pottery world.'
He'd heard about Park Bong-gon's exhibition right after wrapping up his long trip back to Korea.
Lacking as he was, the kid had pluck—so he'd made a detour to Insadong.
Resting briefly at a teahouse, Eun-kyeong returned from scouting the exhibition.
-I saw someone astonishing, Master.
A very young man, apparently.
Shabby clothes, a mad glint when smashing the porcelain.
-But his eyes were sharp. Detached from the world, almost... that spark of genius.
'Genius, eh? But one piece isn't proof enough.'
That only piqued his curiosity more.
Who was this maker of the enigmatic Moon Jar?
"M-Master! Please, just listen! I had my reasons. Please-!"
Irritating.
Kim Sil-seop finally fixed him with a straight look.
"Strutted around puffed up on 'art,' throwing your Apprentice Successor title in everyone's face."
"...?"
"Stuffed professors with bribe banquets and had your laughs."
"...!"
The professors flushed crimson.
They coughed awkwardly and scurried out.
No upside for pottery department profs to cross an Intangible Cultural Heritage.
"Even pulled cheap tricks like swapping materials—what more could you want?"
Every word hit home.
Park Bong-gon was speechless, realizing his master knew it all.
As he gaped like a carp, Kim Sil-seop said coolly.
"So go live however you like from now on."
Excommunication.
"M-Master! Master! Don't go... Ah, no! I poured years into this place! What about my decade? My 10 years!"
"Park Bong-gon."
Eun-kyeong bent at the waist smoothly.
Park Bong-gon latched on like a drowning man to his last rope.
"Sis! N-no, Senior! Successor Educator! Help me out, yeah? Master, pleeease...!"
Eun-kyeong was floored.
Ten years watching him, and 'senior' was a first.
No manners, ever—that brazen once-over gaze.
She'd quietly tallied his subtle womanizing disdain.
But he wasn't worth the effort now.
She whispered in his ear.
"Call the cops or sue over this, and you'll never work in this field again."
"...!"
"If you want that Apprentice Successor badge to teach elementary kids someday, shut up, clean this mess, and vanish quietly. Unless you really want those 10 years down the drain."
Tears streamed down Park Bong-gon's cheeks.
Eun-kyeong felt a long-buried grudge finally dissolve, then turned lightly to Sil-seop.
"Shall I pack the jar?"
"No need. I'll take it."
Kim Sil-seop slipped his hand inside the Moon Jar and lifted it effortlessly.
The dry clay was astonishingly light.
The master and disciple wove through the gawking crowd and exited the hall.
"Get the young man's name?"
"No, didn't."
"Contact info?"
Eun-kyeong shrugged.
"Couldn't get it."
"Even good kids show up empty-handed sometimes."
"Bought it instead."
"Huh?"
"Paid for it. Cash."
...
Twenty minutes earlier, exhibition hall.
-Still no. Do I look like a fool?
The man had vanished like the wind after that.
Eun-kyeong couldn't very well reveal she was a Successor Educator.
Mentioning she was Park Bong-gon's senior would freak him out more.
Now what?
'Master's dying to meet him. Should I let Park Bong-gon press charges? Might force another meeting... Nah, too messy.'
Then Hee-so came dashing back.
Face unchanged, he said to her.
-The truth?
-...?
-Pay me, and I'll give you the number. Ah, not a beggar—don't get the wrong idea. Just the situation.
'...That makes you sound even more like one.'
Anyway, Eun-kyeong whipped out her wallet.
-How much? This is all the cash I've got,
-You decide. 250,000 won?
If he was grifting, 250k seemed lowball.
No clue what he based it on anyway.
Luckily a cash carrier, she emptied her wallet's 400,000 won into his hands.
-Whoa, this much...!
His face lit up—briefly—before he sulked embarrassed.
-Ahem. For all you know, I'm a meticulous guy.
Then he gave the number and bolted again.
...
"Why the silent grin? Told you to hold onto that contact."
Sil-seop's chiding snapped Eun-kyeong to attention.
The sheer absurdity must've made her smirk unconsciously.
Now flustered, she straightened up unnecessarily.
"Ahem, yes, Master."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Thud.
I set down the empty pork bone soup bowl.
"Ahh—feels like I'm alive again."
Warm rice, rich broth, tangy diced radish kimchi, hefty chunks of meat—my gut finally felt full, like I'd actually eaten.
A week of scarfing nothing but landlord handouts had me questioning if I was human or rodent.
"Kwaa, too damn good. Kwaaa—!"
Tubby, demolishing the deluxe 'special' portion with gusto.
Greasy meat oil glistening on that booze-bloated face.
Perfect.
Ate our fill.
I fished six 50,000-won bills from my pocket and handed them to Tubby.
"? Why give 'em to me?"
Why else?
"Tubby. Been fun so far. Time to split."