How to Fight the Darkness (7)
[70th Birthday Banquet of Master Jukheon Kim Sangjun]
All across California, the atmosphere was festive.
It was rare for the three of us brothers to reach a unanimous decision, but it made sense—our father had already turned seventy.
Would we even be able to celebrate his eightieth birthday? That wasn't something within our control; only heaven could decide that. So at the very least, we resolved to make his seventieth birthday as grand as possible.
"What's the occasion today? Why are they even serving chicken porridge at the free meal?"
"They say Mr. Kim in San Francisco turned seventy, so his sons are holding a much bigger charity event."
"I've heard Asians place great importance on filial piety. Seems that's true."
Since ancient times in Joseon, whenever a feast was held, they would slaughter cows and pigs, throw the gates wide open, and generously serve food and drink to the entire neighborhood.
So how could the Kim family, renowned across San Francisco and California, possibly hold back their stores on such an auspicious occasion?
Not only did the quality of the free meals served at dawn skyrocket, but once the sun set, people everywhere began grilling barbecue, roasting whole pigs on spits, and letting cups of alcohol roll freely through the streets.
"What about Prohibition? Are we really allowed to drink?"
"They say people from the East attach great meaning to their 61st and 70th birthdays. In a way, this is just another traditional ceremony."
"Still—"
"Oh, just drink already."
"You complain even when you're given alcohol! If you don't know its value, get lost!"
People who hadn't tasted alcohol in years were practically half-crazed with excitement, and the streets were packed with crowds—some rushing out with instruments, others dancing along.
By now, people were fed up with Prohibition. And since Franklin D. Roosevelt had made its repeal a key campaign promise, many believed it would soon be abolished.
Even the mayor and the governor attended what had become a massive festival. No one said it outright, but there was a subtle, unspoken agreement—drinking parties sprang up everywhere.
"Thank you for your hard work. Please have a cup of coffee each."
"…What's this?"
"The elder insisted that we make sure to provide coffee and some food for the officers working even during the festival. Please, take one."
"Thank you, haha. As expected, only the Kim family would think of us as well."
Boom! Boom! BOOM!!
"Waaah!!"
"Fireworks!"
"Holy shit, how many are they firing?"
"What a spectacle."
The festival's fireworks showed no sign of stopping, blazing fiercely into the night.
***
"Father."
"Oh my, has the hero of both the United States and Joseon arrived?"
"Please don't say things like that. It's embarrassing."
"Hahaha."
There was almost no trace of Joseon left in my father's outward appearance.
From his neatly trimmed hair to his elegant suit, shining shoes, and gold watch chain—he who once wore a scholar's gat and robe had now become a complete citizen of the United States.
"My daughter-in-law has it tough. This fellow is so reckless."
"Sometimes even I get startled by him."
"When that happens, just kick him. The rules inside the home are different from those outside. If he acts foolish like he does out there, don't let him off."
"Father!"
The authority of the head of the household… where did it go…
To cut him off, I quickly nudged my children forward.
"Alright, here comes the eldest grandson. The eldest!"
"Oh my! Our Henry is here. Yujin, can our grandson speak Korean?"
"Yes, grandfather. We use it often at home."
"And college? Are you thinking of going to West Point?"
"No, I'm planning to attend a decent engineering school nearby."
Seeing our dependable Henry, Father broke into a wide smile.
"Well done, well done. You should find what you truly want to do—don't worry about your father."
"If someone heard you, they'd think I'm blocking my child's future."
"You should think about the weight of your name! Do you think the descendants of Admiral Yi were dragged into military service for no reason? You clueless fool. That boy will still seem like a child even when he's my age."
If you say it like that, it makes me sound like a hopeless case.
Whether I pouted beside him or not, Father seemed to have endless questions for the grandchildren he hadn't seen in so long.
"So, which nearby school are you considering?"
"I'm looking into several options. I'm thinking of going to MIT—"
"Have you thought about coming closer to where this old man lives? Near Los Angeles, where the weather is good and the water is clean, there's also a fine engineering school. Our family has donated quite a bit there, and there are many Asians as well."
"Yes…"
"Let the boy be. It hasn't even been five minutes since you told him to follow his own path."
"Hey, that's different. If the eldest grandson of the Kim family doesn't mingle with Asians, that's also a problem, isn't it?"
Back and forth, one moment this, the next that… our son's going to end up completely confused. Father, I'll talk to him about that later, so let's focus on the other kids now!
"Oh dear, I'm sorry, children. Seeing the eldest grandson made this old man talk too much. Would you like something tasty?"
"Yes!"
"Good, good. Here, take some money for snacks—"
"Father. Put it away, put it away."
"Is it really so terrible that I want to give my grandchildren some money to buy candy?! Yushin and Yuin bring their kids over every other day! You unfilial brat. You're not just good at landing punches in a Jap's solar plexus—you're just as good at driving nails into your father's chest."
"Yes, yes. My fault. Kids, Grandpa says he'll give you some allowance. Go on, take it and let's deposit it in the Bank of Dad, okay?"
"Nooo."
"The Bank of Dad only accepts deposits. No withdrawals."
Just look at that fierce determination about money—definitely my kids. I told you, one of them should've been named Charlotte.
"How old are the children now? I haven't seen them in so long that I can barely remember."
"Alice was born in April 1921. You came to the East with Mother back then, remember?"
"Ah, yes, that's right. That's when I met your in-laws. I see, I see."
"James is from '26, Shirley from '30. Go on, Father, hold your grandchildren."
I hadn't even been in San Francisco that long, but it already felt like I'd fought a major battle. Honestly, the encirclement at Cambrai was nothing compared to this.
I stepped away from Dorothy and the kids for a moment and walked out into the banquet hall, where the guests were swaying happily to the rhythm.
The moment I appeared, everyone turned their heads at once, eyes scanning and sizing me up from all directions. Like a pack of piranhas. Well, I suppose that's how you survive in this world.
"Good evening, Colonel. Congratulations on your father's seventieth birthday!"
"Haha, thank you. Have you had a chance to meet my father yet? If not, would you like me to introduce you?"
"I just greeted him. He's in excellent health, haha."
No need to explain how important these polite, insincere exchanges are—the whole "I remember you" message. No matter how sincere our filial piety may be, in the end, everything in this world boils down to business.
While I was being held up, a man approached slowly from afar like some great catfish king.
"A pleasure to meet you, Colonel Kim."
"The pleasure is mine, Mr. Vice President. I'm truly honored that you've graced us with your presence."
Yeah… damn it. Seriously.
Why are you here? I never invited you!
There's a thing in this world—those polite, formulaic invitations people send. I just tossed one to the White House secretary out of courtesy.
Naturally, I expected the White House—busy day and night pushing the New Deal—to send back a polite "thank you for the invitation" message along with a token gift, like a wedding wreath. My father and I would display it proudly, and that would be the end of it.
But thinking about it, the White House does have a ceremonial "totem" they send for occasions like this. I can't help but salute my father-in-law again for flipping them the bird and refusing that role.
"One of my friends mentioned he didn't receive an invitation and seemed quite disappointed."
"Is that so? Attendance is open even without one—we must have overlooked him. If you tell me who it is, I'll personally go meet him."
"Really? Then visit Hearst Castle when you have time."
Hearst, huh. The newspaper king seems quite interested, judging by last time as well.
Come to think of it, that man could be called the king of California himself. Could it be he's offended, thinking we see ourselves as equals? That's impossible—the Kim family isn't on that level. If anything, given the quiet partnership formed through The Sun without my knowledge, we're closer to being on his side.
Even after that, people kept coming and going without pause. I shook hands, exchanged pleasantries, made small talk, handled introductions.
What a model worker I am.
I really want to rest now. Seriously.
***
"It warms my heart to see everyone gathered like this after so long. At least for today, I hope you'll refrain from quarreling—for my sake, if nothing else. Haha."
"Of course. Why would we fight on such an auspicious occasion?"
"Indeed. Please, have no worries."
Asians living across California and the western United States.
But only outsiders lumped them together as simply "Asians." In reality, their composition was incredibly complex.
Chinese, Japanese, Joseon, Ryukyuan—divided by ethnicity.
Among the Chinese, divisions ran between northern and southern regions. Among the Japanese, between Kansai and Kanto.
Then came further splits based on where they had settled—San Francisco groups, Los Angeles groups, Hawaiian groups.
Add in questions of whether they embraced Christianity, whether they pledged full loyalty to the United States and chose to be buried here—and it became clear that the so-called single group of "Asians" was nothing more than a vast mosaic, visible only from afar.
"I know it may be uncomfortable, but this old man will speak plainly."
"We are always ready to listen to your wisdom."
"As you all know, a few young men from the Japanese and Ryukyuan communities recently passed away… in an 'unfortunate accident.' They violated federal law to obtain bootleg liquor and died after drinking methanol—hardly something one can speak of openly."
Tongues clicked around the room, and several men bowed their heads deeply.
"Let's be frank. Those young men were already under surveillance by the FBI. Once the federal government considers you dangerous, you won't be leaving alive."
"We apologize, sir. We failed to raise them properly—"
"What could you do? It's one thing for the young to be drawn to dangerous ideas, but the moment they start shouting about liberation and revolution, you must be prepared to make harsh decisions—even if it means cutting off your own flesh."
Kim Sangjun took a slow draw from his cigar, gazing up at the smoke-filled ceiling.
At seventy, a man would normally retire to the back room and prepare to meet the grim reaper. So why did his responsibilities keep increasing instead?
It had been a long time since he crossed the Pacific, determined to become a force for Joseon's enlightenment.
That dream had gradually shifted into improving the status of Koreans in the United States.
And now, he found himself engaged in discussions with Chinese and Japanese leaders over the far greater issue of Asian rights in America.
The world truly was a strange and bewildering place.
READ MORE CHAPTERS HERE : https://beastnovels.com/