ACJY C42

The child, having washed her hands, stood next to the man. Looking up at her father, she observed his every move, her gaze filled with affection. Taeheun stared blankly at the scene before quietly getting up. He couldn’t just sprawl on the floor indefinitely as a boarder, he excused himself, but the truth was, he envied the father and daughter and wanted to interrupt them.

“Is there anything I can help with?”

The man, startled by the voice behind him, hadn’t realized Taeheun was there.

“Ah, Mister! You can’t just talk out of nowhere like that!” the child yelled.

“I’m not a ghost, how can I move without making a sound?” Embarrassed, Taeheun looked to the man for agreement.

“Isn’t that right, Mr. Gibeom?”

“Yes. I’m a bit slow, that’s why,” the man blamed himself.

He wasn’t slow, he was sensitive. But was he a sensitive person? Not at all.

“My father gets startled easily.”

“Sorry. I’ll be careful.”

“Jihye, scoop the rice.”

The man, perhaps worried that the child would scold Taeheun, quickly changed the subject. The child glared at Taeheun, rolling her eyes, and went to the red rice cooker.

“Were you very surprised?”

“…No. I’m fine.”

“I’ll be careful next time.”

“It’s really okay.”

The man blushed.

“Dad, fried eggs.”

At the child’s words, the man hurriedly turned on the stove and sprayed oil into the frying pan. The child took six eggs from the refrigerator and handed them to him. The man skillfully cracked the eggs and dropped them into the pan. Six fried eggs were cooked in an instant. The child held out a plate, and the man received it, arranging the eggs nicely. They worked together seamlessly, in perfect harmony.

Taeheun, who had been awkwardly watching them, stepped aside slightly. The child placed three rice bowls on the dining table. As she placed a trivet made from a cut-up towel in the center of the table, the earthenware pot was placed on top, as if waiting for its cue.

The meal consisted of two kinds of kimchi and fried eggs. It was a simple meal, a somewhat humble table. Nevertheless, the child looked at Taeheun with a proud expression.

“It’s really delicious.”

Seeing the child’s expectant expression and the man’s flushed face, Taeheun felt it would be difficult to excuse himself this time by claiming a lack of appetite.

The man opened the cupboard and took out three large bowls. He placed one next to each rice bowl and sat down at the table, the child following suit. Taeheun sat facing the father and daughter, or rather, facing the man.

“I don’t know if it will suit your taste.”

“It looks delicious,” Taeheun said insincerely, picking up his spoon because the man gestured for him to eat first.

Even after eating the kongguksu, he wasn’t hungry, let alone having an appetite. He would probably only take a few bites anyway. No matter how famous the restaurant, doenjang jjigae was still doenjang jjigae, and kimchi jjigae wasn’t much different.

As he was about to take a spoonful of stew, the child dumped her entire bowl of rice into her large bowl. Then, as she was about to dip her spoon into the stew pot, the man blocked her spoon with his own.

“Wait a minute. Dad will give you a ladle.”

“Oh, come on. What’s wrong with just eating it like this?”

The child pouted.

The man handed the child a small ladle. The child filled the ladle with ingredients and placed them on top of her rice. The man, without waiting for Taeheun’s evaluation of the food, did the same. They were putting on a show for him, but neither of them cared whether Taeheun ate or not. He felt strangely annoyed.

As the child had said, the doenjang jjigae was quite good. It wasn’t too salty despite its dark color. It was just salty enough to be savory, and the aftertaste was pleasant. There was nothing unpleasant about it. However, it didn’t feel “really delicious” as the child had claimed. Taeheun planned to take a few more bites and then excuse himself, that is, until the child started making bibimbap with the doenjang jjigae.

The child mixed the rice topped with stew and ingredients with two fried eggs and yeolmu kimchi (young summer radish kimchi). Naturally, the man followed suit. The child and the man’s gazes turned to Taeheun. Their eyes seemed to say, 

“What are you waiting for? Eat like us.”

If he didn’t want to eat, he could just put down his spoon and say, “I don’t have an appetite.” 

It wasn’t a business dinner, and they weren’t going to force-feed him. Yet, this time, he felt like whatever happened, happened. It wasn’t like he was going to die from eating it. Taeheun picked up the ladle.

“Mister, rice first,” the child instructed.

“Oh, okay.”

Taeheun put down the ladle and transferred about half of the rice from his rice bowl to the large bowl. The rice soaked up the broth that was already in the bowl.

“You need to add more rice,” the child advised again, her mouth full of bibimbap.

“Swallow your food before you talk,” the man admonished her.

“Okay,” the child replied perfunctorily, gesturing for Taeheun to add more rice quickly.

Taeheun added a couple more spoonfuls of rice and then ladled in the stew, mostly the ingredients. Then, like the child and the man, he added yeolmu kimchi and topped it with two fried eggs. He mixed the rice with gochujang (Korean chili paste) that the man handed him.

As if they had finished their tasks, the two buried their faces in their bowls and began to eat diligently. The child ate quickly, the man slowly.

Matching the man’s pace, Taeheun put a spoonful of bibimbap in his mouth. He chuckled involuntarily. It was delicious. No, how could it be this delicious? He took a second bite. His eyes met the child’s. The child grinned, her expression saying, “See? I told you.” 

The man glanced over but didn’t make eye contact with Taeheun.

For a while, the only sounds were of the three eating, chewing, and the clinking of spoons and chopsticks. Taeheun wanted to pretend he was forcing himself to eat, but he couldn’t. His spoon moved automatically, and as soon as he put the food in his mouth, he couldn’t help but marvel at the taste.

The child devoured her bowl of rice in a flash and refilled it. Now that she was somewhat full, she started asking the man about his day, whether the rice was ripening well, and if he had been hit by any stray stones. The man answered a beat or two later, busy eating.

“What did the mister do? Oh right, you pulled weeds too, right?” the child asked Taeheun.

“You think I only pulled weeds? I caught a wild boar during the day. A boar the size of a house appeared on the mountain behind the village hall. The village head made an announcement and everything. But your father was taking a nap, and Mr. Gicheol was engrossed in his computer. So, I had no choice but to step up. I struck its neck twice with my bare hands, and it died instantly.”

“Liar.”

“Have you been living under a rock? Ask the village head, it’s true.”

The child looked at Taeheun suspiciously.

“Where’s the boar?”

“Where do you think? I sold it.”

“To whom?”

“To the butcher shop in town. They said finder’s keepers, so I sold it for a good price. Ten million won.”

The child cursed him with her eyes instead of replying.

The man laughed and stroked the child’s head.

Taeheun suddenly thought it would be nice if the man stroked his head too. It would be nice if he stroked his head like that, praising him if he did well and comforting him even if he made mistakes. He forced down the remaining rice.

By 9 PM, the house was silent as a tomb. Both the child and the man were fast asleep. Only Taeheun was awake again.

The child’s fussing from early morning made it impossible for Taeheun to focus. He emptied his bowl without knowing whether the food was going down his throat or his nose.

Despite being in no position to leisurely work on a farm, Taeheun volunteered to accompany the man again. He was confused, unable to understand his own actions. But those feelings quickly vanished as soon as he sat in the passenger seat of the truck.

“Where are we headed today?” he asked in a serious, low voice, as if he were a detective. The man laughed.

“To the chairman’s house.”

“Wait, are there more rice paddies to weed?” 

Taeheun shuddered.

“That’s all done. This time it’s the field. It’s not very big,” the man said casually.

“He always says it’s not big,” Taeheun grumbled.

Before going to the field, the man went to Chairman Kwon Iltaek’s enormous warehouse, which seemed to contain every kind of machinery imaginable, and loaded a tiller, also called a rotary tiller or rotavator, onto the truck bed. It looked like a cultivator, but it wasn’t something you could ride on. Instead, you had to hold the handlebars and walk behind it, like a motorcycle. 

The man explained that because it had a motor, you didn’t need to exert much force, just hold it skillfully, and the plow would till the field automatically. Taeheun replied absentmindedly, thinking how much he hated hearing the word “chairman.”

Not very big, my ass. He hadn’t believed it in the first place, but Kwon Iltaek’s field was a vast expanse compared to the man’s garden patch. Compared to the rice paddy they had weeded, the man’s words, “not very big,” were true, though.

“The chairman plants various things as a hobby.”

Taeheun almost retorted, 

“If it’s a hobby, why doesn’t he do it himself instead of making you do it?” 

But he stopped himself because the man looked happy. Whenever the man talked about the “chairman,” he would smile unconsciously. Taeheun wondered if the chairman was like a father figure to him, but seeing how he only gave the man hard labor, he didn’t seem to treat him that well. The fact that the man liked him despite this irritated Taeheun.

Oblivious to Taeheun’s feelings, the man skillfully finished his preparations for work. Taeheun reluctantly put on the straw hat and towel the man handed him.

Despite his thoroughness in other preparations, the man never wore gloves. That’s why his hands were particularly darker than the rest of his body. Taeheun’s white hands, which were just as rough as the man’s, were gradually darkening. Instead of turning red and peeling like his face, this time they seemed to be turning bronze.