CHAPTER 12 – Bazaar (Part 2)

The last day of the year, the last night.

Blue lanterns hung throughout the courtyard of the Hawoljae lit up the night. The tiled-roof house emitted bright lights. A lavish party was taking place in Hawoljae, where Namsan was draped like a folding screen.

Gold champagne sparkled in transparent glasses on trays, and buffets along the walls offered an endless supply of food made by the chefs of Hanseong Hotel on the spot. Soft music from an orchestra filled the air.

“Is the congressman here?”

Dojun greeted Congressman Go Sun-joo as he encountered him. Congressman Go Sun-joo, the chief member of the ruling party, smiled lightly as he looked at Dojun.

“Young people play with young people, not old people like me.”

“You’re still young enough. Have you had your meal?”

“There were too many delicious dishes, I think I overate. I was feeling stuffy, so I was about to step outside for a moment.”

“Let me guide you.”

Dojun headed outdoors with Congressman Go. On the spacious courtyard’s left side, items were neatly displayed to continue the tradition of the bazaar, while on the opposite side, simple finger foods and drinks were prepared for easy enjoyment.

“The item you sent has already been sold.”

Dojun said as he led the congressman around the bazaar.

“Was that the gift sent by Secretary Jung In-hye?”

“Yes.”

It was a product packaged together, consisting of two new porcelain birds and a wax tablet embedded with dried flower petals. All the items brought for the bazaar were repackaged with additional small gifts.

“I’m sure Mr. Jung only sent you two birds, but it’s been nicely arranged.”

“Thank you for the compliment.”

Dojun and Congressman Go slowly strolled around the courtyard together. People gathered in groups of threes and fives, holding glasses and engaging in relaxed conversations. Due to the faint scent wafting through the air, some people were heading towards the outdoor barbecue area in the backyard.

“A year goes by quickly. Is the chairman doing well?”

“Yes, he is in good health.”

Exchanging nods with occasional guests, Dojun continued the conversation with Congressman Go. After some time had passed, Secretary Kang approached Dojun and said.

“Sir, the auction has started.”

Smiling at Congressman Go, Dojun said. 

“Would you like to come along, Congressman?”

“I’m not knowledgeable about art, so even if I look, I won’t understand.”

Congressman Go waved his hand dismissively. He was thinking of the illustrations and contemporary artworks by emerging artists that had been sold at last year’s charity auction.

“There are quite a few pieces that you might find appealing this time, Congressman.”

“No, I’m fine.”

Congressman Go still seemed uninterested, waving his hand as if to signal it was not for him.

“What about the set of pottery by Professor Cheonghae?”

At that mention, Congressman Go’s eyes widened. Congressman Go was known for living a simple life, but if he had one extravagant hobby, it was enjoying the tea ceremony.

“We also have Professor Soun’s tea set.”

“Oh, this person. If such items were available, you should have told me earlier.”

Congressman Go lightly slapped Dojun’s arm and hastened his steps in one direction. Dojun smiled and led Congressman Go toward the outbuilding.

* * *

Dojun’s steps were wobbly as he exited the lift. This is how it is whenever he drinks too much. Leaning against the wall, Dojun let out a sigh. His stomach, swirling with champagne and wine, whiskey and gin, burned like an alcohol lamp.

“Ha.”

Dojun rubbed his face and exhaled heavily. The hospital was quiet at dawn. It felt even more so when the wards were deserted except for the medical staff and bodyguards.

Pshhhh. A snicker escaped, then another. Dojun chuckled as he walked towards his father’s room at the end of the corridor.

The charity bazaar ended successfully, raising funds.

There was a steady stream of conversations and low laughter, and people who had made new acquaintances through the small events here and there gathered in small groups to chat. The night was dazzling with flashes here and there.

The highlight of the party was definitely the charity auction.

Professor Soun Kang Jin’s Jungho Dawan (Joseon tea bowls) went well beyond the starting price in the blink of an eye, and even Congressman Go Sun-joo, who claimed to have no interest, raised the bids passionately. Eventually, he won the bid at an outrageously high price. He looked at the faded yellow teacup with great pleasure.

The bids for NaJu Soban (a small portable table used in Korea that can function as both a tray and a table) and Bangjja yugi (a type of Korean bronzeware) soared endlessly as well. Under the guise of being used for a good cause, the bidding, a battle of egos among the wealthy, continued endlessly, with money flying every time the price went up.

After the official part of the charity bazaar was over, the first after-party was held at Glory House, a private villa. Then, a second after-party at the lounge bar of the Hanseong Hotel. It wasn’t until after 2 am that Dojun was able to relax and head to the hospital.

“Sir, you have arrived.”

The bodyguard on duty greeted him. Dojun raised his hand in a vague greeting and then opened the closed door of the hospital room. Standing there, he looked into the dark room.

In the center of the spacious room was a bed, and beside it were machines making rhythmic sounds. A humidifier emitted white vapor from the bedside table, and beneath the softly lit light lay his father.

Slowly closing the door behind him, Dojun straightened himself and approached his father’s side. Hwang Yeong-guk. 62 years old. A piece of paper with his profile was stuck to the footboard of the bed.

After this night, his father would turn sixty-three. Time had been diligently passing by itself while his father remained stuck at forty-four.

“Father.”

Dojun bent down and called out to his father. He didn’t expect him to respond, but he waited. There were nights when he held onto futile hope, wondering if his father might open his eyes or twitch a finger, but it had been a long time since he let go of such expectations.

“Dojun’s here.”

He pulled up a chair beside the bed and sat down. He wiped his father’s hand, which had a needle inserted into it, and chuckled softly.

The rhythmic sound of machines made the silence of the room seem even louder.

Sitting like that for a while, he eventually gently placed his palm on his father’s cheek. He felt warmth. A few strands of stubble scratched his hand. It was a familiar touch to his father. Dojun took his father’s thin hand and said,

“I’ve had a few drinks.”

He could smell the alcohol on his breath. Dojun smiled faintly.

Dojun remembered the days of desperate hope, when he desperately wanted his father’s eyes to open, and the nights of despair, crying for him to just die already. It’s all in the past now, but…….

Dojun rested his father’s hand on his cheek.

A body worn out by time. 

But please, Father. This year too.

With his head on his father’s body, Dojun murmured softly,

“Stay warm.”

That’s all that mattered.