‘Firstly,’ he said, ‘a girl with a normal family background, not necessarily rich, but brought up under both parents among sisters and brothers. I think such a girl would have a natural and balanced character. I am scared of neurotic women riddled with complexes.’ ‘Secondly,’ he went on, ‘a girl of above average looks, and thirdly – I am being exceedingly greedy – an educated woman who can take an interest in my studies and read English texts with me.’
The effect of these plainly spoken statements was such that I felt faint, as if a dagger of ice had pierced my heart. I was so embarrassed at this unexpected reaction on my side that the next moment I blushed deeply, thanking the darkness that hid it from him. What hurt me most was ‘normal family background...with both parents.’
My mother died when I was five. I was brought up by my father and grandmother until my father remarried when I was eleven. My family was full of complexity and going through a particularly difficult phase at that time. It was obvious that I belonged to a different class from such girls as he desired. As for my looks, assuming myself a born scholar, I paid little attention to them and never once thought of myself as beautiful. Unreasonably, I was upset with him for not having given the answer that I wanted to hear. Why couldn’t he have said, ‘I would like someone with a good brain, nice personality, well educated and with average good looks?’
He offered to see me off at the bus stop, but I politely declined and walked away. Not only did I not tell Miae about it but I carefully avoided even talking about him. On the day of his departure, I excused myself from going to see him off at the airport. When Miae, after going to the airport alone, told me that he had asked after me, I quickly turned my head blinking away my tears. That had been three months ago.
I was comparing the blissful silence I had shared with Mr Hyŏn at Namsan that evening to the awkward one of this moment with Mr Kwŏn.
Shortly he took his leave, saying, as if he had suddenly remembered, that his father was sending his car to take him to Seoul in the morning. If we’d like a lift we were welcome, he said. I slammed the door behind him as I stuck out my tongue as a gesture of contempt.
‘What an idiot!’
‘He’s like a zombie,’ said Miae. We rolled with laughter.
‘He must be a prince in disguise. Chauffer-driven car indeed!’ Private cars were indeed a rarity in these times, in the restoration period of our war-torn country. We wondered whether we should accept the offer of a lift. In a way it was tempting. Just to think that we could sing all the way to Seoul while being driven through the beautiful, snow-covered scenery. But in the end, before we went to bed, we decided against it to show him that we were not such flighty girls to accept an offer like this from a man who we had only met briefly.
No sooner had we called the maid and ordered two first class train tickets in the morning than was there a knock on the door. It was Mr Kwŏn in a smart suit of dark grey. He looked even more subdued than the night before.
‘Good morning Mr Kwŏn. You’ve been out early – we saw you,’ we greeted him cheerfully.
‘The snow is so beautiful. I went for a little walk.’ Then he added, ‘I’m afraid I have an apology to make.’
‘What about?’
‘My father phoned me early this morning. He needs his car for the next two days, so it would be Wednesday before he could send it.’ He looked troubled.
‘Oh, please don’t worry on account of us. We have already got our tickets anyway.’ We were pleased with ourselves. We set off in good time for the station, and had a cup of coffee in a tea-room. A few minutes before the train was due, we saw him walking into the station with a suitcase, but we had completely lost interest in him.
‘I just remembered I have a meeting tonight. So here we are, together again.’ But we did not look on him as our companion. Besides, his seat was far away from ours, so that we never spoke to him all the way. Outside the train, the world lay in total submission to the reign of snow, deep under its cover. The sky was grey and heavy, and snow continued to fall.
Quite unexpectedly, Mr Han was waiting for us at the station in Seoul. Miae looked very pleased. As she handed her bag over to him she gently brushed the snow off his shoulder, and said, ‘I wonder how you knew we were coming back today. Are you well?’
I walked a few steps behind them. He was a law student, a year behind Miae at her college. I knew him as an admirer of her, but more as a younger brother than a boy-friend. He had been strongly opposing her plan to enter the convent.
After a week’s leave, I went back to work. It was now early February. The last of the severe weather still hung on, day after day. Miae’s calls at my office became scarce. At one time she had popped in almost daily, but now she made her appearance once every three or four days, sometimes only once a week. Even on these visits, she did not stay as long as she used to, lingering on into coffee or tea breaks. Our meetings after work also became rare, but I did not worry too much as I thought she was preparing herself for the great event in September. I was busy myself brushing up my English and the national history as I intended to sit for the government exams that qualified students to go abroad.
Nearly a month had passed since our return from Onyang. One day, a few minutes before the closing time Miae turned up, out of breath.
‘I thought I had missed you. Come with me, I’ll buy you supper.’ She looked happy and excited. Outside Mr Han was waiting. The three of us went to a Music Room. One table away from Han, she sat opposite me and started in a whisper. ‘I hope I am not turning into the type of women that you and I despise.’ She said that recently she had been seeing Han everyday. He had proposed to her and was awaiting her reply. If she accepted him he wanted to become engaged in March. She knew it was wrong but could not resist his love. I thought I ought to look pleased but felt a sort of betrayal. I wasn’t at all sure about my feelings, when I said, ‘It’s entirely up to you, dearest. All that matters is your own happiness. As long as you don’t abandon our principles, you can’t go wrong, can you?’ By ‘Principles’ I must have meant the rationality that we had so highly upheld. Then the three of us had supper and I came away.
Next day I had a phone call at the office from Mr Kwŏn, the man we had met at Onyang. He said that as The Korean Academy was much being talked about among his colleagues, he was intending to come and see it himself, bringing a friend with him.
‘What would be a convenient time?’
‘Anytime between 9 a.m. and 5 p.m.’
‘Is it true that Dr Kang is the Director?’
‘Yes. Do you know him?’
‘I haven’t met him personally, but he will know me when I explain who I am.’
‘Very well. Hope to see you soon, goodbye.’
He never came and I had nearly forgotten him when he rang again in the middle of March. He said he had been in Pusan on family business.
‘It is such a lovely weather. I wondered if you and your friend would like to come out for a little walk tomorrow. The Academy is closed on Sunday, I expect?’
Though reluctantly, I accepted his invitation. Indeed it was beautiful spring weather. When I went to Miae’s next morning wearing my favourite dress she was in bed thick with flu. I brought up the subject of Kwŏn, but she did not show the slightest interest. Going out in her condition was out of the question. Besides, Han was due to call on her shortly. Wishing I hadn’t promised to go, I went alone to the appointed tea-room.
‘Hello, Miss Yun, how good of you to come.’ He was obviously delighted to see me coming alone. He started to explain why he had to be away for so long. For family reasons he had to change his job and arrange a transfer to Pusan University. Fortunately, he said, the Chancellor was a close family friend and was only too pleased to have him as a member of his staff.
‘We won’t be able to see each other so often now,‘ he said in a solemn tone.