KNEEL Ch 10

The most common things at a master caster’s workplace are sand, hardening agents, and various types of clay, including decomposed granite and kaolin, as well as metals like copper, tin, and lead. However, to cast a Buddha statue using the traditional temple bell method, beeswax is required—specifically, beeswax exquisitely mixed with rosin and beef tallow. Including the amount used for practice, they would have used a substantial quantity; and while one might figure out how to dispose of leftover rosin powder, beef tallow is quite troublesome.

“On the other hand, there were no traces of Lee Gwi’s workshop receiving orders for temple bells or Buddha statues recently. This is backed up by interviews with apprentices who said it was a sabbatical year.”

“…Hmm.”

Then, assuming the culprit is Ahn Moe and not Lee Gwi, how on earth did Ahn Moe find out that technique? Why did he trap Lee Gwi? What is the reason for hiding the fact that he knows the technique himself? And why am I so drained of energy?

“This is a place where 1,000-degree molten lava-like material, weighing 10 tons, comes and goes all day long. Accidents happen frequently.”

Despite Neil’s subtle bait, Ahn Moe had dismissed the reason for his blindness in a single sentence. There is no way Mr. Ahn did this out of a wish for the well-being of Master Iron Caster Lee Gwi. He’s not a madman, so he wouldn’t have injured his own eye just because he was bored. How deep and dark this hatred must be. Ahn Moe wants to humiliate Lee Gwi and then lock him up so he can’t move. This sort of thing usually stems from a twisted relationship of resentment—

“Sol. You just thought ‘relationship of resentment,’ didn’t you?”

“You should try changing careers to something like a shaman.”

“Well, it will become clearer once we meet the master casters…”

“Yes. We might have to plant our flag as far as the next town over.”

“Was it Incheon?”

“That’s right. Ganghwa County, Incheon.”

“What is famous there? I should search for it.”

Incheon Woneumdang. A training center and workshop established by Ahn Moe’s father, the legendary bellsmith Ahn Seon-muk. Built shortly after the liberation in the forests of Mount Nakga in Incheon, with the West Sea nearby, it is said that apprentices in those days were fundamentally required to learn both carving and casting simultaneously.

Korean traditional temple bells originally have no separate connecting bands, so one person must take responsibility for an entire work from start to finish; thus, being proficient in both fields is advantageous. In an era when a bowl of jajangmyeon cost 100 won, the workshop salary was a whopping 40,000 won, so Woneumdang must have been truly crowded with people at the time. Among them, only six or seven people—those Ahn Seon-muk personally selected, taught, and sent out—all received the title of master caster and, Yije like their old teacher, are now cultivating the next generation themselves.

According to the file provided by the Cultural Heritage Administration official, Ahn Moe was born in 1957. Lee Gwi was born in 1949. Lee Gwi entered the hall in 1975. The teacher died five years later, in 1980. Upon the teacher’s passing, everyone descended the mountain, and the workshop was designated as private property, managed by the surrounding mountain temples. What on earth happened there back then that, 40 years later, is tormenting me and this “refrigerator” who has nothing to do with it? Neil whispers to the troubled Hansol.

“Sol, a temple called Huiramsa is famous here.”

“…Are we tourists? Don’t give me a headache.”

“You have a headache? That’s a big problem.”

“The big problem is you being my big problem…”

Neil puts down his mobile phone and gently places his hand on Hansol’s forehead. Neil’s hand is unexpectedly dry and cool. Hansol closes his eyes for a moment, comforted by the stability of the cool temperature. Lee Gwi, who is sleeping soundly after downing lye, is suspicious, Ahn Moe is naturally the most suspicious of all, and there isn’t even a hint regarding the whereabouts of the authentic piece.

Now, another assumption. Ahn Moe is the culprit. He succeeded in ruining Lee Gwi’s life. The next step. What does he do with the stolen authentic piece? Heave-ho, hide it away? That’s too dangerous. Melt it into gold bars for cash? It would only be about 4 billion won at most, so why bother. For the head of a golden Buddha, 4 billion won is nothing; you can name your price on the black market. Since he would need connections either way, is he just living with it? I don’t understand a single thing.

Still, it feels like things will work out somehow if I’m with this guy. Hansol felt a strange sense of trust in Neil for some reason. He’s certainly a fool, but he’s not the kind of fool who makes me anxious.

“If you don’t call my name properly, I won’t let you in the car.”

“But I like Sol.”

Bangs sticking up like an antenna. Seeing Hansol, who has entered a state of meditation while still wearing his well-polished rimless glasses, Neil tries hard to suppress his laughter. It’s truly fun to watch a cute person. Neil puts the tumbler away and sits like a stone statue for over 30 minutes, blocking the sunlight with his back to protect Hansol. The hand covering his forehead remained cool the entire time. Hansol was in a sorrowful dream once again.

Just like the day Lee Gwi was injured, the feeling of the hazy daybreak he wandered through before Neil woke him up obscured his vision.

∞ ∞ ∞

In order to send the sound of the bell further

The bell must hurt more.

—Lee Mun-jae, from Joke

Incheon Woneumdang.

Lee Gwi is strangely taciturn. The last apprentice who suddenly joined at the age of just having reached his thirtieth year. Even when suffering through all sorts of hazing, he simply endures it silently. Treating it as a pointless prank, he only does his work all day long. Waking up at dawn to sweep, mixing rice straw and mud, and wiping the inner and outer frames of the molds, and before he knows it, it is noon.

“Is it not true that Lee Gwi is actually the offspring of a butcher? His physical stature is enough to reach the rafters, his eyebrows are jet black, and how large his hands are; if he intended to cover the sky, it would be pitch dark.”

His colleagues, who are at most in their early twenties, sit around the training ground and snicker, but Ahn Moe, the master’s only son, does not join in.

“Are you saying that because you’re jealous? He hasn’t even been here for three years, and he’s already mastered forming the morning glory shape of the bell mouth. Do you have no ambition to catch up to his skill while you spend all day slandering him?”

“Oh my, Moe. Don’t scold us so much. We’re just engaging in a bit of mockery because we’re bored.”

“Forget it. How pathetic. Keep flapping your mouths like that. I doubt Father will ever teach you guys even a single line of his secrets.”

A man remains a newcomer no matter how old he is, and a boy cannot be treated lightly no matter how young he is. Everyone cowers before Ahn Moe, the youngest son of Ahn Seon-muk and the destined master of this Woneumdang. Furthermore, incredibly, the boy Ahn Moe is like a childhood friend to the man Lee Gwi, following him around as if possessed from his childhood until now, having passed his twentieth year. Since the teacher also inwardly disapproved of that point, the two only shared their feelings when the teacher was away or occasionally stepped out.

∞ ∞ ∞

Lee Gwi had no talent for chattering, so the one babbling was always Ahn Moe, but Ahn Moe did not mind. It was because he knew that Lee Gwi simply lacked eloquence and was actually a very thoughtful person.

“Father is thundering at me for focusing far too much on the Porae.”

“You’d better take it to heart. In the end, there is no Porae that defeats the dangmok. For a bell, the most important thing is that it rings well. Do not fixate on indulging in decorations.”

“But, I think differently. I’m not doing it simply because I’m possessed by vanity. The Porae is the dragon that surrounds the core, which is the sound pipe. If that is flimsy, how can there be a beautiful resonance?”

“Let’s just hope a dead whale drifts ashore. To make the bell-striking perfect, you must not be obsessed with outward appearance.”

“Hmph. That way, you’ll be great at best. A bell imbued with the universe is not in your destiny.”

“And is it in yours, Prince Gung?”

“Vanity is an excuse. Actually, you just don’t want to be found at fault. If you make it simple from the start, there are fewer things to judge.”

“Then you go ahead and surprise all of creation with a bell body like a canvas. This humble person will be the first to admire it for you.”

Even when Lee Gwi teased him, calling him Prince Gung, Ahn Moe was simply happy. He is a violent partisan. He is a cousin of the Donkey Unit who fled from Baengnyeongdo. No, they say he was the only one who returned alive after everyone died in the Vietnam War. They say he has four abandoned children. There were rampant rumors because the late-blooming disciple never mentioned a single thing about his personal life, but Lee Gwi’s steadfastness in not even reacting to such things made Ahn Moe’s heart flutter constantly.