KNEEL Ch 11

In the cramped, small world of Ahn Moe—a world inside this workshop where the fishy smell of iron lingered—Lee Gwi was an existence as intriguing as a divine beast from legend. Lee Gwi was different from himself. He was entirely different from his sister, his father, the remaining disciples, and the people of the lower village. He didn’t handle bells because he happened to drift into this path, because his parents made him, because he wanted to earn a lot of money, because he wanted a plausible title, or simply because it looked elegant. If those mediocre reasons listed above had been his foundation, Lee Gwi would not have been Ahn Moe’s Lee Gwi in the first place.

It wasn’t that the consciousness Lee Gwi possessed was particularly more noble than others. Ahn Moe respected all the students who walked into the workshop on their own feet and endured the harsh training and daily routines. However, what made Lee Gwi exceptional was his attitude toward casting, especially toward bells.

∞ ∞ ∞

Working at Woneumdang was no different from torture. After carving patterns until one’s eyes nearly popped out, enduring heat that fluctuated around 1,200 degrees Celsius, and waiting while stooped and bent until the bone joints ached, then repeating the process of grasping and refining a monstrous pitch-black lump ranging from five don to dozens of don for nearly half a year—a person couldn’t endure it without going mad.

When Lee Gwi had been in the workshop for two years and was first selected as an assistant, immersing himself every day in making bells like a crippled soul, Ahn Moe happened to witness Lee Gwi’s inner heart. Whenever Ahn Moe thought of the shock of that day, his heart broke every time as if it were the first. Curious about the owner of the light turned on in the empty lot late at night, Ahn Moe approached secretly, and what he saw was Lee Gwi—Lee Gwi crying. Tears were flowing from the silent face of Lee Gwi, who was sweating profusely while endlessly applying casting sand to the circular mold, relieved that he was alone.

Lee Gwi was making a bell while crying like a child. As if he had committed a sin so great that it was difficult even to repent, he would heave his shoulders while drenched in tears, move again, collapse and cry for a long time, and then stand up repeatedly. Ahn Moe watched that sight for a long while before approaching Lee Gwi.

‘Hyung, what did you come here to learn?’

‘I came because they said your father is the best. Aren’t all the famous Brahma bells everywhere inscribed with Master’s name?’

‘The other hyungs want to live making bowls and incense burners.’

‘I am going to study only Brahma bells.’

‘Why?’

‘…A Brahma bell is a bell that gets beaten beside the Buddha, right?’

‘Yeah.’

‘It must stay that way for at least a thousand years.’

‘…… .’

I deserve to receive that much punishment.

Through Lee Gwi’s desperate weeping, Ahn Moe fully understood their past conversation. If Lee Gwi doesn’t do that, he’ll die.

Lee Gwi was born to offer himself as a sacrifice.

That day, Lee Gwi, who was covered in dirt and kneeling while shaping a bell, received a cautious kiss from a boy much younger than him. It was the ultimate union that could only be offered by one who had seen through Lee Gwi completely.

Every day, Lee Gwi left wild flowers in front of the sliding door of the detached house where Ahn Moe resided. Ahn Moe lost his desire to inherit Woneumdang. Because the person who possessed the qualifications of a proper leader was Lee Gwi.

The ones who blocked Ahn Moe when he later tried to declare his intentions were, unexpectedly, his father Ahn Sun-mook and his twin sister Ahn Kang. Beside them, Lee Gwi stood awkwardly, unable to hide his embarrassment, roughly wiping the sweat flowing from his forehead. Ahn Moe was foolish. Ahn Moe should have shouted that he was definitely first.

If I had recognized Lee Gwi first,

If I had done that, would our fates have been different?

‘Child. I am giving Lee Gwi to Kang. He is a bigong.’

∞ ∞ ∞

“Bigong means a price for a body. In modern terms, a son-in-law who moves into the wife’s family.”

“Ah. Yes.”

Day 11 since the occurrence of the incident.

Hansol is inside the laboratory. He is looking at the master casters with a momentarily dazed face. This was the point where they were pushing ahead with the Q&A after Neil and Hansol decided to investigate a total of six people, three each. The first master caster sitting in front of Hansol stroked his mustache and recounted past history in a somewhat excited tone. The second and third were also proactive, as if they had been waiting their whole lives for someone to ask. In an era where even as master casters they didn’t receive any notable respect, it seemed they were deeply moved to be asked to bring up anecdotes from the days when their blood was at its hottest.

“So that bastard Lee Gwi ended up marrying Kang, whom he shouldn’t have even dared to look at. Master was also terrible. Even though the work on the Hwiramsa Great Bell was done with Lee Gwi, he gave his daughter to Lee Gwi and appeased Lee Gwi’s ancestors just to make it well. To make the bell come out good.”

“Elder, I’m sorry for interrupting, but who is Kang?”

“You don’t know Ahn Kang? She’s Ahn Moe’s noona. They’re twins, and when the two are together, you can’t distinguish them at all; you only guess the one wearing pants is Ahn Moe. Anyway, Moe is the most pitiful. It was practically a romantic devotion, the way Moe treated that Lee guy. What’s the use of looking similar? How futile it is. We used to joke that it was like being robbed in broad daylight.”

“Ah… Yes. I see. They were that close.”

“Close doesn’t even cover it. But you know, at the Hwiramsa shrine that commissioned that Great Bell, Kang was the one who went every day to offer prayers with oksu. Not long after she started going like that, she became pregnant.”

“Pregnant?”

“Yeah, they said a child was conceived. And then, in an instant, a sinister curse entered and everything went to ruin. Master died, and Lee Gwi disappeared, leaving his wife and child behind. Moe didn’t even have enough time to wail because he had to close Woneumdang and search for Lee Gwi. Since we had to put food in our mouths immediately, we got a few patches of land from the elders working for the government and took the title of master caster. Then, that dog-like bastard Lee Gwi, of all things, suddenly popped up and claimed that only he knew Master’s secret technique?”

“Ah… that beeswax casting method?”

“It’s something handed down since the Silla Dynasty; it’s the best in the world, incomparable. You won’t know it at all even if you watch over the shoulder. The mixing ratio that makes the bell endure the molten iron without cracking—critical things like that are all secrets. Anyway, after that, Lee Gwi snatched up every single big contract the government commissioned and monopolized them alone. Wearing all sorts of hats as a professor, a craftsman, and an intangible cultural property, he’s putting on airs. We know. That lowlife definitely harmed Master and stole the secret technique.”

“Is there, by any chance, an incident that makes you so certain…?”

“No doubt about it. On the day Master died, we had gone down to the lower village. The only ones who stayed in the workshop that day were Master and Lee Gwi. When we returned, Lee Gwi had long since run away, and Master was lying there alone.”

The Lee Gwi I saw in person was an old tree that would rather break than bend. He didn’t seem like a shameless person who would covet a throne. Hansol roughly coaxed the master casters, who looked disappointed that they couldn’t speak more, and hurriedly locked the laboratory door.

Director Kim and Neil went out earlier to buy lunch boxes. Hansol collapses face down on the table, wrapping his arms around the back of his head. As the outline takes shape, something feels incredibly uncomfortable.

Ahn Moe certainly has a powerful motive. According to the information the master casters gave, Lee Gwi killed (or is known to have killed) his biological father, and furthermore stole his biological father’s secret technique, after which he suddenly acted as the successor and ran away, abandoning his sister and nephew.

If I dare to go further based on the interviews with the master casters, probably Ahn Moe… must have liked Lee Gwi. But then he suddenly became his sibling’s husband and even started a family, so it must have been appalling. At the very least, they aren’t in a relationship where they would exchange letters and talk warmly about old memories. It’s certainly not a story that ends with a calm ‘we learned together under my father.’ Furthermore, since Ahn Moe was the leader of the group of master casters denouncing Lee Gwi, no matter what it is, he is definitely hiding something.

“Mr. Hansol. Even Geumgangsan Mountain is after a meal.”

While organizing his notes, Neil and Director Kim returned. Did you go to the convenience store and buy the whole convenience store…? Hansol’s eyes go round at the bags filling both of Neil’s hands. It was to the point that Director Kim, who only brought back cup-rice for Hansol and himself, looked unfamiliar. Neil is very excited as he takes out the lunch boxes and snacks he brought in abundance. Even Geumgangsan Mountain is after a meal—just because the pot is black, does that mean the rice is black too? Hansol mutters while turning his back to Neil, who is humming.

“How on earth did that guy learn Korean…?”

“Me? My mother and maternal grandmother. Until I became an adult, I was actually worse at French. I graduated high school in Hawaii.”

“Ye-ah, aloha mahalo pomaikai.”

“What kind of dog-sound is he making?”

“Hello, thank you, good luck.”