MOON Ch 1

That mansion was built a very long time ago on a hill where pine trees and nut pines grew thick. Thus, the entire property, including the castle-like building standing tall, bore the name Songbaekwon (松柏園)—”Garden of Pines and Nut Pines”—though ironically, most of the very pine and nut pine trees that gave it its name had been chopped down when the mansion was erected. One had to venture deep into the forest connected to the rear garden to see even a few of them left.

The mansion was located in Geumso-dong, Moonjung City, a city on the outskirts of Seoul. Moonjung had excellent accessibility itself, being just across a single large river bridge from Seoul. Fitting for its slogan as a green city good to live in, it was surrounded on all sides by lush forests, making the air feel so clean that its very quality seemed fundamentally different compared to the heart of the capital.

There was just one thing: because it sat beside a large lake, whenever the humid summer season arrived, a water fog uniquely used to settle over the Geumso-dong area. Before sunrise at dawn or around dusk, the hazy scenery wrapped in deep greenery gave off a rather mysterious and eerie atmosphere. However, the residents living in that neighborhood regarded it as a special privilege only they could enjoy, showering it with praise for being poetic and full of charm.

Songbaekwon, where the people of the Jungwang family had laid down roots and lived for three generations, was the most famous landmark in that area. Because it was located on the highest ground, the roof of the stone mansion built in French style could be seen from anywhere in the neighborhood.

The residential complex in Geumso-dong, developed with the grand ambition of emulating the wealthy district of Beverly Hills, had alleyways paved so uniformly that first-time visitors were prone to getting lost. Whenever that happened, all the locals would advise, “Just use the blue-roofed mansion built up there on the hill as your landmark to find your way.”

When Chaeon first set foot there, it was in late summer, just as the rainy season was coming to an end.

∞ ∞ ∞

Black attracts black

Black mixes into black

Black swallows black

Entangling

Scratching

Rummaging

Rubbing

Even so

Black is ultimately black

There is no knowing which is what black

Even after mixing and mixing and mixing

Black is ultimately black.

— Black, Lee Gyu-hwa

It was a poem learned in literature class. They said the “black” mentioned there ultimately meant desire, and while not all of it quite made sense, the teacher had defined the dictionary meaning of desire as ‘a heart that feels a lack and wishes to possess or enjoy something.’ That is why I like that poem.

Ever since I was little, I had far too much greed compared to what I possessed, to the point where I would even fall ill if I wanted something but couldn’t have it. Though after Dad passed away, even that disappeared somewhat. Whenever I feel that aspect of myself resembles Dad, I grow to hate myself. To think that I resemble a person who ruined himself by indulging in excessive greed beyond his station. Why on earth can’t humans throw away something like desire?

Along with the rasping sound of the mechanical pencil lead scratching against the paper, neatly typed-style handwriting densely filled the white diary. Once the inner thoughts were let out as much as possible, a belated ache crept into the hand holding the mechanical pencil.

Staring quietly down at the space between her reddened thumb and index finger, Chaeon suddenly flinched and looked up at the clock.

“Ah, right…”

Lost in writing her diary for a bit, a good deal of time had already passed. Closing the diary and placing it into the desk drawer, then slipping the mechanical pencil back into the pencil case, Chaeon hurriedly headed to the kitchen.

A watermelon that the section chief had abruptly dropped off, calling it a gift for Madam, was sitting all alone on top of the sink. Letting out a sigh as if it were a bit troublesome, Chaeon immediately cut the string wrapping the watermelon and peeled off the sticker with dazzling gold foil.

Slicing. Slicing.

It was while she was cutting and preparing the watermelon placed on the cutting board into pieces. Along with the heavy sound of an iron door opening, the hot and humid air from outside burst into the house.

“Phew, so muggy. This darn humidity is just downright suffocating.”

A voice heavily drenched in heat poured out like a sigh. Having mentioned she was going out, it seemed Mom had returned a little early. Chaeon, having roughly wiped the watermelon juice off her fingers, walked out to the living room just as Heejung was stepping inside from the front door.

“You’re back, Mom?”

“Yoon Chaeon. Why are you home at this hour?”

“Vacation starts today.”

“Oh, really? That’s great. It’s hot outside, so you should stay in a cool house.”

Heejung entered, almost dragging her right leg, and collapsed right into a sit on the middle of the living room floor.

“Hold on a moment. I was slicing watermelon.”

Walking briskly back into the kitchen, Chaeon quickly finished up what she was doing. She washed the knife and cutting board cleanly, placing them upside down on the sink drying rack, and put the neatly sliced watermelon into the refrigerator. She cut the cleanly scooped-out watermelon rind straight into quarters, threw them into a bag, and tightly tied the opening.

“Where’d the watermelon come from?”

Heejung asked, leaning her body to peek toward the refrigerator.

“The section chief swung by on his way to do an errand nearby and gave it to us, saying it was an errand from Madam. He said she told him to bring it to our house.”

“Oh my, she paid attention to that again.”

“Yeah. I cut it up and put it in the fridge, so eat it whenever you want, Mom. It was sweet.”

“Aww. Thank you, sweetie. I should give Madam a call to thank her.”

At those words, a faint trace of reluctance flickered across Chaeon’s face.

“What for… You’re going tomorrow anyway.”

“Hey now. Still, you should offer greetings right away. Leave a message for Madam later too. Mom will give you her contact info.”

“…”

It would’ve been fine just to ask to pass on our thanks. Swallowing those words down beneath her tongue with difficulty, Chaeon gently bit her lip.

It was always hard to understand the mindset of those who insisted on buying fruit at a high-end department store food hall for double the price when it could be bought much cheaper at a regular produce store, but regardless, she didn’t particularly refuse the expensive fruit brought over as if bestowing charity every now and then. Because Heejung enjoyed that fruit especially much. The gratitude Heejung felt was a separate matter from Chaeon’s discomfort. Chaeon looked at Heejung making the phone call with a gaze filled with discomfort.

Heejung was working as a housekeeper at Mr. Kim’s house in Hannam-dong. Starting work as a caregiver taking care of Mr. Kim’s elderly mother was how the connection had begun.

Mr. Kim’s elderly mother, who kept losing both her appetite and energy as her illness deepened, miraculously regained her appetite one day after eating the seasoned raw crab that Heejung brought for her to taste. While barely picking at the hospital meals, she ate the homemade side dishes Heejung occasionally brought unusually well. Then, the lady of that house, Im Soyoung, who had been watching Heejung take care of her so attentively, offered her the housekeeper job.

‘Mother doesn’t have much longer to live now. Nothing shows any sign of getting better, and if we say we should care for her at home until she passes, well, what else can we do? She may be a mother-in-law to me, but she’s his mother.’

‘Then, are you planning to care for her at home for the time being?’

‘Yes. We should. So regarding that… could you pause your caregiving work for a little bit and move into our house? Just while Mother is here.’

‘Ah, well…’

‘You know how warm-hearted my husband is. The pay will be so generous that you won’t feel disappointed no matter where you compare it. Things went well with the talk about putting up another Jungwang corporate building over by the Suwon Industrial Complex this time, so a lot of contracts were secured.’

Just as Heejung had come to shoulder the weight of life alone too early, Chaeon had also matured much faster than kids her age. Sharp-witted Chaeon could clearly read the subtle bragging underlying Im Soyoung’s statement and the disdain implying “where else could you receive this kind of pay?”, but whether Heejung knew it or not, she took her words quite seriously to heart.

Chaeon didn’t particularly like Im Soyoung.

‘Hey. A girl like you having nothing but a pretty face like that will only cause troublesome things to happen later.’

The thing Im Soyoung said whenever she saw Chaeon, making her eyebrows form the shape of the character eight (八). She used to say it as if out of concern, but to Chaeon, it sounded as if she were placing a curse on her. She also hated being constantly made aware of her own lacking circumstances.

And her sickening hypocrisy.

She would press luxury scarves, bags, and the like into Heejung’s hands as gifts with an affectionate tone as if showing benevolence, but in reality, Chaeon knew they were items she herself had used that were handed over almost forcefully when they went out of style or when counterfeit versions flooded the market, making them a hassle to dispose of.

She had even overheard her once blabbering to an executive secretary, ‘Things out of style can just be given to our caregiver. That ahjumma is in a situation where it’s hard for her to even catch a glimpse of such things.’

To the ladies of the house who, whenever they had a spare moment, put on a sickening display of elegance while sitting in living rooms as big as sports fields or in gardens, Heejung’s existence was nothing more than a trivial topic good for gossiping about whenever she happened to catch their eye.

‘No, really, our ahjumma, I’ve never seen her talk back to my words even once. She’s really a decent person. Whatever I say, it’s yes, yes, right. There’s nothing to fault.’

‘Indeed, such an ahjumma is rare. You’re blessed with good people.’

On one of the days when she went to pick up Heejung, Chaeon was shocked by the words Im Soyoung spouted off under the guise of praising her mom among the ladies decked out from head to toe in expensive luxury goods.

Praising Heejung as if complimenting an obedient dog, calling her a decent person ‘because she is submissive,’ exchanging words as if it were some great compliment… The fact that not a shred of malice could be found on their faces was also a complete deception.

‘By the way, that ahjumma is too pretty to be doing this kind of work. Did you say her husband died in an accident?’

‘That’s why I suspected my husband when he told me to bring that ahjumma into the house. Wondering if he was thinking of making her a mistress, or if I’d end up a main wife bringing in a concubine, things like that.’

At the sound of them cackling and chatting away, completely unaware that she was listening right behind the garden wall, Chaeon felt like throwing up. Minds that pretended to be more refined than anyone else, yet were utterly vulgar.

Does money make people vulgar, or are people who are merely at that low level enjoying things beyond their station? While she sometimes envied those lives where they casually enjoyed things that couldn’t easily be seen anywhere, she also felt disgusted with herself for having such thoughts. Because…

While continuing her thoughts filled with cynicism, Heejung’s muttering cut into her reverie.

“She’s not answering the phone.”

Tilting her head with a puzzled look, Heejung set her mobile phone down on the living room table. Letting out a groaning sound as if dying, she sat with her legs stretched straight out, her face heavily crumpled.