The Underdogs
Author: Kim You-jeong
Source: Jogwang 16 (February 1937)

Leaving the side gate open provides a clear view down toward Sajik Park.

Spring must be fading now. Inside the stone wall across the way, the cherry blossoms have burst into a deep red. Fresh buds sprout on every branch, and this thing nipping at my collar must be the "blossom-shivering" cold. Crows fly to and fro, twigs in their beaks, busy preparing nests for their chicks….

Blast it all, when is this house ever going to be repaired? Every year we vow to fix it, vowing and vowing again. It’s not that I hate the crooked thatched house perched at the very top of Sajik-gol. I don’t mind the old thatch hanging down in clumps from the low eaves, nor do I care if one side of the gate is hung askew, or if the wooden fence behind the jars has completely collapsed. Truly, if only that latrine next to the kitchen were fixed, I’d have no more wishes. The bottom wall is so far gone you can’t tell which side is the kitchen and which is the toilet. Come summer, maggots crawl onto the kitchen floor. Seeing that makes the rice I just ate stick in my throat. Ugh, how filthy! That cursed old man of mine—I nag him so much to fix it, and yet….

The side gate slams shut with a loud clatter. Wiping her hands, wet from the morning dishes, on her skirt, the landlady’s face twists into a thousand wrinkles.

In truth, she is fuming because she hasn't been able to collect the monthly rent. When she tells her old man to get it, he pushes the task onto her, and when she tries to get it, the tenants won't give it up easily.

"I’ve let it slide until now, but you won't get away today," she mutters, hardening her heart as she flings open the door to the across-room.

"Hey! What’s the word?"

"Ah, this is… I’m truly sorry. Today, again…"

Scratching his shaggy, unkempt hair, the man hesitates as usual.

"Today again? Then what do you plan to do?"

She glared at him with wide eyes, but this fellow was the type who wouldn't get angry no matter how much you provoked him.

A young man in his prime, yet he has nothing to do all day but sit in the corner of his room with his arms crossed, looking dazed.

If not that, he spends the whole day sleeping under his covers. Having not seen the sun, his face is sallow and withered. He and his sister, who works at the Gyeongmu-gwa uniform factory, live off her wages. It's only because she’s a widow that they manage; if she were to marry off, what would become of him? Ignorant of his own pathetic state, he always says:

"My sister handles the money… please speak to her when she gets back."

"Your sister’s only tune is 'wait three more days.' Three days, three days—just when are those three days ever going to come?"

"I am truly sorry. But this time, I will surely give it to you in three days. Since you’ve waited this long."

"I’m asking, when exactly is that three days?"

Anger flared again in her wrinkled brow. There was no telling if this "three days" meant three months or three years. However, if he were to snap back, it would be easier to argue; but since he wilts like a dying plant, there's no joy in further scolding.

"I don't want the money anymore. Just get out today."

She left him with those clear words and slammed the door. After pacing a few steps, she went back, opened the door again, and added:

"My nephew is coming today, so I absolutely need this room."

Crossing the drain next to the jars, she stood before the lower room. Originally a storehouse, it had been hastily converted into a room to be rented out. The mud plaster was sturdier than the main house, and though the walls were covered in layers of old newspaper, they looked decent enough.

The sliding door was yellowed and warped from wind and rain. Peering inside, she saw that "Old Yellow-skin" was still groaning under his covers. His sallow face, with its protruding cheekbones, looked even worse than yesterday. She cursed her own lack of sense for letting him in. She wanted the money, but the fear of being stuck with a corpse she didn't ask for made her insides shrivel. To be fair, she knew of his sickly look when he first arrived.

"Sir! What kind of illness do you have?" she had asked fearfully.

"Just a bit of a cold," he had replied.

What a sly old fox. Since that day, he’s been splattering bloody stools in the latrine and moaning in pain. Not only was it a foul sight, but every time she heard those groans, she felt her own limbs aching.

What was even more hateful was the daughter who brought him here. Since she works as a bus girl, she must be a practiced liar. If she had just said it was a serious deficiency, the landlady’s heart would be at ease, but the girl insisted to the end that it was just a lingering cold. Thinking of the trickery used to secure the room made the landlady’s eyes flare with fire.

"Sir! You must pay the rent today!"

"I’m dying right now."

The old man turned toward the wall as if she were talking nonsense, sounding thoroughly annoyed. Then, he let out an "Ugh!" and curled into a ball.

"No, are you really not going to pay the rent?" she had to scream.

"I am dying this very moment. Leave me be."

"Listen, dying is dying, but rent is rent! Just because you're dying doesn't mean I don't get my rent!"

"I’m dying! How can I pay rent?"

The old man turned his head, his eyes bulging as he shouted back at the landlady. With death nearing, his spite seemed to have reached its peak.

"If you're that desperate, go get it from my daughter when she comes."

"Who is this old man acting so tough with? Unbelievable," she grumbled to herself as she backed away. It might be better to retreat. There was no winning in a fight with the sick. It would be easier to corner the daughter when she arrived and kick them both out.

Next to that, separated by a small gap, was another sliding door. She reached for the doorpost but hesitated. The shoes placed carelessly on the veranda definitely belonged to Akiko. Losing the courage to open the door, she turned toward the kitchen, tasting bitterness.

She wondered if all the girls working in cafes were such ruins. No matter how you looked at them, Yeong-ae and Akiko didn't seem like they would ever amount to anything. They didn't know their place, chasing perfumes while indulging in debauchery. At least Yeong-ae would answer if asked something, even if she was moody. But this Akiko—even when asked for rent, she kept her mouth shut and didn't offer a single word of response. When pressed too hard, she would get angry herself and snap:

"Do you think we have it and aren't paying? Just stay quiet. We'll pay eventually. I've never seen such nagging."

Being told to "stay quiet" left the landlady so speechless she couldn't even mutter a retort.

"Wretched girl! When did she ever get sick?"

The reason she had rented out the rooms she could have used was because she was desperate for money. It wasn't that she and her old man were lonely and wanted company.

But as if cursed by fate, they were all miserable: a "yellow-skin," a "tomboy," and other such wretches. It wasn't that they paid rent properly, nor was it that they didn't pay at all. They would eventually pay one month’s rent over the span of three months. As if they had made a pact, they would hand over bits like eighty sen, seventy sen, or one yen at a time.

She thought she would be tough today, but it was just like yesterday. What was the point of moving her belongings out to the porch to make room for tenants? She sat on the edge of the veranda and lit a pipe to vent her frustration.

But no matter how she thought about it, being unable to speak up in her own house was a foolish thing. She threw the pipe onto the porch, worked up some nerves, and headed down to the lower house again. She flung the door open with gusto.

"Akiko! Hey! Are you sleeping?"

Akiko was sprawled out, snoring away in true Akiko fashion, completely unbothered. Her chest was exposed without shame, and her legs were kicked up over the covers. The room, filled with cigarette smoke, reeked of powder….

"Hey! Akiko! Are you sleeping?"

This time, she raised her voice enough to be heard outside the gate. But she knew that Akiko, who wouldn't answer while awake, certainly wouldn't answer in her dreams. She could only mutter:

"Wretched girl, legs splayed open like that… how vulgar."

The sliding door slammed shut so hard that the eye-drop bottle on the frame fell.

Only then did Akiko cautiously open her eyes and sit up. Wretched woman, who told her to look? she thought, reaching for the hand mirror nearby.

Her face was puffy from a poor night’s sleep. She lit a cigarette.

She blew smoke toward the ceiling, watching it idly. From her pouting lips, the smoke emerged in rings, one after another. She poked them with her finger, popping them one by one.

She had been waiting for Yeong-ae since earlier, but even as noon approached, she hadn't arrived. Had she gone to Danseongsa Theater or Changgyeongwon Park? Surely she wouldn't go alone. At times like this, the cramped room felt especially inconvenient. Putting aside the lack of sunlight and constant dampness, she wished it were just a bit wider. If either she or Yeong-ae had a nighttime guest, the other had to go sleep elsewhere. Even with just the two of them, their shoulders touched; sleeping three would be too embarrassing. Since they agreed to receive fifty sen for sleeping out, it wasn't a total loss, but having to trek back here in the bright daylight the next day felt a bit awkward.

Yesterday, leaving the cafe, Akiko had nudged Yeong-ae in the alley and whispered:

"Hey! Go sleep somewhere else today."

"Again? My, aren't you lucky!"

"Lucky my foot! Really!"

Akiko felt a bit shy and awkwardly pressed eighty sen into her hand. Normally it was fifty sen, but she felt that much more sorry. Yeong-ae took the money with a sullen face and said:

"Hey! Let’s get a bigger room near Jongno."

"Yeah, just wait… go on then, and come back early tomorrow!"

Ignoring the farewell, Yeong-ae added:

"I’m always the one going out to sleep!"

This was surely a jab at Akiko. Wretched girl, who told her to be born fat and ugly? she thought, but surely Yeong-ae wasn't being truly spiteful.

Akiko leaned against a pillow and checked her wristwatch again. Twelve-fifteen… no, twelve-eighteen. It was time for Yeong-ae to show up—had someone snatched her away? She stretched, lay down, and looked toward the sliding door. A hole big enough for a finger had been poked in the bottom. The landlady, her anger seemingly subsided, could be seen scurrying into the main room. And on the rice chest on the porch, someone had stuck flowering branches into a refined sake bottle. The red ones were peach blossoms, and the drooping yellow ones were forsythia. The door across the way remained shut, with no sign of anyone heading to the latrine. Inside, "Tolstoy"—as she had nicknamed him—must be hunched at his desk with his eyes closed. She wanted to go up and talk to him, but that "Old Serpent" landlady was on guard, so he didn't dare come out.

This was Akiko's essential peephole for scouting the activity in the main house. Not only that, in the evenings, it became a theater for watching an interesting play. Sometimes she and Yeong-ae would lie side by side, each taking a hole to watch. Because around five-thirty, Tolstoy’s sister, who was completely hysterical, would return from the factory.

That sister had such a fiery temper that you could tell she was coming from the gate. With her mouth shut and brows furrowed, she looked like someone perpetually dissatisfied, someone who knew no joy in the world. Her shoulders slumped and she looked drained, yet her pace was fast. Upon entering, she would first slam her empty lunch box onto the veranda of the across-room with a clang. This was both a signal to her brother and a way to vent her spleen.

Then she would glare around, looking for something to complain about. But the brother had already swept the yard, cleaned the kitchen pots, and covered the water jar. She looked for a misplaced shoe rack to find fault with, but since everything was tidy, she slammed the water dipper onto the ground instead. Even when there was nothing to complain about, she found it frustrating.

"If you're going to sweep the yard, do it right! You've got dirt all over the pots, what is this?"

That crooked nagging brought no sound from the brother inside.

"If you're going to eat, you should earn your keep! Is sitting in the corner like a Buddha all day enough for you?"

This was the greeting he heard several times a day. She stood with glaring eyes, pouring out abuse toward the closed door. In those moments, thick veins bulged in her thin neck, and her hunched back would even foam at the mouth. But that was for normal days. On days when she was poked by the supervisor for working slowly or when her thumb was nearly crushed by a sewing machine needle, her actions became even more frantic. Throwing whatever pots her hands could catch, she’d scream:

"Why do I have to suffer like this to feed you, you wretch?"

She became like a madwoman. The brother remained silent as if deaf. The sister would drive herself into a frenzy until she finally burst into tears. She blamed all her factory-work sorrows on her brother. Then, having no choice, the brother would come out to the yard, take her shoulders in his hands, and try to soothe her:

"Sister, it’s all my fault. Stop now."

"You! You're eating my flesh!"

"Yes, I know. I was wrong, so let's stop."

"I don't want to hear it! Get away!"

When she shoved him, he would fall flat on the ground. Watching him brush himself off and stand up, looking embarrassed and guilty, was both funny and pitiful.

But even funnier was the scene when they ate dinner on the porch. The sister would dish out the rice, bring it up, and silently shove a bowl toward her brother. Then she would turn away and eat her own meal in silence. Of course, they ate their side dishes separately as well. The brother would sit with his knees up and eyes downcast, silently eating his rice. From her room, the landlady would watch them with disdainful, sidelong glances.

Yeong-ae was annoyed by how pathetic Tolstoy was. If you're going to live off someone, at least stand up for yourself! But Akiko argued that he wasn't a fool, but simply too kind.

Actually, it wasn't that the sister hated the brother she was feeding. Last autumn, when the leaves were falling, he had disappeared one day without a word because she had been nagging him so much. Two days passed, then three, then a whole week, and he didn't return.

The sister went half-mad looking for him. she skipped work for several days and even went without food. Later, thinking he had died out of resentment, she would sit on the porch and wail whenever she came home. She even grabbed Akiko's wrist and pleaded:

"Please! Help me find my brother. I’m going crazy."

"But I have no idea where he went."

"If you see him at a place like that, please hold onto him. He grew up so pitifully without parents."

The sister, who had cried like that before finishing her sentence, found him nine days later at a friend's house outside Namdaemun. She cried again out of joy.

And the very next day, she started nagging him again.

It was a mystery, and Akiko, whenever the sound at the gate was a bit different, would get excited for no reason and call out:

"Hey, Yeong-ae! The 'moody one' is coming. Come here quick."

Akiko secretly had a thing for Tolstoy. He often appeared in her dreams, always looking gloomy. He would spread his arms like Rudolph Valentino and say, Oh! I love you. Please come into my arms. But in reality, this Tolstoy didn't even notice Akiko’s burning heart. Needing to reply to a guest, she once approached him:

"Sir! Please write a love letter for me."

"I don't know how to do that," he replied.

"A novelist says he can't write a love letter?" she asked, staring at him in disbelief. She had heard many times that what he was always writing at his desk was a novel. She called him "Sir" out of respect and referred to him as "Tolstoy" behind his back, so how could he not write a single love letter? Stunned, she asked:

"Sir! Have you ever been in love?"

He turned red like a shy girl.

"I don't know anything about that."

Akiko felt a bit miffed, realizing he had no interest in her. He probably looked down on her because she was a cafe waitress; she went by "Akiko" because calling her by her Korean name felt unrefined, but he seemed to think she really was Akiko. Perhaps Tolstoy had secretly set his sights on the bus girl in the lower room. She had seen him coming out to wash his face around the time the bus girl was leaving. And maybe it was her imagination, but the bus girl had recently been desperate to dress up. A few days ago, the bus girl had come to Akiko's room with a mirror and scissors.

"Sister, cut my hair for me."

"Why do you want to cut it? Just leave it."

"It's a hassle to comb every day," she said with an awkward expression, then added, "I like your hair, sister. It’s blunt!" She barely covered her request with a smile.

Since she begged so much, Akiko had no choice but to cut that nice hair. She put strength into the scissors and snipped it at the middle. The bus girl felt it with her hands and seemed overjoyed. She turned around with a wide grin on her flat face and said:

"Cut it more, like yours, sister!"

"If I cut more, it'll look bad. Isn't this enough?"

She kept pestering, but Akiko refused to ruin the hair further. Flaring up in anger, the bus girl went to her own room and chopped it even shorter herself. Now she goes around with that jagged hair and her face plastered with white powder, looking quite pleased with herself.

Even if there's a hole in the heel of her socks, she sneaks into her room backward.

When she leaves in the morning, the bus girl is quite imposing, carrying a large bundle of books under her arm. At first, Akiko thought she was a student at a high school, and for good reason—that bundle looked as grand and impressive as any student's. But she later found out it was just a pile of old magazines she never read, with her lunch box tucked inside. She lugged those heavy magazines around just so people wouldn't think she was a factory girl or a bus girl from her lunch box alone. And yet, in the evenings, she would always complain about some "thief-like middle schooler" following her home.

"I’ll break that fellow's legs," the sick father would shout from under his covers, playing along with his daughter. And it was his job every morning to wrap that bundle just the way she liked it. He would carefully fold the corners and hand it over with both hands outside the door:

"Hey! Come home early. Don't catch a cold."

Seeing this, Yeong-ae was again dissatisfied. She said a father groveling to his daughter was worse than a dog. She even had a small spat with Akiko over it.

"Then shouldn't he, since he's living off his daughter?"

"That makes it even more disgusting, doesn't it?"

"Living off someone is disgusting? He's sick, so what should he do? Really! You're being too harsh!"

Akiko turned away in a huff, then turned back and muttered:

"Hey! Your father sold you off, didn't he? Do you like that better?"

"Hey! Who asked you to say that?"

Yeong-ae couldn't press further and instead looked down, fiddling with her skirt. That’s how much Yeong-ae hated that sick man. Seeing his sallow, withered face, she hated him so much she gave him the nickname "Kim Makka" (meaning "Dead Man Kim"). It was because one day, Kim Makka had ruined things for Yeong-ae.

That day, for some reason, Kim Makka seemed to have been fighting with his daughter since early evening. When Yeong-ae came in around two in the morning, the two were still whispering and arguing. He was exaggerating his pain more than usual and being quite theatrical:

"Aigoo! Aigoo! Lord have mercy!"

Or else:

"Lord, why don't you take me instead of leaving me like this!"

The rooms were separated only by thin wooden panels covered in paper. Any rustle in the upper room traveled right down to the lower room. He banged his head against that wall:

"Oh, what a cursed life!"

In his own way, he was throwing a tantrum in front of his daughter, acting as if he were dying. Then the daughter would say in a sharp voice:

"Who told you to die, Father? You're just trying to get on my nerves!"

"Telling an old man to quit smoking is telling him to die, isn't it?"

"Is that really telling you to die? People will actually believe you if they hear."

When the daughter snapped back more sharply, he started again:

"Oh, what a cursed life!"

He banged his head against the wall and wailed like a child. It was a disgusting sound that even a thick ear couldn't stand….

Yeong-ae's guest, a rare catch, frowned. Without a word, he staggered out to the porch in his drunken state. He dragged his shoes carelessly.

"Why are you leaving?"

"I'll come again next time."

"Look here! Where are you going in the middle of the night?" She grabbed his suit jacket at the gate. But a hollow hand came up and brushed her off.

"I'll come again next time."

Then he staggered away toward the stream. Yeong-ae’s eyes were filled with venom, seeing two or three streetlights instead of one. Lying alone in her empty room, she cursed Kim Makka until tears welled in her eyes.

It was already 1:45 PM. Yeong-ae waddled in, her plump face beaming. In her hand was a thick bag of sweets. When she opened the sliding door, the room was a mess with old socks and dirty undergarments shoved into a corner.

"Are you back already? You could have stayed longer."

"Really! I went to take a bath."

"Did you go to the bathhouse alone?" Akiko asked, sounding a bit jealous.

"I bought these sweets for you."

"I knew it, our Yeong-ae!"

Akiko reached out eagerly, pulling her hand from a chamber pot. Every time she urinated, she would soak one hand and then the other in the pot for a long time. But despite doing this for over three months, her skin didn't seem particularly softer. She wiped her hands on a towel and said:

"You bought only namakashi (fresh sweets)."

She stuffed one into her mouth.

"Eating with those hands? Ugh, I don't want any!"

"What's so dirty? You pee too."

"Is that the same as eating?"

But Yeong-ae was much more soft-hearted than Akiko. Without getting angrier, she sat down and ate with her. In her heart, she was quite envious of Akiko’s life. Akiko, who was loved by many guests and proud of her pretty face. Even Yeong-ae wanted to give that charming face a hug.

"When did he leave?"

"He slipped out at dawn. He’s a total amateur."

"You're so lucky. I wish I could be in love too!"

"Go ahead, who's stopping you?"

"No, not the kind of love you have. I mean a spiritual love," she said, sounding a bit awkward.

"Oh! You mean the kind where you just watch and ache?"

As soon as she said it, Akiko felt she had been too harsh on Yeong-ae. The girl already secretly lamented her plain looks….

"Hey! Don't say that. Don't you know that love gets tiring after a few times? I envy you, always being at peace by yourself!"

When Akiko smoothed things over like that, Yeong-ae replied:

"What's there to envy? Really! You're just saying that."

Though she denied it, Yeong-ae felt a slight, smug sense of superiority. At one point, Yeong-ae had even tried taking opium to lose her excess weight. Thinking about how she had taken a large dose on someone's advice and couldn't even get up for two whole days made her spine shiver even now. But the fact that she occasionally received a postcard was a truly miraculous thing.

"Did someone rummage through my things again?"

Suspicious, Yeong-ae checked her vanity drawer. Sure enough, the incredibly precious love letter she had received from a professional school student a few days ago was missing again. Why do men love to steal girls' belongings? she wondered.

"They took it again. I give up!" Yeong-ae looked like she was about to cry.

"What?"

"The letter!"

"What letter?"

"The love letter I got the other day!"

"Unbelievable! Why would that wretched jerk take that? I didn't see a thing. He acted so shy, but he's a real scoundrel!"

Akiko knitted her thin eyebrows. After looking at Yeong-ae’s face for a while, she said:

"I'll ask Tolstoy to write you one. Then you can just look at that when you write your next love letter."

She tried to soothe her, but whether Tolstoy would actually write one was another question. Yeong-ae had been begging to leave this place for a while, but Akiko kept hesitating! Oblivious to such devotion, Tolstoy always treated Akiko with indifference whenever they crossed paths.

She once suspected he had feelings for the bus girl, but that probably wasn't the case. When she went up to Sajik Park during the day, Akiko often ran into Tolstoy. He would stand with his back against a thick pine tree, staring blankly at the distant sky. He didn't even glance at Akiko as she passed by. In her annoyance, she cursed him in her head. But later she realized he wasn't pretending not to see her; he was literally incapable of seeing anything while in that state. He was just a fool staring into space. Seeing him made Akiko think of her own past—dropping out of girls' high school—and she felt sorry for him. How hard it must be to live off his sister like that. And she wondered if the "Tolstoy" her ethics teacher once described as kind and foolish was really like this man.

Akiko coughed loudly and stepped toward him. Blinking her eyes, she asked:

"Sir! What are you thinking about so deeply?"

When she looked at him with a pitying face, he mumbled awkwardly:

"Nothing."

"Don't just stand there, try to get some exercise."

Feeling bad for him, she offered this advice.

"We need to clear this room today. My nephew is here now."

The landlady, her anger peaking, glared sharply. She found Tolstoy, who was just lingering in the room like a shield, utterly loathsome.

"Hey! Move the furniture out. How can the new person come in if you don't?"

"Please wait three more days. I will surely pay then."

"Look, it's not about the rent. I have nowhere to sleep starting today, and I absolutely must use this room. That's why I'm telling you to leave."

The man with the gap-toothed grin, his western trousers sagging halfway down his buttocks, straightened his back. This must be the "nephew" the landlady was always bragging about—the one who supposedly made it big at the city hall through self-study. But with his drooping eyes, gaping mouth, and flimsy build, he didn't look grand at all. Yet the fool tried to be intimidating:

"Since you've waited this long, please wait just a few more days."

When Tolstoy pleaded like that, the nephew actually started pointing fingers:

"Hey! Are you even human?"

"Look at that jerk! He's ugly too. Is he some messenger at the Gyeongseong Government?"

"Look at him, trying to act tough in a necktie." Akiko poked her finger through the hole in the door to widen it.

But Akiko saw right through the "Old Serpent's" scheme. She didn't care about the rent anymore; she wanted to kick all the tenants out. She was too afraid to touch Kim Makka or Akiko, so this was a performance to drive out the easiest target, Tolstoy, first.

"Look at that serpent. She's standing there winking and egging him on."

"The nephew is a fool too, isn't he? Doing whatever his aunt tells him."

"Look at the idiot posing. What’s he going to do if he takes off his jacket? What a joke!"

"He’s picking on Tolstoy because he just sits there. It’s disgusting. I wish someone would give him a good smack."

"If I hit him once, he'd be in the grave. That's why he doesn't dare come near me."

Akiko raised her fist to show her, but accidentally clipped Yeong-ae’s chin. Yeong-ae turned away, sulking again.

"Hey! I don't like this!"

"Who did it on purpose? Why are you sulking again?"

Akiko sulked for a moment too, then smoothed it over:

"Fine, I was wrong. Let's stop. Lelele!"

She rubbed Yeong-ae’s chin with the back of her hand.

"Look! He's rolling up his sleeves and the serpent is stomping on the porch."

"This is fun. The serpent is really fuming, isn't she?"

"Look at that jerk! He’s just walking into someone else's room?"

Akiko widened her eyes at Yeong-ae.

"It looks like trouble. They say even a cripple throws a tantrum, and it's true!"

"That jerk is moving someone else's belongings as he pleases? He's asking for trouble!"

"Don't blame him. Tolstoy is the fool! Even so, he just sits there like a Buddha. The world is full of fools!"

Akiko didn't even listen; she stood up immediately. The door flew open, and she marched out with heavy steps. She stepped up onto the veranda and spoke sharply:

"Hey! Who gave you the right to move someone else's things?"

"What business is it of yours?"

The gap-toothed nephew, who was carrying Tolstoy's desk out, froze at the threshold. Staring with wide eyes, he seemed startled by Akiko’s boldness….

"I have to sleep here starting today… so… I’m clearing the room…."

He stuttered with poor logic.

"Are you clearing the room just because you feel like it?"

"It’s my aunt’s room. Why should I ask anyone to clear it?"

He tried to act tough, but he kept glancing at the "Serpent" for support.

"That's right! It's my room. Who says I can't clear it?"

"You can't do as you please. Put that desk back right now. You should ask for the rent, not shove someone out like this!"

"Akiko, you should worry about your own rent! Get out of the way!"

The landlady grabbed Akiko’s arm to pull her away. She had been suppressed by the girl until now, but today she seemed to trust the nephew completely. Seeing this, Yeong-ae, who found it all revolting, joined in:

"Our own rent? Who are you calling 'you'? Is this old woman blind?"

She yanked the landlady’s arm back. The old serpent and Yeong-ae were in different weight classes. The landlady staggered and slumped against the wall. But the "Aigoo" she let out with her eyes closed and chin trembling was pure acting.

The nephew dropped the desk on the threshold and bravely lunged forward. Before Akiko could even think that he was imitating a "Dalmachi" (a tough guy), a loud slap landed on Yeong-ae’s cheek….

"You bitch! Hitting an old woman?"

"Look at this jerk! Who are you slapping?"

Akiko screamed and grabbed his belt from behind. The nephew tripped over the ironing stone on the porch and landed hard on his buttocks. A shower of charcoal dust, thrown by the vengeful Yeong-ae, flew at him.

Just then, the lower room door flew open, and a cane dragged Kim Makka out.

"Who do you think you are, slapping a girl? You're asking for the end of the world! Have you no eyes… people say the world is ending, and it's because of jerks like you."

Kim Makka shouted for all to hear as he climbed up from the yard, fueled by his long-standing resentment toward the landlady. He poked the nephew in the chest with his cane as the man stood locked in a struggle with Akiko.

"You cursed wretch, may your breath be cut short!"

At that moment, Kim Makka fell backward like a dry leaf. The cane he had jabbed out had recoiled and struck his own withered ribs. Scrambling to get up, Kim Makka became like a venomous snake struck by autumn frost.

"You brat! Don't you have a father?"

The cane flew and struck the nephew's ear. A dull thud of wood hitting bone. The nephew slumped his head and clutched his ear with both hands, going still as if dead.

Akiko was crying after being slapped by him as well. Taking this opportunity, she lunged at the nephew’s back, her face red with rage. She thought about punching him like a boxer but instead bit down hard on his shoulder. He let out a series of short screams, his mouth agape. And then Yeong-ae’s fists started raining down on the back of his head.

Tolstoy felt guilty and overwhelmed by it all, not knowing what to do. Not even noticing Yeong-ae’s glares, he shook Akiko’s back with both hands:

"Stop it, please stop! What are we going to do?"

The landlady was trembling too.

"Is this bitch going to eat a person alive? Let go! Let go of him!"

She tried to pull Akiko away, alternate between threats and pleas. But the more she pulled, the louder the nephew screamed. Realizing things were getting out of hand, the landlady’s heart began to race. In the chaos, the sliding door to the main room was broken, and two large bowls on the rice chest fell and shattered. The nephew she had trusted so much was being beaten to death. She realized that forget the room, someone was going to get killed. She trembled all over. And then there was Kim Makka’s cane, still swinging mercilessly….

The landlady scurried out of the gate. As she ran down the alley, the wind whipped her skirt.

"You should have just asked for the rent. Why did you try to kick them out and start such a brawl?"

"No, sir! Who tried to kick them out? I just asked for the rent, and then that girl Akiko came up and started eating people alive!"

"Don't lie. I know you tried to kick them out. Didn't this happen once before?"

The policeman followed the old woman, stifling a yawn with his fist. He was tired of this old woman always pestering him. Looking at her small, withered head with its white hair, he asked:

"How old are you anyway?"

"That girl is nineteen. And yet she behaves like that…."

"No, I mean you, old woman."

"Oh, me? Didn't I tell you fifty-seven last time? And yet I have to suffer like this."

She made a pitiful, whining sound.

The old woman hated Akiko more than Kim Makka or Tolstoy. Akiko was always interfering when she tried to collect rent; she was always singing loudly and annoyingly; and she would spitefully throw her washwater right onto the edge of the inner porch. She wanted the girl to be severely punished this time. In her haste, she tripped over a stone and tumbled forward. A nail sticking out of a trash bin caught her skirt and ripped it with a zip.

"Wretched things, couldn't they even hammer a nail into a trash bin?"

She got up, dusting herself off in a rage. The policeman hid a smile with his hand.

"Look! Don't come back again. I'll let it slide this time, but next time, I’ll arrest you."

"Yes—why would I come back? Just please teach that Akiko girl a lesson this time. She insults her elders, she hits people! And she’s already got more boyfriends than I can count!"

The policeman gave a half-hearted grunt, listening with only one ear. He had heard it all too many times to be interested. He frowned as he supported the old woman, who was still stumbling over the threshold. As he suspected, she had exaggerated. She had screamed about a murder, but upon arriving, he saw only a strange man in a western suit sitting calmly on the porch, smoking a cigarette. There was only a mouse scuttling between the jars looking for food, and not a single shoe was out of place. It was so absurd he asked:

"So, where’s the body?"

"Oh, how infuriating! They’ve played me for a fool again! They were hitting, kicking, and biting each other on this porch just a moment ago!"

The old woman beat her chest with her fist, lamenting her situation. The tenants had caught wind of the police and were now tucked away in their rooms, acting perfectly innocent. Akiko was humming in her room with the door shut, and Kim Makka, who had been wild with his cane, was back in his room groaning as usual. Realizing she was the one who was going to get scolded again, she cried:

"Oh, how infuriating! Oh, how infuriating!"

She beat her chest and then turned to the nephew:

"Hey! Why are you just sitting there like that?"

"What do you want me to do?"

His reply was blunt and sharp. He looked at the aunt who had dragged him into this mess with a resentful and hateful gaze. He had clearly taken a beating.

"Oh, how infuriating! Even you're doing this!"

"What's infuriating? You wretched old woman!"

The policeman shouted and turned to leave.

"Officer! Look at this. Can't you tell from the broken door and the shattered bowls?"

"So which nephew died, then?"

"He was beaten nearly to death, and now he’s gone dazed!"

"Can a dazed man survive even if he dies?"

The policeman poked his head in to look at the porch; indeed, bowls were broken and the door was damaged. He knew the cunning old woman hadn't done it herself, but as a matter of duty, he couldn't just leave. Thinking she was a truly persistent old woman, he asked:

"Who did this?"

"Akiko did it all by herself!"

"Akiko! Come with me to the station."

"Yes! I’m coming."

She had been through this so many times she was quite used to it. She changed her jacket and came down with a smile. But as she followed the policeman out the gate, she gave the "Old Serpent" a sharp, sidelong glare.

The policeman led Akiko with a slow, leisurely pace around the alley. Crossing a small bridge, they reached the bright grounds of Sajik Park. Since it was spring, the grass was sprouting green. From one side came the rhythmic sound of laundry being beaten. Elsewhere, people were running and shouting, busy playing football. The horn of a car blared loudly. A girl in a pink jacket over a indigo skirt came out carrying a bow. A tall fellow followed, holding a wallet.

"Why are you causing trouble again?"

The policeman turned and gave Akiko a slight smirk. He didn't know why the old woman was so desperate to get at Akiko. Surely she could find the girl a little cute; her hatred probably stemmed from Akiko not giving her anything. Otherwise, there was no reason to pick on Akiko out of everyone. He thought for a moment, then Akiko replied:

"When did I cause trouble?"

"The landlady said you bit her and tried to kill someone. And haven't I heard rumors about you hitting a guest at the cafe the other day?"

He wrinkled his nose and laughed. He concluded she was just a troublesome, smart-mouthed girl.

"I don't know anything about that!"

Akiko spat on the ground and answered quite naturally. And as they reached the entrance of Sajik Park, she said:

"Let's meet again next time."

She left him with that casual farewell and headed up toward the mountain on her own.

Walking up the path toward the archery range, Akiko looked back out of curiosity. There was the policeman, looking stunned and stifling another yawn with his fist. On one side, people were running, falling, and cheerfully kicking the ball. As she continued her climb, she felt a sudden regret that she hadn't been born a man so she could play football. After a walk around the mountain, she decided that when she went back down, she would empty her chamber pot over the jars. Nothing made the "Serpent" lose her mind more than urine on the jars.

"Wretched woman! Just wait! I’ll even splatter it right over the jars!"

Akiko made this vow to herself over and over again.