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A cold winter wind was sweeping through a market alley and blowing newspapers here and there. The boy stopped by five taverns since dusk and had at least seven drinks, but he wanted more as if his stomach was empty. He arrived at the tavern Pyongyang at the end of the market alley. He peeked in through the window to look for a familiar face.

구레나룻 기른 사내가 껄껄 거리며 웃었다.

술만 취하면 그는 늘 웃었다.

제 여편네가 피난통에 총알 맞아 배에 공기구멍이 휑하니 나서

죽어버렸다는 얘기를 하면서 웃었고,

나이 오십 되기 전에 자살하겠다면서도 웃었다.

The guy with long sideburns laughed out loud. He laughed whenever he got drunk. He laughed when he told a story about how his wife, while fleeing from war, got killed by a bullet that left a big hole in her stomach, and he laughed even when he said he would kill himself before he turned fifty.

그 사람과 비교하면 또 한 사내는 아주 달랐다.

걷어올린 팔뚝에 문신이 거뭇거뭇한 사내로,

말없이 가만히 앉아 있다가 나이프를 던지곤 했다.

전쟁에서 잃은 그의 오른손의 분신이었던 것이다.

Compared to this one, the other guy was quite different. He had dark tattoos on his forearm and used to throw a knife while sitting in complete silence. It was the substitute for his right hand lost during the war. 

아이는 주춤주춤 탁자 쪽으로 다가갔다.

탁자위엔 투명한 막소주가 놓여있었다.

아이는 그 소주의 맛을 알고 있었다.

“I saw your father just moments ago. Not only that, he even had a drink with me.” (Sideburns)

“My mother, she’s dying. I left right after I saw her vomit blood.” (Boy)

The youngster hesitantly scooted over to the table. A bottle of clear soju was on the table. He knew what it tasted like.

# Interview 1 (Bang)

This story was published in 1970. But Choi In-ho was born in 1945. The boy, the tavern and the men in this story were all part of the society that had gone through the Korean War. Choi must have been about 10 years old when he lived through the miserable post-war years, full of maimed soldiers and poverty and death. The intense impressions Choi had during those years were turned into this story. When the boy enters the tavern, he sees men who hold grudges against this world. They represent the helpless and impoverished fathers, whose bodies have been mutilated in the war, thus becoming incapable of taking care of their families as the heads of households. 

‘아, 아, 이 어두운 밤 아바지는 정말 어디에 있는 것일까’

‘Where in the world is my father on this dark night?’ (Boy, filtered)

그는 잠시 비틀거렸다.

허나 술에 취했다고 해서 자기가 빠져나온 철조망 개구멍이

어디에 있을까 잊어버린 그는 아니었다.

He staggered for a moment. But just because he was drunk, he wasn’t one to forget where the hole in the fence was.

그는 잠시 비로드 빛깔로 빛나는 어둠 속에서  

보모에게 들키지 않고 

체온이 아직 남아 있을 침구 속으로

어떻게 무사히 기어들어갈 수 있을까 걱정을 했다.

허나 그는 술취한 사람 특유의 자기나름식 안이한 낙관에 자신을 맡겨버렸다.

For an instant, he worried about how to safely crawl into the still-warm bed without getting caught by the warden in this darkness shining like velvet. But he soon let himself be taken by complacent optimism typical of a boozer. 

언덕 아래에서 차가운 먼지 냄새 섞인 바람이 불어왔다.

그는 사냥개처럼 그 냄새를 맡으며 이를 악물고,

내일은 틀림없이 아버지를 찾을 수 있을 것이라고 단정했다.

A cold, dusty wind blew up from downhill. He smelled the wind like a hunting dog with clenched teeth and vowed to himself that he would find his father for sure the next day.

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Cho In-ho (Born in Seoul, Oct. 17, 1945~Sep. 25, 2013)

Debuted by winning the Chosun Ilbo spring writing contest in 1963 with “Patient Apprentice”