The New Groom Chapter 1

“What do you see me as?”

Hwang Bosik lit a cigarette inside the car with all the windows rolled up. Thick, acrid cigarette smoke filled the cramped interior.

What did he see him as?

Lee Jeongrok had a lot to say. Starting with the act of smoking in a car with the windows closed, down to the bad habit of calling his only son-in-law ‘you, you’ so disrespectfully, he looked like a piece-of-trash old man the likes of which Lee Jeongrok had never heard of or seen in his life.

Was that all? He also looked like a shallow, ignorant blockhead who couldn’t even grasp his own position despite having a son-in-law way out of his league; a gangster bastard who had learned no basic refinement or manners and had nothing but money and shit in his head; a low-class, nouveau riche parvenu who might have succeeded in business but couldn’t discard his vulgar, beggar-like nature, leaving the grime of a low-life existence still clinging to him.

Out of the countless options available, the answer Lee Jeongrok carefully selected and put forth was as follows:

“Are you not the Representative who started from nothing to build Hanyang Construction into what it is today? You are also my esteemed father-in-law.”

“No, not that kind of thing. I mean in essence.”

“By ‘essence’… do you mean?”

Lee Jeongrok blinked at the philosophical question. It was not a question a father-in-law who was a mere elementary school graduate with little education should be asking.

“If you’re talking about the outer shell, you’re right. But the outer shell is merely a temporary thing. If my daughter were to sign divorce papers with you tomorrow, what would happen then? Would I still be your father-in-law then? No, I wouldn’t. The company is the same. Even if you work yourself to death to build it up, if a war breaks out, it can be ruined and you can become penniless in an instant. Don’t you think so?”

“…That may be so, but.”

“I’m saying that apart from things like titles or honorifics that can change at any time, there is an essence in a person that never changes no matter what happens. An essence that doesn’t change even if the company goes bankrupt or my daughter breaks up with you. Do you understand?”

“Ah… Yes. I understand now, Mister. Then, your essence is…”

Lee Jeongrok could not answer readily and trailed off. He had no idea what kind of answer his father-in-law wanted to hear. Just as he was desperately trying to push away the words ‘shallow nouveau riche bastard’ hovering in his mind, Hwang Bosik abruptly threw out a word.

“I am a fist.”

“…”

Though he didn’t answer, what Lee Jeongrok was thinking was written all over his face. Hwang Bosik grinned at his son-in-law, who looked like a prince. Between his teeth, yellowed and stained by tobacco tar and coffee, gold crowns flashed brightly.

“Once a fist, always a fist. No matter how much I’m called Representative and live loudly, the true colors of the human that is me are those of a street fighter. Whether it was the ‘War on Crime’ or whatever nonsense they called it, they made such a fuss about cracking down on guys like us during the 6th Republic that I forced myself to fold up my hoodlum life. Originally, a person like me, uh? I’m not built for business. Being born a man and acting petty, shuffling pens, sitting around with some pathetic lawyer, weighing the pros and cons while calculating on an abacus—that doesn’t suit my temperament. Sometimes I get sick and tired of hearing words like ‘President’ or ‘Representative.’ Even though I’ve been doing business for half my life. Seeing that, the roots of a person don’t change—they can’t change. It’s like the laws of nature, just like the sun can’t rise in the west.”

“Those are… highly philosophical words.”

“How old am I now? I’ve passed the age of fifty (ji-cheon-myeong) and am already sixty (i-sun). In the old days, they would have called me a hermit at this age. I have pierced through the principles of living in this world.”

“…Yes, indeed.”

“Anyway, what I want to tell you is to always keep in mind what kind of family you married into. Wherever you go or whoever you meet, you must act accordingly—that is what I am saying.”

“Yes. I will keep that in mind, Mister.”

“If you understand, go and show them.”

“Ye… Yes?”

Lee Jeongrok, who had been answering submissively, hesitated.

Hwang Bosik, who had finally rolled down the car window, gestured with his chin outside. A protest tent had been set up in front of the city hall, which consisted of a small three-story building. Despite the pouring rain, the twenty or so people gathered under the tent firmly held their ground. They were residents wearing matching red vests and activists from an environmental group. It was a protest against the pumped-storage power plant construction that Hwang Bosik had barely managed to secure after lobbying desperately for the past several years.

“If it were back when I was young, those bastards would’ve had their skulls cracked and crawled all the way home. Do you understand? The shitty world has become too damn good. Letting those damn things gather in front of City Hall like a pack of dogs, eating, sleeping, shitting, and raising hell. Don’t you think?”

“…Ah, yes. That is true.”

“But are we just going to sit back and let those bastards act like that? No, that doesn’t make any sense. I can’t watch it anymore. It’s time to show them a lesson. Aren’t you now a full-fledged member of our family? You go and show them properly what a hot taste is. Like a man of mine, eh? Let’s see today how manly our son-in-law is.”

“…Yes, Mister. I will go and look into it first.”

What kind of ‘hot taste’? You crazy bastard, Lee Jeongrok barely swallowed the curse that had surged up to his throat. Still, he felt as if he could finally breathe once he got out of the car and escaped the acrid cigarette smoke.

As soon as he opened the car door, Chief Joo Seungchan, who had been waiting outside, held an umbrella over him. He was one of Lee Jeongrok’s dedicated security guards. Including Chief Joo, there were a total of four people accompanying Lee Jeongrok. One security chief, one driver, and two secretaries. They were all burly men with fierce looks, and needless to say, they were all ex-gangsters. To Lee Jeongrok, who found them neither reliable nor a source of pride, he simply walked forward without a word.

The protest site, which had discovered Lee Jeongrok and his pack of secretaries late, became as quiet as a dead mouse.

Just a moment ago, the protesters had been in a cheerful mood. Even though they wore red vests with desperate slogans like ‘Oppose the Pumped-Storage Power Plant to the Death,’ they had been huddled together under the tent, peeling fruit and blossoming with laughter. That was until they saw the hulking figures, who looked like they could kill a cow with their bare hands, approaching while carelessly stepping into water puddles.

The men in crisp black suits surrounded the tent entrance in an instant. The group faced off for a moment against the backdrop of the violently pouring rain.

“Wh, what is this. What is going on?”

Na Pyeongjin, who served as the chairman of the committee opposing the construction of the pumped-storage power plant, bravely stepped forward, breaking the silence. It was a face Lee Jeongrok knew well, as he had already thoroughly investigated the opposition committee.

52 years old, farmer, graduate of Dankook University, worked as an office clerk in Incheon for over 20 years, returned to farming in Mihang-dong, Jangchang-si eight years ago, currently growing wood ear mushrooms. This was the personal profile Lee Jeongrok had already grasped. He had already sketched out a rough picture of how to persuade him.

Chairman Na had a background as a woman who had graduated from university and worked as an office clerk for a long time, which was rare for that generation. She would undoubtedly have pride in being an elite. It was even easier to predict given the circumstances of how a returning farmer had snatched the chairman’s title away from the indigenous residents.

If he acted like he was treating them with respect and prepared a nice venue at the Hanyang Construction office building to hold a resident information session, they wouldn’t be able to resist coming. In fact, he had planned to throw out the bait that he would hold regular opposition committee meetings at the office building to address their complaints as much as possible.

Of course, the resident information session was merely a way to drag out time. Once the pumped-storage power plant project got on track, the opposition committee would naturally be phased out. The committee would only waste time under the arrogant delusion that they were changing the world, only to be chased away empty-handed. How on earth did they think a mere 20 or 30 people gathering could stop a 1-trillion-won project? Seeing those naive faces, he felt more than just a chuckle; he felt a sense of disgust.