The Youngest Son of Sunyang

The unknown man was named Park. His laughter enveloped the room. “I’ll show you a draft at some point,” he said.

“Please draw one that President Roh will be satisfied with,” the grandfather said.

I’m not sure what he is up to.

“I’m afraid I’m too slow-witted to realize… Go head tell me,” said Park.

Aha! I knew my grandfather was smiling broadly, even though I couldn’t see his face, only the back of his head.

“Workers are pouring out into the streets for demonstrations,” he continued,

“And our factory is closed down due to a general strike,”

Riding the waves of demonstrations, workers came out to the streets and fought for their rights.

What the grandfather was asking him was to stop them.

“Well, the problem is our top priority. No worries. That will be solved before the Olympic Games,” said Park.

“Please, just steer it in the right direction,” the grandfather said. Park nodded yes.

“Do you have another thing?” asked Park.

“Has the ANSP (agency for national security planning) been busy of late?”

Park raised his eyebrows, blinked twice.

“The labor union is causing trouble,” the grandfather added,

“I’ve received reports on that matter,”

“I heard Sunyang is as informative as the ANSP,” said Park.

“Very flattering,”

Why would he want to mobilize the ANSP? Only to grasp the trend of the union?

As a result of the money he contributed to the presidential campaign fund, he was able to benefit from national agencies.

“I’ll line up a few of them to take care of the union,”

“Thank you, really appreciate it,” the grandfather said.

They exchanged a few more words and their goodbyes. I could hear the sound of the door opening, then footsteps fading away down the hall.

And.

I stood with my eyes fixed upon the grandfather as the sliding door opened.

“Do-jun, did you wait long? Did you eat anything?”

He pulled out his chair and sat down next to me.

Although It’s been just two months since I last saw him, he was nosy as if he had met me in a few years.

All I could say was “I studied hard,”

While I was talking, he scanned the table.

“Do-jun?”

“Yes?”

“Tell me honestly, did you hear what I said in that room?”

Most of the food were barely touched, which made him suspect that I was eavesdropping.

The slightly opened door might have been intended; if I said I’d heard what he said, he would like it.

But eavesdropping is not a good thing. I shook my head as my eyes fell to the floor, as if I did something wrong.

Smiling, he gently stroke my hair. His hands were rough and cold.

“Did you understand what I said?” he asked, his eyes lighting up a little.

What he said was too political for a 11-year-old to understand, and I wanted to dole out joy a bit by a bit.

I shook my head.

The light seemed to fade from his eyes.

“But I have a question,” I said before the light completely disappeared

“What is it?”

“Was the man in that room the president?”

“No, but he came to meet me on behalf of the president,”

His eyes fixed on me with wonderment and curiosity.

“Souldn’t you meet the president? You are the largest company’s chairman in the country,”

I was sincerely curious. I wanted to hear the reason why he met Park, not the president.

“At school, you would hear rumors: who is kind, who is greedy, who is good at fighting?”

“Yes, a lot,”

“If your closest friend or a trustworthy person would tell you about a rumor, you would probably believe it, wouldn’t you?” he continued, “but you should not, (that’s a trap)”

“Whether the rumor is right or wrong, you should check on it yourself,” he added.

“Were you checking on something yourself earlier then?”

“Yeah,” he answered.

I slowly, gently nodded.

“Do you still remember something important I said before?” he asked.

I racked my brain.

“I don’t have to understand what you are saying right away but remember it when I need to?”

“Yeah, right, and remember what I just said too,”

“Yes, grandfather,”

“And one more thing, you must be a listener, not an explainer,”

And a decider, not a follower.

He would decide whether he would be part of the political landscape after considering its draft.

“Now I have to get back to work. Why don’t you come to my house on Children’s Day (May 5)?”

With excitement in my voice, I said, “Yes!”

***

After the grandfather returned his grandson home, he went back into the main room. There was a middle-aged man sitting on a sofa waiting for him. The man sprang from the sofa and bowed as the grandfather entered the room.

“Do sit down,” he said, sitting down. Then asked, “What about Park?”

“He is in a suite downstairs. A female rookie singer’s been sent to the suite,”

“Good. What about the ballroom?”

“Gave newly-elected members some (money),” the man added, chuckling “arranged new female models and prepared rooms (for some of the members),”

“Great,” the grandfather said, then lifted his mug of tea, rested his feet on the tea table and swallowed a gulp.

“What do you think Park will bring me?” he asked.

“That is not important, sir. Once Soviet natural gas resources are acquired,” the man said.

“Are you sure about this?”

“LNG will be an entrée for Sunyang,” the man said in confidence, his eyes glowing.

The grandfather looked at him with a grin, and infinite trust.