Chapter 5 … On That Blue Meadow
“Assistant Director?”
“Yes?”
His voice was still curt.
Still, I had to ask.
“Did you… have a grandmother who passed away?”
“Excuse me. Are you just going to blurt things out?”
“Well…”
That look in his eyes.
It was hard to ignore.
It reminded me of the last look my grandmother gave me.
A gaze filled with nostalgia, regret, and apology.
That same gaze, directed at the back of the assistant director’s head, murmured softly:
[Our Kkamdong-i, what should we do?]
“Kkamdong-i?”
What a strange name.
At that moment, the car engine that had been running suddenly died.
I looked at the assistant director, wondering what was happening.
His eyes were wide as he stared at me.
“What did you just say?”
“Kkamdong-i?”
“……”
The assistant director looked at me in disbelief.
I glanced at the backseat and asked again, almost to confirm.
“Right? Kkamdong-i?”
[Yes. Our youngest, Kkamdong-i. My baby.]
“They said it’s our youngest, Kkamdong-i.”
The assistant director’s eyes began to tremble.
Then, as if waiting for the cue, his phone started to vibrate.
The car stopped.
There was no conversation until we arrived.
Although it made me antsy, the mood made keeping quiet necessary.
We had arrived at a neat countryside house on the outskirts of Seoul.
Yet the bustling activity inside didn’t fit the calm of a countryside home.
And the faint wailing drifting from within…
“Let’s get out for a moment.”
“Yes.”
The assistant director said this with a solemn expression.
I obeyed.
When I got out, the grandmother also stepped down.
She didn’t even need the door to be opened; she passed through effortlessly.
That’s how convenient ghosts are.
At that moment, a woman ran out, sniffling, and said:
“Oh my, Kkamdong-i! What will we do, your grandmother!”
“Auntie…”
The assistant director lowered his head, twisted his face in anguish, and went into the room.
I followed him, drawn in.
The mourning room hadn’t been fully set up, and it was chaotic.
In the center, one grandmother lay covered with a blanket at the warm end of the floor.
She looked quite comfortable.
I looked to the side.
The grandmother who had come with us gazed endlessly at the assistant director with a look of pity.
I turned my eyes back to the grandmother lying under the blanket.
Yes. Same person.
No, same ghost and human.
“This grandmother…”
At my words, the assistant director looked at me with reddened eyes and collapsed as if crumbling.
He cried for a long while.
Like the world had ended for him.
Beside him, the grandmother patted his head.
As if telling him not to cry.
And yet… why were tears coming to my eyes?
A folding screen was drawn, and the assistant director appeared in a black suit as if from nowhere.
The offering table was set. He stared blankly at the incense atop it and then spoke.
“My grandmother used to call me Kkamdong-i. I was so dark-skinned because I used to run around so much as a child.”
“Yes…”
Muttering like someone lost in thought, he fell silent again.
After a while, he spoke once more.
“How did you know?”
“Well…”
How should I explain this?
If I said I could see ghosts, he’d think I was crazy.
Would he cancel letting me stay here for a few days and kick me out?
I hadn’t faced such a dilemma in a long time.
What should I do?
Ah! He turned his head!
Damn, our eyes met.
What now?
His face twisted once more.
“My… family is only my grandmother. I’ve been too busy to visit her lately. Yesterday, she tried to bring me soy-marinated crab, but I said I wouldn’t eat it because I was too lazy… and yet…”
His face twisted from holding back his tears, and then he finally cried.
Tears flowed, snot ran down his face.
And he cried again, staring at me as if releasing his lingering resentment.
“I… I’m a terrible person, aren’t I? How did my grandmother raise me… hic! sniff! hic!”
What do you say in a situation like this?
I know.
Words can’t comfort someone at a time like this.
All that remains is regret.
I’ve painfully experienced it.
At that moment, the grandmother looked at me anxiously.
She didn’t know what to do with her crying grandson.
[Our crying Kkamdong-i, I want to make some food for him.]
I sighed. What am I supposed to do with that?
[It’s my wish.]
So heartwarming.
This assistant director isn’t a bad man.
Honestly, he had only filmed with me once, yet he made sure I had clothes and such—it’s not easy these days.
But that’s different.
What has a beggar ever cooked before?
Besides, this was something the grandmother wanted to do herself.
“I don’t know how to cook.”
[You’ll learn by doing it. Will you help?]
What could I say at this point?
I couldn’t refuse outright.
But this was beyond my ability.
“If only I could…”
[Thank you, young man.]
The grandmother’s face lit up instantly.
And my face darkened.
Wait, grandma! What are you doing!
“Where are you going?”
He called me.
This man! Don’t just call me, hold me! Please!
I felt strange, even though I was possessed…
Not completely taken over, just a sense of moving along with her will.
Unconsciously, I began to hum.
“On that blue meadow, we’ll build a house like a painting…”
It was a soulful tune.
Humming, I walked toward the kitchen.
I could feel the grandmother’s emotions directly. There was no other sensation.
A heartwarming feeling, not sorrow for the deceased grandmother, but joy at making a warm meal for her grandson—even in this situation.
Images from a black-and-white movie flashed through my mind.
A dark-skinned boy, teased for having no parents, came back from a fight.
The grandmother told the boy:
“Such a rascal deserves a good beating! You did well!”
Soy-marinated crab, soybean paste stew, and slightly fermented kimchi.
The boy grinned, showing his teeth, and ate heartily.
Following those memories, I was drawn to the kitchen.
I could sense the strange looks of others, but a beggar can’t worry about appearances.
I simply acted as my heart guided.
Though it was my first time here, I instinctively pulled out ingredients.
In an old pot went large anchovies and kelp.
Rich broth simmered, soybean paste dissolved, and then pumpkin and onion were added.
Large tofu cubes were added generously.
I scooped fresh, fluffy rice and took out a wrapped container from the fridge.
It was heavy.
Inside were appetizing soy-marinated crabs.
So this was what she had promised to bring yesterday.
I placed the crabs on a chipped lacquer tray, added the finished stew, slightly fermented kimchi, and fluffy rice.
“Hmm, hmm. With you…”
The song remained joyful.
In the black-and-white vision, he and the grandmother sat on a veranda in a picturesque house on a blue meadow, laughing and sharing a meal.
This must be a dream.
The grandmother’s dream—or a shared dream with her grandson, Kkamdong-i.
I looked up and found myself placing the tray down.
The assistant director gazed at the stew, rice, and crabs, tearing up once again.
He took a bite of the stew.
He seemed to like tofu, so the large cubes were included.
He ate the crabs.
He mixed rice on the crab shells.
He looked happy, yet his face was contorted beyond recognition.
I was sure the tears and snot dripping onto the crabs would ruin the meal.
“Haah.”
I sighed.
Beside me, the grandmother watched, pleased, as the assistant director ate.
Then she gestured to me.
[Young man, eat too.]
“Oh…”
I finally realized—there were two servings.
The stew was exquisite, and the soy-marinated crab was heavenly.
We silently finished both servings each.
It was the taste of home-cooked food, faintly lingering in my memory.
Not filling my stomach, but my heart.
After the meal, I had nothing to do.
I simply watched the mourners come and go, occasionally tidying up.
Gradually, the crowd thinned, and it became quiet.
Life today seemed less night-long than in the past.
Then I remembered the money I had curled around my ankle.
“Well, it’s fate, I guess.”
I put 61,000 won in an envelope.
Then I stepped into the room.
The assistant director, looking more relaxed, stood abruptly but froze.
Seeing the envelope in my hand, he gave a small smile.
Don’t smile. I only put in a little.
Inside was 61,000 won—the leftover from my honest earnings after buying food and drinks.
Honestly, I didn’t include the extra money from begging.
I bowed and clasped hands with him.
“Thank you.”
The one who was thankful was actually me.
He seemed to want to ask many things, but I didn’t let him.
Yet I felt compelled to speak.
“I can see ghosts.”
“Pardon?”
“Since the day my family died in an accident. I was the only one who survived.”
He looked surprised, then smiled and nodded.
He believed me.
The grandmother looked at me and mouthed something.
“She has a request.”
“What is it?”
“Dress me in the clothes under that drawer and bury me in them.”
The assistant director went to the drawer and searched.
He opened a paper-wrapped package and paused.
A red undershirt.
The legendary red undershirt, supposedly gifted with one’s first paycheck.
It looked new, though worn slightly by time.
“When I gave it, it was half a joke. Just a gift I wanted to give.”
The assistant director said this with a smile, holding it up.
The grandmother watched, restless, seemingly eager to convey her wish.
Damn it. Already discarded once, but I nodded.
A strange feeling spread through my body.
My mouth opened instinctively.
“I don’t resent you.”
“Pardon?”
The assistant director stared at me blankly.
“Our Kkamdong-i.”
“……”
“I love you. Even if grandma’s gone, build a picturesque house on the meadow…”
“Grandma?”
Tears shimmered again in the assistant director’s eyes as he looked at me in confirmation.
“Live happily.”
“Grandma…”
He took my hand and cried again.
And I hummed the song once more.
“On that blue meadow, we’ll build a house like a painting…”
I sang along.
I wanted to live a hundred years with my beloved.
The song ended, and light shone.
The grandmother appeared in beautiful clothes.
The red undershirt peeked through.
The assistant director looked, seemingly entranced, and reached out.
Now he could see her too.
She waved, as if saying goodbye.
Blending into the light, she vanished.
Smiling radiantly.
That must be enlightenment.
The assistant director gave his final farewell.
“On that blue meadow, we’ll build a house like a painting…”
His voice was heartfelt, though rough, escorting the grandmother.
The next day, many people visited.
Some of the crew from the previous day were there, and the director came and went.
He acknowledged me with a slight nod, aware I had received payment for my work.
Watching the visitors, I felt that the assistant director had lived a decent life.
Who’s the assistant director?
That’s the man himself.
Despite the nickname Kkamdong-i, he had a normal name.
Well… sort of.
The funeral ended, and we visited the crematorium.
It was a tree burial.
I had nothing to do, so I just followed along.
Though a beggar always has tasks, they mostly revolve around eating and sleeping.
And now there was food and a place to rest, so I was well off.
After the funeral, it was just the assistant director and me.
“Usuhan.”
“Yes.”
That’s my name.
It felt different from when a police officer called me.
“I’m sorry… I’ll find a place for you to stay for now…”
“Yes.”
He laughed, exhausted.
Was my response too fast?
Still, think about it. What beggar has a place to go?
Sure, I had a spot before, but it likely had a new occupant now.
“Thank you for helping.”
“Oh, thank you for feeding and letting me stay.”
This man… he smiles warmly at me.
“Rest for now; I have to return to filming.”
“But sir, please speak casually.”
“Yes?”
He looked troubled.
Don’t think! Don’t hesitate! Just be casual!
Just treat me like a younger sibling! Put a spoon on the table!
“Should I?”
Yes!
The kind man had given in.
Quickly, I had to set the hierarchy.
“Yes. I turn twenty… this year…”
Wait, I can’t calculate. How old am I?
Ah, I’ve passed my twenties. How lonely.
“No, thirty-two, so just think of me as a younger sibling.”
“……”
Why so quiet?
“Do I look that old?”
Oh no.
What have I done now?
