Chapter 3 — Woman of Autumn Days - 1 (3)

For over a month, I went in and out of the "Riverside Tea House," sharing many conversations with her. We talked about art, name-dropping Degas and Picasso, then Kim Hong-do and Cheon Gyeong-ja. We spoke of music, tossing around names like Debussy and Schubert, then Seo Taiji and Cho Yong-pil. We discussed literature, citing Park Kyung-ri, Jo Jung-rae, and Lee Mun-yol.

On that misty day, our conversation somehow drifted toward the "ramen shop."

"But I've never actually eaten that 'Ho-ho ramen' before."

"No, of course not. That James Han never sells it to solo customers."

"What exactly is Ho-ho ramen? Has Thomas Han's mom ever tried it?"

"No. I haven't either… but I've seen someone else eat it."

"What's so special about it? I've heard it's even cheaper than regular ramen…"

"It's nothing much. A couple shares one bowl of ramen, blowing on it together—ho-ho—before eating."

After that exchange, she began to tell me about James Han.

James Han had originally been an opera singer who majored in vocal music, she said—but she'd never once heard him sing, nor seen any trace of him as a performer, not even a photo or a record.

He had married a soprano who sang art songs, she went on. But after a long romance, it turned out the soprano was a fierce believer in lifelong singlehood. She was open to sex, but refused to sleep in the same bed, and wanted to live completely separate daily lives.

Eventually, the soprano declared a separation from James Han—and that separation led to divorce. Listening to her story, I could roughly guess why James Han was so fixated on "Ho-ho ramen."

After finishing the tale, she turned to me and said, "Let's go to the ramen shop." She wanted to treat me to Ho-ho ramen.

When we arrived at the shop, James Han was sitting alone at a table, smoking a pipe.

"Hello?"

We greeted him almost in unison. But the man showed no sign of welcoming us. He exhaled pipe smoke twice, then said:

"So you've finally gotten together…"

Got together… It wasn't hard to guess that the word "whores" had been silently dropped before it. He meant: So you've finally gotten together, you two damn whores.

"Got together…"

The moment I realized his clipped phrase was a shortened version of "Those damn man and woman finally got together like damn whores," I glanced at her face.

She showed no sign of discomfort, embarrassment, or surprise. Whether she hadn't understood the implication, or had understood but assumed it was just his usual way of speaking, her expression remained utterly blank.

That day, she and I ate Ho-ho ramen for the first time—genuinely blowing on the noodles together, ho-ho, before taking a bite. And James Han said no further strange things.

That night, I received a call from Emma Lee.

"How's life in Busan?"

"Just… so-so. Nothing special."

"Have you hooked up with that widow much? I doubt that habit of yours vanished just because you moved to Busan…"

"Widow? Can't you say it any better? You sound so crude, Emma."

Her words brought Sarah Kang vividly to mind, and I faltered for a moment—so I snapped back without thinking.

"I've always been crude. Then how should I say it?"

"Widow, or divorced woman… something like that…"

"Fine, then—have you been hooking up a lot with widows and divorcees?"

I didn't like the word "hooking up" either. It sounded exactly like she was asking if I'd had sex with Sarah Kang.

At that time, I believed "her" and "sex" were entirely separate things. There was no room for carnal imagery in her autumn-scented presence. To even imagine her in such a context felt like a desecration.

"What's with 'hooking up'? Can't you use another expression?"

"What's with the word policing all of a sudden?"

"It's autumn… and that kind of expression… doesn't suit an autumn night."

"Fine. I'll give you an autumn-night-appropriate expression…"

Her tone from Seoul was laced with sarcasm—as if to say, you, who usually enjoy filthy talk, suddenly care about words now?

"Good. Let's hear it…"

"Fuck. Have you fucked the widow a lot? Huh? Is that autumn-night enough for you?"

"You're impossible… But why call me out of nowhere like this?"

"You can't fuck the Busan widow anymore."

"Why?"

"They've recalled you to the company. Starting next Monday, you'll be working at the Seoul office."