Chapter 9

The Buyers

At three on Monday afternoon, Gap-dol was smiling from the moment he opened our office door.

Today it was the checkered jacket and white sneakers, gelled hair, the gold chain around his neck, and a document envelope in his hand. The certificate of title for 9-4, his registered seal, and the original certified appraisal. The things I'd told him over the phone to bring.

"Boss! There's really a client who wants to buy that flood? For 140 million?"

"Yes. The client says with the factory land, it's worth at least that much."

"Oh boy, that client can't read land. You should've talked them out of it."

"I tried. They say it has to be that land."

Gap-dol sat down on the sofa, crossed his legs, and looked around the office once. Worn sofa, water dispenser with mineral stains, license on the wall. Those eyes were measuring what the rent on this office might be. And how big a deal the 500,000 he'd pressed into my hand must have been for an office like this.

"When's the client coming?"

"They're coming now."

The bell on the door rang.

Cheolho came in first, and Han Soyeong behind him. Cheolho was wearing the dress shirt I'd bought him, buttoned all the way to the collar so he looked like he was choking. Han Soyeong was in her work clothes, holding her clear file.

Gap-dol's smile stopped.

His crossed legs came uncrossed. Gap-dol looked at Cheolho, looked at Han Soyeong, and finally looked at me. For the first time, the gentleness drained out of that gentle face.

"...Boss. What is this?"

"The clients. The two buyers."

"These are my tenants."

"Yes. That's why they're the clients."

As Gap-dol started to get up, I spread the contract out on the desk. Three pages of sales contract, one page of settlement agreement. Turned toward Gap-dol.

"Sir, sit down and just read one page. You can leave after you read it."

Gap-dol looked down at the first page of the contract, still standing. Purchase price 140 million won; method of payment, set-off against the claims for return of deposits.

Gap-dol's eyes stopped on that line, and then he slowly, very slowly, sat back down on the sofa.

I watched those eyes calculate. Eyes I'd seen several times already, at the karaoke bar, at the officetel. They were fast today, too.

There's a 140-million-won debt. A debt he was originally going to dump on a straw owner. But dumping it on a straw owner costs 500,000, means a trip to the registry office, and above all, if these two press charges, things get big. A post went up in the community board, and a Bongcheon victim and a Sadang victim commented.

And now these two say they'll take a leaky F-rank piece of land and call the debt even. Land he bought for 110 million. Land nobody buys. Land he put out for 100 million with a yawn.

Gap-dol picked up the settlement agreement and read it. The buyers shall bring no civil or criminal claims relating to 7-2 and 4-11.

The corners of Gap-dol's mouth lifted, just slightly.

"...You two, are you really okay with this? That land's a flood. Have you been there?"

Gap-dol asked, looking at Cheolho and Han Soyeong. His voice sounded genuinely worried. It was the same voice he'd used pressing the envelope into my hand at the karaoke bar.

"We know."

Han Soyeong answered. Her voice was cold.

"But Mr. Bong says this is the only way to get anything out of you for our deposits. He says getting land is better than nothing. Better than paper."

Gap-dol looked at me, so I gave him a naive smile with the face I'd practiced for ten years.

"That's what I told them. That this land is all you've got. You're going to transfer away all the rest, aren't you?"

Gap-dol's eyes narrowed for just a moment. They were asking how I knew he'd transfer them. Then they relaxed again. He seemed to remember he'd said it himself at the karaoke bar. And that I, having heard it, was now standing on the victims' side, dumping a flood on them for 140 million.

Gap-dol crossed his legs again, with the face of a man looking at an idiot realtor who sided with the victims and handed them a hollow.

Gap-dol didn't read the contract to the end. He skimmed through special clauses 1 to 6, then stopped briefly at 7, his lips moving without sound. The subject property shall be delivered in its condition as of the contract date.

Gap-dol looked up.

"What's this?"

"It means even if it turns out to be a hollow later, the clients can't ask for a refund. It's a clause to protect you, sir."

"Ah."

Gap-dol read the sentence again. Even if subsequent appraisal results or deposited resources are found to differ, neither the seller nor the buyers may demand rescission, cancellation, or any increase or decrease of the purchase price.

"Nice. I like this. You write a good contract, boss."

"Thank you."

Gap-dol didn't read any further than that. That the words "seller" and "buyers" sat side by side—that it read both ways—he didn't bother to think about. He'd been told it was a sentence that protected him. And that wasn't a lie. The sentence did protect Gap-dol too. With exactly the same weight.

On the last page, at the brokerage fee clause, Gap-dol stopped again.

"Of the seller's brokerage fee, the sum of 500,000 won has already been received by the licensed broker and shall be deducted accordingly."

Gap-dol looked at me, and this time he really laughed, out loud.

"Boss, is this that envelope?"

"Yes. What I got, I got. It's cleaner to write it into the contract, right?"

"Oh boy, boss, you're so by-the-book. Just keep it. Who'd know?"

"Money that isn't written in a contract scares me."

Gap-dol shook his head, laughing, and took out his registered seal, and in the seller box the seal came down once, twice, three times, and across the page joins too.

When Cheolho signed his name in the buyer box again, his hand shook so the last syllable came out crooked; Han Soyeong signed neatly.

Gap-dol stood up, brushed off the front of his jacket, and headed for the door—then turned back and bowed his head to Cheolho and Han Soyeong. Politely.

"You two, I'm sorry for everything. Make good use of that land. You'll need to pump out some of the water."

The bell on the door rang, and Gap-dol's footsteps faded down the stairs as he hummed.

Left in the office, none of the three of us said anything. Cheolho undid one collar button, and Han Soyeong put the contract in her clear file and stuck on an index tab that said 9-4.

I made my seventh coffee mix of the day. My hand shook a little as I poured the water, but I didn't put it in my pocket. There was no one here to hide it from.

"Boss."

Cheolho asked.

"Is that land ours now?"

"Once the registration's transferred. We go to the registry office tomorrow morning."

"The dungeon too?"

"Yes."

Cheolho looked down at the contract for a long time, then looked up. His eyes were red, like the first day he walked into this office.

"...But boss, is it really a B?"

I finished my coffee before I answered.

"Tomorrow we hit the registry office, then the hardware store. Three pairs of rubber boots."

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