Chapter Title: Hexagonal Hell
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Just as we were nearing Buyeo,
Tubby showed me the official competition notice on his phone.
8th President's Cup Lacquer Skills Competition Hosted & Organized by: Ministry of Employment and Labor Venue: Korea National University of Cultural Heritage, Buyeo-gun, Chungcheongnam-do
I'd wondered at first why they were calling people all the way out to Chungcheong Province.
But there was a university there that taught traditional crafts.
"The world's really come a long way. A university like that even exists."
"Yeah. And get this—it's a national university funded by the government. All the students who want to learn traditional skills flock there."
? That seemed a bit off.
"If it's drawing people from all over the country, shouldn't it at least be in the capital region? Why Chungcheong-do?"
"Land in Seoul doesn't come cheap. Besides, traditional crafts suit that area better anyway."
"What does traditional crafts have to do with it?"
"Doesn't it make more sense to learn that kind of thing in a quiet spot with good air and nature? Not in some hectic city. I bet the professors there even wear white hanbok."
Quiet. Nature. Hanbok.
What, do they think we're Taoist sages picking peaches in some Peach Blossom Paradise?
What was the modern phrase for this?
"No comment."
I had plenty to say, but I wasn't going to bother.
There was a satisfying snap in boiling it down to those short, efficient words.
But satisfaction aside, I felt a bitter pang.
It hit home once again just how people saw us in this high-tech industrial age.
A little later,
as dusk began to fall, we arrived near the university.
We needed to buy materials for the competition.
The main ingredient—lacquer sap—was being provided by the organizers for fairness.
What we had to prepare were the auxiliary materials, and apparently the local supplier sold everything.
At the shop, I told the half-bald middle-aged guy:
Two of everything needed for tomorrow's competition.
Truth be told, Tubby was entering the competition too.
I hadn't fully adjusted to this world yet, so I figured I'd need him around.
A moment later, two bulging bags were set on the counter.
"Sandpaper, three kinds of spatulas, glutinous rice flour, lacquer bowls, glue-mixing bowl, rags, oil, paper tape, hide glue, and so on. Got it all in there. Total comes to 100,000 won."
"Th-that much is really needed?"
Tubby jumped in surprise.
Yeah, lacquering took a ton of fiddly little materials.
And step aside, Tubby.
The guy's starting to look at us like a couple of clueless idiots.
I stepped forward and asked,
"Does that include brushes? The kind for applying glue. That's the most important part."
"Brushes are separate. They're pricey, and everyone has their preferences. Plus, for a competition, you should at least bring your own brush..."
He trailed off tactfully and pointed beside me.
"Brushes are over there."
A glance to the left revealed shelves packed tight with brushes.
Factory-made art brushes, squared off and flattened.
Hmm, they didn't look all that great.
Might as well...
"Hey, bro. We've gotta watch our spending. If we're not sleeping rough tonight, we need to think about lodging too."
"How much we got left?"
"After train tickets, the kimbap on the train, and 100,000 won here... about 200,000 won. Hang on, let me check rooms."
Tubby quickly searched for accommodations on his phone.
"Lucky—there's a cheap inn for 50,000 won. Oh, plenty left for brushes?"
"What's that upper room? Looks spacious and nice. Good sunlight too."
I pointed at the photo on his screen.
A 'mo-dern' room worlds apart from the cheap inn below.
"Bro, that's a resort. Super expensive. Even discounted, it's 200,000 won."
"Then that's the one."
"What?! Burn 200,000 won for 12 hours of sleep? We'd have no fare home. Gonna live in Buyeo?"
"We'll use the prize money to get back. What's there to worry about."
"Then what about brushes?"
"I've got it figured out. Sir, we'll take it."
I handed over two 50,000-won bills.
The guy eyed us like we were total weirdos but took the money without a word. (Maybe he just didn't want to get involved.)
We emerged loaded down with bags of materials.
Tubby followed, clutching his head.
"Ugh, I can't comprehend this. Am I gonna end up a Buyeo beggar trailing after you?"
"If that's how you really feel, let's part ways here."
"Reserving the resort right now, boss!"
Tubby whipped out his phone to book it.
I'd done all the penny-pinching peasant life in my past existence.
Scrimped like a beggar, saved up, endured it all.
Did it all, died, and what was left? Just emptiness.
Now that I had a second shot, I planned to enjoy every good thing this world offered.
Hell, if money could solve it, that was a blessing.
If class systems still existed, a lowborn like me couldn't buy my way into a resort for 2 million won.
Anyway, long live free-market capitalism.
Plus, it was a bit of rebellion against all that 'rustic countryside' talk earlier.
They weren't getting some ascetic Peach Blossom sage out of me.
I'd live more splendidly and luxuriously than anyone.
"Booked it. Now what about brushes?"
"Brushes? Already got 'em. On me, and on you."
"? What're you talking about?"
Tubby looked utterly baffled.
I grinned and eyed his shaggy mop of hair.
"Anyway, we've got 'em. Plenty."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Last night,
we crashed hard at the resort.
A hot soak in the tub followed by deep sleep washed away all the world's fatigue.
200,000 won felt like nothing.
Tubby, meanwhile, had spent the night muttering over last year's competition recaps.
-Competition runs 9 a.m. to 4 p.m., with an hour lunch break. Score! The test is lacquering wooden bowls. Usually round ones, but sometimes square and everyone bombs. Why?
-Corners trap the lacquer inside. The essence of lacquering is even application. And when attaching the cloth... Nah, it'd take too long to explain.
-Not that curious anyway. So I'll just sit next to you and copy?
-Yeah. Lacquer sap can cause rashes if it touches skin, so watch that. Alright, time to make some brushes?
-... Huh? Why'd you grab scissors? Bro? Ack! You're insane?! Crazy?!
And today,
we sat side by side at the contestants' workstations in the university's main auditorium.
I snuck a glance at Tubby's unevenly hacked hair.
That's right. I'd made human-hair brushes.
-Human hair's the best for lacquering. Some purists whine about 'not using body parts' and use horsehair or sable, but screw that. Nothing beats human hair for finesse.
Gam Elder had taught me that while showing how to make one.
With the hide glue from the shop and wooden chopsticks from the hotel, I'd whipped up two in no time.
Maybe that's why Gam Elder appeared in my dream—to remind me.
Old man, too damn nice for your own good.
The problem? Tubby was seriously pissed.
"Hey. Still mad?"
"Don't talk to me. I'm genuinely regretting not splitting up when you offered back in Insadong. And why'd you only cut my hair? Fair's fair—should've taken yours too."
"What can I do, you've got straight hair. Mine's curly. Curly brush? Come on. Anyway, sorry—forgive me. I'll give you a big cut of the prize money."
At the mention of cash, Tubby harrumphed and dropped it.
Damn guy was even more money-grubbing than me, if you looked close.
"Anyway, you'll see when you try it. The greatness of your hair."
A moment later,
about a hundred people had gathered.
Amateur contest, so mostly folks prepping for certifications.
The organizers took the stage for opening remarks.
"Our beautiful traditional cultural heritage of lacquerware... Let us carry on its legacy together..."
Ugh, so boring.
"...Especially in this age of automation, infinite thanks to you young people taking interest in lacquerware... With the spirit of drawing new insights from the old—!"
Man, they're gonna scare off all the youth.
"Now, we'll announce this year's challenge."
He gestured, and the banner fixed above the stage unfurled.
The guy behind me muttered,
"Please round, please round..."
Whoosh—
As the banner fully opened,
groans erupted here and there.
And a quiet curse from behind.
"...We're screwed."
The banner showed a hexagonal bowl.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
"Is this really okay? Hexagonal seems a bit much..."
Professor Kim from the university tilted his head at the judges' table.
The other judges wore similar expressions.
Usually round. Tough at worst: square.
They'd broken tradition with a hexagon.
Complaints were already piling up in his mind for the post-event forums.
One elderly judge, however, grinned ear to ear.
Yi Song-ui, the Intangible Cultural Heritage Lacquer Master who'd pushed hard for hexagon.
"It's all relative grading anyway. Gotta tackle hard stuff to improve. Skilled folks nail hexagons or dodecagons alike."
'It's not about skill—you just wanna watch the chaos. Can't handle my mentor sometimes.'
Professor Kim grumbled inwardly but kept a straight face.
Yi Song-ui was infamous in the industry as an uncontrollable eccentric.
And sure enough,
an hour in, he stretched with a massive yawn.
"Whew, bored stiff. Gonna die here."
"S-Sir, the contestants are watching."
"What can I do about an itchy ass. Why sit us old corpses like this."
"How about a walk—"
"You let me out, I might sneak off for daytime drinks?"
"...Please, sir."
"Nah. Gotta check if anyone's actually good."
Yi Song-ui strolled out, hands behind his back.
Grinning mischievously, he inspected the workstations.
Lacquering wasn't just slapping it on.
Sand the surface first, fill wood gaps with earth.
Quick hands had finished that.
But the real issue came next.
Attach cloth scraps seamlessly inside and out.
A technique called wood-core cloth lacquering.
'Developed in Unified Silla. Done right, the wood won't warp for over a millennium.'
Key: no cutting the cloth—lay it whole.
That's why hexagons were a nightmare.
Cloth inside a hexagonal bowl inevitably bunched at corners.
Mastering those bunches showed true skill.
Contestants wrestled with the cloth everywhere.
The single issued sheet was already ragged and filthy.
Some sneaky types even snipped it with scissors on the sly.
No need to bust them now.
It'd show in the final product.
As Yi Song-ui passed one contestant,
a brush on the table caught his eye.
Black hair bundled tight around a chopstick.
A stranger might laugh, but it shocked Yi Song-ui.
'Human-hair brush? In this day and age? And handmade.'
Human-hair brushes predated factory art brushes—used only by pro lacquerers.
Even then, tricky to handle, needing constant trimming with a knife. Not for amateurs.
'That tip. Perfectly sharpened.'
To shape the tip, glue the hair, then cut diagonally for a sharp angle.
Only then could you lacquer sharp inner corners precisely.
Yi Song-ui stayed calm, though.
'Maybe just a weirdo trying to stand out. Let's see if you can handle the finickiness.'
He stepped closer.
Contestants glanced at Yi Song-ui and the brush's owner.
But the man himself ignored everyone, lost in his work.
He smoothed the cloth.
And as he began handling it,
Yi Song-ui let out
"...Ah."
a low exclamation.