Chapter Title: The Flawless Moon Jar
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2.
2.
That Moon Jar possessed a terrifyingly perfect form.
A contour round and smooth like a full moon.
The steady stability of the footrim supporting that rounded body.
The entrance finished without a single rough edge.
A divine harmony emanated even from the gods themselves in that flawless balance.
And rolling around on the floor,
the empty shell of "Fairy Brand Modeling Clay" left over from the elementary schoolers' field trip workshop.
Park Bong-gon couldn't believe it.
Lee Hee-so made that? With modeling clay, no less?
That little bastard who didn't even know the "do" in pottery?
And that size, on top of everything.
Moon Jars get harder to throw the bigger they are.
The shape distorts while pulling up the clay,
and if you fail to control your strength, it collapses flat right away.
Even Park Bong-gon, with ten years of pottery experience,
had never once succeeded in throwing a Moon Jar that large.
Hee-so, meanwhile, wore an expression like he couldn't fathom what all the fuss was about.
"Can I use some of this modeling clay? Doesn't seem all that pricey."
"..."
"If you're attached to it, I'll just mush it back into clay form."
And with that, he moved to squash the Moon Jar again.
"Wait!!!!!"
Park Bong-gon bellowed and grabbed Hee-so.
He frantically turned his bewildered mind.
'Did this bastard steal my techniques by watching me? Or practice in secret without me knowing?'
If so, it meant he'd produced a piece like that in just one year.
The word "genius" flashed through Park Bong-gon's head.
A genius who might even surpass his grandmaster, Kim Sil-seop, in talent.
Wait—master?
'Master's been on his trip long enough; he should be back any day now. Guy's such a rogue like Hong Gil-dong—wouldn't be weird if he showed up tonight. If he sees this thing... No way.'
Park Bong-gon's ultimate dream was becoming an Intangible Cultural Heritage.
And to that end, he was progressing through the official succession process.
The first stage was Trainee—more student than disciple.
Park Bong-gon had endured seven years as a Trainee before advancing to Apprentice Successor.
The next step after Apprentice Successor was Successor Educator, someone qualified to teach students.
Only upon reaching Successor Educator did one gain eligibility to inherit the Intangible Cultural Heritage title.
The problem? Successor Educators were exceedingly rare, and Kim Sil-seop's other prized disciple already held the position.
For Park Bong-gon, it was a precarious and frustrating situation all around.
'If Master learns this guy's true nature, I'll get pushed even further back. Gotta boot him out right now.'
Park Bong-gon yanked Hee-so and dragged him straight out of the workshop.
"Hey! What're you doing?"
"Who gave you permission to use the workshop whenever you feel like it? Get out. Now. How am I supposed to trust and keep a thief like you around?"
"Tea-Teacher! It's freezing out—how can you kick out your brother like this? No way!"
"Shut your trap, fatty. Lee Hee-so. Go pack all your crap right this instant!"
Park Bong-gon hauled Hee-so all the way to the warehouse.
Hee-so stared at him in utter bewilderment,
then—for reasons unknown—silently stepped inside.
A moment later.
Hee-so emerged wearing nothing but a single threadbare puffer jacket.
Du-sik rushed to block him.
"Hyung. You really leaving? Where you gonna go this winter with no money? Just apologize quick. Come on?"
"You committed a mortal sin fiddling with the modeling clay the Apprentice Successor treasures like his own life. What's an apology gonna do? I'm out."
"Ah, hyuuung... What about your stuff? You can't just go like this. At least grab some clothes—"
"Nah, nah. Seriously, leave it. Don't need to take any."
Hee-so didn't so much as glance back as he kicked open the gate and strode out.
While Du-sik floundered in the shock of it all,
Park Bong-gon spun on his heel and returned to the workshop.
Click.
Park Bong-gon locked the workshop door.
And stared at the Moon Jar, utterly entranced.
"...Beautiful."
The fact that Hee-so had been cast out into the cold snap was long erased from his mind.
No—forget a guy like that quick; it was better for his sanity.
Swish. Park Bong-gon eyed the poster affixed to the wall.
[Park Bong-gon Traditional White Porcelain Sculpture Exhibition
-Made Solely from This Land's Clay and Fire-] 2023. 12. 28 – 2024. 1. 7 Seoul Jongno-gu Insadong 8-gil 14 Myosoo Gallery 1F T. 02-XXX-XXXX
His own exhibition, set for a week later.
An crucial accomplishment for someone like him, who hadn't yet abandoned his bid for Successor Educator.
Gulp.
'...It's modeling clay, but with quality like this... If I stick it right in the center of the white porcelains, I can draw out some modern artistic vibe.'
There was no proof Lee Hee-so had made it anyway.
Even if that loser screamed injustice, who'd believe a word from a guy like him?
Park Bong-gon fetched some string in a flash.
He stretched it taut and viciously scraped away the Moon Jar's base.
Once the Moon Jar detached from the potter's wheel, he carefully carried it to the center of the room.
A sleazy grin spread across his face as he caressed the jar's belly.
'You found the right owner. You'll be the star of this exhibition.'
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
'Hee-so hyung's acting weird.'
Du-sik felt like he'd woken from a dream.
Hee-so had always been the gloomy, unmotivated type.
Du-sik, who had at least some get-up-and-go, had taken care of him plenty.
But after those few days of illness, he'd turned into a completely different person.
Bolder, brimming with presence,
and somehow slyer than ever.
'When'd he study pottery that hard? And that handiwork—what's the deal? Hiding it all this time? Kinda unfair. Should've taught me some.'
His thoughts chased each other's tails until he snapped back to reality.
'Hee-so hyung's got no money—in this freezing winter. Really gonna be okay? No houses around here.'
That was when it happened.
Bang.
"!"
"Whoa—cold, so damn cold."
The one pushing open the warehouse door was Hee-so.
A leisurely face, like he'd just returned from a casual stroll.
Tucked under his arm was some kind of broad box.
"Hyung!"
Du-sik hurried over in surprise.
"Teacher forgave you? Thank God. Thought you'd freeze solid out on the street."
"Forgave? Park Bong-gon do something like that?"
"Huh? Then how'd you get back?"
"Hopped the wall, duh? You think I'd wander the streets in this cold snap? I'd drop dead from exposure, man."
Lee Hee-so plopped down onto the floor.
This place was frigid too, but paradise compared to outside.
Hee-so had simply looped around the neighborhood once.
Then hopped the low wall, crossed the yard, and marched right into the warehouse.
He'd planned it that way from the start.
Park Bong-gon's eyes earlier had gleamed like a rabid dog's.
A guy like that, you didn't fight—you dodged.
Anyway, he was confident he could hole up undetected.
"He never even peeks in here anyway—says it reeks. Lemme hide till the spring breeze hits. Help a brother out?"
"Uh? Oh, uh... yeah."
Du-sik sat down across from Hee-so and ventured cautiously,
"Hey, hyung. But seriously, when'd you get so good at pottery? YouTube? Or sneaking peeks at teacher?"
"Ah, pottery."
How to even explain this.
Say he was actually 540 years old?
No thanks. Didn't need Du-sik calling him nuts.
"Yeah. Practiced a bit here and there at dawn. We've been here a year now."
"Whoa... that's insane? Man, I'm exactly the same as always."
'...Truth is, I'm the same as 500 years ago.'
Feeling a needless pang of guilt, Hee-so changed the subject.
"Anyway, let's eat this first. Park Bong-gon stiffed us on dinner."
He opened the box to reveal thick slabs of beef jerky, neatly packaged.
Top-grade stuff, dyed a glossy maroon.
"Jerky! Where'd you snag this?"
"On top of the kitchen fridge."
"Gasp. Hyung! This was a gift for the Intangible Cultural Heritage Master—how could you just grab it?"
"Dude. Kitchen's got a mountain of this stuff. And you think a big shot like an Intangible Cultural Heritage would flip out over one missing piece? Eat up. In front of the kiln fire, there's no yours or mine."
That was how he'd run things back when he was Master Potter, too.
The tasty stuff went to the young potters,
the nourishing to the old ones.
That was how a leader did it.
Okay, truth be told, jerky-level treats he'd sneak for himself.
They were just that precious.
Rip. Hee-so tore open the plastic and handed a piece to Du-sik.
Popped one in his own mouth and—
"!!!!"
His eyes went perfectly round.
"What's up?"
"...Insane. What is this flavor?"
Salty-sweet, fatty, with a subtle smokiness.
The advances in meat processing tech were downright shocking.
"Too good... Meat can taste like this?"
Du-sik tried a bite at Hee-so's reaction.
"Mmm... fancy. Pricey stuff really hits different."
"How much?"
"Super expensive? See, it's not ground-up beef—whole cuts dried. At this thickness and size... base price 250,000 won easy. Sniff—oak-smoked."
Du-sik sounded more the expert than ever.
Meanwhile, Hee-so felt the prime prerequisite for a life worth living hit home.
Jerky that'd vanish in three minutes: 250,000 won.
(For reference, the used uniform Hee-so had worn three years straight cost 20,000 won.)
"Money... No, gotta make money first. No question."
Pottery sprang to mind immediately, but impossible right now.
Which left—
'Sell skills, not goods, first.'
"Du-sik. Can you look something up on that?"
Hee-so pointed at the laptop perched on the squat desk.
The junker Park Bong-gon had tossed them for ordering supplies.
"Yeah. Slow as hell, but internet works."
"Search pottery competitions then. Ones with fast turnaround, prize money paid same day."
"...Enter a contest? For real?"
"Yup. Win some prize cash, I'll cut you in. Check it out."
At the promise of cash, Du-sik snatched up the laptop.
The screen flickered to life from sleep mode, and Hee-so's face twisted in an instant.
"What the? Why's it all in Japanese?"
"Oh. Site for Japanese pottery materials. Teacher has us order stuff he wants. Glazes, clays—says Japanese ones are best, buys here a ton."
Something surged up in Hee-so for a split second.
A fact he'd momentarily forgotten amid this wonderful new world's "technol-ogy."
The existence of Japan.
"...Why are Japanese ones best?"
"How should I know. But... Japanese pottery sells top worldwide, so materials gotta be good too? Westerners supposedly go nuts for it."
'What nonsense. Five hundred years ago, those clowns could barely fire a decent teacup for themselves.'
All their techniques—every last one—
'Stolen by kidnapping my colleagues.'
It felt like a raw nerve struck, but Hee-so held it in.
What good would chewing out Du-sik do?
Better to swallow harsh truths quick—for mental health.
Besides, five hundred years was no short span; plenty could change.
If they'd lapped us in the meantime...
'I'll lap 'em right back.'
The future was what mattered.
Things had shaken out this way anyway,
and he was dead set on outdoing them at whatever he did.
It wasn't for Joseon.
What loyalty did a lowborn owe a nation?
This was about pride, plain and simple.
A fight he absolutely couldn't lose this lifetime.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
A week slipped by.
The night before, Park Bong-gon had loaded every piece onto the truck for the exhibition.
His eyes were bloodshot—he'd barely slept from nerves.
"Kim Du-sik. You ride with the truck driver. Tons to do at the venue. Hustle."
"Yes, Teacher."
Park Bong-gon hopped into his sedan and peeled out first.
While Du-sik waited for the truck driver, who'd ducked into the bathroom—
Hee-so ambled out of the warehouse.
"Hey, Dung-sik."
"Ah, hyung! Told you not to call me that."
"Why not? It's cute—Dung-sik."
Du-sik had fully adjusted to Hee-so's personality shift by now.
Except for that "Dung-sik" nickname he'd started using out of nowhere.
But then Hee-so yanked back the truck's tarp and hopped right in.
Du-sik's gut twisted ominously.
Figured he'd just house-sit quietly during the exhibition?
"...Hyung, what're you doing? Why're you climbing up there?"
Hee-so flashed a grin.
Insadong, where the exhibition was opening—folks called it the holy land of traditional arts.
So Hee-so replied,
"Why else? Time for a pilgrimage to the holy site."