Before his death, my grandfather would repeat the story of the first time his grandfather, or my great-great-grandfather, met a white man. It was a story from the time when my family was still living in Manchuria before coming back to Korea. My great-great-grandfather’s name was Ugyeong. Ugyeong was the eldest son of Jinseong, and Jinseong was the steward of a young affluent Chinese landlord, Mr. Shin.

Mr. Shin’s beardless face had not lost its boyish roundness yet, but he was already an infamous opium smoker. The rumor around the village was that the deeds he was forcing on his concubines and servants were so mischievously vile that one would feel ashamed by simply mentioning them. As his steward, it was Jinseong who often had to carry out Mr. Shin’s rascal orders and deal with their aftermath. Jinseong sometimes felt that Mr. Shin’s joy was not in the deeds themselves but in proving that any word coming out of his mouth would be realized, no matter how absurd they were.

Mr. Shin would later die as an opium addict adjudged incompetent, letting all the farmlands fall into the hands of his cunning steward. Jinseong had been stealthily laying the scheme while managing all the land deeds. However, the Shin family was yet to lose their wealth when Fr. Wilhelm arrived. Fr. Wilhelm was traveling throughout Manchuria to visit the villages of Korean immigrants and inspect the situation. Koreans baptized before crossing the Sino-Korean border had no Catholic church to attend in Manchuria. Accordingly, the German Benedictines who had been dispatched to Wonsan, Korea had to do something about it just as good-hearted Europeans should do.

The reason why Mr. Shin invited Fr. Wilhelm to his mansion, in contrast, did not have anything to do with religion. Being one of the few gentlemen in rural Manchuria who could afford to order a variety of pet pearl birds straight from Peking, Mr. Shin often watched the caged birds with great amusement. After the death of his father, Mr. Shin had been spending all his life in like manner, puffing on opium pipes while appreciating and laying his hands on the things that could feast his eyes, such as exotic rocks, carp, photographs, or women. Thus, there was no way he would miss the chance to observe a white man, or jest at one.

The feast for Fr. Wilhelm was held in the mansion’s courtyard. Fabric canopies were put up, but they worsened the blistering heat by trapping the air damp with steam from spiced dishes and people’s perspiration. Besides several guests seated in the courtyard and the servants busy at their work, others also contributed to the humid heat of July in Manchuria. Against the backdrop of the evening glow, many faces of local spectators could be spotted through the narrow spaces between the canopies and the walls that surrounded the courtyard. Their bodies, all so eagerly pushed against the walls to take a look at a white man, were instilling an eerie fervor into the courtyard.

Fr. Wilhelm’s dark wool habit was soaked in sweat. He was fuming out a body odor so strong that Ugyeong, who was eleven years old, thought he might pass out. Chinese and Koreans had their distinct body odors, yet the smell from the white man did not seem to be coming from a human.

Ugyeong had been assigned by his father to pour white liquor for him whenever the German priest should wish. Jinseong, meanwhile, stood behind Mr. Shin. He was interpreting between Mr. Shin and Fr. Wilhelm because the Benedictine father only knew some Korean but not Chinese.

“Why do you only visit Korean peasants, Fr. Wilhelm? They do not understand what it means to enjoy a meal,” said Mr. Shin, through Jinseong.

“I see that you are a man who knows how to enjoy food.” Fr. Wilhelm answered back slowly in Korean. His face was flushed, even though he had emptied only two small shots of white liquor. He was hissing in agony from the spices.

“How do you like the food here, then?” 

“I am very grateful for the sumptuous feast, Sir.” It took Jinseong some time to think up how the priest should address Mr. Shin in Chinese.

“It is pleasant that a guest from afar finds my token of welcome enjoyable. Am I wrong to suggest that this is what you meant?”

“No, not at all, Mr. Shin. Thank you.”

It was at that very moment when Mr. Shin stood up and held his right hand up in the air. Everyone, including those who had been peeping at the white man from outside, fell silent. Then, Mr. Shin shouted out in Chinese, pointing at Fr. Wilhelm.

“This white man here has expressed gratitude for the food and says he enjoys it. The truth is, hot pepper for his food was quadrupled, just as I ordered!”

The people burst into laughter. Fr. Wilhelm, having no idea why everyone was laughing but knowing that it had something to do with himself, stood up and made a polite bow to them. This resulted in a bigger laughter.

“And I also ordered my servant to give him the smallest shot glass one could find in my mansion!” Mr. Shin cried, beckoning his hand to Fr. Wilhelm to sit down.

Sitting down, Fr. Wilhelm had another shot of white liquor, stuck his tongue out, and used his hand to fan at it. The people noticed this gesture and their cheer continued until he asked Ugyeong if he could fetch him a glass of plain water. When he came back with the water, a contented, triumphant smile appeared on Mr. Shin’s immature face.

Contrary to everyone’s expectations, Fr. Wilhelm did not gulp down the water. Instead, he crossed himself and made a short silent prayer. After that, he put his fingers in his mouth to take out his dentures and dropped them in the cup.

It was Ugyeong who first noticed it. He screamed and ran away as if he had seen the devil. Then, it was Mr. Shin who looked into Fr. Wilhelm’s cup. His eyes wide open, Mr. Shin began to gasp for air. No one in the Manchurian village had seen dentures or imagined that such things could exist.

A few servants approached, and Fr. Wilhelm once again became the center of the attention. He took the dentures out of the cup and held them in the air, desperately trying to explain what they were. His endeavor only worsened the situation. Now everyone, even those who were looking from the outside, could see the white man holding his own teeth. Everyone began to cry in distress, running like the devil and treading on each other in the dark. The tumult also resulted in a wall of Mr. Shin’s mansion giving way.

Mr. Shin was later discovered on the ground, having fallen backward while still seated in his chair and trodden on by several people. Jinseong, who had been close to Mr. Shin, testified to the authorities that he could not locate Mr. Shin right away since the sun had already set and he had also been terrified. On the other hand, Fr. Wilhelm was nowhere to be seen. It was speculated that some Korean Catholic peasants must have managed to let Fr. Wilhelm flee, but there was no proof.

After the incident with the white man, Mr. Shin developed chronic pains in his neck and back. He never fully recovered. This led him to lie on his bed all day and smoke more opium than he could take. Mr. Shin died in a few years, and Jinseong took over his possessions just as previously mentioned.

The way my grandfather would end the story went like this: now that Ugyeong was no longer a servant boy but the eldest son of an affluent landlord, he could enter a boarding school. A few weeks before his departure, Jinseong sent a telegram to Wonsan, specifically asking that Fr. Wilhelm come to his mansion once again. And it was by Fr. Wilhelm that my great-great-grandfather and great-great-great-grandfather got baptized.

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Hyun Woo Kim is a writer living in Seoul. Kim was a finalist of the 2023 Los Angeles Review Short Fiction Award, and his works have been published by Bear Paw Arts Journal, Half and One, BarBar, and others. When not writing, Kim is busy telling people that his first name is Hyun Woo, not Hyun. He can be reached at paschali@fidei.email or https://substack.com/@hyunwookimwriter.