Moving
by Young-ha Kim

Everyone said it was nothing. Even some moving company's flier said, Go on vacation and let us do the moving.

"It's no big deal. The men come in the morning and leave by dusk. By that time all the household goods are at the new house. It's that simple. They clean up the place too. A woman even comes along with the movers to organize kitchen appliances. I mean, there are times when they punch a hole in the back of an armoire but they do repair it for you and I hear that if the damage is extensive they even reimburse you. Your eye," his friend said, pointing to his own eye. "If you keep your eye open everything'll be fine."

Everyone he knew told him that but Jin-su couldn't yet relax. "But shouldn't someone watch over the stuff? What if someone steals something?"

"Look, you don't have to worry about that. These days they usually use ladder trucks to move things, so before they're even laid to rest on the ground they're whisked away into the back of a five-ton truck. Even if someone wanted to steal something they don't have the time, and anyway everything's packed away in boxes so nobody knows what's in them. It'd be pointless if, after all that trouble, the only thing they managed to get their hands on was a bundle of blankets."

"I guess you're right, now that you say it like that. I guess I haven't heard of people lately who've gotten their things stolen while they were moving."

To calm Jin-su, who was still trembling with apprehension, his friend added, "You don't even have to pack your things beforehand. They take care of all that. If the owner does the packing it's more confusing for them when they unpack and try to organize everything. They don't leave before making sure that all the books are back in their places. That means that on the morning of the move, you can pick out a book to read on the subway and return it in its place in the evening. Our country has come a long way."

Though Jin-su didn't take his friend's words at face value, it was true that he did feel a little relieved. Perhaps because of that, Jin-su kept putting off selecting a moving company. He concentrated instead on getting loans from the bank to supplement the money for the new apartment, or on renovating the new place. He repapered the walls and put in new mock-wood linoleum. He replaced the kitchen cabinet with its old unhinged doors and bought a new shoe chest. He changed the low-wattage fluorescent bulbs. He threw out the dust-encrusted light hanging above the dining table and replaced it with a romantic halogen lamp.

"It's more like setting up house as newlyweds than moving," his wife said dreamily, in their new apartment with its new kitchen cabinet and floors. This 30-pyeong apartment would allow them to realize their humble old dream of lying on the sofa and watching TV.

As soon as bargain sales started, they rushed over to department stores to look at sofas, dining tables, and coffee tables.

"We need to order things separately if we want more of these free gifts," his wife said, smiling brightly. "It's the wisdom of life!"

The first day they ordered the sofa, the second day the dining table, and then the next, the coffee table. With three separate receipts they carried off dining ware made in Japan, a rechargeable vacuum cleaner, and an electric teakettle. In a happier mood, Jin-su bought a small vanity with a mirror for his wife. Though she said, "It's just fine using the bathroom mirror," she was visibly happy. Of course she was. For five years, she had to apply foundation on her face in a bathroom littered with toothbrushes and toothpaste, shampoo and soap, and rubber gloves used for the laundry and shower caps. Luckily, they hadn't fought all that much in their small apartment. Every morning the one who didn't make it into the bathroom first would bang desperately on the door, urging the person inside to hurry, but neither ever threw fits. A typical working couple, they would read the paper, wash their hair, and brush their teeth in a bathroom still reeking from the smell the other left behind. They lived like this for five years in the 17-pyeong apartment. They didn't rush impatiently, though he needed a living room with a sofa and his own study with a large desk and his wife was desperate for a vanity and an extra bathroom.

"Let's wait a little longer." While they reassured each other and themselves this way, five years had passed by.

A week before the move, Jin-su finally selected a moving company. Well, "select" wasn't exactly the right word. All he did was call the number on some flier he received with the mail. The company readily sent people over, who took stock of the furniture and produced an estimate. It was more affordable than they'd expected and the staff was friendly: "Call us right away if you don't like the movers. We replace them on the spot."

On the day the moving company came to make an estimate, a notice was posted on the ground floor of the old apartment building they lived in. Asking for the tenants' understanding, it announced that the finicky elevator would be replaced in three days' time, resulting in no service for ten days. Jin-su frowned. Their apartment was on the twelfth floor. Their building was designed with units surrounding an open-air hallway so all the residents had to share the centrally located elevator.

"I'll supervise them lowering things from up here and you can take care of things down there. If there's anything we need we can communicate on our cell phones." Jin-su reassured his wife this way after climbing the twelve flights, gasping.

"Why did they have to pick this time to replace the elevator? They could have just fixed it a bit and lived with it." His wife let out her anger. But there wasn't anything they could do about it. Three days later, the spot where the elevator used to be was transformed into an expansive cavity. Between the partially opened elevator doors a deep and black darkness revealed its existence.

"Oh well, what can you do.”

Jin-su and his wife climbed up and down the stairs daily, huffing and puffing.

"At least we're lucky. We're through with this after three days. Our neighbors will have to use the stairs for a whole other week after we leave," Jin-su's wife said.

Jin-su agreed with her. "I hear that. It's really annoying. Every day it's broken, or leaking water, or the electricity or the water supply's cut off. And this building's women's committee is always in your face."

"The maintenance fees are outrageous, even though nothing gets taken care of around here."

"Oh, and the little kids who careen down the hall like it's a playground are terrible. Goodbye to all that now!"

The couple, talking as animatedly as if they were about to stand up and cheer, stopped simultaneously, almost as if they had planned it. Probably because they realized that their criticisms were desecrating a certain ancient holiness of the apartment. They didn't think that they should talk about a place they had made their home for five long years that way.

"Still..." Jin-su started talking again in a forced cheery voice. "Everything worked out well in this place. My salary doubled and you moved here to Seoul. It's been a bit noisy and chaotic but it was still home..." Jin-su got up, not finishing his sentence. “We should throw out some of this junk.”

The couple sorted through old magazines, books they didn't read, and furniture they no longer used. Sweating profusely and wearing heavy gloves, they worked away. There were more things hiding in their apartment than they had imagined. Jin-su's wife smiled briefly as she emptied the storage space on the veranda.

Picking apart tangled wires resembling Gordius' knot, his wife said, "Your brain probably looks like this." She continued, "Do you ever think that a person's house looks like the inside of his head?"

Jin-su looked around him. Disorganized piles of books; heaps of photographs that nobody would ever rifle through again; a computer and a printer; drawers in which miscellaneous objects fought for space. In a corner was a reprint of a painting that revealed his commonplace artistic tastes. The objects representing deteriorating functions in his brain were fittingly covered in dust in his home: a high school math reference book popped out of nowhere, looking as if it would disintegrate if touched, as well as an old manual camera that he couldn't remember exactly how to work.

"Let's stop for today," Jin-su said to his wife as he took off his work gloves.

"OK."

Taking turns, the couple washed up in the bathroom then slid into bed, staring at the ceiling with wide-open eyes.

"That friend of yours who used to pop by hasn't come around in a while. I wonder what he's up to," Jin-su mused.

His wife elbowed him in the ribs. "I wasn't joking. He really exists. He's a tallish man in his thirties with the face of a provincial government employee. He stands above my head and stares down at me while I'm sleeping. I don't think he's an evil ghost, though."

Jin-su laughed teasingly, blowing air through his lips. "I wonder if it's a ghost who likes married women. It's probably because you have weak chi. Remember you didn't see him for a while after you took that anemia medicine?"

His wife pouted. "But he reappeared soon after. You know something? That ghost, he doesn't visit when you're here."

Jin-su, filled with mischief at this point, sat up and leaned against the headboard. "Maybe," he said, his eyes sparkling, "that guy lives in there." His wife moved her body toward Jin-su. "What do you mean, in there?" He turned on the lights and pointed. The forms of objects became clear.

"Why are you doing this?" His wife hit Jin-su's back, hard. "Don't say things like that. You're scaring me."

A dark earthenware pot was standing where he had pointed. Sticking out at the sides of the pot were two small cute handles through which one could put string to hang on the wall. It had a short neck and no lid. It was called yangidankyeongho earthenware for obvious reasons: yangi because of its two handles, dankyeongho because of its short neck.

Jin-su had picked it up while wandering around Insa-dong with a friend who was knowledgeable about such things. Taking out his credit card, Jin-su had asked the owner cautiously, "Is it very old?"

The owner had answered, as bored as if he were ringing up a beef marrow soup bowl, "It's a Gaya pot from the east bank of the Nakdong area, so I guess it's from around the 4th or 5th century."

Jin-su's friend who was knowledgeable about such things seemed at least a little taken aback, and he looked at the owner, turning away from other antiques in the shop. "That's all it costs?" His friend had asked, stealing a glance at the credit card receipt.

"Yeah, 'cause a lot of these pieces are being found. These days there are so many engineering works and road constructions that these items are just pouring out. But taking them abroad is difficult. There's no demand domestically, so it's no wonder it's so cheap. The Japanese used to buy up a lot. Those guys used to go crazy about them. But nowadays it's so hard to bring things like that across borders."

As soon as they'd left the shop, his friend had dragged Jin-su to the nearest café.

"Lemme see that again." He'd insisted on unwrapping the pot the owner had so carefully enfolded in bubble wrap in order to look it over. "It's an illegally looted object from an ancient tomb,” he'd said, pointing at the bottom of the pot. Scratches had allowed lighter yellow parts underneath to show through, like a face scarred by smallpox. "The looters jab around like this at the gravesite," his friend had said, raising his arms to mimic poking the grave with a long stick. "To see if there's anything inside. That's why there's all these scars. They call it 'being hit by a spear.' In any case, you did well by buying it. It's amazing that you can buy an intact Gaya pot for the price of a decent suit. It's not going to be easy keeping an object that's more than fifteen hundred years old in your home." His friend had smacked his lips with envy etched on his face.

By dusk the two friends had relocated to a bar. But Jin-su was barely drunk. Because of the Gaya earthenware pot. Though he'd bought all sorts of objects his entire life, he'd never bought anything so old. He'd managed to escape as soon as he could and had taken the subway home. There, he'd carefully unwrapped it, dusted it, and placed it reverently on the dresser in the master bedroom.

Though the earthenware pot looked at home in the 17-pyeong apartment, it inevitably emitted a characteristic elegance due to its fifteen-hundred-year-old life. The fifteen- hundred-year-old pot seemed to nullify the innate vulgarity of the mass residence complex called an apartment. Jin-su's heart raced every time he caressed the pot's handles and rim. Wait a little bit, earthenware pot. When we move to the new apartment I'll find you an awesome place to rest.

But his wife was a little uncomfortable. She would touch the nicks on the bottom of the pot, the so-called "hit by the spear" marks, saying, "I can't get over these spots."

"Insa-dong is overflowing with objects like this. Don't worry." Jin-su would reassure her.

His wife would shake her head. "No, I'm not worried because we might get caught. It's because it's round and flat, like a person's face, so these look like scars. Don't you think so?"

Even as she was speaking, she'd continue to run her hands over the surface of the earthenware pot.

"It's still spectacular," Jin-su would say. "What good would it do if it remained in a grave for a thousand years? It's better that it's come out into the light and is being touched like this. Right? This one's lucky. Others are still stuck deep under the ground somewhere in the south, unable to breathe."

The Gaya earthenware pot had claimed a spot in their apartment filled with odds and ends since that day.

"There's no connection between my nightmares and that thing," his wife protested, pulling the blankets up to her eyebrows. "Because it's happened often before it came here."

Jin-su slipped out of bed and walked over to the earthenware pot. "But isn't it after the pot came here that you started having your nightmares involving that guy who looks like a provincial government employee?"

His wife pushed down the blankets and glared at him sharply. "Don't tell me you're jealous of a ghost! Stop goofing around and come here and go to sleep. Jeez, I have to get up early tomorrow and all my so-called husband does is talk shit."

Bantering, they fell asleep.

Two days later was their last night in the old apartment. Jin-su's wife, perhaps excited, couldn't sleep.

"Might as well get up." She put on a cardigan, went out into the living room, and then looked around the kitchen cabinet for no reason.

Jin-su did the same. He sorted through forms for the move-in notification, transferring the phone number, and terminating the gas service. He also looked at forms on settling the maintenance fees in advance and getting the change back later. There was a lot more to be done than they had expected. They went to bed late that evening. That night, nobody came to visit the couple. Instead, a strong wind carrying yellow dust started banging at the windows of the apartment. The wind grew stronger as the night became deeper. Rattle, rattle. The window frames and the windows perched precariously on them crashed into each other, emitting a loud noise. Dust originating from the Taklamakan struggled to push into the room in which the couple was peacefully asleep, leaving behind the scent of the desert. Having crossed the ocean, these dust particles settled equally on the Gaya pot, the pre-packed bag of valuables, and the couple's noses.

"Achoo." Sneezing, Jin-su sat up abruptly in bed.

The digital clock on top the television set was indicating 6:15 a.m. Vapor spewing from the humidifier gave out a dank moldy smell. Jin-su's throat was dry and the insides of his nose itched. He went outside, opened the refrigerator door, took out a water bottle, put it directly to his mouth and gulped down the water. Bam bam bam bam. It sounded either like drumming in the distance or the hooves of cattle running into thick clouds of dust. The source of the noise became clearer as Jin-su listened carefully. He opened the glass door leading to the veranda. The windows were shaking and the wind passing through the gaps let out a long sharp whistle. Jin-su plastered himself against the window and looked down the side of the building. Branches lay in a single direction, trembling violently. Perhaps torn off during the night, the placard that had been posted at the roads leading in and out of the apartment complex fluttered aggressively like a battle flag on the front lines. Most of the bicycles in the bicycle racks had fallen over on their sides. An unbelievable wind. If that day were a day no different from any other day, Jin-su would have ceased to think about the wind; instead, he would have been more interested in whether the morning paper had been delivered. But that morning was the day they were to move into their new apartment. After lowering the furniture and the baggage from the twelfth floor, they would have to load the truck and then put everything on the seventeenth floor of the new apartment complex.

Jin-su woke his wife. Sleepy-eyed, she discovered one more thing. Yellow dust. Her finger was pointing at the sky. "The mountain's disappeared."

A dirt-yellow mantle had replaced the mountain, which they sometimes climbed with badminton rackets in hand. Though it was only a few hundred meters above sea level, it was because of the mountain that the residents of the apartment complex knew that they weren't floating on empty air. So on days when the mountain disappeared like this, the couple was struck with a feeling that they were floating.

"Wow, that's some crazy yellow dust." Though his wife had just woken up from a deep sleep, she didn't yawn. "What're we going to do?" She stood on the veranda wearing a worried expression, looking toward the vanished mountain.

"What do you mean, what're we going to do? Let's get ready." Jin-su, having decided on the course of action, washed first. He scrubbed his face and hands and gave his face a cursory shave. He wondered whether to wash his hair, then didn't.

The doorbell rang while they were bustling about and taking turns going in and out of the bathroom.

"Are they here already?" Jin-su's wife opened the door without drying her hands.

A man, neither old nor young, stood there. It wasn't that one couldn't approximate his age, but rather that he didn't look like he would fit any age. He looked too reckless to be in his fifties; too many marks of time were etched on his face for him to be in his thirties. To say that he was in his forties would have raised suspicions. The guy was looking at the couple with bloodshot eyes, perhaps the sign of a hangover. He was wearing a yellow vest over a blue short-sleeved shirt, which had the name of the moving company, Magpie Trans, printed on it in faint gothic script. A strong wind pushed in through the open door, as if the guy had herded it over.

Jin-su's wife turned away, slitting her eyes, perhaps because of the wind. "You're a bit early."

No reply. Instead, the guy in the yellow vest came into the house in big steps. He walked into the living room without taking his shoes off. His basketball shoes left clear footprints on the floor, which the couple had been mopping for five years.

"You should've said something about the elevator not working." It was difficult to judge whether these words he spat out were in a polite or an informal form of speech. He pulled the refrigerator door wide open. Grabbing a can of beer from within, he smiled curtly in Jin-su's direction. His attitude was closer to a soldier who'd gained the spoils of war rather than that of a man seeking approval.

Jin-su, smiling awkwardly, said, "Oh, right, help yourself."

"When did the elevator stop working?" The guy in the yellow vest asked, as if he was looking to pick a fight, and Jin-su couldn't remain polite and nice forever.

"It's been a few days. We didn't know this would happen when we went over the estimates. And we thought it wouldn't matter because they said you'd bring over a ladder truck."

Yellow Vest held the finished beer can in his hand and crushed it easily. His smile resembled the wrecked can. His attitude could be seen as threatening, depending on who was observing him.

Yellow Vest pointed outside. "So you're telling me to go up and down on the ladder? What, you think that's for people to ride on?" The odor of alcohol wafted from his mouth.

Jin-su apologized, waving his hands. "I thought it accommodated people as well...in any case, I'm sorry. But there's nothing we can do about it. We can't use the elevator today."

"What else are we gonna do? We're gonna have to go up and down and up and down. Fuck. Actually there are times when we do use the ladder to go up, but it's dangerous if it's this windy. If you're not careful," he said as he dragged his finger across his neck, "you're dead." His finger, after slicing his neck, plummeted down toward the floor. "Whee, bam. Dead." Like a one-man show, his hand performed death by falling. And as if that were funny, he scrunched his face and snickered. "At least there isn't too much stuff. You got a lot of books. Whoa, what's this? What's this pot?" Yellow Vest fondled the Gaya pot with his gloved hands. Jin-su rushed toward him and tried to take the pot out of his hands carefully, but Yellow Vest moved his body slightly to block Jin-su's efforts. "Lemme see this. It's not even that interesting, it's just some clay pot."

"Mister." Sweetly but firmly, Jin-su's wife cut him off. "Why don't you put that back and start working?"

Yellow Vest wasn't about to be a pushover. "Huh, you people, you're strange. I ask what this is and you get mad without even answering my question. I guess you think I'd do something bad to this, right?" he said craftily, putting the pot back in its place. "Shit, I have to know whether the thing is worth anything so that I know if I need to wrap it up or put it in a box or throw it out. And you say that I should be working. You think this isn't work? Then what the hell am I doing here at the ass-crack of dawn after inhaling my fucking breakfast and running up this building that doesn't even have a working elevator? Exercising?"

Jin-su grabbed Yellow Vest's arm. "I apologize. It's our first move. That's a Gaya earthenware pot. Please take care not to break it. It's the most important object you're moving today."

Yellow Vest picked up the pot again, acting as if he had never needed to get permission for any of his actions. "Gaya, you say? Well, I'm an expert on Gaya. I'm a Kimhae Kim, something like the 85th grandson of King Kim Suro. But, Gaya...hey, Young Sir, do you know when Gaya went under?"

Jin-su's breath was coming out in rough spurts. It was the same with his wife.

"Look, Mister. Do you really need to know when Gaya was overthrown?" This was noteworthy bravery for Jin-su, who rarely got angry.

At Jin-su's outburst, Yellow Vest, in a surprisingly willing attitude, put down the pot in its place and stepped back. "I tell you that this clay pot and I share blood and history, and you get mad. Jesus."

Yellow Vest walked toward the front door, hawked, and spat in the hallway. This was done so naturally that it almost didn't even seem disgusting. Outside their unit, Yellow Vest looked down from the twelfth-floor banister and yelled, "Hey, send it up."

Soon, a whirring and clanking noise came closer. Finally, with a crash, the end of the ladder touched the twelfth-floor banister. Yellow Vest anchored the ladder and laid a piece of an old carpet on the banister. Judging from his experienced movements, he didn't seem like an amateur.

While Yellow Vest busied himself with the carpet, Jin-su's wife came over to Jin-su and whispered in his ear, "What are we going to do? Are we going to go ahead with it? I'm not getting a good vibe from this guy. Let's call and ask for different workers."

Jin-su expressed reluctance. "Today's the lucky moving day, one of the few without evil spirits. We have to clear out of this place by the end of the morning. How are we going to find other workers in time? If we call in and it isn't possible, that guy's going to act up even more. We can't do anything about it at this point."

Jin-su's wife didn't back down. "You can call at the very least."

Against his will, Jin-su went out to the veranda and called the moving company. The phone rang but no one picked up. Either everyone was out on a job or no one was in the office yet. While he was calling a little anxiously, Yellow Vest approached him. Jin-su snapped the cover of his cell phone shut.

"Don't grumble at us even if you don't like something. We're just in it for the day, so do it to the company if you want to complain. All we gotta do is move this stuff to the other place," Yellow Vest said, smirking, as if he had read Jin-su's mind. "You'll probably have a hard time finding other guys today. It's nothing to laugh at, a lucky moving day without evil spirits.” He smiled, holding up his two gloved hands. "It's simple. It means that it's a day without hands."

His gloves, with its red rubber palms for better grip, looked like blood-soaked hands. Jin-su shivered in spite of himself. Then he smiled ingratiatingly, and said, "It's true. I don't know who invented a day without evil spirits. Thank you in advance for today. Oh, did the ladder make it all the way up here?"

Instead of replying, Yellow Vest threw open the veranda windows, frowning. "Fucking wind. Who knows if the fucking ladder'll stay put. My throat's dry because of the yellow dust or whatever that shit is. You've picked a great day." Yellow Vest went toward the banister in the hallway, where the ladder was.

Jin-su looked out the window from the veranda. It seemed as if the yellow dust was getting worse. Now he couldn't clearly see the apartment building facing his own. Jin-su sighed mightily, though not for anyone in particular to hear. As if that were a signal, two people walked through the door: a woman in her mid-forties and a man in his early thirties. The woman, perhaps already tired from her hike up the stairs, was breathing hard, shallow breaths. In contrast, the man, who was wearing white sneakers, was silent, not looking at all tired. Both bowed almost imperceptibly at Jin-su and his wife but didn't say a word.

"Please come in. Would you like something cold to drink?"

The woman waved her hand to decline. Jin-su looked toward the man in white sneakers but he didn't say anything, or even look in Jin-su's direction. Jin-su started to ask him again but the middle-aged woman stopped him.

"Don't bother. He's Korean-Chinese and deaf. He used to work in a leather factory or a bag factory or something but then got into some kind of accident or got beaten up. In any case, he's deaf, so if there's something you want to tell him, write him a note or tell me."

The Korean-Chinese, unable to hear this conversation, was silently hauling in cardboard boxes that had come up on the ladder. Yellow Vest was outside, tinkering with tools that had been brought up. Jin-su asked the woman one more time. "You see that earthenware pot? It's a Gaya pot. Could you be careful when you're packing it up?"

The woman glanced at it and told him not to worry. "So it breaks?" the woman asked, looking around the kitchen cabinet.

"No, it can't break. I mean to take care that it doesn't break."

The woman laughed. "You think I'm stupid? So it breaks when it's dropped, who said I'd break it on purpose? A bit thick, aren't we?”

The woman was dragging dishes out, clattering them loudly. Jin-su's wife, who had been in the master bedroom folding linens and bedding, came out to the living room and stopped short as if taken aback by something. She stared at the deaf Korean-Chinese's profile then shook her head slowly.

"What's up?" Jin-su went up to her and asked her in a low voice.

Jin-su's wife smiled quickly and shook her head without saying anything. Then she said, "It's OK, it's nothing."

The packing progressed without problems. In spite of the ladder making loud noises, rattling against the banister it was leaning on, Yellow Vest told them to relax, that it wasn't a big deal. But because he said, "The very worst thing that could happen is falling to the ground," he made the couple, who was starting to relax, anxious again.

"Was it three years ago? There was this building where the elevator wasn't working, just like this one, and it was probably this windy that day. One guy didn't want to bother going down the stairs so he sat on the top of the armoire that was going down on the ladder, but then the platform got stuck right in the middle of the ladder. Man, that was rough."

He chattered on animatedly.

"All the neighbors came out to watch and everything. We were yelling at him; 'Hey, man, don't move, sit tight. Maybe something's stuck, and we'll try fixing it down here, but if that doesn't work we'll call 911.' But this guy, he was young. See, it would've been fine if he sat still. But he kept moving around. The wind was blowing, the ladder was shaking, he's shitting his pants. But that asshole should've sat still."

Yellow Vest stopped there and lit a cigarette and began to smoke.

"What happened?" At Jin-su's question, Yellow Vest took a long drag and spat out:

"Think he died, right?" He laughed. "He was Thai. He yelled something in his own language because he was scared but how the hell could we understand it? He was climbing down on all fours when the wind blew and he fell five meters, flapping just like a plastic bag. He was lucky. He got stuck on a tree on his way down and only broke three ribs and a leg in two parts. What if that ass had died? This moving and everything would have been finished. Young Sir. Do you know what the most important thing is when you're moving?"

Without waiting for Jin-su's reply, he answered himself. "That nobody dies. If someone dies then this moving thing would be done for. Ha."

Yes, please don't die. At least until after the move is completed. No one, not the Korean-Chinese packing books, or the woman taking care of the kitchen things, or Yellow Vest, could die. Jin-su was secretly satisfied that the only reason they couldn't die was merely because of his possessions. The wind, scattering dust, blew in through the open front door. The smell of dry dirt permeated the room. All the windows rattled as if in greeting. From afar, the mountain, resembling the slope of an ancient king's tomb, reappeared. Its roots were still sunken amid the dust clouds and only the outline of the tip floated in the air. Jin-su took out two dust masks out of a drawer, gave one to his wife, and covered his own mouth with the other. His breath was stale.

Despite the fact that the three workers did not communicate with one another, everything was on schedule. One by one, all the household objects were packed away in boxes. The Korean-Chinese smiled to himself once in a while; who knew what he was grinning about. He smiled when he cut tape with his teeth and also when he loaded the wheeled cart.

"I'm going downstairs," Jin-su's wife told Jin-su. "Somebody should be down there. Call me if anything happens."

Jin-su's wife suffered from vertigo every time she walked down the stairs. "I can't stand going round and round."

"So don't look down, look away into the distance. Then you'll get less dizzy." Jin-su advised, though that didn't help much.

"I tried but it doesn't work. If I don't look down I feel like I'll step onto plain air."

Every time she said that Jin-su laughed. "That's because you read too many old stories when you were young. There are stairs made of air. The hero goes up endlessly and a castle appears. The stairs disappear behind him while he goes up."

Jin-su's wife waved her hand. "Stop. I really do get dizzy." She went down the twelve flights of stairs holding onto the banister. "Boy, there better not be a reason to come back up again."

When Jin-su came back from the central staircase the three workers were clustered in front of the refrigerator, eating popsicles.

"It's gonna melt anyway," the woman said placidly, licking the stick with her tongue. At the woman's feet was the open ice cube container. "The young Mrs. never cleans the refrigerator, does she? Well. Young women these days have no time to do such things."

The Korean-Chinese was also devouring the popsicle greedily. A drop of sweat glistened on his forehead before dropping on the dirty floor. He wiped his forehead with the back of his gloved hand.

Jin-su went in the master bedroom and took in the progress. Already a lot of things had been packed away in boxes.

"Did you pack the earthenware pot well?" Jin-su asked, unable to locate it.

Yellow Vest shook his head. "I didn't pack it." He pointed at the Korean-Chinese. "He must've packed it."

Yellow Vest drew the shape of a pot in the air with his hand as he asked the Korean-Chinese what he did with it, but it didn't look like he understood what was being asked. When Jin-su pointed to the dresser where the pot had been, the Korean-Chinese seemed to have comprehended, as he made a circle with his fingers, saying in unclear pronunciation, "OK." Seeing Jin-su's suspicious expression, he sketched the outline of the pot with his hand to reassure him. "Pot, pot, OK."

Jin-su, frustrated, told Yellow Vest, "You have to transport it separately or else put it in a wooden crate so that it doesn't break."

Yellow Vest smirked as if it weren't important. "Seems like you're looking down on that fellow because he's Korean-Chinese and mute. Doesn't mean he's stupid, so don't worry. He's got as much experience doing this as me, if not more. He probably took care of everything. I'm sure he put it in one of those boxes." He gestured toward the many boxes piled in the master bedroom.

Jin-su wanted to ask which box it was in but stopped himself. He couldn't open all the boxes at this point anyway. I should've taken it earlier by car. Jin-su regretted not doing so but it was no use crying over spilt milk.

"OK, let's start moving this stuff down." Yellow Vest stood outside at the hallway banister, yelling down at the crew. "Bring it up."

The platform of the ladder truck started up, accompanied by a noise similar to a monster's howl. Jin-su looked down. The ladder swayed dangerously in the wind. His wife was looking up from the ground. Jin-su called her on the phone numerous times to tell her to go sit in the car away from the yellow dust, but she refused, saying she was fine. Instead, she bought refreshments, distributing them to the driver of the ladder truck and the crew and sending some up as well.

When the platform came up, Yellow Vest started to pile things on top of it. It was parallel to the banister, like a boat docked at a pier. Sometimes he went onto the platform himself to adjust the packages. He wasn't cautious, though the wind was strong. Please don't die. Jin-su looked up at him standing on the banister and prayed for his safety. Soon, Yellow Vest rapped on the platform that was carrying six boxes, and it started moving down. As if it had been waiting, the wind slapped Yellow Vest and Jin-su. Jin-su grabbed Yellow Vest's arm in spite of himself. Yellow Vest reflexively shook his hand off. At that moment, the platform jerked to a stop with a loud crash. Both looked down at the same time. The platform was at a standstill at around the seventh floor.

"What the hell?" Yellow Vest yelled. "There isn't even that much shit on the damn thing. What the fuck's going on?"

The platform started down again slowly. On the ground, the driver carefully coaxed the platform down with his remote control. Several stops later the platform arrived on the ground. Jin-su breathed a sigh of relief. Yellow Vest went back in to pull out the rest of the stuff as if the problematic ladder truck weren't a big deal. After the boxes were sent down, Yellow Vest and the Korean-Chinese moved onto bigger things, like the armoire.

Soon, the apartment revealed its deserted interior. Behind the refrigerator lived black dust like scorch marks, behind the armoire was mildew, under the washer crept dark brown sludge. While the couple lived there, sweeping and mopping, dust and mildew had taken up parts of the house in their own ways. Jin-su, while Yellow Vest and the Korean- Chinese were sweating with the armoire, crouched and picked up the 100-won coins that were rolling around. An army of ants was marching across a dirty 100-won coin in neat rows.

"It seems like you live alone in an apartment, but that's never true." Yellow Vest, who'd come in without Jin-su's knowledge, grumbled behind Jin-su who was squashing the ants with his finger.

Jin-su shook the ant corpses from his fingers and stood up. "That's right. All sorts of things lived in this tiny place. Even a ghost lived here."

Yellow Vest covered the front of the armoire with a blanket. "For some reason ghosts like warm houses. This place is ideal. It's quiet because you have no kids and the Mrs. is pretty too." Yellow Vest snickered.

The house became completely empty as the last armoire went down. Jin-su looked around the place, avoiding the woman who was sweeping the floor carelessly. It was the new place they got right after they married. Right, it was this big at the beginning. Though it was later crammed to the brim with a random assortment of things, making it difficult to breathe, at first it wasn't like that at all. The two had romped on the floor, ecstatic, and slow danced to music. But soon where they had frolicked a stereo system entered, and where they used to dance a bookshelf was put in. Finally, it became an apartment in which everything from a treadmill to a Gaya clay pot cohabited.

"OK, let's head down." Yellow Vest placed the remaining boxes and tools on the last platform going down. "Shit, maybe I should ride down on it too."

Jin-su didn't dissuade him. Perhaps because he couldn't hear, the Korean-Chinese walked silently toward the central staircase. Having climbed onto the banister, Yellow Vest tried to balance with his arms spread out as if he were walking on a tight rope, but swayed precariously, probably because it wasn't easy.

"Why don't you come down from there?"

Yellow Vest dropped his weight on the platform as if he had been waiting for Jin- su's words. "See you down there." He signaled toward the bottom and the platform started down, clanking.

Leaning on the banister, Jin-su stood looking down at Yellow Vest becoming smaller and eventually disappearing. The wind was still rough and the mountain in the distance remained only as an outline. Yellow Vest, laughing, even waved to Jin-su. Though the platform shook violently as it went down each rung of the ladder, nothing dropped and it arrived safely on the ground. Jin-su felt his legs give; he sat on the floor of the hallway and leaned his back against the wall next to the banister, then lit a cigarette and began to smoke. It'd been a long day.

Riiing. The phone call was from his wife. "Has everything been sent down?"

"Yeah, we're finished."

"Don't forget to look around, then come on down."

"OK. Is everything fine down there?"

"They're putting the last of our things in the truck. Oh yeah, how's the apartment?"

"The apartment? It's super dirty. I can't believe we lived here." He heard his wife's laughter through the phone.

"You're very sentimental today, aren't you? It's always like that wherever people live. Oh, want to hear a funny story?" His wife lowered her voice, "That Korean-Chinese guy, he looks just like the ghost I used to see in my nightmares. Is that guy really Korean-Chinese? I can't tell, especially because he doesn't talk. Maybe he isn't deaf after all."

After locking the front door Jin-su went down the stairs all the way to the ground floor. Yellow Vest was securing the cargo door of the five-ton truck. The Korean-Chinese was nowhere to be seen. Jin-su and his wife cleaned up the site then bid farewell to the security guard who had come out to say goodbye.

Jin-su and his wife climbed into their car and started ahead of the truck.

The new apartment wasn't far from the old. The work started up again after lunch. This time they moved things via the elevator. It was because the building's maintenance office didn't allow the use of a ladder truck. "It's risky for the seventeenth floor. Things will fall if you're not careful," they'd said.

Moving in seemed a whole lot easier. First the larger things were brought in and set up, followed by smaller things. Like Heungbu's gourd, the boxes poured out household items nonstop. Amid all that the man who came to connect the gas was able to obtain Jin- su's signature and the telephone company even called to check if the phone had been successfully connected. The workers kept asking Jin-su where to put this bag and where that box went. When Yellow Vest tore up the new floor in three different places in the process of putting the armoire in its place, Jin-su felt a renewed murderous rage. He felt it more so when Yellow Vest said, "That's 'cause you kept saying put it here, then put it there," foisting the blame on him. You are sentenced to death by shooting. Your crime is ripping up the new floor. Jin-su was itching to lay down this stern verdict to his face. The Korean-Chinese also scraped the wallpaper in two places as he put in the bookshelves. Because the wallpaper was blue, the wall underneath looked even whiter. On top of it all, he made a fist-sized hole in the flimsy back of the bedding armoire. Jin-su's patience was reaching its limit. Things that came out of the refrigerator went back in, a complete mess, and the kitchen utensils that were housed under the sink were returned still swathed in bubble wrap.

"Shouldn't we say something?" Jin-su's wife asked him in a low voice, grimacing, but he didn't open his mouth. "Say something!"

Jin-su went over to Yellow Vest, who was bringing in the stereo system. "Are you going to do things like this?"

Yellow Vest stared at him. "Whaddaya mean, like this?"

Jin-su pointed at the floor. "What are you going to do about the ripped floor?"

Yellow Vest glanced down. "What, this? So you want us to put in new linoleum for you? It's gonna be more money than the moving fee. Why don't you just stick some chewing gum on it and use it as it is?" He whipped past Jin-su. "Instead of being grateful that I risked my life to move your shit, you're accusing me? You think this cheap vinyl floor's gonna last you tens of thousands of years? Jesus, me and my damn luck. Accused of some stupid insignificant thing, and by a fucking baby at that!"

Jin-su grabbed the front of Yellow Vest's shirt. With no sign of panic, Yellow Vest easily swatted him away with one hand. Pushed back, Jin-su fell between boxes. Jin-su's wife screamed, but no one else paid any attention to the fight. The Korean-Chinese was nowhere to be seen and the woman, unconcerned, was stuffing kitchen appliances anywhere.

"What's your problem?" demanded Jin-su's wife, running up to Yellow Vest, but he replied calmly, "My problem? Ask your damn husband. Your husband grabbed me, and I was just standing here innocently. Isn't that true? You have a mouth, why doncha try answering me?"

Jin-su raised himself painfully, rubbing his lower back. "Fine. If you're going to be like this I can't give you your fee."

Yellow Vest snorted at his words. "Yeah? So you're gonna move the stuff down there yourselves? In fact, we should move everything that's up here back down before leaving. Guard over your stuff outside all night eating yellow dust. It'll be a riot." He yelled, "Hey, we're done, everyone."

The woman in the kitchen was already throwing off her work gloves. The two people who had had no communication moved in sync at times like this. Yellow Vest looked for the Korean-Chinese, going around the apartment. He couldn't find him. Finally he pulled open the bathroom door next to the living room. The Korean-Chinese was there. Wearing his white sneakers, he had climbed on top of the toilet, crouched, and was taking a dump. He grinned at everyone.

"Retard doesn't even know how to use a western toilet." Swearing profusely, Yellow Vest shut the door. Making excuses, he said to everyone, "He says he can't shit if he doesn't do that."

A few moments later, the Korean-Chinese came out of the bathroom with the sound of water flushing. Without giving him a breather, Yellow Vest grabbed his arm and hustled him toward the front door. The Korean-Chinese, with no idea of what was going on, followed him, hitching up his cotton pants that were falling down.

Jin-su's wife ran after them. "I'm sorry, I apologize, forgive us."

Only after that did they turned back, in front of the elevator. They asked for the money confidently. "I don't want to hear you going on again about paying us or not, so pay up now."

Jin-su's wife laid the envelope she had prepared earlier on Yellow Vest's upturned palm. They worked even more roughly than they had before. It seemed like the only thing that was in its correct place was the refrigerator. Jin-su stood smoking on the veranda, avoiding them. When he looked down, he realized that the seventeenth floor was a dizzying height. The wind kept slamming the windows harshly. I wish it had been a little windier on that ladder truck. Jin-su was imagining Yellow Vest falling upside down, along with the armoire. I guess they both would have reached the ground simultaneously. The armoire would have split in four and Yellow Vest's head would have exploded. Who was it that discovered that freefalling speed doesn't depend on weight, Galileo? While his thoughts evolved, it became noisy outside. The workers were leaving. Jin-su observed their exit with a sour expression. The three, who could be mistaken in some light as siblings, went out amicably, unlike the way they had come in. Yellow Vest even smiled at Jin-su's wife. The Korean-Chinese tagged along with a goofy expression. Jin- su followed them downstairs without a word. He looked in the back of the truck with a stoic face. It was completely empty. I don't care if you get annoyed. Crooks. They climbed into the truck and left as Jin-su looked on.

Jin-su returned home. They unpacked everything, though only for form's sake. Jin-su went around the place checking on their things. Meanwhile, yellow dust brought in by the west wind seeped into the apartment, leaving a musty odor. It seemed as if that odor had come from a very far place. At the same time, it brought to mind a very ancient something. Jin-su sprang up from the chair he was sitting in. Not here. The Gaya earthenware pot wasn't here. Assholes. Jin-su became anxious. He went out to the veranda and looked down. The five-ton truck with the phone number written on its roof was nowhere in sight. He took out his address book and called the company. No reply. Where had they come from, and where had they gone? Jin-su raised his head and looked out the window. The outline of the mountain was completely erased. It was doubtful whether there had even been a mountain there.

"Call the police. God, we loved it so much." His wife said standing next to him, biting her lips.

Jin-su shook his head. "If the police knew that it was looted we'd get more trouble than we need. Sons of bitches. I bet Yellow Vest knew something about it. I should've known, with him going on about how he felt kinship and all that."

"Do you think maybe it's there?"

"Where?"

"What do you mean, where? Our old home, of course."

Jin-su tilted his head. "I checked before leaving and nothing was there."

"Go look around again."

Jin-su took the car keys and went down. A bit later he arrived at the apartment they had just left. He dragged his exhausted legs up the twelve flights. The new owners were moving in.

"Excuse me. Have you seen an earthenware pot here?"

They squinted. "A pot? No, we haven't seen it."

Jin-su retreated. And plodded down the twelve flights again. He was suddenly dizzy. The stairs were designed so that each time he went down a flight he made a whole circle. After exactly twelve circles later Jin-su was able to step on firm ground. Assholes. Jin-su kicked a Coke can that was rolling around his feet as hard as he could. The can jetted away, bouncing like a rugby ball, and eventually stopped. Jin-su stood still. There was something where the Coke can was resting. He walked over slowly and bent down. The finely shattered remains of the earthenware pot were scattered about. Picking up a piece, Jin-su slowly straightened up. Then he raised his head and looked up. The ladder installed by the newcomers was soaring above the dirt yellow sky like a magnificent tower. The pot had fallen right under that ladder and had become useless shards. When exactly did it drop? All morning long he had stood next to the banister and his wife had also been only ten meters away from where he found the remains of the pot.

"Something break?" The security guard was standing behind Jin-su.

"Yes, it seems to have broken."

The guard brought a broom. Gaya's relic was easily swept into a trash bag. The guard poured the pottery pieces into the flowerbed and said, "Jeez, I can't open my eyes because of the damned yellow dust."

Jin-su went into the flowerbed, put a piece in his pocket, and started home. On the way back, he thought of his friends who'd told him that moving wasn't a big deal. He also remembered the name of the moving company that advertised, Go on vacation and let us do the moving.

His wife didn't say anything when she saw his face as he stepped into the new apartment. Jin-su wrapped the pottery shard he had salvaged in newspaper and stuffed it in the depths of a desk drawer. A strong dirt smell came from somewhere. It wasn't clear whether it was from the yellow dust that had flown in from the Taklamakan or from the piece of clay pot dragged out of a fifteen-hundred-year-old grave. The one certain thing amid all the unknowable things was that he would be falling asleep in a completely different place from the day before. People called that moving.