The Perfect Show Window - Chapter 1.1

“Hello? Eunjung?”

—Ah, Huiwon. It’s me.

“What’s up at this hour?”

Huiwon had just finished parking her car in front of her house when she answered her friend’s call and turned off the engine. The time was 8:53 P.M., leaving her only seven minutes before her curfew.

—Huiwon, I heard you’re not coming to the gathering tomorrow. Is that true? Can’t you make it?

Huiwon chuckled, embarrassed by her friend’s question, and Eunjung, knowing the reason behind the laugh, joined in.

“Eunjung, you know I can’t. The gathering starts at 8:30, and I have to be home by 9. How am I supposed to go?”

Yeah, I know. Everyone could only meet at that time, and even if I go straight after work, that’s the earliest I can get there.

“It’s okay, Eunjung. Don’t worry about me. I got the wedding invitation, so I’ll see you on the big day.”

A 9 P.M. curfew meant that Huiwon had to give up more aspects of everyday life than she’d like. But by now, she was so accustomed to this life that she found herself consoling her friend instead.

Hey, I have a favor to ask. Would you catch the bouquet at my wedding?

“The bouquet? Me?”

Two minutes had already passed. It was time for her to head inside. Huiwon stepped out of her car.

“I mean, what’s the point? I’m not even thinking about getting married. Let someone else catch it.”

But you’re the only single one left among my friends. You know I don’t know that many people.

“Oh…”

She picked up her pace, knowing she had to make it inside before 9.

Please, do this for me. I didn’t want to ask, but you’re the only one who can.

“It’s not hard to catch it, I guess… Alright, I’ll do it.”
Really? Thank you so much, Huiwon!

“Okay, I’m heading in now. It’s 8:57. See you on your wedding day.”

Got it! I’ll make the bouquet beautiful and let you know!
Ending the call, Huiwon found herself at her front door, a quiet sigh escaping her lips.

“Everyone’s getting married these days…”

She had just rushed back from dinner with her dance troupe to make curfew. Leaving her half-finished plate behind was no longer surprising to those who knew her routine. The struggle of racing against curfew had become almost heroic in its relentlessness.

There were times, rare as they were, when she didn’t make it home in time, and chaos would erupt in the household.

It was now 8:59 P.M.

“Alright, let’s get inside. I’ve made it.”

8:58 P.M.

“I’m home—.”

Breathless but within the curfew, Huiwon stepped inside. The same familiar scene awaited her:
“Is that you, Huiwon?”

“Yes, Dad.”

Her father sat on the living room sofa watching the news, while her mother sat beside him, reading a book.

“Try to come home a bit earlier. Don’t always push it to exactly 9 o’clock. When’s the last time we all had dinner together?”
Mid-step, her father’s words stopped her.

Sigh…

“Yes, I understand.”

Suppressing a deep frustration with a single breath, she gave a nonchalant reply. Sensing the dryness in her daughter’s voice, her father, Mr. Kwon, shot a glance her way before turning back to the TV.

Kwon Yongtaek, the master of traditional Korean music and a renowned pansori performer, had a legacy that spanned decades. He had served as a university professor and was now the head of the Korean Folk Music Society.

“Did you have dinner?”

Her mother, Im Jeongsun, closed her book and approached. Dressed in her usual hanbok, she was once a promising figure in the world of Korean dance.

“I ate… Well, I left halfway through.”

“Go greet your grandfather and let him know you’re home.”

“Okay.”

With a background steeped in tradition, it was only natural that Huiwon had been exposed to folk music from a young age. She’d tried many art forms before settling on Korean dance.

At the forefront of her legacy was her grandfather, Kwon Nanseop, a living legend and a designated intangible cultural asset in the field of daegeum (a traditional Korean flute).
Standing in front of his study, she knocked softly.

“Grandfather, it’s me.”

“Come in.”

Carefully, she opened the door.

Seated in his white, pristine hanbok, her grandfather looked up from an old, well-worn book, removing his reading glasses.

“Did you have dinner?”

“Yes, I did. I had plans tonight.”

“Try not to eat whatever you find outside. Home-cooked meals are best.”

“Yes, Grandfather.”

This was routine. Such remarks were as commonplace as greetings, and Huiwon responded with practiced calm.

“Alright, I’ll be going now. Rest well, Grandfather.”

“Wait, child.”

“Yes?”

Turning back, she saw her grandfather close his book completely, fixing his gaze on her.

“I received a proposal from an acquaintance about a potential match for you.”

“…Pardon?”

Her eyes blinked in disbelief.

“He’s from a good family with deep roots, well-educated, and currently serves in the government. You should meet him.”

“What does that have to do with me? Why is someone I don’t even know arranging a match for me?”

“They say he’s grown up well and comes from a respectable background. Just meet him and have a meal.”

“Why should I?”

Cluck. Her grandfather clicked his tongue.

In his eyes, his granddaughter, already past what society deemed prime marriage age, was now an “old maid.”

At 32, Huiwon knew there was a gap between society’s judgment and her grandfather’s.

“Are you not planning to get married?”

“No, I’m not.”

“For life?”

“Yes, for life.”

But her grandfather’s real concern was that she genuinely seemed determined to remain unmarried forever.

“Do you not realize that your parents worry themselves sick over this?”

“I’ve gone on blind dates before, as you requested. I told you that would be the last time.”

“Just meet him. No one’s asking you to marry him tomorrow. Just see him, have a meal.”

“I don’t want to share a meal with just anyone. Meals are important.”

“You’re great at dining out. One more meal shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Meeting someone new just makes me anxious.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll prick your finger to help with that.”
“Is getting married and following all these traditions the only way to be filial? I’m fine on my own.”

Annoyance flared as Huiwon’s patience snapped. Her grandfather peered at her over his glasses.