If you walk down Jongno Street, you’ll often see people who set up small tents on the sidewalk and tell fortunes. Unlike in the past, now you can even see people doing fortune-telling in front of a computer. Customers come and go constantly. Even in today’s world, where life seems comfortable, it seems there are still many people feeling frustrated.
There’s a fortune-teller named Gong Hye-ryeon, whom I’ve known for a long time. She used to look like the quick, sharp heroine from Chinese movies, as her name suggested. Now, in her late forties, she’s become a little chubbier and more dignified, which suits her profession well.
Ms. Gong was born into a poor family in a rural area of Jeollanam-do, with one son and seven daughters. She lost her father at a young age, and after finishing elementary school, she moved to Seoul, where she struggled to find a stable job, moving from one sewing factory to another.
I first saw her delivering newspapers on the way to Namsan. It was early in the morning, yet she had done her makeup so beautifully that I, still looking messy from just waking up, felt embarrassed and tried to pass by unnoticed. But she greeted me first with a bright smile.
After finishing her newspaper deliveries, she moved on to delivering yogurt and worked as a domestic helper without rest. She used the money she saved to open a sewing factory with her husband, whom she met at the factory, but eventually, the business failed. Her husband, burdened by debt, disappeared, leaving behind two sons. She raised her sons while also taking care of her paralyzed mother. In her spare time, she attended night school to get her middle and high school diplomas, and eventually, she enrolled in the Department of Destiny Studies at Dongguk University.
She also learned Chinese characters and gradually became known for doing small readings for people. Eventually, she opened her own fortune-telling business called "Hye-ryeon’s Love." The word spread, and people came. The phone never stops ringing with requests. Once someone becomes a customer, even small follow-up questions are answered for free, like a sort of aftercare service.
She was a quiet and shy person, but due to the nature of her job, she has learned a lot and now speaks confidently. Every time I see her in Seoul, I’m amazed at how much she’s changed. It’s clear that her efforts have paid off. At some point, people began to refer to her as "Ms. Gong."
One day, she reads my palm. Her thumb was lost when she was working in the sewing factory as a child, and her middle finger was poorly reattached after being cut off, leaving it with a strange appearance. As she tells me my fortune, I can’t help but keep staring at her odd fingers.
“Are you curious about your own fortune, Ms. Gong?” I ask her.
“I’ll tell you if you give me a generous tip,” she replies, smiling.
She gave me a look that said I was being annoying, since I wasn’t interested in my fortune.
I genuinely hope she lives a happy life. She deserves it more than anyone else.
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