Daniel and Clara
At the request of a president of a small-to-medium enterprise who held chemical patents essential for his New York branch, Daniel came to stay in London for four days and three nights. He took a taxi from the airport and headed to the hotel he had booked in advance.
Whenever he visited London, he always stayed at the S Hotel—the same place his grandfather and father had used as their residence. Standing since the Victorian era, this hotel was situated along the River Thames. Equipped with top-tier dining facilities, including a restaurant run by a world-renowned star chef, it was the perfect venue for formal meals or entertaining guests. He had never stayed at any other hotel in London. Coming here was a habit, a mindless routine, as if he were returning to his own home.
Upon his arrival, the hotel manager came out to greet Daniel warmly. “It has been a long time. How is your father’s health?”
Perhaps it was because of this family-like reception that he always bought goods from the same shops, stayed at the same hotels, and traveled the same routes. Since his grandfather's time, Daniel’s family had been VIPs here, but more than that, they treated Daniel with a sense of trust akin to kinship.
Daniel smiled brightly and greeted the manager. “Thank you. Yes, my father is doing well. He has completely handed over the chemical company affairs to me and is now focusing on real estate with my younger siblings. He finds it much easier and more enjoyable.”
The manager, smiling as if he knew exactly what the father was like, personally escorted Daniel to his room. “Have a comfortable stay. If you need anything at all, please call me directly. You have my number, don’t you?” “Ah... yes. Thank you.”
It was the high-class way of conversing: saying exactly what was necessary with perfect formality, maintaining a precise distance without appearing overly inquisitive. Since childhood, Daniel had often thought that this "family-like" yet high-class communication style was like a theatrical script written by the immense power of money.
He knew that most British people did not particularly like Germans (many still held prejudices due to the lingering scars of World War II). He often wondered what these people—who treated him, Daniel, the son of Hans, with such warmth—actually thought in their hearts about his conservative German father and grandfather.
He remembered the first time he entered this hotel as a child with his mother and father. Back then, the current manager’s father had been the manager. He recalled how they had treated him and his Korean mother strangely, as if "people who didn't belong" had walked in. But the moment his father, Hans, pressed money into the manager’s hand and said, “This is my wife and my son,” their expressions shifted instantly into bright smiles.
He thought then that money possessed a magical power—one that could erase racism, dissolve national conflicts, and bring a semblance of peace to everyone’s hearts.
When he considered that he came into this world because his father, Hans, loved Mi-hee—a Korean woman with neither power nor money—he realized his birth was something almost impossible in the conservative circles of the European high class. His mother, Mi-hee, was an Asian woman, a poor refugee from the Korean War whose roots no one knew.
It was magical to him that love could break through the fake theater of the high class and allow someone like him to be born. Perhaps love was a magical power even greater than money.
Daniel entered his hotel room and began to draw a bath. Naked, as he was when he first emerged from his mother’s womb, he gazed at the London skyline through the window while waiting for the tub to fill. Daniel thought to himself, “Who is my mother...?”
Just then, the phone rang. It was a man, a secretary for the research institute of the New York firm. “The President has made a reservation at the hotel restaurant for 12:00 PM tomorrow. Please join her for lunch.”
After a long bath with a glass of whiskey in hand, Daniel retreated to bed and slept deeply, like a child, until around 10:00 AM the next day. If his German secretary hadn't called, he felt he might have slept forever.
After a long call with his secretary discussing the mountain of work waiting for him back in Germany, he went down to the hotel cafe for coffee. The cafe was crowded with people chatting over their drinks.
At that moment, a beautiful young woman, appearing to be in her late twenties, approached him. As she drew near, an indescribable, mysterious, and vibrant scent of peaches wafted from her. It was a fragrance he had never experienced before—mysterious and subtle, yet leaving a strong lingering trail that felt almost intoxicating. It was a peach scent that relaxed one’s tension unknowingly, possessing a hypnotic quality—neither too sweet nor too tart—that allowed one to feel the deep scent of oakmoss deep in the throat.
“Are you Daniel von Klitzing? The President of Klitzing Chemie AG?” “Ah, yes.”
The woman offered her hand with a mysterious smile. She spoke brightly with a strong New York accent. “I’m Clara, CEO of Fitzgerald Science.”
Daniel was taken aback; he had never imagined that the head of the New York chemical firm would be such a young woman. He was so stunned by Clara’s magically beautiful smile that he was lost for words. Because a male secretary had always called, he had assumed the President of Fitzgerald would be a middle-aged man. Furthermore, since the person was a scientist who had developed European patented technology, he had unconsciously expected a man. Seeing this beautiful woman smiling and introducing herself as the CEO made him feel as though he were being pranked.
“Ah... your secretary always called, so I assumed you were a gentleman.” Clara laughed. “I suppose you couldn’t imagine that the person behind the latest chemical patents would be a woman.”
Daniel felt like a Neanderthal man who had just emerged from a cave. Clara noticed and said, “Yes, I heard you were quite conservative.”
Despite her sharp New York accent, Daniel felt an odd sense of familiarity with her. As if she had sensed even that, Clara continued. “My grandmother is also Korean. I did a little background check on you, Mr. Daniel, and saw that your mother is Korean. My grandmother followed a priest from the Missionary Society of St. Columban during the war, bringing my mother—who was just a baby then—to England. Later, my grandmother, the Irish priest, and my mother settled in New York. My grandmother was a widow of the Korean War... and my mother was the daughter of my grandmother and a Japanese policeman. We’re the protagonists of a cliché Korean War tragedy. Eventually, that Irish priest somehow became my grandfather. My mother was the one who first founded the chemical company... I guess I’ve just laid out a hundred years of family genealogy. Anyway, the important thing is... my grandmother was Korean.”
There was something else peculiar about Clara’s English. Her voice seemed to exist in a frequency different from ordinary people; listening to it felt hypnotic, as if the story were unfolding clearly in his mind like a film. Her voice was soft, mixed with a gentle breathiness, sounding like a lullaby used to hush a baby to sleep.
“I see. I believe my mother also left Korea during the war,” Daniel replied. “Join me for lunch at 12:00. I truly hope the deal goes well so we can work together,” Clara said with a mysterious, enchanting smile.
After saying this, she reached out for a handshake and then vanished. Feeling the warmth of her hand, Daniel thought about her story. An adoptive grandfather who was an Irish Catholic priest sent to Korea during the war; a grandmother who was a Korean war widow; and a biological grandfather who was Japanese...
Such things happened countless times in Korea, a nation that suffered a civil war and political division following World War II. In fact, it wasn't just Korea; it was a reflection of the chaotic changes the whole world underwent after the war.
Daniel thought of Clara—so young, entirely without pretense, and glowing like a Hollywood star. “Is she really the CEO of a biochemical genetic engineering firm?” he muttered to himself.
The view of London through the hotel window was magnificent. He considered how, only eighty years ago in 1940, over 43,000 people in this city were killed by Nazi German attacks, half of whom were civilians. That was when Daniel’s father, Hans, was eight years old. Daniel’s grandfather, Johann, had been an aristocrat who resisted the Nazi party.
Nevertheless, when Hans fell in love with a Korean woman and Daniel was born, his grandparents could not accept this love. Political power, economic power, nationalism, and racism... what is the ultimate purpose of humanity’s endless, contradictory, self-centered struggles? Daniel fell into deep thought about what destination they were all heading toward.
Daniel walked out of the hotel and strolled toward Bond Street, where many famous commercial galleries are located. Memories of walking through Insadong in Seoul resurfaced. Wherever there was art, he felt the energy of artists, the energy of life, the energy of creation... and the warm love of his mother, which felt like magic. After browsing several galleries, he returned to the hotel for his 12:00 PM lunch date with Clara.
Dressed in a light suit, he went to the hotel restaurant. Clara was already seated, diligently recording something in a small electronic organizer. Daniel approached and sat down. “Oh... you’re here. Excuse me for just a moment. I need to finish this calculation.” Clara gave him a brief nod and continued her work. Feeling awkward, Daniel took a sip of the water placed before him. After working in silence, she closed the organizer, looked Daniel in the face, and said, “You’re ten minutes early. I’ve been sitting here for ten minutes trying to adjust my schedule. I’m sorry.”
She smiled brightly again. He thought that no one could ever say anything disagreeable to that radiant face. “I’ll get straight to the point. If Fitzgerald and von Klitzing merge and utilize my new bio-technology chemical patents, we could grow into the largest company not just in Europe, but in the world.”
Daniel was a man educated in a traditionally conservative German household. He had a brain trained to approach core issues logically and create solutions, a product of a rational upbringing. Yet, he was also a man whose heart—the emotional, human-centric heart of his Korean artist mother—beat in the center of his chest. “Miss Clara, why do you think it is so important to introduce this new technology to my company?”
Suddenly, a mysterious smile, as if originating from another dimension, appeared on Clara’s lips. “Because, like my Korean grandmother, I have the ability to see the future.”
Daniel was flustered by this eccentric remark. In a meeting about a merger between two cutting-edge tech firms, the words of this young woman claiming to have supernatural powers sounded like a joke. Seeing his expression, Clara continued.
“More than anything, my new technology is what humanity needs most right now. You sense it too, don’t you... that we don’t know where or how a virus might attack humans next. Daniel, you also anticipate that the era of conflict between races, nations, and ideologies is shifting into an era of competition over technology. Humanity’s enemy will be invisible viruses and bacteria. Like my Korean grandmother, I can see the future. You must merge with me.”
“Did your Korean grandmother have the ability to see the future?” “Ah... yes. My grandmother was what Koreans call a 'God-descended person,' a Shaman (Mudang). Not only could she see the future, but she also survived seven brushes with death. She could control the temperature of objects, hypnotize people, talk to animals, and even emit ultrasonic noises that could knock birds out of the sky.”
“As a scientist, do you believe in such things?” “I believe in them because I am a scientist,” Clara replied with a seductive and confident laugh.
“If you use Fitzgerald’s functional textiles and biomaterials engineering to produce fabrics or food containers, you will achieve great success with substances that aid human immunity. Within two or three years, all of humanity will face a massive attack from a virus.”
Recalling a scene from a ridiculous Hollywood movie, Daniel said, “That sounds like science fiction.” Clara looked Daniel straight in the eye, as if offended, and said, “It’s a bit chilly; shall I warm up your water for you?” The glass Daniel was holding contained room-temperature water. “Pardon?”
Suddenly, the temperature of the water in Daniel’s hand began to rise. Stunned, he let go of the glass. “How... what... no way...” Clara smiled broadly. “If you ask me to explain this phenomenon scientifically right now, I cannot explain it in any language of this world. But this is one of the inexplicable supernatural powers I inherited from my Korean grandmother.”
Daniel was too dazed to know how to respond. “I also have the power to make people fall in love or become obsessed with a single thought.” Daniel, looking at her as if he had lost his soul, said, “Am I under that spell too?” Clara stared at him with a gaze that seemed to pierce through his face. “Do you feel like you are?” She laughed playfully while chewing on a shrimp appetizer. Daniel asked in a frightened voice, “Did you cast a spell?” Clara laughed out loud. “I haven't cast it yet...” Daniel suddenly burst into laughter as well. “I thought I was under one.”
With the excitement and fluttering heart of a young boy watching a sci-fi movie, Daniel asked, “If you cast a love spell, one could live a lifetime of love... It’s a spell that would eliminate unrequited love from this world.” Daniel, who had spent his life unable to escape unrequited love, spoke half-jokingly and half-seriously.
Clara put down her fork and wiped her mouth with a napkin. “The one thing in this world that can never be achieved through effort, power, or money is a heart that loves. A spell that forces someone to love you is a very dangerous one. My grandmother told me that the law of Korean Shamans was to never cast such a spell recklessly. She said if you did cast it out of absolute necessity, you must cast a counter-spell to break it as soon as possible.”
“If I chanted that spell, would women fall under its magic too?” he asked seriously, like a student in a science class. “If you had such a power, would you still be single?”
Daniel adjusted his posture in his chair. “I’ve never even met a woman I wanted to put under a spell. I’ve spent twenty years frantically managing my father’s company to fit the new era. One day I looked in the mirror and saw that I already had gray hair. I was about your age, Clara, when I took over my father’s company and began managing it.”
“I am twenty-nine. I graduated from MIT at nineteen and spent ten years building my research team and company.” “That is truly impressive.”
At Daniel’s unexpected compliment, Clara spoke humbly. “My adoptive grandfather, Fitzgerald, came from a family of Irish Catholic priests, and many of them are prominent figures settled in New York. They helped me greatly in my education and in founding the company. My mother also married an American of Irish descent. People who headed to America due to war or famine in previous generations did everything as if their lives depended on it. Most people who built America have such a fierce past.”
Daniel gazed at Clara. He thought it was strange how the descendants of people who fled the Korean War had become, in one case, German, and in the other, Irish-American. “What other magic can you do?” Daniel asked, still looking at her like a boy in a sci-fi movie. “The magic of merging with a company I definitely like.”
The two finished their meal and stood up. Clara, smiling like a fairy, gave Daniel a kiss on both cheeks in greeting. Daniel parted from Clara, thinking to himself that he had, indeed, fallen under a spell.