The old man didn't want to disturb his son.
So he usually waited for his son to call him.
Once in a while, when he missed him badly, he would call his son himself.
They mostly talked about how his son was doing abroad.
And how his grandchildren were doing.
The old man rarely talked about himself.
Even when his son asked, he would say he was eating and sleeping well, had recently taken up chess, and was in great spirits, so his son didn't need to worry about him.
Hearing how energetic the old man sounded, his son didn't ask any more questions.
His son smiled wryly.
The old man hadn't told him...
Whose fault was it?
His son sighed inwardly.
He smiled at the man who collected scrap.
"I'll take this book of chess games home."
The scrap collector nodded, not at all surprised.
After the unexpected discovery of the chess book, the son and his family searched the old man's house even more carefully.
They didn't overlook even the most out-of-the-way corners.
Unfortunately,
they found nothing else.
They had already gone through the old man's house once during the funeral.
They'd found quite a few of his chess books.
They all looked old, so they'd even taken the time to look them up online.
None of them were worth much.
They had burned them all for the old man.
This chess book had fallen into the gap beside the bed, so they hadn't found it then.
It seemed this was the only valuable chess book.
The son planned to sell it as soon as possible.
He didn't know how to play chess.
There was no point in keeping the book.
They would be going abroad soon.
He didn't have much vacation