This Is What Culling Looks Like
Go Gi-jin's gaze was terrifying — the look of a man who might devour him whole.
The man wanted nothing more than to look away that instant. But his neck wouldn't move, as if paralysis had seized it. It wasn't only his neck. His entire body had gone rigid, locked so tight he could neither advance nor retreat. All he could do was stare at Go Gi-jin's furious face.
Whether the man reacted or not, Go Gi-jin's rage kept pouring out.
Go Gi-jin pulled out his phone and thrust it at him.
The man, already cowed, flinched in shock. Hard to believe this was the same person who, only moments ago, had been calculating how much more money he could squeeze out of getting punched. His upper body jerked backward — not that it got him anywhere, lying on a hospital bed.
Go Gi-jin's hand shot into his field of vision. His eyes squeezed shut on instinct, and his body went stiff.
But what came wasn't a fist. It was a rough command.
"Look!"
Obeying as if the order were law, the man snapped his eyes open. A photograph filled his vision.
Pigs, fallen into a deep pit, writhing in agony. Too many to count. A living hell... That was the only phrase that came to him.
A groan escaped him as he muttered the words — and then, among all those pigs, his eyes met one. Just one.
Could a pig in a photograph meet a man's gaze?
It was only how the shot had been framed. And yet the illusion took hold: the pig in the picture was pleading with him.
Dark pupils no different from his own. Those pupils were screaming at him to be saved.
Pull me out. I'm so scared. I want to live.
It was trembling because the death coming for it was too terrifying. And underneath, a look steeped in despair. With eyes that held all of it, the pig begged him.
The man stared at the photograph, unable to draw breath. In a picture swallowed by despair, he saw despair.
Why pigs all of a sudden, and not cattle? The words never left his mouth. He didn't even think to pick that fight.
Then a bomb went off over his head.
Go Gi-jin's cry.
Only then did the man let out the breath he'd been holding.
"Huuuuh..."
Go Gi-jin's voice, hollow and raw, pressed on.
"This what we vets did wrong? Why us? What'd we ever do wrong? Did we make this disease? Tell me. Go on, tell me!"
"......"
"We don't want to do this neither! We don't! Who'd want to kill livin' creatures? Everybody out there goin' through this — they all feel the same! Look! They're all cryin'! Cryin', I tell you!"
The people in the photograph. They were wearing protective biosecurity suits and gear — could you even see their faces? And yet in Go Gi-jin's howling eyes, and in the man's as he stared at the photo, the people in the picture looked like they were weeping. That was how harrowing the scene was.
With no answer and nothing to say, the man simply gazed at the photograph like a robot executing a command. I... I had no idea it was this bad...
Foot-and-mouth disease. He'd only ever encountered it on the news. He'd never given it serious thought. Just — oh, a lot of livestock dying, huh. Meat prices gonna go up? That was as far as it went. It hadn't concerned him. It hadn't involved him.
Go Gi-jin's lament continued.
"You ever been out to the site? Have you? You think they don't know? They know! They know they're gonna die!"
A nod. Then another. The man's head bobbed of its own accord, because it was written right there in those eyes — in that pleading pig's eyes. Shit! It's written all over its face that it doesn't want to die, that it's scared — how could you not know? Still staring at the photo, the man clenched his teeth.
"And still the sows gettin' buried with their babies don't make a peep! 'Cause if they cry — if they even scream — their babies'll be even more scared!"
Go Gi-jin was practically howling now. Remembering when he'd been a public veterinary officer on disease-control duty. Remembering the pigs he'd been mobilized to bury — so many he couldn't count, buried and buried again.
"You wouldn't know. How sorry we are when we bury 'em. You'll never know what it's like for us, carryin' that sorry for the rest of our lives."
"......"
"That's why you went and said that kinda thing over one lousy photo. If you'd known, you wouldn't've said it... We wanted to save 'em. Studied day and night 'cause we wanted to save 'em! And then we buried 'em with those same hands! These hands right here!"
Go Gi-jin was so worked up his hands were shaking. Go Panseok, who had been holding that hand, squeezed tighter — put more strength into the grip.
It wasn't a coercive force. It wasn't a father's strength, either, trying to restrain an agitated son. It was the touch of a fellow veterinarian who understood that feeling better than anyone — a grip full of comfort.
"That's why I told you not to be a vet..."
The words just came out. Words he'd kept packed down inside. An old wish a father had always carried, looking at his son — and it slipped out, barely more than a whisper.
But it was a hospital room steeped in silence. Of course the words found Go Gi-jin's ear.
His face crumpled.
"...So that's how it was."
So that's why I got beaten that day.
Go Gi-jin understood his father's heart at last. The world in front of him went hazy. Moisture seemed to well in his already reddened eyes. He spoke as if to himself.
"If nobody does it, what happens to 'em? They're already barely gettin' by — what happens when they get sick?"
"What happens? Director Go and Dr. Go've gotta be the ones to fix 'em, that's what!"
A voice neither of them had heard in this room. Both men turned toward the door at once. Two people were coming in.
One was Manager Baek, who'd stepped out earlier saying he had a call. And the other—
"Ain't that Rancher So?"
"Well if it ain't Rancher So!"
It was the owner of Sodeuljib Ranch.
"I'm late, I reckon. Had to feed the herd and clean up 'fore I came."
"Late? What's late about it? And what's more important than feedin' the herd, huh?"
"That's true. The herd doin' alright?"
"Aye. They're fine. Not a single one with the runs today."
"Good, that's a relief. Nobody showin' other symptoms? Any with gunk in their eyes?"
"Not a one."
The people who'd been radiating such a menacing atmosphere just moments ago were gone. Go Gi-jin, Veterinarian Go Panseok, and the rancher — the three of them talked about the state of the ranch. Assault charges, settlements — none of that mattered as much to them as the health of the cattle.
And while the ranch reports were going back and forth, a comment popped up in the livestream the man had left running.
The chat window that had been quiet until now started scrolling at high speed.
There were plenty of comments asking what Na Seungchan had even done wrong, but the overall mood was on Go Gi-jin's side.
While the pile-on of agreement climbed toward a hundred, a new comment appeared.
As donations poured in, a prophet appeared. In that instant everyone jumped and started backpedaling.
The numbers lined up, and then at some point the chat went quiet.
Instead, people swarmed Kwak Suho's channel.
The subscribers watching Na Seungchan's livestream had actually numbered around three hundred. But when those three hundred spread the word everywhere, the people who saw it flocked to Kwak Suho's channel.
Kwak Suho, however, was not livestreaming. Subscribers left comments on his latest video, saying they wanted to donate to the Go father and son. The impatient ones even flooded Kwak Suho's social media and sent DMs.
The situation had gathered this kind of momentum. Everyone was cheering for the Go father and son. And beyond that, a movement began — people trying to learn what foot-and-mouth disease actually was, what livestock culling actually meant.
Unintended positive influence from Na Seungchan, you could call it?
Either way, Na Seungchan had painted himself into a corner. Because so many people had watched the entire process on his livestream.