At Least Double — 10
"I only thought, look at them putting up marathon promo banners—people will try anything, huh."
I laid out my honest feelings.
"I was also a little surprised to hear Seoktae and Hogyeong were joining the marathon. Until now, I've just been working, resting, and occasionally dabbling in a hobby—I never even considered something like running a marathon."
"Then we'll wait for your answer. But applications are due by this weekend, so you'll have to make up your mind before then."
Hogyeong nodded at Park Seoktae's words and added, "If you say no, I'll have to go sweet-talk other farming school classmates instead."
"Other people?"
Would Hwang Woohyun, born with a silver farming spoon in his mouth, actually run a marathon? Or Lee Heewoon, working as a contract high school teacher?
Like me, neither of them seemed to have given marathons a single thought.
"I can't think of anyone in particular, but we're going to ask around anyway. Realistically, winning would be impossible. There's a good chance we won't even finish."
By my reckoning, whether Seoktae and Hogyeong themselves could go the distance was an open question.
But the two of them announced they'd start training today, brimming with confidence.
"When else would we ever get to run a marathon?" Seoktae said. "Give it a few years of farming and our knees will be shot."
Hogyeong shot him a sidelong glance. "What knees? Anyone listening would think you've been farming for ten years already."
"That's exactly my point—today is the youngest and healthiest we'll ever be."
True to form for a man who'd taken out a government loan to buy land and move to the countryside without knowing the first thing about farming, Park Seoktae had an adventurer's spirit. And apparently he wanted to give his all to every moment.
"Besides, the course runs along the Pyeongcheong River. When do you ever get the chance to run on two legs down a road so restricted you can't even bike on it? That's not exactly an everyday opportunity."
Seoktae's cheeks flushed red, as if he were already out there running.
Things he'd never done in the city—things he probably never would have tried in a lifetime—he seemed hungry to attempt in this place where he'd started fresh.
Hogyeong was no less adventurous by nature, and she threw herself into the cause as well.
"If the team entry falls through, I'm going to run it solo."
"Aw, come on. You can't run alone. It only means something if we run together."
Watching the two of them banter, I couldn't help but chuckle.
"All right. I'll think it over seriously and let you know by Friday."
My heart had already tipped halfway over. Running a marathon with my farming school classmates would surely become a cherished memory.
But my schedule was packed to bursting, and whether I could carve out time to train was anyone's guess.
And having superhuman strength was one thing; running a marathon, which demands endurance, was another matter entirely.
Could I commit to running over an hour every day to build up that stamina? If I could manage it, then entering the marathon didn't sound half bad.
"Hogyeong, can I take a look at the finished designs?"
"Oh, right here."
Hogyeong opened her laptop and showed me the design for the Ugok's Yard website.
"Hold on—why isn't there just one design? All you had to do was develop what we discussed last time, but you made three whole versions?"
"If you succeed, Yunho, the rest of us get pulled up along with you. So I've been racking my brain over every angle."
Hogyeong presented three versions in total and told me to pick whichever I liked best. If none of them pleased me, she'd start over from scratch.
Apparently it worked, because something around my heart went warm and tingly.
I had spare money to launch a business with, and I'd be roasting coffee and turning a profit right away.
Hogyeong, meanwhile, wasn't earning a single won—she was steadily burning through what she had. From what I could tell, her naturally dyed fabrics were only selling to acquaintances out of kindness, recouping little more than the cost of materials.
She was getting by doing freelance web design on the side, making business cards, drawing caricatures.
"You can't just pour unlimited time into my projects like this."
"The soybeans are growing, aren't they?"
Hogyeong smiled brightly. "I'll eat whatever comes out of my garden to get by, and by autumn I'll have made a little money, won't I?"
Seoktae piled on top of her optimism. "The village head said it himself—as long as you farm, you won't starve to death. Everything that grows in your field is food, after all."
"You two are unbelievable!"
I looked back and forth between Hogyeong and Seoktae, then shook my head.
"Carefree doesn't even begin to cover it. Do you have any idea how hard it is to turn a profit selling soybeans?"
The two of them answered my question in turn.
"Of course we know. We learned it at farming school, remember? Because of cheap Chinese soybeans, you're lucky if growing beans doesn't lose you money."
"Paddy soybeans get a government subsidy at least, but field beans get nothing, so you have to carve out your own market."
"And that doesn't worry you?"
Hogyeong broke into a wide smile at my question.
"That's exactly why we need to run the marathon."
"What on earth is that supposed to mean?"
Hogyeong spread out in front of me the materials she'd picked up from the Agricultural Technology Center.
"The country's top rose-growing region is Goyang in Gyeonggi Province. KINTEX holds a flower expo there every year, inviting overseas buyers and exporting roses."
"When they deliver roses, the farms ship together to cut transport costs and boost their price competitiveness."
Hogyeong and Seoktae continued the explanation in tandem.
"It's the same with Haenam cabbage. They share pickling factories, and they share the transport trucks too."
"You survive by sticking together."
I looked at the two of them, who were watching me with dead-serious expressions, and said, "So you're saying we should band together too, huh?"
"Exactly. We don't know yet exactly what working together will look like, but pooling our strength is how we survive."
I had already decided to go into the paste business—doenjang, ganjang, cheonggukjang, the whole lineup. Lady Han Su-ja had even promised to help, so the plan was to build a warehouse-style facility and start operations once the soybean harvest came in.
But what if business went so well that the beans I grew myself weren't enough? Sooner or later, I'd have to buy more from somewhere.
If those beans were grown with care by Hogyeong and Seoktae, I could use them with total peace of mind.
Beans from some other farm I couldn't quite bring myself to trust.
But would my business really take off in its very first year?
I hadn't even made my first meju bricks from the soybeans yet.
Just then—
Zzzt. Zzzt.
My phone vibrated.
"One moment."
It was a call from Seo Jinwoo, so I excused myself from Seoktae and Hogyeong, stood, and walked to the far end of the yard.
"Hello, Jinwoo. I was just reading the article about the movie's release. The director was kind enough to invite me to the VIP premiere, so I'm narrowing down the list of who'll attend with me."
So far, the VIP list consisted of Han Mija's family, Grandma Mak-sun, the village head and his wife, and me and Chai. That was about it.
"Ah, right. Actually, the reason I'm calling today isn't about the premiere—it's about promoting Ugok's Yard."
"Are you planning to keep your promise about promoting it on social media?"
"Of course I'm keeping it. A promise is a promise. For now I only posted about the coffee you gave me, and the response was incredible. So I figured I'd check before placing an order."
Orders were already flooding in?
I swallowed drily. "I'm afraid online sales aren't possible yet—the food sanitation permits haven't come through. The renovation of the empty house for the coffee workshop will be done in a few days, and I've already filed the paperwork for the license, so it should clear right away."
"So I can order starting next week?"
"Ah... I suppose so?"
"There's just one thing—the quantity is a bit large."
The amount Seo Jinwoo rattled off wasn't a bit large. It was enormous.
So this was what putting a celebrity in your ads did.
Thanks to him, orders were already piling up before my coffee business had even launched.
Would it be any different with doenjang or ganjang? Same with cheonggukjang, I'd bet.
I slowly turned my gaze back to Park Seoktae and Hogyeong.
The two of them, who'd been chatting over their grain drinks, caught my eye and waved at me with grins.
Looks like these two are going to end up as my business partners after all.
It would be a stroke of luck for the two baby-chick farmers.
And for me, working alongside good people with laughter in the air—every moment of it promised to be a joy.
"Thank you, Jinwoo."
I offered my gratitude first to Seo Jinwoo, who asked for nothing in return.
"And I'll be opening the website soon, so you won't have to wear yourself out taking orders on my behalf."
"You've built a website already?"
"I have. A very talented web designer made three versions, and I'm reviewing them now."
Seo Jinwoo marveled at my drive and said he couldn't wait for the site to go live.
I chatted with him a little longer, promised to see him at the premiere, and hung up.
"So—where were we?"
When I returned to the wooden platform and asked, Hogyeong answered with a laugh.
"We'd just finished talking about the Goyang rose farms and the Haenam cabbage farms. 'Stick together and survive!' That's where we were."
"Sounds good. Let's stick together. And run the marathon too."
"Woo!"
"Yahoo!"
For some reason, the two of them seemed even more excited about the marathon than about partnering up on soybean farming.
They threw their arms around me and bounced up and down for joy.
"First place is as good as ours!"
"Wah! I'm just so happy!"
Watching the two of them celebrate, my own heart couldn't help but pound along with theirs.
A short while later, I headed straight for the Agricultural Technology Center.
Now that I'd be working with Park Seoktae and Hogyeong instead of just myself, my heart was suddenly in a rush.
Spring soybeans are harvested in August or September.
They have the advantage of coming in a full two months earlier than summer soybeans, but because they drink up moisture, they spoil easily.
That's why our ancestors planted summer beans instead, harvested them in late October or early November, and immediately steamed them to set the meju bricks fermenting.
The trouble was, that schedule could collide with the garlic planting season, leaving the garlic vulnerable to cold damage.
The truth was, I wanted to grow organic garlic on Grandpa Hosik's land and see results quickly.
I couldn't wait to find out what kind of black garlic would come from garlic raised in soil so rich it was called black gold.
And that was exactly why I needed the AI Smart Warehouse.
Dry the spring beans thoroughly, and I could still set meju from them.
As it happened, the director of the Agricultural Technology Center told me I'd come at just the right moment and showed me a catalog.
"The company that makes the AI warehouse slated for this year's agricultural technology expo is recruiting a trial-user program."
"By trial program, you mean they'd lend it out for free?"
"There's a deposit. Transporting and installing the warehouse costs them money, so if someone backs out of the contract on a whim, the company takes the loss."
The deposit was ten million won. In exchange, the warehouse was free to use for two years, and if you chose not to renew, they'd simply haul it away—returning your deposit at that point. The catch: you had to keep a log of the warehouse's strengths and weaknesses and report back to the company on a regular basis. And if you wanted to keep using it after two years, they'd give you the chance to purchase it at a discount.
Drying, fermenting, storage—all of it configurable at the touch of a single button. For anyone who farmed, it was a warehouse you simply had to have.
I'd seen Hwang Woohyun's once and sworn I'd get one for myself someday.
"Still, how many people can just slap down ten million won like that?"
For me, ten million won was no burden at all—but it wouldn't be so easy for everyone else.
I was only suggesting, in the spirit of the thing, that it would be nice if the Agricultural Technology Center could connect people to agricultural cooperative loans—
"Do you need money?"
Two men I'd never seen before walked into the center and asked.