My Land Is a Money Cushion - 8

Park Dae-hyung, the village chief of Ugok 1-ri, woke before dawn and slipped out of the room. Though his movements were soundless, Han Su-ja's eyes snapped open at once.

"What time is it?"

Straightening her tousled hair, she hopped out of the room after him. "Why are you up so early? It's not even five yet."

Park Dae-hyung, washing his face at the tap, turned toward her with a wet face. "And what about you?"

"Me? I'm going out to the field early, then heading over to Yoon-ho young man's cafe."

"I've got to go into town and pick up the rice cakes I ordered. One bundle each to wrap."

"Rice cakes?"

"That's right. Mi-ja and I split the cost and ordered them ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠together. It'd feel wrong not to have rice cakes at an opening ceremony."

At that, Park Dae-hyung nodded vigorously. "You've got a point. I never heard anything about Yoon-ho young man ordering rice cakes for his opening."

No matter how meticulous a man he was, this was his first time opening a business. It seemed likely the thought of ordering celebratory rice cakes simply hadn't occurred to him.

Park Dae-hyung stepped up onto the wooden porch. "Want me to drive you there?"

"Seong-hyun's dad said he'd take me. He asked if there was anything he could do to help, too."

"I can see why. He must be so grateful to Yoon-ho young man. A man who couldn't even land a proper job is now drawing a salary every month with bonuses on top, and can look after his kids."

Which was exactly why Park Dae-hyung's own heart was in a rush. There was so much to prepare to welcome the guests coming to the opening of the cafe, Ugok's Yard.

"Well then, off you go. I'll head to the community hall and haul out the parking signs, then help keep order."

"Are we really going to get enough guests to need parking control?"

"Of course! Yoon-ho young man is a popular star."

Park Dae-hyung went on to say that a few days earlier, when he'd visited the county office, the clerk in charge had known the exact opening date of Ugok's Yard.

"I figured, well, he's the civil servant who issued the cafe's business permit, of course he'd know ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the opening date. Turns out I was wrong."

"Then how did he know?"

"I told you. Yoon-ho young man is a popular star."

Park Dae-hyung pulled up the channel the clerk had shown him and held it out for Han Su-ja to see. "Here — this is the channel Yoon-ho young man made himself. And hold on just a second."

He quickly found the Ugok's Yard homepage and showed her that as well. "Look at how many people have applied to rent an empty house here. Over a hundred already. When I checked before bed last night it was fifty."

"A hundred people want to come live in our village?"

"That's what I said."

It had been a village where ghosts lived. Half the houses stood empty, and once the last elderly residents passed away, the village was slated to disappear entirely.

"Good heavens..."

Yet ever since Kim Yoon-ho had moved in, applications to live in Ugok 1-ri had begun trickling in.

"Finally, if things go well, our village might actually get a real women's association."

Han Su-ja had served as the women's association president all by herself, with no association to preside over. Then a while back Han Mi-ja had moved to the village, bringing the membership up to a grand total of two. Even that alone had been enough to make her grateful.

"If we can just get to five members, I'll want for nothing."

"Hmph! What I want is more working-age folks — exactly two more, no more, no less. Count me, Seong-hyun's dad, and Yoon-ho young man — if two more come, that's five right there."

Every autumn, after the harvest was in, the village held an inter-village sports day. Tug-of-war, jegichagi, relay races — the works. But Ugok 1-ri hadn't fielded a team in years. While the young men of Ugok 2-ri took turns winning prizes, they'd gone home having done nothing but clap for them.

"Before I get even one year older, I'd love it if our village won just once. That's all I ask."

Watching the corners of his eyes grow moist, Han Su-ja patted him on the back. "Who knows, we might actually pull it off. Let's each do our very best!"

"That's the spirit! And for that, we need today's opening ceremony to go off without a hitch."

Park Dae-hyung went into the back room and began rummaging for his traffic-volunteer vest and light wand. When had he last worn these? Digging through his memory as he gathered the vest and wand, he shuffled back out to the porch and muttered:

"No need to fix anything elaborate for breakfast. A simple cold cucumber soup over rice will do the trick. Madam President of the Women's Association? Honey? Han Su-ja!"

There was no answer, so Park Dae-hyung poked his head into the empty kitchen. The low folding table stood with its legs folded, propped against the wall.

"Did she already leave for town? Without even fixing me breakfast."

Han Su-ja, who believed skipping a meal was a cardinal sin, had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠gone out without preparing her husband's morning rice. In their entire married life, it had never happened once.

"Well... it is the day of Yoon-ho young man's opening, after all."

The pillar of the village. The face of Ugok 1-ri. The pride of Pyeongcheong County — Kim Yoon-ho's opening ceremony. His head understood it was an important day for the village's future too, but his stomach growled all the same.

"Tsk! I'll just fix it myself. My women's association president has spent her whole life working to keep me fed, after all."

Peeling deodeok, slicing quince, mashing garlic. Pan-frying jeon, drying shiitake mushrooms, blanching mountain greens — he'd done all that without being asked. Just one thing he'd never done: setting his own table. Han Su-ja had always laid it out for him, prompt and perfect. But now she'd gone out without even doing that.

"Fine. Are my hands broken or something? It's food going into my own mouth."

Park Dae-hyung strode into the kitchen.

"What a gorgeous day."

As the sun climbed over the mountain ridge, the fog burned away rapidly and the view opened up wide. I walked to the edge of the yard, stretched, and drew in a deep breath. My head cleared, and my heart thumped hard in my chest.

Honestly, I hadn't slept well. What if no guests showed up? What if they'd carved time out of their lives and traveled all this way, only to be disappointed? Thoughts like that had me tossing and turning all night.

Just dive in and see.

I wanted to be full after the first spoonful, but that was nothing but greed. Whether the cafe thrived or failed was already beyond my control. I had opened a cafe in the countryside in the first place — repaired an abandoned house and started small and simple. Of course, full-grown nishikigoi koi, thick as a man's forearm, glided through the reservoir out front, and wildflowers bloomed riotously across the yard, all of it terribly beautiful. And I was confident that the coffee I roasted myself would taste flawless — roasted to perfection according to the origin and condition of each batch of green beans.

Still, they say you never know how business will go until you lift the lid.

And once word spread that the coffee was excellent and the cafe had real charm, we'd settle in more and more. There might be people who'd never been to Ugok's Yard — but I'd make sure there was no one who'd only come once.

I steadied my heart and went out to the field. Plants that drink in sunlight at midday produce glucose, then spend the night using it to grow their roots, leaves, and fruit.

"Let's see how much the beans have grown."

Thanks to Grandpa Hosik setting up beehives for me, the soybean pods hung heavy and plentiful on every stalk. They'd grown noticeably bigger than the day before, the pods plump and thick with fullness. Left just as they were, the beans would swell and ripen beautifully.

I walked all the way to Mak-sun Halmeoni's field to check on it, then headed home — where two missed calls were waiting. Both from Oh Seung-seo, the younger brother of Oh Joon-seo, the newly elected chief of Ugok 2-ri.

When word got around that I was looking for a full-time employee for the cafe, the person the village head had recommended was Oh Seung-seo. He was four years younger than me and had worked at a game company until recently. He'd even graduated from a game-related program in college — but once he actually got the job, it turned out his supervisor was Chinese.

I already knew plenty of Chinese nationals had been getting hired at Korean game companies lately. I hear it's hard to find work in China, so getting hired in Korea in the first place is the whole goal. But this Chinese manager, eager to look good to the higher-ups, had driven his subordinates brutally hard. Unable to endure the crushing workload, the stress, and the cutthroat office culture, Seung-seo had submitted his resignation and come back down to his hometown a while ago. And it turned out he held a barista certification.

He got it back in college — maybe he was more interested in opening a cafe than in game companies to begin with.

These days he was working part-time at a cafe near the Pyeongcheong River. Whenever the village head happened to drop by that cafe on official business, the young man would greet him with a smile so bright that—

Recommended by the village head, and the younger brother of Oh Joon-seo, the chief of Ugok 2-ri — his background was beyond question. So I'd held a brief interview with him yesterday, liked what I saw, and told him to start right away. If I hadn't been able to hire a full-time employee, the plan was to bring on Kim Sun-rye — Grandfather Sang-jong's wife — as manager instead. Grandma Kim Sun-rye held a barista certification and a health certificate to boot. She had a warm, gracious manner, and her coffee-brewing skills were beyond reproach. But there was no way I could ask a woman in her eighties to work eight-hour shifts — and a cafe manager has to handle opening, closing, and cleanup besides, which meant closer to ten hours a day.

What if she collapsed under it?

And so it was settled: Oh Joon-seo as manager, Grandma Kim Sun-rye on a four-hour part-time shift. For busy stretches, Han Mi-ja and Bang Seong-eun would lend a hand as well.

"Hello, Seung-seo. You did call, yes?"

I dialed Oh Seung-seo right away.

"I was at my old cafe yesterday handling the handover, so I couldn't come help with the opening preparations. I felt terrible about it, so I was wondering if I could come in early today — would that be all right?"

"Of course it would. Thank you for being so thoughtful."

"Not at all. I'm the one who feels lucky to get to work somewhere as lovely as Ugok's Yard."

Saying he'd hurry in, Oh Seung-seo hung up.

"Well then, shall I get ready too?"

I shed the work clothes I'd worn to the field and took a shower. Then I pulled out the dress slacks and dress shirt I'd picked up on a recent trip to the department store. After towel-drying my hair until it was just damp, I worked in some hard wax. Hair done, I added a luxury wristwatch and a fine leather belt.

"Not bad, if I do say so myself."

At least in the looks department, I doubted anyone could find fault. When I finished getting ready and stepped into the living room, No. 1 took one look at me and its eyes went wide.

"Master? Is that really you, Master? Why are you so handsome?"

What are you plotting this time?

As I chuckled and headed for the front door, No. 1 came scrambling after me. "No, really! I'm saying it because you actually look great!"

I let it slide in one ear and out the other. My mind was already at the cafe.

And then—

"It's Yoon-ho!"

"Where? Where?"

"Kyaaaah! He's SO gorgeous."

"What? Is that really him in person?"

Some of the people lining up in front of the cafe were shrieking as if they'd spotted a celebrity.

What's going on? Why are there so many people?

I stopped in my tracks and blinked. When I'd left ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠my house, the area around the reservoir had been perfectly quiet. In just the few minutes it took me to walk up along the stream to this point, the reservoir and the cafe's surroundings had filled with a seething crowd.

The cafe isn't even open yet. What on earth is this?

As I drew closer, a tour bus came into view. And then—

Fweeeeet! The village head, whistle blaring and light wand waving, spotted me and broke into a wide grin. At the far end of the road, a line of cars was winding its way up the village road.