My Land Is a Money Cushion – 12
Bang!
At the signal announcing the start, the marathon runners surged forward all at once.
Not everyone out there was running to win like the Agricultural Cooperative team, the trio of villains, or our farmer-newcomer team.
In fact, far more people had come simply to make memories while running along the Pyeongcheong River.
And it was no wonder—the road they would normally have had to drive past was closed to traffic for the entire day.
They would get to run while taking in the breathtaking scenery of the Pyeongcheong River.
Children and fathers, husbands and wives, even the elderly—people of every age ran with joyful expressions, laughing and chattering as they went.
I fell into rhythm with Choi Hogyeong and Park Seoktae.
But Park Seoktae opened his mouth almost immediately, looking like a man about to die.
"Now that I'm actually running, I get it."
"Get what?"
"That this is really going to kill me. Look, you can already see heat haze rising off the asphalt."
I burst out laughing at his words.
"What do you mean, Gangwon Province in July is hot? Seoul is a literal fire hell right now. It's like breathing through a clogged straw, I swear."
"Well, I'm the one breathing through a clogged straw here!"
"You're supposed to breathe from your belly."
Only then did Park Seoktae realize he'd been breathing through his mouth the whole time, and let out a strangled laugh of despair. I just shook my head at the sight of him.
"This is a problem. Our Seoktae already looks worn out, and we've barely started."
"I'm fine! I'm just nervous still. Don't you worry about me."
Choi Hogyeong drew up close beside me as she ran.
"I'll drag Seoktae along one way or another. You ignore us and start your strategy, Yoonho."
"Will do. You're responsible for bringing Seoktae to the finish line, got it?"
"I'll carry Hogyeong on my back if I have to!"
Park Seoktae hollered jokingly.
"That's the spirit—keep that up all the way to the end. All right, I'm off!"
I picked up speed and broke away.
Today's strategy was simple: I would charge out at a blistering pace.
Runners with a competitive streak would chase me down and form the lead group.
A marathon is a battle against yourself, and once you lost your own pace chasing someone else, your stamina drained fast and you were doomed to fall behind.
The plan was for Choi Hogyeong and Park Seoktae to run at their own steady rhythm and cross the finish line comfortably.
I shot forward at full throttle.
The wind brushed past my ears, and I could feel my heart pounding as blood raced through my entire body, vivid and electric.
It feels like I'm checking, once again, that I'm truly alive.
Even the burning in the front of my thighs and the faint ache in my calves felt good.
Was I running too fast?
Zing, zing!
My lungs swelled, my throat went raw—and whether the pain had released a flood of adrenaline or not, I tumbled into a state of maddening exhilaration.
"This feeling—it's incredible!"
I ran like a racehorse. It was a insane pace.
The edges of my vision blurred until it was like running through a tunnel, seeing nothing but what lay ahead.
The scenery around me lost its color and faded to a smear, and only the road in front stayed razor-sharp in my eyes.
Focused on nothing but the sound of my own footsteps, the rhythm of my breathing, the drumbeat of my heart audible only to me, I kept sprinting at full power.
At some point, there was not a single runner ahead of me.
So this is what perfect freedom feels like?
I lifted my chin, gazed down the wide-open road along the Pyeongcheong River, and smiled at the tingling thrill of it all.
"That insane son of a—!"
Casting everything else aside, Son Guchul had made up his mind: today, one way or another, he was going to break one of Kim Yunho's legs.
Going to pick up his race bib and wiping out in front of a crowd, then becoming a laughingstock because of it—it was all Kim Yunho's fault, and he nursed the grudge like a wound.
And yet.
"Hahh, damn it... Aaargh!"
He couldn't even keep Kim Yunho in sight, the man had torn off at a terrifying pace from the very beginning. Sweat poured down like rain, stinging his eyes.
He grabbed a bottle of water from the volunteers and dumped it over his head, but far from snapping him awake, his soaked hair only seemed to weigh him down further.
"Aaargh! Ahhhck!"
His legs were already giving out. Lee Doshin, the owner of Pyeongcheong Napoli, who had just overtaken the wobbling Son Guchul, grimaced in disgust.
"What happened to 'I'm taking the lead, watch me'?"
"Hyung-nim, I tripped on my way to grab my race bib right before the start, so—"
"Damn it, did I trip you?"
"No, but you could at least let a man finish—"
"Nothing worth listening to, that's why. Is there a single thing you do right? You were supposed to carry the team, and look at you. Chairman Choi, this one smokes and drinks so much he can't even run. Tch."
Lee Doshin had entered both the individual and team races, so he simply abandoned Son Guchul and ran on.
Since a team prize seemed out of reach, he'd set his sights on the individual event instead.
But then—
"Is that punk on something?"
Watching Kim Yunho far ahead in the distance, Lee Doshin felt the strength draining from his legs.
No matter how hard he ran himself to death, it seemed hopeless to catch up.
People cursed me for being a rolling stone that shoved the settled stone out of its place...
But Kim Yunho was the boulder that had come rolling in. He'd moved to Ugok-ri just last autumn, and he was already becoming the absolute power in this area.
Anxiety etched itself across Lee Doshin's face as he began to push his speed.
Even if he couldn't beat Kim Yunho outright, he'd stay glued to his back and use him as a windbreak.
A slipstream.
The runner at the front bears the brunt of the air resistance.
The runner just behind, shielded from both the drag and the wind, expends far less effort.
Hoping to exploit exactly that principle, Lee Doshin wrecked his own pace and sprinted at full power.
Completely unaware that this was precisely what Kim Yunho was banking on—that this was the whole strategy for the day.
The finish line finally came into view.
One lap around the track at Pyeongcheong Stadium, cross the line, and the marathon would be complete.
Surprisingly, a large crowd had gathered here to wait.
"Wooow! Pyeongcheong County's PR Ambassador is in first place!"
"Unbelievable, seriously!"
"That time is incredible! Shouldn't he be going to the Olympics?"
Let's not go that far.
I had more than enough on my plate already—when would I possibly train for the Olympics?
I deliberately eased off, even putting on a show of being slightly winded, and raised both arms high as I crossed the finish line.
At that moment, the clang of a gong and a sogo drum rang out.
The Village Head and Madam Han Suja, who had leapt up from the stands, were beating a gong and small drum they'd dug up from somewhere.
"Young man Yoonho! Goodness, hooray! Hooray!"
"Oh my, I could cry. Who'd have thought I'd live to see our village produce a marathon champion!"
I hadn't imagined for a second that the whole village would come out to cheer for me.
"Magnificent! Simply the best!"
Grandma Maksun sprang to her feet and danced a lively jig on the spot.
And Mrs. Han Mija, sitting beside her, didn't make the slightest move to stop her.
"Haha. Everyone came out, I see?"
The only person who'd known I was running was Oh Seungseo.
When the Village Head had dropped by the cafe asking if there was anything he could help with, Seungseo must have let the marathon slip.
"You all must be busy."
Crossing my arms in a wide stretch, I waved toward the Village Head and Madam Han Suja with their gong and drum, and toward Grandma Maksun and Mrs. Han Mija.
"Don't leave yet—wait for me, and I'll buy everyone something delicious."
"I'll buy it, I will! The Village Head's treating everyone!"
"Haha. Yes, sir."
After running for so long, my calves throbbed and my sides ached—but even that registered as a pleasant sort of pressure.
Wasn't this exactly what made life fun? What made it a joy?
"Congratulations, bib number 1441. You've won."
The marshal confirmed my race number and offered congratulations, then took my photo for me.
"Actually, I'm a team-race participant. My teammates haven't come in yet, so I don't think I can claim the win just yet."
"Huh? No, you're—"
The marshal checked the paperwork and showed it to me.
"See for yourself—you registered for both the individual and team events."
Choi Hogyeong had said she was signing us up for the team race, but apparently she'd entered me in the individual one too.
"If your team members run well, you could very well end up winning in both categories."
Hogyeong was an unexpectedly strong distance runner, so she was no concern—but could Park Seoktae actually finish?
Either way, I'd kept my promise to my farming school classmates and made some memories while I was at it.
That's what counts. It was a thoroughly enjoyable experience.
I had a feeling that if nothing unusual came up, I'd be back for the Pyeongcheong Marathon next year. That's how good I felt.
"You finished so quickly that you'll have to wait a bit. Since your first-place finish in the individual race is already confirmed, please head over to the winners' area."
"Of course."
I followed the marshal into the tent—and there was Governor Na Jeonghwan, already waiting inside.
"Yoonho! Good to see you. You've finished the marathon already?"
"First place in the individual race."
At the marshal's words, Na Jeonghwan burst out laughing.
"Honestly, Yoonho, is there anything you can't do? Haha—if I'd known, I'd have had our county PR team broadcast the whole race live."
That would have been a disaster. A live broadcast, of all things.
I'd never been more grateful that Hogyeong had registered me without telling me.
"Just hearing you say that... haha. I'm breaking out in a cold sweat."
I delivered a serious message dressed up as a joke. Na Jeonghwan caught the bone buried in my words and answered with a smile still on his face.
"You're worried people might say our county gives Kim Yunho too much special treatment, is that it? Well—frankly, it would be true. I couldn't help giving you special treatment even if I wanted to."
Na Jeonghwan gestured to the seat beside him, inviting me to sit.
Then, after even telling his aide to prepare a drink for me, he went on.
"Do you remember what you said to me last time? That the funding for the future civil engineering project behind the planned Yeongcheon Theme Park had been funneled into Seongdo Construction."
"I did say that, yes."
"The company financing Seongdo Construction is SD Financial, and that company holds the bonds for Ugok 5-ri."
"That's right."
I nodded along, then spoke.
"It seems you've looked into the money flow."
"The moment I heard your words, I mobilized my aides and the staff of the relevant departments to dig through documents more than thirty years old."
"That must have been quite an ordeal."
It was a courtesy remark, nothing more.
In truth, with Jeong Suhwan, the CEO of Seongdo Construction, dead and even Cho Eunsun sealed away inside the barrier for all eternity, I'd considered the matter closed.
But then—
"Back then, the future civil engineering firm received a free lease on land owned by our Pyeongcheong County in order to build the highway."
"Is that even possible?"
"Of course it isn't. From what I can tell, the county executive at the time handed over county-owned land for free at the demand of Joo Changnam, who was a National Assembly member."
Na Jeonghwan paused there and looked straight at me.
"SD Financial has been collecting the highway tolls. For thirty years. Counting only the stretch passing through Pyeongcheong County, that amounts to billions of won."
"So you intend to claw it back?"
"Not in money. I intend to take it back in land. I'm going to take Ugok 5-ri away from them."
But I had already won the auction for the land around the old Chinese restaurant and the five surrounding parcels.
What would become of that?
Na Jeonghwan, reading the thought straight off my face, spoke up.
"As I told you before—I'm going to pour the budget into Ugok 5-ri and build something there, anything, and bring it back to life. An artists' village would be lovely, or it could become a riverside tourist destination. There's a hill with a sweeping view of the Pyeongcheong River, after all."
He studied me for a moment after finishing, then broke into a warm smile.
"Which means, Yoonho, you've gone and staked a claim on the crown-jewel land in a district the county is actively trying to develop."
"Ah, so you'd call it land-squatting?"
"Well, I'm hardly going to force you to sell cheap. And if our county does manage to take Ugok 5-ri back from SD Financial, that will be entirely thanks to you."