The Fourth Plot of Land
"Wow, this view is incredible!"
Ko Min-seok kept bursting into exclamations as he took in the scenery of the Pyeongcheong River unfolding outside the car window.
Clear water ran alongside the national highway, and across the river rose sheer cliffs. Over eons, the current had carved its way through the mountains, exposing layered strata of sedimentary rock and creating a landscape of breathtaking beauty.
"If you follow the river downstream, there are reed fields. Worth seeing, too."
I calmly offered the explanation while Min-seok pressed himself against the window, drinking it all in.
"There are pottery workshops next to the reed fields, too. According to the master potters, the clay there is so good their work is top-grade."
"Reed fields and artisan workshops! How did I never know a place like this existed?"
"I'd guess it's because when people think of Pyeongcheong County, they think of mountains, not rivers."
I'd been the same way—whenever 'Pyeongcheong County' came up, my mind went straight to Mount Odae.
"These days, though, they've been promoting how beautiful the Pyeongcheong River is, so weekends are absolutely crawling with tourists."
"Makes sense. Scenery like this doesn't come cheap."
"Exactly. That's why there's such a mad rush to develop everything around the river."
While Ugok 1-ri stood at a crossroads of existence, hollowed out by population decline, Ugok 2-ri and 3-ri—cut through by the Pyeongcheong River—were the exact opposite. Cornelian cherry festivals in spring, water sports in summer, silver grass fields in autumn, and even trout fishing in winter. The tourists, I'd heard, never stopped coming, all year round. Guesthouses, restaurants, and cafes thrived, and land prices across the area had climbed steeply.
After listening to my rundown, Min-seok looked at me with a puzzled expression.
"Then why didn't you buy a house around here? I'm sure if you looked hard enough, you could've found a decent place to live on your own."
"It didn't suit me."
"What do you mean, didn't suit you?"
"Something like that."
The headaches, the ringing in my ears. The fact that my spiritual vision had opened. Even with my closest friend, I figured those things were better left unsaid.
I had put down roots in Ugok 1-ri because of a deep, unshakable certainty that it was my place. And that certainty hadn't been wrong—ever since I began living there, all sorts of abilities had bloomed within me. My five senses had sharpened, I'd gained superhuman strength, and I'd developed an eye for true value.
Gifts from the wandering spirits, the Former-Former Village Chief, and the White Porcelain Grandmother. Lately, I found it harder and harder to believe any of it was mere coincidence.
I had a feeling that I had finally arrived where I was meant to be.
For now, I'd filed it away under exactly that.
Someday, the day will come when I understand all of it.
"Here we are. This is where Carpenter Jang is waiting."
I parked in the cafe lot and spotted the carpenter's truck right away.
"Let's go in. Looks like he beat us here."
"Right behind you."
We stepped into the cafe, found Carpenter Jang, and I walked over with a smile.
"We meet again."
"So we do. Haha."
"Hello, sir. My name is Ko Min-seok."
Min-seok pulled out a business card and greeted him with full courtesy.
"So you're the friend Yunho here mentioned. Handsome fellas seem to run in a pack, eh? Hahaha!"
"Careful, he'll get mad if you say that. We're about the same build, sure, but face-wise there's no comparing us to Yunho."
"Oh, shut up."
I gave Min-seok a light thump on the shoulder and motioned for him to sit.
From there, I didn't even need to intervene—Carpenter Jang and Min-seok launched into a discussion of the projects they'd be working on together. Just as I'd expected, they hit it off easily, and more than anything, their approach to home renovation was remarkably similar. Touch the original structure as little as possible, maximize efficiency, and above all, keep the lady of the house happy—on those points, the two men were in perfect agreement.
Carpenter Jang proposed they start working together on the Wonju job first, and Min-seok, naturally, was delighted, promising to give it his all.
This really worked out well.
I gazed out at the Pyeongcheong River beyond the window and took a sip of coffee.
Yep. My coffee, roasted in that iron cauldron lid, really does taste better.
It was only natural. With a nose this sensitive, roasting beans precisely to my own palate was almost effortless.
Down the road, once the soybean farming and the aged doenjang business found their footing, I figured I could run a cafe as a little side venture.
A very long road down.
Right now, I had far too much on my plate already.
I had dropped Min-seok off at the intercity bus terminal and was on my way back to the village when my phone buzzed.
Ziiing, ziiing.
It was Mrs. Han Su-ja.
"Where are you?"
"Just put my friend on the bus—he's the one who brought the furniture over yesterday. I'm headed home now."
"Oh, good timing then. My sister showed up."
"I saw an unfamiliar car parked in front of the village chief's house on my way past."
"That heap? It's got to be twenty years old if it's a day."
Mrs. Han Su-ja let out a long sigh before continuing.
"Things must be bad—really bad. They didn't even need a moving truck, apparently. Showed up with nothing but clothes. Clothes!"
Moo~ moo.
The low bellow of a cow bled through her voice. She seemed to have stepped out to the cattle shed to take the call, careful that her sister might not overhear.
"So what if Carpenter Jang put fresh wallpaper and flooring in the empty house? They've got no blankets, no rice cooker, nothing."
"Sounds like they truly arrived with just the clothes on their backs."
"They closed their restaurant and lived in a construction-site food container, four of them, if you can believe it. Anyway, that's why I'm gathering things here and there to get them set up."
I was beginning to understand why she'd called me separately.
Mrs. Han Su-ja's own household finances were stretched thin. She'd spent a lot on kimchi-making recently, and winter brought in no cash at all. In the growing season, she could take cucumbers, peppers, and perilla leaves from her garden plot to sell at the five-day market—but not in winter.
Blankets and household goods are one thing—she can share those. But for a family of four to get by, they need at least a little living money, and soon.
I'd heard Mrs. Han Mija had two children. New school uniforms to order, plus backpacks, shoes. All of it needed to be bought new before they could settle into school.
Ugok 1-ri had no cliquishness, no native-versus-newcomer nonsense—but I'd heard 2-ri and 3-ri were a different story. The village chief had told me tensions between original residents and newcomers never seemed to die down. And I doubted school would be any different.
If the kids couldn't keep up with uniforms and shoes like everyone else, school life would turn miserable fast.
"I'll pay a few months' salary in advance. That way you can get the kids their uniforms and everything else right away."
The money was no burden to me whatsoever. It was money I'd be paying out eventually anyway—just paid early.
But from the receiving end, it couldn't have been easy on anyone's pride.
"I'm sorry, Yunho. You're between jobs yourself, and here I am making you spend."
"Haha, Association President, that much is pocket change for me."
1.5 billion from the meteorite, 1.2 billion from the white porcelain. Add my early-retirement severance, which I'd been shrewdly investing, and the returns kept rolling in.
Oh, hold on! The porcelain commission!
The 120 million I'd promised Lee Ho-young from the white porcelain sale—had I forgotten to transfer it?
Wait. Was that why he kept calling?
After hanging up with Mrs. Han Su-ja, I texted Lee Ho-young asking for his account details for the commission.
Hm? What's this?
He read my text immediately and replied—with a seagull.
-^^
What is wrong with him? Has he lost his mind?
A man who turns down money being handed to him—clearly not in his right mind.
I stopped briefly in the township center and bought a cake and some bread.
Rather than telling Han Mija a hundred times to take good care of Grandma Mak-sun, buying treats for her children struck me as a far better way to say it.
First impressions matter, after all.
I also wanted to plant an impression in these kids, who'd been driven all the way out to the countryside, that this too was a place where people lived warm, decent lives.
And, well, with them moving in, I'm no longer the youngest one in the village—so call it gratitude.
It was probably the same feeling the village chief had about me. He'd been the village baby until I moved in and forced him to start acting like an elder; now, thanks to these kids, I was about to shed my own role as the youngest.
"Oh my, if it isn't Yunho!"
I parked in front of the village chief's house and stepped into the yard. Mrs. Han Su-ja was doing her level best to pretend our phone call had never happened.
"How'd you time it this perfectly? My sister just arrived. Haha. You must've been driving by, spotted the unfamiliar car, and stopped to check, hmm?"
"Ah—yes, yes, exactly."
When I played along, Mrs. Han Su-ja gave me a grateful squeeze of her eyes—shutting them tight, then opening them again.
"Good to see you. Come say hello. This is my younger sister, Han Mija."
Mrs. Han Su-ja was the eldest of nine siblings; Han Mija was the last-born, fifty years old this year.
Right—the president had said that when she got married and had her second child, that was around when Han Mija was born.
A daughter and a mother giving birth at the same time. Apparently, things like that weren't so rare in the old days.
Not long after, their mother passed away, and Mrs. Han Su-ja had taken her baby sister in and raised her herself.
So to her, Han Mija isn't really a sister—she's more like a daughter.
She had, after all, raised her alongside her own daughter. Maybe that was why she simply couldn't bring herself to look the other way at how hard her sister's life had become.
Still, she looks awfully old to be fifty, doesn't she?
She didn't look like fifty-year-olds these days at all. As though the years had struck her head-on, fine wrinkles crowded Han Mija's face and neck.
"It's so nice to meet you. I've heard so much from my sister—that you're even helping look after a grandmother who isn't blood-related to you at all. It's truly remarkable."
Her hands, clasped together before her, were as rough and weathered as Mrs. Han Su-ja's from a lifetime of farm work. But the eyes that looked at me were soft and gentle.
"I'll do my very best to make sure Grandma feels no discomfort."
"Mak-sun's mind wanders, but she's not the kind to run anyone ragged. Once her dementia deepens, I can't say—but for now."
There was nothing ahead but decline. Perhaps sensing the worry and pity in my heart, Han Mija spoke up.
"Is there any way to make a living in this world that isn't hard? Even so, living near my sister and earning a wage caring for a grandmother who lives alone—I'm honestly so grateful. I'll win her over slowly, making her meals and taking walks with her."
It was exactly the answer I'd hoped for, and it washed away the last lingering trace of my worry, clean as anything.
"Then I'm in your hands from today onward."
"We were already at the village hall anyway, so we brought her back here and gave her a bath with my sister—she's sleeping soundly now."
Hearing that warmed me straight through.
"Thank you."
I bowed deeply, then and there transferred three months' salary into her account.
"I figured you'd need all sorts of things after the move."
"Thank you. Truly."
The advance payment seemed to choke her up; her voice trembled as she bowed her head again and again in thanks.
"Oh, Yunho, you're here!"
Just then, the village chief emerged from the cross-shaped room he said his grandchildren had been sleeping in. A stranger came out with him, and both men had their arms loaded with blanket bundles and piles of winter clothes.
The man was Han Mija's husband. His name was Bang Jeongsoo. Two years older than his wife, he was rail-thin and painfully shy.
After exchanging greetings with Bang Jeongsoo, I asked the village chief, "I don't see the kids around?"
"We sent them to clean the house."
Han Mija answered in his place.
"They're well-raised, running errands for their parents like that. Here, take this over to them."
When I held out the shopping bag of cake and bread, a flicker of bewilderment crossed Han Mija's eyes.
"What's this for?"
"I was a serious bread fiend back in my middle and high school days. You two came to mind, so I picked some up."
"See? What did I tell you about our Yunho? The only thing he's missing is wings. An angel, I say. An angel!"
"If I'm going to be called an angel, shouldn't it at least be Commander Angel?"
The village chief piled it on, singing my praises until I had no choice but to step in.
"Keep this up and I'll end up hauling your luggage for you too. Honestly! There are a hundred ways to work a man to the bone, and you've found them all."
Flustered, I pressed the cake and bread into Han Mija's arms, then took part of the load from Bang Jeongsoo.
I couldn't very well pretend not to see the stick-thin man's legs trembling under the weight.
"I can still c-carry it, really."
"I can't carry watching you, is the problem. The village chief just honored me as Commander Angel—how could I stand around doing nothing?"
And so, draped in the title, I loaded the blankets and winter clothes the chief had packed, the space heater, the basic cookware, and everything else into my car and pitched in with the move.
A short while later—
"This is Bang Seonghyun, the eldest. And this is Bang Seongeun, the youngest of the family."
At the sound of the engine, two children came out of the house to greet us. Bang Jeongsoo introduced me as the nice man who lived in the house up the hill, then named each of the children in turn.
Where's the other kid, though?
The child I'd seen standing in front of the chief's house when I dropped Min-seok off was nowhere in sight.
I tilted my head and asked, "Are these two all of them? Weren't there a girl who looked elementary-school-aged?"