Side-Hustle Windfall (8)
The day the mountain trout festival drew to a close, I got a call about an awards ceremony and headed over to Ugok 2-ri.
"Welcome, our PR Ambassador! Hahaha, you have no idea how much I laughed when I saw the list of festival winners. Hahaha."
Governor Na Jeong-hwan had arrived early, and greeted me warmly the moment he spotted me.
"First place at the trout festival going to our very own PR Ambassador! Anyone who didn't know better would think the whole thing was rigged. It's quite a predicament, really. I suppose I'll just have to publicize even harder that it was nothing of the sort."
"Tell me about it. I only stopped by briefly because I wanted to see what a mountain trout actually looked like. Talk about a stroke of luck."
At my words, Na Jeong-hwan smiled.
"I only hope good fortune keeps finding you from here on. Honestly, as long as our PR Ambassador settles down happily in the countryside, I couldn't ask for anything more. Haha."
He already knew that our village had joined the Binjip Project, the government's abandoned-house regeneration program.
"It's a little unfortunate that you didn't apply for the solar farm project, but Ugok 1-ri is designated as an at-risk zone for population decline, so I think the vacant house program was a wise choice all the same."
"More than half the houses in our village are abandoned, so it's a serious problem."
With no one's hands tending them, the houses bred rats and insects, and there was no telling when one might collapse. It was unnerving — a chain of collapses could easily follow. If a neighboring house caved in and crashed onto one that was still occupied, someone could be hurt, or worse.
Na Jeong-hwan looked at me and spoke.
"If you can conduct a survey of the vacant houses and obtain waivers of ownership from the heirs, the county plans to cover the repair costs."
Most of those empty houses had been left behind by elderly residents who had passed away. Ownership had long since passed to their children or siblings. The trouble arose when a family had three children and one of them had vanished without a trace — or when the children themselves had already left this world. In those cases, ownership simply hung suspended in midair. For a county office clerk to untangle each and every one of those situations was next to impossible.
And it wasn't as though Ugok 1-ri was the only village overflowing with empty houses.
So that's why he's bringing up the ownership waivers to me.
He was hoping that sharp, capable me would work with the village head to track down the owners and collect signed waivers. After all, if no one remained to assert a claim, the village could tear a house down or renovate it as it pleased.
"I've already discussed the matter with the village head, and I've come up with quite a few good ideas. I believe we can secure the ownership waivers fairly soon."
"Is that so? I take it the ideas are yours, Ambassador?"
"Ah, yes."
It wasn't as though they were anything brilliant. If money was on the table, the heirs would come calling on their own — so I planned to offer to buy the houses outright.
Of course, that money would be coming out of my own pocket. Why would I spend money on something so pointless, you ask?
Hardly.
How could one abandoned house be stuffed with that many antiques? And every last one of them was worth money.
Teapots and rice bowls from the seventies, rotary-dial telephones, high-end furniture that had somehow survived the decades — and mother-of-pearl inlaid chests leaning drunkenly to one side...
According to Lee Ho-young, there were plenty of people desperate to get their hands on things like that. Painters and sculptors, film prop masters — to them, such old objects were must-buy items even at a premium. And if luck was on my side, I might even unearth a piece of Joseon-era porcelain like the jar the White Porcelain Grandmother lived in.
I would sell whatever old treasures the empty houses held, take ownership of the houses themselves, renovate them, and rent them out as chon-cance Airbnbs.
Once everyone's gone, I want to either tear down or repair every single eyesore of an abandoned house, once and for all.
When I told Na Jeong-hwan that I intended to buy the vacant houses dirt cheap and renovate them with government subsidies, he seemed somewhat taken aback.
"Won't that be far too much of a burden for you? It's not as though you've won the lottery."
Actually, I've had a windfall equal to winning the lottery about five times over — but that wasn't exactly something I could say out loud.
I smiled and answered instead.
"I hear that from next year, a ten-million-won fine will be imposed on anyone who leaves a house abandoned. That'll probably be what pushes a lot of the owners to give up their claims."
"That's precisely what we're hoping for. If you won't live in it and you won't sell it, what exactly are you holding onto it for?"
Perhaps grateful that I was pouring my own money into the vacant house renovation effort, Na Jeong-hwan grasped my hand firmly.
"A project that's been stuck in the mud for years, and now our PR Ambassador is leading the charge. I'm genuinely moved. Thank you, truly."
"I'll do my best. Please give me all the help you can."
"Of course. Whatever lies within my power, I'll support you every step of the way. Haha."
Just then, a middle-aged couple lifted the flap of the tent we were using as a waiting room and stepped inside.
"Governor, sir! Thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to attend."
The man — a middle-aged fellow with a buzz cut, a belly protruding over his belt, and a gold bracelet glinting on his wrist — extended his hand to Na Jeong-hwan for a handshake.
"Well, of course I had to come. Though I hear the village head has been going through quite an ordeal lately."
The village head? Ah, so this must be the chief of Ugok 2-ri.
I glanced at the woman standing right beside him — tightly permed long hair, a purple hiking jacket. What would you call that face? Long, with a heavily developed lower jaw that made her look ferocious.
That had to be Gil Sang-hui, Han Su-ja's great rival.
I'd watched her needle Mrs. Han Su-ja into a temper more than once, until it ended in shouting matches.
After introducing the two of them to me, Na Jeong-hwan carried on with the conversation.
"The village head needs to be looking for ways to defuse the conflict, not siding with the Cheonligyo cult. The residents' complaints are coming in like a downpour."
"If some people are going to block the right-of-way and ignore their own village head, what am I supposed to do about it?"
When the Ugok 2-ri chief raised his voice, a crowd of young men poured into the tent, taking turns to protest.
"Mr. Village Head, do you have any idea where you are? What exactly did you ever do to help with this festival?"
"Cheonligyo cult, Myeongnigyo cult, whatever — did they stop sending you money? Why are you kicking up a fuss here?"
"Oh, enough! Get lost!"
The Ugok 2-ri chief wasn't about to back down gracefully either.
"I was the one who started this trout festival in the first place! I'm the one who made Ugok 2-ri as prosperous as it is, and you're trying to steal my seat from under me?"
"Look at this, everyone. He's demanding we thank him?"
Sensing a brawl about to break out, the governor's aides rushed in to pull the two sides apart.
Na Jeong-hwan pressed a hand to his forehead as if his head was throbbing, and when his eyes met mine, he wore a rueful expression.
"I'm sorry you had to witness that. Not every village is as peaceful as Ugok 1-ri."
"Wherever people live together, it's much the same."
"Still... our ancestors handed us a paradise, a natural setting we never had to fight for. I honestly can't understand it. It just makes me sad."
With the breathtaking scenery of the Pyeongcheong River and the slopes of Mount Odae at their doorstep, they could live comfortably if only they'd work together.
"I suppose I'll have to try harder."
Na Jeong-hwan urged the emcee to hurry up and begin the awards ceremony.
Sooner or later, Ugok 2-ri is going to erupt into a truly massive fight. I can feel it in the air.
"And now, let the awards ceremony begin! The honorable first-place winner of the Mountain Trout Festival is — Mr. Kim Yunho of Ugok 1-ri!"
"Waaaaah!"
The residents of Ugok 2-ri who had worked themselves to the bone preparing the festival, along with visitors from neighboring towns who'd come to see a famous trot singer perform, all broke into applause for me.
Feeling a bit embarrassed, I climbed onto the stage and accepted the first-place prize.
And then —
Wait, wasn't this supposed to be a golden turtle?
Apparently gold prices were so steep that it was valued at around five million won.
This looks more like a golden frog. A frog the size of a tree frog, at that.
Still, it was my first time ever owning an ornament made of gold, so my mood was quite good regardless.
If I give it to my mother, I bet she'll love it.
Gold is always right, after all.
Since I was already out this far, I stopped by the supermarket in the county seat on my way back. It was the only place that reliably stocked the spices and fresh produce our village simply didn't have.
Bzzzt, bzzzt.
I was in the middle of my shopping when my phone rang. It was Lee Ho-young.
"Yes, Director Lee."
"Sunbae-nim, you're not busy right now, are you? This call might run a little long."
"That's fine. If you've got a lot to say, say all of it."
Reassured by my answer, Lee Ho-young began with the news that Shoichi's remains had been cremated.
"Alongside Shoichi's remains, we also found fragments of a Joseon-era suit of armor at the site, so we've recovered those separately. As for the remains, we've arranged for them to be enshrined at a columbarium with a clear view overlooking all of Seoul."
"That's good to hear."
"And the Moritake clan has accepted your proposal. They've agreed to the exchange for Shoichi's sword and letter. On top of that, they say they'd like to send you a gift, Sunbae-nim?"
"A gift? For me?"
Their gratitude for the return of the sword, and for recovering their ancestor Shoichi's remains and arranging his enshrinement at a temple. Above all, they considered it a debt of honor that I was working so hard to restore Shoichi's good name.
"They say they'd like to visit you in person, but apparently they're rather shy with strangers, so they've asked for your address. They insist they want to properly repay you, Sunbae-nim."
"In that case, there's no harm in giving them my address."
"Understood, sir."
Lee Ho-young apparently still had plenty left to say, because he pressed on, gulping for breath.
"Also, Sunbae-nim — a buyer has come forward offering three billion won for the mid-Joseon rare book you uncovered, the one called the Bihwarok."
Whoa. Three billion won for a single book?
Then my half would be one and a half billion!
If this keeps up, do I even need to farm anymore?
I was making far too much money from my side hustle.
"Ahem! I'd guess there's a reason someone's willing to pay three billion for the Bihwarok?"
"Well, you see, haha! It seems a four-term National Assemblyman — one who's spent years bragging about his family being literary scholars since the Joseon dynasty — got quite a shock when he learned his own ancestor wrote the thing."
A descendant of Secret Royal Inspector Jeong Gi-su, trying to buy up his ancestor's Bihwarok?
For a four-term assemblyman, it sounded like a matter of protecting his own reputation.
Lee Ho-young burst out laughing.
"And here's the kicker — whether it's hereditary or what, this guy spent the last administration pulling the same dirty tricks, and now that power's changed hands, he's getting raked over the coals for it."
A rough picture of which assemblyman it was began to form in my mind.
"Ahh. So it's a rather inconvenient moment for his ancestor's Bihwarok to surface, isn't it?"
"Exactly. If the book comes to light too, everyone will remember his family as nothing but a lineage of cowardly, corrupt bureaucrats who never had the guts to speak the truth — and any presidential ambitions go straight out the window."
Well, that was his problem, not mine.
"Let's think it over for now. Since the book has genuine historical value, it might be good to consult with the Cultural Heritage Administration as well."
"Except our Cultural Properties Protection Act is an absolute dumpster fire, you know."
He told me about a case from this past spring: a farmer in Gangwon Province had tried to plant corn, only to dig up Bronze Age artifacts. He dutifully reported it, and the Cultural Heritage Administration sealed off the area and spent a month conducting an excavation.
More than thirty Bronze Age artifacts came out of that field in total. The compensation the farmer received: zero won.
They wouldn't even compensate him for the crops he couldn't plant — because the area had been preemptively designated as potential cultural heritage site. And once that designation existed, the landowner's rights were suspended the instant any artifact turned up.
Why did the law work this way? Because when cultural properties surfaced, landowners would block the excavation and demand inflated prices for their land. So the law had been rewritten: areas suspected of containing cultural properties were designated nationwide, and once a report came in, excavation could proceed at any time. During the dig, the landowner's use of the land was restricted — and there was no standard for compensation at all.
"In practice, the moment artifacts turn up on a construction site, developers smash them to bits for fear of development restrictions. Reporting them just means taking a loss."
"So in the end, we'd have to sell outside official channels... Let me look into it a bit more."
"Will do. Oh, and the really important part starts now, Sunbae-nim."
Was there yet another job he wanted to ask of me?
As I tilted my head, Lee Ho-young spoke.
"Sacred relics hidden inside a Buddha statue were stolen from a famous temple on Mount Odae, and the last recorded trace of the tomb robbers was picked up near where you live. In Ugok 2-ri, they said."
"Ugok 2-ri?"
"Yes! The abbot has put up a hundred-million-won reward — all he needs is the thieves' location or movements."
Why did hearing that fill me with the uncanny certainty that those hundred million won were about to land squarely in my pocket?