Spending Money, Raking In Windfalls - 9
It wasn't unusual for the Village Head to come to me for advice. Whenever he did, I made a point of marshaling every scrap of knowledge I had to help him reach a wise decision. But this time was different.
"You're saying *I* have to decide?"
"That's right, son. It has to be you."
I ushered the Village Head into the living room and got him settled on the sofa. "What's going on?"
"Take a look at this."
He pulled a book from his bag and set it on the coffee table where I could see it. On closer inspection, it was a screenplay. The title read Segok-ri Reservoir. My first thought was that it sounded like a mystery thriller.
Or maybe an occult horror.
The director's name was Jo Woochul. Not exactly a famous enough name that you could guess his style from the credits alone.
"What is this?"
When I looked up to ask, the Village Head let out a sigh first. "While you were away in Seoul, some people came by talking about location scouting. Said they'd like to shoot a film here in our village."
"Ah, I see."
The fact that he hadn't mentioned it to me probably meant he'd dismissed them as passersby — people who'd blow through once and never return.
It wasn't anything important, so he just forgot about it.
Which was exactly what I'd expected. The scouts had taken photos, promised to be in touch, and then gone completely silent. So everyone had simply let it go. Until now.
"Then this arrived in the mail, you see. The director himself called and asked whether they could start filming in our village."
"So he sent you the script?"
"That's right. Said if we read it and thought it was fine, he'd like our permission." The Village Head's expression turned sheepish as he continued. "Thing is, the places those people took particular interest in were your courtyard and that abandoned house you're about to renovate."
"Ah. So that's why it has to be my decision."
My house and the vacant property I'd purchased might become film locations.
I mulled it over for a moment, then met his eyes. "What do you want to do, Village Head? If filming starts, people will drive in noisily, dump their trash, and generally raise hell."
Every few months there'd be some news story about drama or film crews leaving trash behind and tormenting local residents. There was no guarantee our village would be spared.
More than anything, I figured we needed to weigh what we'd actually gain from allowing the shoot before anything else. There was no reason to endure invaded privacy and endless inconvenience for zero benefit.
"They'd have floodlights blazing at night — nobody would sleep a wink. And they shoot during the day too, so they might block village roads and ask everyone to keep quiet."
"Hmm. True enough."
And yet, for some reason, a flicker of disappointment crossed the old man's face. So I asked.
"You'd be willing to put up with all that hassle?"
"Well, you see... I can't help thinking it'd be nice for our village to be in a movie."
"Why's that?"
"When I was young, I wanted to be a film actor... Haha! Just a passing whim, mind you. Water long under the bridge."
I was secretly stunned. The Village Head had a youth of his own — and his dream back then had been the silver screen.
His voice wavered. "Anyway, just the thought of watching a film being made right here has me all worked up. I'm curious, and I think it'd be fun to see our village in a movie... Haha! I know it's silly for a man my age to still want things like this..."
The longer he talked, the redder his cheeks grew. His eyes, when he looked at me, were positively bashful.
"I'd be happy if they gave me even a single line as someone walking past. That's all."
"Then you've already made up your mind, haven't you?"
"Ah, no! That's not it. I'm just saying that's how *I* feel. The decision's yours to make, Yunho." The Village Head studied my face carefully. "After all, all those people need is your courtyard and a few of the empty houses."
"Well, if they're not coming inside and it's just courtyard filming... I don't see why not."
The director wasn't particularly famous, so odds were the movie wouldn't do all that well anyway. Which meant even if my house ended up on screen, who was going to notice?
Though my house *is* exceptionally pretty after the renovation.
There were plenty of upscale hanok guesthouses scattered across the country. If people wanted to gawk at houses, surely they'd go to one of those rather than trek out to a village like ours.
"Did you read the script, Village Head?"
"Skimmed it, mostly."
"What's it like? Going by the title, it seems like a thriller."
"A thriller? I wouldn't know about that... The main character's a woman, and she can see ghosts, apparently."
So it was an occult film after all. Our village did have its share of spots where spiritual energy pooled. Whoever handled the scouting had a decent nose for these things.
"I'll permit the filming at my courtyard and the vacant house. In exchange, please tell them to set a firm schedule and shoot quickly."
I'd heard that for films, exterior scenes were usually knocked out in one concentrated block. Squeeze all the outdoor shooting into as short a window as possible — short and brutal. That way I could protect my privacy and still get the vacant house renovated.
"Why don't you speak with the director directly? I can never make heads or tails of what men like him are saying."
"Of course. Just give him a call and introduce me first."
If I cold-called him out of nowhere announcing I owned a hanok in Ugok 1-ri, it would come completely out of left field.
"Will do. Thank you for allowing it, Yunho. The women's association president will be delighted too."
"Was the association president also dreaming of being a movie star, by any chance?"
"Ha! No. I was the actor; *she* wanted to be a singer."
They'd nearly been a showbiz couple. I laughed and made him a promise. "I'll ask the director to cast you and your wife as extras — at the very least as people passing by."
"Bless you, bless you."
The Village Head fidgeted like a schoolboy.
"Well, I'll be off, then."
"Take care, sir."
After seeing him out, I spread the screenplay across the table and started to read.
"Yeesh!"
This is seriously creepy.
Yeonhwa, born under a shaman's fate, learns she can take revenge through curses — and uses them to kill her husband, his family, and her boss at work. She returns to a rural village to live the quiet country life, but when the locals' petty tyranny wears her down, she reaches for her curse again. A battle erupts between Yeonhwa, the people she's cursed to death, and villagers who learn of her power and summon ever-stronger shamans to fight her.
And that location is Segok-ri. Hence the title — Segok-ri Reservoir.
The "reservoir" part was a metaphor: curses pool like water. I'd seen countless ghosts in my time and squared off against evil spirits — I'd once torn feral spirits apart with my bare hands. Back then, all I'd felt was the revulsion of needing to purge them.
Segok-ri Reservoir is genuinely terrifying.
It wasn't the ghosts that scared me — it was the savage war between Yeonhwa and the villagers. The curse mechanics weren't something the writer had hand-waved either. There was real research behind it, with elements clearly borrowed from a deep study of vodou.
"God... how does a person write murderous intent this vicious?"
A shiver ran through me, and then a white shadow slid silently past the window — I nearly jumped out of my skin.
"Gah!"
Just then the door opened and Chai poked his head in. "Hyung, dinner time! Chai make kaophat?"
Kaophat — Thai fried rice.
"No, no. I'll make beef bulgogi. Let's eat."
"Why you so startled?"
"Chai, do you like movies?"
"Love! Chai wanted to be movie actor. Ong-Bak! Watch more than twelve times."
Ong-Bak was one I'd enjoyed myself.
"What about ghost movies?"
"Chai no like ghost movie. Too scary. Ghost no good."
Chai wriggled with disgust, and I laughed. "I hate ghosts too. But here's the thing — they might shoot a ghost movie in our village."
"Th-then ghost will come. Make ghost movie, ghost come flocking."
They did say that on blockbuster shoots, directors and actors sometimes claimed to have seen actual ghosts. Surely that wouldn't actually happen here... right?
"It feels like we only just started classes yesterday, and now today is the last one. I'm sad, and frankly, a little worried for you all."
The final day of farming school had arrived. Woo Jang-ho, the instructor in charge of our cohort, carried a note of solemn resolve in his voice.
"When you first decided to take up farming, it must have felt like staring into a void. My hope is that now, you feel it's something you can actually do."
"Still feels like a void to me, though?"
At Park Seoktae's remark, Woo Jang-ho laughed. "I want you to never, ever feel like you're alone in this. If there's something you don't know, come consult me. Our Agricultural Technology Center is full of people with doctorates — reach out anytime."
He looked each student in the eye in turn as he went on. "Through every change of administration, one conviction has held: protecting the food of the Korean people. Work hard, and take pride in the fact that the crops you grow will safeguard the nation's health."
"WAAAAH!"
Eight weeks of foundational lectures — every week of the new year except the first — and now everyone rose to give Woo Jang-ho a thunderous round of applause.
My classmates and I stepped forward with the gift and cake we'd prepared together, and had him blow out the candle. His nose reddening with emotion, Woo Jang-ho puffed out the flame and spoke.
"Ah... thinking of all the hardships you have ahead of you brings tears to my eyes, but I'll help you every way I can. Please — succeed!"
"Sir, it's coffee beans. We prepared them as a gift."
Every time I'd visited my classmates' fields, I'd roasted green coffee beans myself and handed them out. Woo Jang-ho, though, was an instructor rather than a classmate, so I'd held back — until today.
"Whoa, Yunho! So I finally get a coffee gift too?"
Apparently he'd been coveting the bean gifts all this while. He brought the box to his nose, and his whole face lit up as though the aroma were a miracle. "Thank you, truly. I'll savor every cup. And now — a big hand for our class president, who's worked hard these eight weeks!"
"WAAAAH!"
The whole room cheered and clapped for me.
"And it seems today is finally the day we visit Yunho's farmland?"
"Yes, sir. Right after class, I'll lead everyone to Ugok 1-ri."
Somehow, my land had ended up dead last on the tour. Everyone else had done their part, and I couldn't exactly be the only one to bow out. Besides, I was genuinely curious to hear what Woo Jang-ho would have to say standing on my soil. Whether planting soybeans was really the best choice for my land — there was plenty I wanted to ask him.
"Alright, let's head out!"
With Woo Jang-ho riding shotgun, I set off at the front of the convoy. Park Seoktae and Choi Hogyeong shared the car directly behind me, and the rest of our classmates followed in their own vehicles.
Just as my car passed the Ugok 1-ri community hall, I spotted an unfamiliar vehicle parked in front of my house.
What now? I wasn't expecting any visitors today.
I gestured to the cars behind me to park on the open ground by the stream, then pulled into my own driveway. The moment I stepped out, a man emerged from the parked car.
"Hello — Mr. Kim Yunho? I'm Jo Woochul, the director."
Film director Jo Woochul. So he'd been admiring the exterior of my house.
"Hello, yes, I'm Kim Yunho. I own the place."
"I knew it had to be you. The house is so striking, I thought whoever designed it must have an exceptional eye. Jinwoo, come out and say hello."
At the director's word, the car door clicked open.
And then—
"Hello, I'm Seo Jinwoo."
The A-list actor Seo Jinwoo bowed politely to me.
Wait, what? Seo Jinwoo is cast in Segok-ri Reservoir?