Money Windfall Even When Spending It - 11
Woo Jang-ho checked the scent and texture of the soil in his palm. He even tasted it.
Then he shook his head as if he couldn't believe it.
"Soil like this is truly rare. Regular dirt gets slimy when you water it, then hardens into a crust as it dries, doesn't it?"
"Yes, that's right."
"But this soil granulated over a long period as fallen leaves decomposed. We learned about that, remember?"
"Yes. You told us it's the phenomenon where soil particles clump together around organic matter, forming small aggregates."
It could only be called the most ideal soil there was. It held nutrients together while still draining beautifully.
Woo Jang-ho lifted his head and gazed out over the field.
"For soil of this quality to form, you'd have to have spread fallen leaves on this field for an extraordinarily long time. Did you hear anything about it from the original owner?"
"He said 'a lifetime's worth.' He couldn't afford fertilizer, and he didn't want to spray herbicide, so he carried leaves up on an A-frame carrier and spread them himself."
Not a single year skipped — he'd repeated that labor every single autumn.
"So that's why the soil is this good. Leaf mold makes it easy for crops to draw minerals."
Apparently, the microorganisms living in leaf mold — the beneficial fungal strains — helped supply those minerals.
Pyeongcheong County had always been short on farmland. People had cut down trees and burned them off to carve out slash-and-burn fields.
Most of those fields were so depleted that crops refused to grow even with fertilizer — because burning kills off the microorganisms and beneficial fungal strains in the soil.
Over time, such land loses its fertility entirely, the soil turning to sand as desertification sets in.
But on Grandpa Hosik's land, the microorganisms and fungal strains were thriving, so farming it cost no fertility at all.
Land you could hardly buy even with money.
Its cation exchange capacity — the measure of how well soil stores nutrients and releases them when crops need them — would be twenty times higher than ordinary soil.
"European farms call soil like this black gold."
Woo Jang-ho asked in an excited voice, "How on earth did you come to own land this good?"
"Just plain luck."
This land had originally been up for sale through Ma Chang-guk of Ugok 2-ri, and the owner of the marsh snail soup restaurant had been planning to buy it.
Something about building an ingredients warehouse here, of all things.
By pure luck I'd found out in advance and purchased the land from Grandpa Hosik for five million won.
'Grandpa Hosik charged me five million more, then built me a chicken coop and taught me how to grow mushrooms on top of it.'
Through that deal, I'd become the owner of land filled with soil so fine it was called black gold.
I'd always known the soil here was good, but I hadn't expected Woo Jang-ho — a man with a master's degree in agriculture — to praise it this lavishly.
My shoulders straightened all on their own.
"Everyone, come over here. Touch the soil on Kim Yunho's land, all of you."
"It's not even frozen?"
"The smell is incredible. It smells like trees."
"Wow, it's so soft!"
Everyone marveled as they ran the soil of my field through their fingers and took in its scent.
"We'll need to take samples and run tests, but I think crops grown on this land could qualify for organic certification."
"The organic certification mark! Hah, I'm so jealous."
Park Seok-tae looked at me with a genuinely envious expression.
And no wonder — with organic certification, even identical crops could sell for far more.
You might think anyone could just go get certified, but it wasn't nearly that easy. These days the organic certification process was so rigorous that hardly anyone could pass it.
'Four years, wasn't it? I heard someone failed even after proving they hadn't used pesticides or chemical fertilizer.'
Apparently pesticide drift had seeped in from the field right next door.
But Grandpa Hosik's land had Grandma Mak-soon's land across the road — and even if pesticides were used over there, the terrain made it impossible for contaminated rainwater to flow in.
Because Grandpa Hosik's land sat higher.
'And Grandpa Hosik said he never used a single drop of pesticide and never bought fertilizer, either.'
He'd simply grown sweet potatoes and potatoes and sold them at the market.
The taste was so good he'd built up a loyal customer base, so he never bothered looking for other channels.
With those farming records in hand, earning the organic certification mark would be no trouble at all.
"So this is what it looks like when someone's got it made. Yunho, if you're getting the organic certification anyway, pick crops that'll fetch a premium."
At Park Seok-tae's words, Woo Jang-ho nodded and chimed in.
"I think so too. What about garlic?"
"I was actually thinking soybeans."
Doenjang made from organic soybeans would surely have real competitive edge.
But Woo Jang-ho spoke up, sounding somewhat disappointed by my choice.
"When you grow garlic and soybeans organically, the price difference will be around six to eight times. If you grow paddy soybeans in a rice paddy, the government pays you a direct payment subsidy — but field soybeans are different."
There was a government program encouraging farmers to plant soybeans instead of rice.
Paddy soybeans were exactly that case.
But if you planted soybeans in a field that had always been a field, no subsidy was paid.
The whole point of the program was to reduce rice production and shift farmers toward beans.
Woo Jang-ho went on.
"And since this soil is practically gold, I'd say root crops are the way to go."
The part of a plant that touches good soil directly is the root. So root vegetables would absorb all that nutrition and come out with excellent market quality.
'So that's why Grandpa Hosik grew potatoes and sweet potatoes all those years.'
Organic garlic commands a very high price. Process it into black garlic, and the profits multiply several times over.
That said, garlic demands far more labor than soybeans, so I might need to hire extra hands.
"Thank you for the good advice. I'll think it over. Oh, and that plot over there is mine too."
"Now that I look around, you're quite the land baron, aren't you, Kim Yunho?"
Less a land baron than just plain rich, if we were being honest.
The mid-Joseon era Bihwarok had finally sold.
A chaebol madam had bid fifty billion won, agreeing to keep it private for two years, and I'd pocketed an additional five hundred million on top.
The amount that landed in my lap came to roughly 2.75 billion won.
My assets were sprinting toward ten billion.
"Yunho, the soil on this land is poor, isn't it?"
Woo Jang-ho had moved over to Grandma Mak-soon's plot, and after handling the soil, he clicked his tongue.
"They've drawn out far too much of the fertility — the soil's gone dry and crumbly. And it looks like they fertilized with animal manure that wasn't fully composted. When that happens, the crops shoot up all leaves and no substance."
"That was deliberate. We grew dried radish greens here."
"Ah, I see."
Apparently Grandma Mak-soon's land was now in urgent need of treatment.
"This is exactly the land that should grow soybeans. Soybeans gather and lock nitrogen in their roots, enriching the soil. That's why farmers plant cabbage or radish here after a soybean harvest."
Woo Jang-ho dropped the handful of soil, dusted off his palms, and spoke.
"A single road between them, and look how different two fields can be. Keep this in mind, all of you. The kind of farmer you'll become — your own land is what tells you."
Sincerity, or greed. Which would you choose?
That was the landowner's decision, but the outcomes split night and day. Woo Jang-ho underlined the point once more.
"Because to a farmer, the land is his face, his workplace, and his everything."
His words carried a deep resonance, and everyone wore thoughtful expressions.
"I'm so curious to see how you'll work two lands at opposite extremes, Yunho."
"So am I."
"Hahaha. Now that's the right answer. It's not just you, Yunho — everyone here is just getting started."
***
Before long we moved to a spot near the stream.
"This place is wonderful! Camping by the stream with a view of all of Ugok Mountain?"
"It's beautiful now, but come summer it'll be pure paradise."
"Seeing it from here, doesn't Yunho's house look even more impressive?"
"I had no idea Ugok 1-ri was this lovely."
They loved it so much that I couldn't help feeling delighted myself.
"It'll be even better after dark. You can watch the stars while listening to the stream."
The days were still chilly. Once the sun set, the temperature would plummet, so I got a campfire going first.
Park Seok-tae and Choi Hogyeong helped me, setting out the food and drinks they'd prepared in advance.
The rest of our classmates all pitched in without being asked, and the table was laid in no time.
The menu was shabu-shabu.
'With nine people including Woo Jang-ho, actually cooking a meal would've been exhausting, so I just prepped broth and ingredients.'
The hot pot began to burble as the broth came to a simmer.
I'd set up three gas burners, so there were three hot pots in all.
Octopus, crab, shrimp, and freshwater clams perfumed the broth with a delicious aroma.
The beef, mushrooms, and vegetables could be added to taste.
I'd also prepared kalguksu noodles, tteokguk rice cakes, and dumplings.
"Ah, this is good."
"The broth is out of this world."
"Class President, is there anything you're actually bad at?"
"Honestly? Not that I can see."
Smiling, I brought out the deodeok root liquor.
It had been brewed from the plump deodeok roots I'd tracked down by scent alone last autumn, back when my senses had sharpened.
Once I'd filled everyone's glasses, Park Seok-tae spoke up.
"Hold on. Let's do the gift presentation first. This time our entire class pooled our hearts together to prepare something. The coffee you brought us personally every time we visited your farmland — we've enjoyed it so, so much."
The box Park Seok-tae handed over was fairly weighty.
"Whoa!"
Inside the box was a picture frame holding a caricature of my face.
When I lifted the frame out, the bottom of the box revealed a designed badge bearing the emblem of my agricultural corporation.
Beside it sat another badge printed with a caricature of my face.
"'Ugok's Yard, CEO Kim Yunho'?"
There were even business cards.
Everything I'd need if I ever got around to planting crops and building a business. The company mark, my caricature, and even the name I'd use to promote my agricultural corporation.
"Ugok's Yard — I love it. When did you all find time to prepare all this?"
"The coffee you gave us as gifts was so good we kept talking about it, and that's how we found out you hand-roast it yourself."
When Park Seok-tae finished, Choi Hogyeong took over.
"We decided we couldn't just accept something like this without giving back, so we talked it over. I did the design, and Teacher Yoon Seok-ho drew the caricature."
Yoon Seok-ho was a high school teacher attending the farming school, though he owned no land of his own.
"I gave it my all."
"Thank you, truly, all of you. Now then — shall we raise a glass together?"
"As your instructor celebrating the end of the course, I'll give the toast!"
Woo Jang-ho sprang to his feet and called out in a booming voice.
"Here's to a bountiful harvest for all of you who will become farmers. Fighting!"
"Fighting!"
Listening to the stream trickle between thinning sheets of ice, we let conversation bloom like flowers. The spring warmth ran deep in the breeze.
* * *
Bang!
Before the season when the ice had fully melted gave way, I set to target practice to keep my promise to Grandfather Sang-jong.
I needed to earn my shooting license before farming season began.
'But for a beginner, isn't this a little too accurate?'
I passed both the written and practical exams and obtained my shooting license.
Grandfather Sang-jong was overjoyed and gave me a gun as a gift.
Until hunting season, firearms had to be kept at the police substation, but even so it felt reassuring to own.
'That's right — I'm a man with a gun now.'
Once the ground began to thaw, the Village Head lent me his tiller, insisting the fields needed a first pass.
I could have plowed everything in a day by renting a tractor from the Agricultural Technology Center, but I couldn't refuse his kindness, so I went with the tiller.
I was just about done plowing the crooked field from end to end when I spotted the Village Head walking up the village road.
"Looks like you'll finally get your eleventh empty house. You made it look easy — I was wondering what was taking so long."
I killed the tiller's engine and asked him, "I bought ten houses and failed on two. Which one do you mean?"
"The most out-of-the-way house. Once that one goes, and with the house right behind mine, you'll have all twelve."
The vacant house renovation project I'd declared — and now ownership of all twelve houses was about to be in my hands.
Delighted, I lifted my head and looked out over the reservoir.
"The most remote one... you mean the house near the reservoir?"
"That's right. Hak-su's house."
He said it was where a man named Jung Hak-soo — a grade school classmate of his — had once lived.
Jung Hak-soo's mother used to cook and sell ramyeon to anglers and rent out her spare rooms to them.
Then she passed away, and Jung Hak-soo inherited the house — but he left for the city to make money, and the place sat empty.
Ownership currently rested jointly with Jung Hak-soo's four children.
'Which means Jung Hak-soo himself passed away long ago.'
The Village Head had persuaded the four children to sell, and all of them had agreed — except for one: the youngest son, who couldn't be reached.
"Well, that young whelp is coming here today."
"Really?"