Doctor, Patriot, and Terrorist (7)
With the conversation flowing like this, there was no point in making this show public. The populist had wasted his time for nothing, and only after a long pause did he speak again, his voice thick with lingering regret.
"So, you're saying you won't sign until the end? You're going to stubbornly exercise your property rights, ignoring the anxiety of local residents who don't know when or where they'll encounter an awakened being?"
"Yes. That's the case for now."
"For now? That sounds like it could change later."
"Of course it could. For example, if a high-risk hunting liability insurance system is introduced, allowing contracts for activities in private forests only for insured hunters, then I could sign the consent form. Assuming the compensation is realistically set, that is."
"Ho ho."
The governor's tone shifted.
"This is the policy he is advocating. Did you know that?"
"Of course. It's Governor Kang Jungseong's claim, after all."
"What did you say? Haha!"
The core of this system was entrusting insurance operations not to the state but to private insurers, like mandatory auto insurance. As a private scheme, it would have plenty of side effects, but it would definitely save on national finances.
Whether it's public or private insurance doesn't matter to me one way or the other.
By the time such a system was introduced, whether public or private, a regulatory framework for private hunters' activities would likely be in place. They'd probably benchmark successful existing cases with high probability. Once that framework was set, there'd be no reason for me to let random people onto my land. In the end, this was just a stalling tactic, a placating remark to buy time.
For the first time since the call began, the governor burst into laughter, muttering to himself like a soliloquy.
"Tying that to private forest access rights..."
"I think it's a natural demand. There's a lot of controversy about the qualifications of hunters who dive into high-risk hunts. From the perspective of landowners like me, we need at least some safety net."
The qualification issue I mentioned reflected public perception of the hunter profession. Hunting offered no guarantees for life safety or stable income. It was grueling, dangerous, and at present, lacked any institutional protections—only rewards that scaled with risk, like a high-stakes gamble. It was only natural that few with proper lives would literally bet their necks on such a gamble.
Whether upright citizens or scum, they were mostly those in economic desperation with no other way out. Desperate souls wagering their last asset—their very lives—for a shot at striking it rich formed the largest group among hunters.
No wonder they're so easily drawn into smuggling.
Countries worldwide treated awakened beings and their byproducts as strategic biological resources, trying to place all hunting and trade under public oversight. But the more they did, the higher black market prices soared, making it hard to root out poaching and smuggling. Just like people who snapped up protective masks to resell for profit during the COVID outbreak, now doing the same with awakened hunt products.
Smuggling led to frequent clashes—over trade lines or hunting grounds. In the past week alone, hunter disputes had made the news every single day. These brawls often turned bloody. And Kyung-tae had summed up the public's view with their derogatory terms: armed wreckers. Or heavily armored Yongpal-i's.
After hearing what a "wrecker" and "Yongpal-i" meant, I could see why those labels fit. Primitive magic didn't discriminate; it awakened in anyone. Tow truck drivers illegally rigging sirens and lights to reverse on highways. Used car dealers for whom scams were their livelihood. Salt farm owners on certain islands notorious for beating and enslaving outsiders. Even to such people, mana’s blessing—or curse—descended equally.
The governor spoke up again.
"It's a proposal with some merit, but..."
"Call it a voter's request, please."
"Haha. Alright, a voter's request. Fine. But don't you think the demands from that National Private Forest Protection Association—like access fees to private lands, shares in awakened beings caught there, or compensation for tree damage during high-risk hunts—are a bit excessive?"
"That's for the parties involved to negotiate. And let me say it again: I'm not affiliated with that association. Nor am I a descendant of collaborators."
"Ahem, let's skip the petty stuff. I misspoke to you, but honestly, you've been improper toward me, Kang Jungseong. Let's call it even, man to man. You get it?"
Shameless.
"Anyway, you mentioned realistic compensation earlier. The biggest issue is tree damage compensation. I'm curious about your thoughts on that."
"Does my opinion matter?"
"Until a formal system is established, the governor can't just sit idle. If the largest private forest owner in the province cooperates—even a one-year short-term contract—it would save my face. What do you say? Any way we can make it work?"
In the end, it was all about his face as a public official. How to shake off this leech without future hassle?
After a brief think, I replied.
"How or whatever, I have to get compensated properly. Regardless of whether trees are awakened, you need to pay the Procurement Agency's listed price for landscape trees for us landowners to even consider opening our forests. And if it's particularly high-quality awakened trees, add a premium based on market rates."
"Procurement listed price plus awakened tree premium..."
"I'm not asking too much. It's like getting compensation based on official assessed value for a house, not market transaction price. Trees have a big gap between market and assessed values anyway. Isn't this very conscientious? If the provincial office covers that loss, I'll open this forest to the noxious beast extermination team."
"Well."
The governor smacked his lips. The proposal was moderate and forward-looking, but he couldn't accept it lightly.
The awakened tree market premium must be the sticking point. With budgets already tight.
Not all awakened trees were equal. Some were clearly hazardous based on ability form and unused mana radiation, while others—deemed more beneficial—fetched auction prices without fixed values. Dry, desert-heavy nations highly valued trees that bound water with mana, dreaming of turning deserts into green corridors and waterways via simple planting. Some nations had launched desalination or wastewater purification projects using awakened trees, noting their binding applied mainly to pure water. Still conceptual, but promising.
Shamans and herbalists often made pills from their fibers and sap. Humanity once swallowed radium as a cure-all, so this was no surprise—radium toothpaste for whitening, radium chocolate for cavities, radium spray for rhinitis. Compared to that radioactive quackery, shamans peddling awakened byproduct meds seemed almost humane.
This nascent market, fueled by oil money and more, grew daily in scale and vigor. Tropical nations fighting jungle sprawl just blew them up regardless, but countries with leeway to appraise individual risks and values were different. Anyway, this market empowered forest owners greatly. The mere ability to inflate damage claims based on real or not values was key. Governments hesitated to send troops into private forests for this reason—framing soldiers for damages would tank public opinion.
After much deliberation, the governor broached.
"As you know, it's not that simple. Can't you just take the Procurement Agency's standard landscape tree price? Even that's a burden on our finances—last year's COVID spending was huge, and this year's economy is still rough."
"No. I know there was a tree theft worth tens of billions in a private forest near Hwacheon, Gangwon-do recently. What's to stop it from happening in my forest?"
"Can't you frame it as patriotism and noblesse oblige...?"
"As I said earlier, I'm managing this forest at my own expense. Isn't that noblesse oblige?"
"Argh, public administration needs transparency for public trust and peace of mind. If you insist on private management, suspicions of smuggling are inevitable."
"Then at least vouch for me yourself, Governor."
"What kind of vouching?"
"If hunters entering my forest cause trouble, you personally compensate the damages. How's that?"
"...That's tough. Instead, we'll guarantee up to 30% shares in awakened beings and byproducts caught in your forest on a temporary basis. Online app platforms take 30% by custom, so hunting ground providers should get that much— that's my, Kang Jungseong's, thought as governor, and the provincial limit."
"Tree compensation completely excluded?"
"That's how it shakes out."
"Is the 30% based on public acquisition price or secondary sale price?"
"Well... public acquisition price, unavoidably."
"Don't you think even you're pushing it, Governor? There's a limit to demanding patriotic sacrifice."
"Mm..."
"Plus, common sense: hunters already chafe at low public prices; taking 30% for the site owner would make poaching even more tempting. Seems worse than private management. Right?"
"..."
With logic and justification against him, the populist sighed in defeat, clinging no longer.
If I didn't sign, the noxious beast team couldn't barge in recklessly. Even if charged only with trespass, repeated priors would hurt future official hunter licensing. Would this country allow felons firearms? Let alone if priors involved property damage, concealment, theft—no need to say more.
This was one reason landowners' lawsuits formed an invisible barrier. Short-term thinkers wouldn't care.
"I can't sign, but to help improve this situation, I'll donate some political funds."
"I'm the governor, and it's not election season."
"You have fellow party lawmakers sharing your vision. Pick one or two, send them to my company, and I'll anonymously donate two million to their support committees."
"Anonymous donations cap at 100,000 won per time."
"I have many colleagues and employees who share my views; the cap's no issue."
In the end, it was money. Offering cash upfront would've gotten no traction or a bigger bite, but now he'd take it and run—smartest move. Handing pocket money to party members boosted his stature as a senior.
Verbal promises to someone with retaliatory power differed fundamentally from ordinary ones. The governor feigned reluctance and accepted.
"If you're showing that much sincerity, what choice do I have? Until something unavoidable happens, I'll trust you, landowner."
This should prevent the sudden political leech from harboring grudges. Plus, low-level officials wouldn't bother my people needlessly.