The Cost of New Life

The policy meeting in early February is of paramount importance.

This is because it is when the previous year's project implementation status, performance records, and various statistics compiled throughout January are comprehensively reviewed.

In Lee Yun-hyeok's case, although his actual time in office from October to December spanned less than three months, he was re-examining everything—including the messes left behind by his predecessor, Baek Hyeong-guk.

Reports and debates on the current state of affairs poured in from all sides.

"Thanks to the disbursement of small business subsidies, the closure rate has definitely decreased. It reached twelve percent in the first half of the year, but dropped to six percent in the second half."

"It's still high, but we can't afford to give out any more subsidies. The budget drain would be too severe."

"Thirty-five percent of our small businesses are in wholesale and retail. And a significant portion of those are manufacturing companies in Durim-myeon."

"Then the closure rate should decrease even further in the future. Durim-myeon seems to have entered a fairly stable phase now."

"The companies founded by the three PhDs are sailing smoothly."

"We are currently executing the first phase of the budget we secured from the Ministry of SMEs and Startups' public contest."

"Dr. Hwang In-hye's company, Free Plastic, has completely acquired and merged five companies ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in Durim-myeon."

"Raymi Castle won the contract for the apartment construction in Durim-myeon."

"That's because the other construction companies are currently in hot water due to their ties with Daesan E&M."

"Major construction firms won't take a fatal blow from something like that, but it'll certainly sting."

"Raymi Castle received a perfect score in public interest and transparency. They voluntarily conducted an internal audit and implemented corrective measures for the Yeokdong Raymi Castle complex."

"There seemed to be a slight issue with the Beomdol District Residents' Association."

"What kind of issue?"

"The elderly residents from the neighborhood were hired as security guards, but internal complaints arose claiming that parking management wasn't being handled properly."

"Apparently, there were disputes because they didn't know whose car belonged to which household, making it impossible to manage."

"Of course, a consolidation policy won't run perfectly from the start without any trial and error. But the key takeaway is that they have developed the self-governing capacity to resolve these trials and errors on their own."

"Exactly. It's also highly effective in terms of reducing the city hall's administrative burden. What did the property management company say?"

"The management company decided to create parking stickers. They plan to integrate and operate them under the name 'Beomdol' stickers."

"Since the elderly guards don't work at night, the residents agreed to check each other's parking as they come and go."

"Since this is a pilot project, we need to keep tracking it."

"Understood. We will continue to monitor it closely."

Midway through the discussion, Kim Min-cheol reported on the overall progress of the Smart Farm projects in Doma-myeon and Hawol-myeon.

"In the pilot phase, we will establish Smart Farm complexes based in Samjeong-ri, Doma-myeon, and Baegun-ri, Hawol-myeon, respectively. Administratively, we plan to designate a Smart Farm Innovation Valley between the two to further nurture them. These areas have gentle slopes, and with the greenhouse aging rate reaching approximately eighty percent, the majority of individual farming is difficult. Furthermore, considering the existing well-based irrigation, power lines, and distance to the downtown logistics center, these are the most advantageous locations for the project. We have already obtained the consent of the local residents, and we can proceed with a total scale of forty thousand pyeong across both sites..."

Kim Min-cheol was Greatly competent and meticulous in administration.

"...Specifically, we plan to introduce smart greenhouses with a height of five meters or more, automated heating and cooling control, automated irrigation systems based on substrate scales, EC monitoring, and temperature, humidity, carbon dioxide, and light intensity control systems, all manageable via a remote app. We may need to coordinate with the KEPCO Mir Branch to establish a new substation. Additionally, building an IoT network might be necessary. And..."

But seeing the other directors' minds drifting away under the sheer volume of data, Yun-hyeok decided to pause him.

"Let's discuss the Smart Farm project separately later."

Yun-hyeok found something else of critical importance in the statistical documents.

A heavy feeling settled in his chest.

0.73.

In 2022, Mir City's total fertility rate was 0.75, and in 2023, it was 0.73.

It had dropped.

Of course, this was not Yun-hyeok's fault.

He had only taken office in October at the earliest, and even if someone had conceived a child then, the baby would be born in 2024, not 2023.

"The birth rate is far too low."

A collective sigh rippled through the directors.

"It's truly tragic. Back when I was young, people had two kids even if they had absolutely nothing to their name," the Director of Culture, Sports, and Tourism remarked.

"That might actually be the problem," the Director of the Public Health Headquarters pointed out.

"Back then, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠everyone had nothing, but that's no longer the case today."

"Is it because back then, everyone was equally poor, but now, a significant number of young people are born with silver spoons in their mouths?"

"Being poor alone in a wealthy society is far more miserable than everyone being poor together."

Amidst the gloomy remarks, Yun-hyeok identified a fundamental error.

"They aren't relatively poor," Yun-hyeok said.

"They are absolutely poor. A vast number of households simply don't have the money to raise a child."

According to the data published by Statistics Korea's Indicator Nuri, South Korea's equalized median disposable household income in 2023 was 33.67 million KRW in real terms.

In this metric, 'equalized' meant that because household sizes vary, the figure was adjusted to reflect that. A two-person household earning three million KRW a month and a four-person household earning the same amount would have vastly different standards of living, despite having the exact same income. Equalization is calculated by dividing the household income by the square root of the number of household members.

And 'disposable income' referred to the actual amount of money a household could spend after taxes, pension contributions, and health insurance premiums were deducted, and additional income like childcare subsidies was added.

'Real terms' meant the figure was adjusted for inflation, as opposed to nominal income values.

That median value for South Korea in 2023 was 33.67 million KRW.

Which broke down to roughly 2.8 million KRW a month.

It was far too little.

While it was about average compared to other major OECD nations, unlike other developed countries, that 2.8 million KRW in Korea did not go entirely toward basic living expenses.

Why?

Because of the three major expenses that fueled the fires of Hell Joseon:

1. Housing Costs: A housing cost burden is generally considered heavy when it exceeds twenty percent of monthly income. Yet, one in three young Koreans spends more than twenty percent on housing. Why? Because most jobs are concentrated in Seoul, where housing prices are astronomically high. This was the very reason why Pangyo IT workers commuted all the way from Mir City.

2. Education Costs: In most continental European countries, education spending accounts for around one percent of household income. In Anglo-American countries, it is about eight percent. In South Korea, however, it averages a staggering seventeen percent. It was an utterly insane figure. In many regions, it easily surpassed twenty percent, ranking among the highest in the OECD.

3. Retirement Costs: People whose incomes are decimated by overwhelming housing and education costs naturally cannot prepare for retirement. South Korea's social welfare spending falls far below the OECD average, ranking near the bottom among the thirty-eight member nations. The National Pension? It was a ticking time bomb. Most young Koreans did not expect to ever see a single won of their pension contributions returned to them.

If two young people earning around 2.8 million KRW each married and had a child, forty percent of their combined 5.6 million KRW would be ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠swallowed by education and housing. Could a family of three really afford life insurance, car fuel, savings, groceries, clothes, dining out, and family events with the remaining 3.36 million KRW?

It was not easy.

Not easy at all.

And since this was the median, life for the bottom fifty percent would be incomparably harsher.

Either the average income of the populace had to rise, or those three major expenses had to be drastically reduced. One of those two conditions had to be met to even begin addressing the low birth rate crisis.

In fact, projects like the high-tech manufacturing cluster in Durim-myeon and the consolidation policy in the Beomdol District were driven by this exact logic.

People needed jobs that could secure high incomes in the long run. Why was Ulsan's GDP per capita among the highest in the country? Yun-hyeok had restructured Durim-myeon to secure a sustainable future for Mir City.

To manage housing costs, residents needed to enjoy high levels of convenience even in more affordable residential areas compared to expensive high-rise apartments. That was why Yun-hyeok had created the Beomdol District.

Of course, if he had his way, he would have loved to push for far more radical and innovative reforms.

Like completely restructuring the private education market or overhauling the National Pension Service.

But such grand endeavors were beyond the scope of a mere Mayor of Mir City.

In that case...

"Mayor?"

Lost in thought, Yun-hyeok snapped out of it at the call of the Director of the Welfare Policy Bureau.

The eyes of everyone in the policy meeting were fixed on him.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"What should we do about the budget?"

There was at least one saving grace.

At the very least, the central government was acutely aware of the severity of the low birth rate crisis.

The budget had been allocated. They were given the autonomy to use it as they saw fit, provided they submitted a detailed plan to the government upon execution. Furthermore, the effectiveness of the budget would be evaluated later based on the subsequent rise or fall of the birth rate.

There were roughly ten thousand newlywed couples (married within five years) in Mir City.

That amounted to about 260,000 KRW per person.

It was pitifully stingy.

Yun-hyeok took back his previous thought.

Clearly, the central government still did not grasp the gravity of the situation.

"Today's meeting is dragging on," the Information and Communications Division Chief of the Future Strategy Bureau muttered. The meeting, which had started early in the morning, showed no signs of ending even after they had eaten lunch, brushed their teeth, and attended to their afternoon duties.

It was already three in the afternoon.

The Future Strategy Bureau currently lacked a director, as the former director, Lee Do-hun, had been dismissed. Park Jung-woo, the chief of the subsidiary Future Industries Division, was effectively acting as the interim director.

"Ah, there he is."

Park Jung-woo appeared from the direction the division's staff member was pointing, looking thoroughly exhausted.

"Chief Park, did you eat lunch?"

"I grabbed a bite during the meeting."

"We were waiting to eat together, but we ended up going ahead. Why is the Mayor keeping the meeting going for so long?"

The Information and Communications Division Chief cut himself off, startled. Lee Yun-hyeok was descending the stairs right behind Park Jung-woo.

"Next time, I'll make sure to let you go during lunch hours."

"Oh, no, it's quite alright..."

"Chief, please take a look at this."

Yun-hyeok handed a stack of documents to the Information and Communications Division Chief.

"What is this?"

"It's a project to develop an app through a public-private partnership."

The Information and Communications Division Chief tilted his head as he flipped through the pages.

"Aren't there already plenty of apps like this?"

"The fact that there are too many is the problem," Yun-hyeok replied.

"ReadyBaby, I-Majung, I-Sarang, MommyCare... Users have no idea which one they're supposed to use. Many of them overlap or disperse functions with centralized portals like Minwon24 or Bokjiro, or apps managed by the Ministry of Health and Welfare. And..."

Yun-hyeok pulled out his phone and pulled up the I-Sarang app on the Google Play Store.

Out of six thousand reviews, the average rating was a dismal 1.5 stars.

"The overwhelmingly negative reviews alone tell you there's a serious issue with this app."

"..."

"Among the apps I just mentioned, some haven't been updated in two years, and others won't even let users log in. In truth, a user-friendly, frequently updated, and properly functioning comprehensive childcare app simply does not exist in our country."

Actually, this wasn't a problem unique to childcare apps. Most citizens deeply distrusted government-made apps. A vast majority of them were riddled with flaws. They were painfully slow, plagued with errors, slow to reflect real-time information—if they did at all—and required overly complicated authentication processes.

Except for a few apps that utilized private platforms or were managed by major system integration firms, almost all public apps suffered from these issues.

Why did it turn out this way?

When outsourcing, the government used a lowest-bidder system, prioritizing price over technical capability. Consequently, third-rate companies won the contracts and churned out cheap, shoddy apps.

And no one took responsibility. Local governments didn't monitor them either. Why? Because their sole performance indicator was the 'number of downloads.' During the launch phase, they would aggressively promote the app by handing out Starbucks coupons to artificially inflate download numbers. Once they hit their target, the project was deemed a success, and post-launch maintenance was completely ignored. After all, the head of the local government would eventually leave office anyway.

In many cases, they didn't even bother to allocate a budget for maintenance in the first place. When excessive public security standards were slapped onto these public apps, it resulted in the mass production of incredibly bloated and useless software.

"But the app we are going to build will comprehensively cover everything from OB-GYNs, postpartum care centers, daycares, playgrounds, kindergartens, schools, pediatricians, and developmental clinics, to private businesses like kids' cafes, kids' pools, and children's art camps. Of course, we will also link it with the city hall's administrative systems, allowing users to handle civil complaints, request documents, and apply for vouchers directly through the app."

The Information and Communications Division Chief's face went pale.

"The... the development costs will be astronomical..."

"One billion KRW for development."

"One billion?!"

"That should be sufficient, right?"

"That amount might cover the initial development, but... what about maintenance? Server costs and update expenses will be substantial."

"I have a different solution for that," Yun-hyeok said.

"We will run banner ads on the app."

"..."

The Information and Communications Division Chief's jaw dropped.

There was virtually no precedent for a public institution's app hosting advertisements for private businesses.

Doing so could spark controversy over compromising public interest by promoting specific businesses. There was also a risk of lawsuits from competitors claiming unfair treatment, and it could trigger an audit from higher authorities like the Gyeonggi Provincial Office.

"That is incredibly risky..."

With a near-tearful expression, the Information and Communications Division Chief looked at Park Jung-woo, the Future Industries Division Chief.

Park Jung-woo's face wore an expression that said, I already tried to stop him.

But Yun-hyeok remained resolute.

"We can bypass that by establishing a foundation."

"A foundation?"

"Yes. A non-profit foundation funded by the city hall."

"..."

The division chief still looked highly skeptical. In fact, several directors had expressed similar concerns during the policy meeting.

Even so, it had to be done this way.

He needed to build a self-sustaining structure so that even after he left office, the app would not wither away under the burden of maintenance costs.

And above all, with a total budget of only 5.24 billion KRW, there was simply no room to set aside a separate fund for maintenance.

After all, the app development was not the only initiative outlined in the [Mir City Birth Encouragement Policy 2024].