Halloween Special (1)
Soon, the cicadas' shrill cries that had rung out so refreshingly faded away, and the fresh green leaves began turning shades of red and yellow.
On the way to the Dongmul Nara shoot location, Reina turned her gaze out the window and narrowed her brows and lips in that peculiar way people do when they're deeply moved by the colorful mountain ridges.
"It feels like total catharsis... Isn't it just the best coming out to the countryside for a shoot? The air's so clean, too."
"Weren't you just complaining about how far it was? And the windows are closed anyway."
"Aigoo. Director, you really have no sense of mood. You light up like that over animals, though."
No, it was just noisy.
That constant chatter right next to me the whole ride in the Dongmul Nara van had worn me out.
"Director, what do you think about living out in the countryside? After you retire?"
"Sure. Why not. It wouldn't be bad."
"Too bad for me, I'm Seoul-specialized. I can't survive without same-day delivery anymore."
"I see."
"Seriously! Director, it's not even 7 yet—why do you look so tired already?!"
When I gave mechanical responses to her expectant questions, Reina frowned.
I hadn't actually seen it since my eyes were closed, but judging by the sudden sharpness in her voice, she was probably making that face.
...The 20s sure have endless energy. Here I am, a tired old 30-something.
I let Reina's chirping wash over me like white noise, keeping my eyes shut. Today's shoot was near Mount Jiri, in Hamyang County, South Gyeongsang Province.
Rural shoots were exhausting just from the travel distance, and today was an evening shoot due to the tip-off's timing.
Plus, I'd handled morning clinic hours, so of course I was beat.
And on top of that.
"We shot the day before yesterday, too. This is already the second rural shoot this week alone—it's no wonder you're tired."
"Hmm, true. But what can you do? This Halloween special content came up out of nowhere."
Halloween special... No clue what that's about.
That wasn't the only source of my fatigue.
News interviews and broadcast invites kept pouring in; turning them down took up every day.
"Speaking of, you're amazing. After your article, they slapped those lattice stickers on the dog stream sound barriers overnight—citizen volunteers finished it in a day, right? It even made the news."
"I didn't expect it to resolve that fast. Glad it worked out."
I'd turned down all the backlog of shoots, but I'd done one interview—through Good Deeds News' Shin Min-ji, same as before.
Lit major, huh? Her writing chops are no joke.
She'd penned the story of Maeng-maeng-i's family crashing into the sound barrier and seeing stars so movingly.
The district office turned it into a citizen event, plastering the Saemangeum Ecological Park's barriers with horizontal stickers in a single day.
The sudden fame was a burden, but it helped sometimes.
Even the Dongmul Nara team was getting support now.
"Thanks to you, we're surviving. Sponsorship team's been with us since last week. Hope they feature big in today's shoot..."
Reina glanced back out the window at the "support team."
She meant the huge bus tailing our van, emblazoned with the "Pet Palace" logo.
Pet Palace was a pet-custom furniture company, a subsidiary of Make Dream.
The parent company, Make Dream—the top custom furniture and interior firm, and Dongmul Nara's main sponsor—had proposed a new sponsorship model via Pet Palace: sending a massive bus loaded with fabrication gear and 11 animal-loving staff obsessed with welfare.
But.
They haven't done much yet.
The 11 passionate folks had rolled up in the bus, but last shoot, all they'd made were a few dog toys.
Barely a few minutes on air.
"Anyway, more sponsorships and support rolling in. Keep this up, and 10% ratings aren't a dream!"
Reina's eyes sparkled.
Hit 10% viewership, and Dongmul Nara promised the whole team an overseas trip.
Before I joined, ratings hovered at 3.5%. Now: 8.6%, 8.3%, 9.0%. Average up from 7% to 8%.
"Don't you travel abroad often for concerts or fan meets?"
"Nah, that's different! Work trips vs. vacation—totally separate. If we get that group trip, I'll..."
I tuned out Reina's endless stream, drifting into sweet sleep.
"Shoot location arrived! Everyone out!"
The youngest staffer driving bellowed.
Stretching as I stepped out, a serene rural house stood alone in a deserted spot.
No dog in the yard like typical countryside homes, no pet gear.
Judging by the lack of barking, high chance today's tip wasn't a dog.
Then.
Cat it is.
Halloween classics: jack-o'-lanterns and black cats like Nero.
Dogs and cats—90% of Dongmul Nara's bread and butter.
Non-dogs? Nine times out of ten, cats.
Rural Halloween special? Probably a cat bringing mice as thanks every night.
I mulled that over when.
Ding-dong~
Reina reached the door first and rang the bell.
"Hello, Dongmul Nara here."
- Ah, yes. Be right out. Door's unlocked, but...
"Okay, we'll head in then."
A groggy, just-woken voice crackled over the intercom. Reina flashed a smile at the camera and launched her intro.
"For our Halloween special Dongmul Nara, let's see what animal friend awaits!"
Rushed shoot—no pre-screened VCR for Reina either.
Creeeak—
Reina turned the knob, continuing her greeting.
"Hello, Reina from Dongmul Nara for the shoot..."
"Hello."
"Kyaaah!"
"Eek!"
Gaunt, skinny arms and legs.
Disheveled long hair.
A face pale as a sheet.
The man's entrance made Reina and the camera guy shriek, shaking the lens.
One might think screaming at a human face is overkill, but.
Whoa... what the hell?
Honestly, I barely held back a yelp myself.
He was illuminating his face with his phone flash from the pitch-black entryway.
"Sorry. Sensor light's busted trying to catch 'em. Come on in slow. Lights are on inside."
Halloween special vibes?
Tension hung thick from the start.
The tipster trudged into the unseen darkness, flipped the lights, and we filed in.
Moments later.
The freshly woken, disheveled man offered drinks on a tray and spoke.
"Sorry. Knew you'd arrive evening-ish, but I haven't slept..."
"Ha... ha. Happens. So, where's today's animal? Didn't see any outside. Inside a room?"
Reina's voice betrayed her unease. No pet traces from entrance to interior.
"Sigh... Not pets. Busted the entry sensor chasing 'em. Can't sleep, driving me nuts."
"Them... what kind?"
Reina swallowed dryly, asking cautiously. The man's eyes flashed fiercely, fist raised.
"Don't move!"
"Kyaaak!"
His fist shot toward Reina's face.
This psycho?
Sudden chaos.
Reina screamed, squeezing her eyes shut. I surged up to subdue him, but.
"Sorry if that scared you. It's a habit now."
The tipster extended his withdrawn fist toward us.
"These guys. Uninvited guests in my house."
He opened his hand carefully. A tiny creature wriggled inside.
—Hehe. Let me go already. Before I bite.
...A bat?
* * *
Worldwide, about 5,400 mammal species.
Bats make up 20%—over 1,300 species.
Of Korea's 24 bat species, only one invades homes: this guy.
"House bat."
"Yeah, Googled it—small size, lives in houses. Knew it was a house bat."
The tipster casually opened a window, releasing it, and continued.
"Problem is, even with windows shut, they keep coming in one after another..."
Snap!
"Like this, nonstop..."
Snap!
"Driving me insane."
He jabbed like a boxer, releasing two more from his hands.
"I'm a novelist. Tired of crowded cities, ditched urban hell for fresh country air... picked this spot."
Snap!
"Sigh... No idea where they keep pouring from."
He yanked the window open, releasing another.
"If they're hiding somewhere in the house, fine—but why keep coming inside? The flapping keeps me up. Two months in the countryside, already missing the city."
His haggard face screamed sincerity.
With a heavy sigh, he rubbed his weary eyes and went on.
"Thought about pest control... but bats aren't bad, hate to kill 'em. Wanted a humane way to evict 'em from the house, so I tipped Dongmul Nara. Hoping we can resolve without hurting them."
"Good call. A bat eats 20-30% of its body weight in insects nightly—mostly what we call pests."
House bats, just 7-9g, suck down 3,000 mosquitoes a day. Born bug killers.
"Oh? Yeah, moved here thinking rural = no bugs, even in the countryside."
2008 Telegraph: Top five species Earth can't lose—bees, plankton, fungi, primates, and bats.
"So, to sum up: you'd coexist with the bats."
"Uh...? Coexist, sure—but keep 'em outside. Don't care what they do out there."
His exhausted face screamed "exterminate now," yet here was depth.
"Perfect. Dongmul Nara's had a sponsorship team building pet toys and shelters as talent donations. How about a bat house for your place?"
"My house?"
"Outside, technically. If you're okay, mount it on the exterior wall? They've lived nearby, so close quarters benefit pest control too."
"Well... that sounds fine."
Good.
You said it yourself.
"I'll request fabrication now."
"Sure, go ahead. But... ugh, seriously!"
Snap!
He snatched the fifth bat, continuing.
"So, how big will this bat house be?"
"Gotta check with the team... bigger than a birdhouse, probably. Seems like quite a few bats."
"Yeah? How many you figure, Director? I see maybe five? Max I've caught at once is five."
"Hmm... need to confirm, but more than five."
"More like how many? Seven? Ten?"
"......"
His pupils quivered already.
Truth later.
"I'll look into it. Bat house takes time, so I'll pass to the team first. Oh, hand me that bat—I'll release it outside."
"Here."
"Thanks."
Taking the tiny house bat, I headed out and whispered to it.
"Hey... overheard about your family. A lot of you, huh? How many exactly?"
—Us? Hmm, how many were there?
From the second and third bats' chatter, their numbers dwarfed his imagination. And.
Whoa... way more than I thought.
Straight from the bat's mouth: beyond his guess, beyond mine—vastly more.
A lot more.
I rushed to the promo team, requesting the bat house.
Fast, before he changed his mind.