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Translator: penny
Chapter: 005
Chapter Title: Rural Depopulation
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Mir City had been urbanizing rapidly alongside Pangyo's growth in recent years, but just a decade ago, it felt much closer to the countryside. Twenty years back, agriculture was the primary industry.
The signature product was tomatoes.
The Doma Township area was a major farming district supplying 30% of all tomatoes consumed across Gyeonggi Province. Even the name derived from the old term for tomatoes, "Doma-do," which said it all.
The problem was that the younger generation had either moved straight to Pangyo amid its dazzling development, headed off to Seoul, or settled near stations convenient for commuting there.
The Doma Township region was gradually turning into a ghost town.
Issues like succession problems, local economic woes, and all sorts of difficulties had piled up like malignant inventory, but the most pressing problem right now was this one.
'The Doma Elementary School closure issue.'
In a Korean society already reeling from the low birth rate punch, getting hit with rural depopulation on top of that? With the youth outflowing to the cities and taking the kids along?
The school-age population in Doma Township had plummeted almost in freefall. Schools kept merging left and right until only one elementary school remained—and now even that was facing closure.
"Father."
During dinner, Yoon-hyuk spoke to his parents.
"I'll be away for about a month."
"What?"
"Where to?"
Both their eyes widened.
"To save Doma Elementary School."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
A suspicious young man appeared in Doma Township, which was on its way to becoming a ghost village.
He took the bus, then walked quite a distance to reach the Doma Township community hall.
"Phew."
What they called a community hall was really just an elderly center. It was a place where idle seniors sat around with gloomy expressions, watching TV, grumbling about politics, clucking their tongues, and sipping makgeolli.
"Hello, elders."
Yoon-hyuk entered and greeted them politely. All the seniors' gazes turned to him at once.
"Who're you?"
"Isn't that the son from Kim Mak-nyeo's place over there?"
"Nah! He's plumper than that one."
Yoon-hyuk approached the murmuring group and sat down.
"My name is Lee Yoon-hyuk. During the last National Assembly election, I worked as a staffer in Assemblyman Park Dae-man's campaign."
"National Assembly staffer?"
"You mean aide, right?"
They probably meant legislative assistant.
"No, I'm unemployed now."
"Park Dae-man's staffer came all the way here!"
One grandfather shouted, eyes fierce.
Seniors over sixty tended to strongly support the Freedom Party. Park Dae-man was from the Hanmin Party, so Yoon-hyuk was essentially approaching a hostile camp.
"I'm no longer on Assemblyman Park Dae-man's staff. He offered me a secretary position, but I turned it down."
The seniors' expressions softened a bit at that.
"Why'd you turn it down?"
One grandmother asked with a curious look.
"Because I want to run for Mir City mayor in the election the year after next. As an independent. There are things neither the Hanmin Party nor the Freedom Party can do, and I want to take them on."
"Oh, come on."
A grandfather with a face full of pockmark-like mushrooms clucked his tongue.
"Asking for votes, huh? Get lost, kid."
"Must've heard some line somewhere."
"We won't vote for someone under Park Dae-man!"
"This ain't no easy mark just 'cause we're all lifelong farmers who never got much schooling."
The reactions were even harsher than he'd feared.
In truth, politicians flocked to Doma Township around election time.
Why?
'These folks have money.'
There were plenty of wealthy farmers.
Especially those running large farms—high chance they were rich.
And if they'd managed a large farm for decades? Real loaded.
If it had been passed down generations? Exaggerating a bit, they were the type to scoff at Gangnam landlords.
Doma's local influencers had amassed fortunes farming this land for years and handed houses to their kids who left for the cities, Pangyo, or Seoul.
With all that money, investors naturally pitched all sorts of deals, leading many to own heaps of real estate.
'I have to win them over.'
In a capitalist society, money equaled power. These elders wielded tremendous influence across Mir City.
"Over the past 20 years, Mir City's mayoral seat has changed hands eight times."
Mayoral terms were four years, but resignations for national elections had triggered by-elections.
"Three times Hanmin Party, five times Freedom Party. But look at Doma Township, elders. It's only declined further. Youth have steadily outflowed for 20 years, schools have dwindled. You've voted Hanmin and Freedom all this time—have they ever satisfied you even once?"
"..."
The pockmark grandfather turned off the TV, muttering "What a racket..."
"So, what'll change if we vote for you?"
The pajama grandmother asked.
"Everything."
"How?"
"I'll foster a smart farm industry here and use it to bring young people back."
"Smart what?"
"No, smart farm..."
Yeah, not easy. The conversation itself, even.
"What's a smart farm do?"
It was part of the future knowledge Yoon-hyuk brought. A technology using advanced IT to grow crops in controlled environments—managing temperature, humidity, sunlight, CO2, hydroponics instead of soil.
Dubbed 'plant factories.' Still developing now, but soon it'd hit a tipping point and reshape global agriculture.
Yoon-hyuk planned to introduce that tech to Doma, remodeling the entire village industrially and environmentally. It'd become an asset for Mir City too.
But explaining now would just sound like fantasy novel nonsense to these elders—they wouldn't get it.
"I'll explain step by step. More importantly, Doma faces a bigger issue right now. We should tackle that first."
"What issue?"
"The Doma Elementary School closure."
For the first time, the seniors' half-sneering expressions shifted.
"I'll stop that school from closing."
"You're not mayor, not councilor, not even that assemblyman's staff anymore. How?"
The pockmark grandfather eyed him suspiciously.
"I'll show you directly. But, um..."
Yoon-hyuk scratched his cheek.
"Any empty houses around?"
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Doma Township overflowed with empty houses. Exaggerating a tad, pick any at random and it'd be fifty-fifty.
But the one the pockmark grandfather picked was pretty rundown.
"Phew."
Yoon-hyuk wiped sweat from his brow with his sleeve.
He'd been wrestling with a hammer, nails, and drill until late tonight. Scraped rust off the creaky front door and oiled it, fixed plumbing leaks, patched the roof.
"About done."
Sitting back for a breather, the quiet rural night felt serene.
"Hey. You home?"
A visitor arrived right then.
"Hello, sir."
"I'm the village head, Jang In-rae."
His expression screamed "I'm the village head!"—hat on head, hands behind back, striding in ramrod straight to size up Yoon-hyuk.
And behind him.
"Hello."
A middle-aged couple appeared. They looked older than Yoon-hyuk—around forty?
"This is my daughter. Here's her husband, and this is our village head's granddaughter."
The woman introduced the elementary schooler hiding behind her leg.
"Hello."
The girl bowed her head politely.
"I'm Jang Yu-ri, third-grader at Doma Elementary School."
"Nice to meet you, Yu-ri."
Yoon-hyuk greeted the guests.
"Uncle's name is Lee Yoon-hyuk."
Then he shook hands with the village head, the couple in turn.
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What happens when class sizes shrink in an elementary school?
They combine grades for classes.
Typically, one class for grades 1-3, another for 4-6.
That's Doma Elementary. Grades 1 (3 kids), 2 (2), 3 (3) in one class; 4 (4), 5 (3), 6 (3) in the other.
One homeroom teacher per class, plus one part-time admin teacher.
Total of three staff. Whole school population: 21 including kids.
"With numbers that low, the kids are super close. They hate the thought of splitting up."
Yu-ri's mom said.
Yu-ri was out in the yard shining a flashlight on lizards, playing. Yoon-hyuk sat on the porch bench, munching rice cakes, discussing the closure issue.
"But isn't the enrollment still too high for closure?"
Yu-ri's dad sighed.
"It is."
Indeed.
They discuss mergers below 30 students total, but only if there's another school to merge with.
No more in Doma. Doma Elementary is the last one.
If it closes, these 18 kids bus an hour and a half each way for school.
Schools like this rarely get pushed to close.
'Probably Kang Se-jin's doing.'
Current Gyeonggi Office of Education policy director, tipped for next superintendent.
The election the year after next mattered not just to Yoon-hyuk, but to Director Kang too.
Closing Doma Elementary eased Mir City's education budget strain while funneling funds to overcrowded Gyeonggi districts—a policy move. In other words, part of Kang's suprintendent campaign strategy.
"Didn't the teacher say they'd block it?"
Yu-ri's dad asked.
"Yeah."
"How?"
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"What's this guy want now..."
At Raymi Castle, Executive Director Choi Jun-taek frowned at the incoming caller's name.
Last time, Yoon-hyuk had proposed a deal to offset part of Raymi Castle's 800 million won extra spend as marketing, and gotten his contact.
Now calling again.
"Isn't our deal done?"
Choi picked up.
-It is. Calling with another proposal.
"What?"
-There's a rural school facing closure. I'm gonna remodel it real nice—very, very, very pretty.
"..."
-Thinking of giving Raymi Castle the shot at this project. Interested?
"Business? Volunteer work?"
Choi was baffled.
"We're not an interior firm anyway. We can refer you, but."
-We'll need them too. But exterior wall repairs, repainting, window upgrades, playground and field fixes, facility maintenance—that's Raymi Castle's wheelhouse, right?
"Do we get paid?"
-No.
"Then why should we volunteer?"
-Trust me and follow, you'll get killer brand PR on the cheap. And there's an even bigger reason.
Yoon-hyuk's calm voice came through the receiver.
-I'll remember this good deed for Raymi Castle.
"..."
Nonsense.
Yet Choi couldn't hang up easily.
At 45, he'd risen to division head believing his eye for people infallible.
What kind of man was this madman who'd reviewed 8,000 pages solo and negotiated with conglomerates while unemployed?
"Tell me more details."
Choi decided to hear him out.