As dawn broke, Chairman Park Tae-hong rose early, as was his habit, and stepped out of his bedroom in his indoor loungewear.
Hearing his footsteps echoing down the wide corridor toward the living room, the housemaid, Gunsan, wearing an apron, came out of the kitchen and greeted him politely.
"Good morning, Chairman. You're up early."
"My throat feels a little dry. Bring me a glass of cold water."
"Yes, sir."
Chairman Park settled himself into his usual spot, sinking into the plush single sofa he always favored.
With the curtains already drawn open, the bright morning sunlight streamed in through the large floor-to-ceiling glass windows.
"I've brought your water," the maid said.
She carefully set down a cup of chilled barley tea on the table before quietly returning to the kitchen.
Chairman Park wet his throat with a sip, then unfolded the morning newspaper that had been neatly folded in half.
He flipped through the pages, skimming the articles one by one, until his gaze froze on a striking headline.
[BlueSpace purchases 610,000 pyeong of Defense Ministry land in Moseulpo for 176 billion won. Is the era of private space exploration beginning?]
Reading through the entire article slowly, Chairman Park narrowed his brow slightly and let out a dry chuckle.
"Well, I'll be damned. I thought it was talk, but it seems that the fellow really intends to launch a space rocket."
He remembered how, during the year-end family gathering, Seok-won had mentioned building a launch site in Jeju to send rockets into space.
Naturally, everyone had been stunned. But since Seok-won was always prone to pulling off outrageous schemes, they dismissed it as just another one of his fanciful ideas.
Still, even knowing his ambitions, Chairman Park had never imagined that he would actually move so quickly to put things into motion.
And for good reason. Space development was the domain of advanced nations like the United States, Russia, or Europe—countries with cutting-edge scientific technology. Not once had a private company in the world attempted such a venture.
Moreover, Korea was a barren land when it came to space exploration. Not only did it lack rockets, it didn't even have a single launch site, making the very notion all the more dubious.
Yet here was a banner headline declaring the purchase of Defense Ministry land, along with a massive investment to construct a space center. It was enough to leave anyone completely dumbfounded.
"I thought it would take at least ten years."
Chairman Park Tae-hong furrowed his brow, his face clouded with concern.
"This isn't something that can be achieved just with ambition and money. He seems to be rushing in too recklessly, and that worries me."
He feared it might all end in failure, wasting nothing but vast sums of money and years of effort.
And yet, since his youngest son had always delivered results far beyond anyone's expectations, a part of him couldn't help but wonder if, once again, he would defy doubts and succeed spectacularly.
"A space rocket… If he pulls it off, it would truly be an achievement no one else has ever managed."
Meanwhile, when the plans for building the Moseulpo Space Center were announced, the residents of Daejeong-eup in Seogwipo City, where the site was to be located, were thrown into an uproar.
In the chill of the winter sea breeze, an elderly farmer bundled in a thick padded coat was spreading fertilizer across his harvested field, preparing the soil for next year's crops.
Each movement sent a pang through his aching back, but he didn't stop, his hands working diligently.
At that moment, a white Porter truck pulled up on the road beside the field.
With a clattering sound, the driver's door opened, and a man who looked to be in his mid-thirties stepped out.
"Uncle Kyung-sik! I'm here!" he shouted in a booming voice.
Only then did the farmer set down his shovel and straighten his back.
"Oh, yes, I see," he replied.
The sea breeze quickly cooled the sweat on his brow as it swept past.
Im Kyung-sik, a lifelong native of the village, waved in response, then trudged out of the field, the rubber boots caked with sticky mud weighing on his steps.
"Five sacks of fertilizer, right?" the man asked, pointing to the load piled in the back of the truck.
Climbing up onto the embankment, Im Kyung-sik removed his worn hat and wiped the sweat from his forehead before replying.
"That's right. Just set them down over there by the ridge."
His face was lined with deep wrinkles, but his voice still carried a sturdy strength.
"You already bought three sacks the other day. And now you're putting down more?" the man asked.
Lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag, Im Kyung-sik exhaled a puff of smoke as though to ease the weariness of farm work.
"Whether it's people or livestock, you have to feed them well if you want them to grow strong. The land's no different. In winter, you need to spread plenty of fertilizer so the crops will grow well."
It was the seasoned wisdom of a farmer who had worked the same land all his life, but the younger man only looked on with a disinterested expression.
"Didn't you see the newspaper the other day? They said some kind of space launch site is going to be built here. All this land is going to be taken anyway. Spreading fertilizer now is a waste of time."
"Who says they can just take my land? Not a chance!" Im Kyung-sik exploded angrily.
Resting one arm on the edge of the truck bed, the man answered lazily.
"Like it or not, the Defense Ministry land has already been sold, and it's a big company that's behind this. What can you do? Half the land you're farming is leased from the Defense Ministry anyway."
"Bah! Stop spouting nonsense and unload the fertilizer already!"
Annoyed by the farmer's sharp tone, the man only shrugged and climbed into the truck bed.
Pulling off the waterproof tarp, he began unloading the sacks of fertilizer one by one, setting them down along the field ridge.
Meanwhile, Im Kyung-sik turned his gaze toward the field where he had been spreading fertilizer just moments ago.
Though it wasn't his land, he had leased it from the Defense Ministry for the past twenty years. Over that time, he had painstakingly cleared away stones, built up ridges, spread fertilizer, and transformed what was once barren ground into fertile soil.
The thought of losing this land overnight—land soaked with his sweat and toil, where he had built his life as a farmer—was something he simply could not accept.
With the hardships of the years etched deeply into his face, Im Kyung-sik looked out at the field with a stubborn expression.
"No. I'll never allow it."
Meanwhile, that same morning, as fierce winds blew and snow fell, fishermen who had abandoned their work for the day were already gathered in small groups at a tavern near the docks, clinking glasses of soju despite the early hour.
"Another bottle of soju here!"
"Did he go out to catch mackerel or what? Why's he taking so long? At this rate, we'll finish all the bottles before the side dishes even get here."
At the burly, bearded man's loud complaint, the plump middle-aged tavern owner, wearing an apron around her waist, carried out a plate of grilled mackerel and set it down on the table.
"You're always so impatient. Here you go!"
Alongside it, she placed a small aluminum pot of clam soup.
"Here, this one's on the house!"
"Ha ha ha! Now that's what I'm talking about. Nothing makes the drinks go down smoother than hot soup. Our madam here really knows what she's doing!"
"You were just grumbling a moment ago that the food was late."
"Was I? Oh, come now!"
The bearded man joked with mock innocence, and the tavern owner let out a laugh.
"Don't laugh like that. Look at you—keep staring at an ugly face long enough and you'll grow attached!"
"Are you calling me ugly?"
"Well, you sure don't look handsome. With that wide, flat face, you've got the look of a cattle thief! Want me to bring you another bottle?"
"Of course!"
As soon as the tavern owner brought out another bottle of soju, the bearded man popped the cap and filled the empty glasses.
The shop was lively and rowdy, packed not only with his group but also with other fishermen who had abandoned the day's work because of the foul weather and had come to drink.
"Alright then—let's drink!"
Downing the strong soju in a single gulp, the bearded man set his glass down with a sharp clack.
"Ahh!"
Just then, a companion sitting across from him spoke up, his face clouded with worry.
"You all heard the talk about that space center being built in Moseulpo, right?"
At that, a man wearing a black beanie chimed in.
"From Seotal Oreum all the way to the Mundurigol coast, they say the whole area's being taken over, isn't it?"
"If only it stopped there. I heard from the fisheries office this morning—they're planning to reclaim tens of thousands of pyeong of sea right in front of Mundurigol."
The bearded man, who had been poking at the side dishes while listening, suddenly raised his eyebrows.
"Are you serious?"
"Of course. And because of that, from now on, whenever we head out to Gapado or Marado, we'll have to go the long way around the open sea."
"Damn it! What kind of nonsense is that? Do you know how good the fishing is in those waters, and they're going to bury it under dirt?"
The bearded man's voice rose in fury, and the man in the black beanie, his face hardening, shouted in agreement.
"If they reclaim that area, we'll be forced to go much farther out to sea to catch fish. That can't happen!"
Another fisherman across the table burst out as well.
"The fisheries officer said if they do reclaim the land, there'll be some kind of compensation for the loss of fishing grounds. But what good is that? Even if we get a bit of money, once the fish disappear from the surrounding waters, we'll be the ones left ruined. Isn't that right?"
The bearded man's face flushed red as anger boiled up inside him, and he kept tossing back glass after glass of soju.
"Dammit all! Why are those landfolk suddenly barging in, making a ruckus about building some space center or whatever, and turning our lives upside down?"
At that moment, the man in the beanie slammed his glass down and, his eyes glazed with drink, glared at his companions.
"Hey, Beardo. You're not just going to sit back and watch this, are you?"
"Of course not! We've got to stop them!"
The bearded man swung his thick fist through the air, and his companion shouted along with him.
"That's right! If they come around asking for consent forms or whatever, let's toss them all straight into the sea in front of the docks!"
It wasn't just the three of them. Fishermen at other tables also bristled with anger, voicing one negative remark after another about the construction of the space center.
As curses flew in every direction, two men—clearly outsiders at a glance—quietly paid their bill at a corner table and slipped out of the tavern.
The moment they stepped outside, the icy sea wind swept over their bodies, sharp enough to make them shiver. The stout, middle-aged man grimaced.
"I expected some resistance, but the mood is worse than I thought."
His subordinate, Yang Hyeong-du, cast a wary glance back at the tavern they had just left.
"They wouldn't really throw us into the sea, would they?"
The two men were employees of Bluehole Construction, dispatched to Jeju to negotiate land purchases and obtain resident consent.
"What? Are you scared?"
"Everyone in there was grinding their teeth, ready to explode. Don't you feel the least bit uneasy, Chief?"
Manager Hwang Seok-jin gave a short laugh, pulled a cigarette pack from his inner pocket, and lit one up.
Drawing in a deep drag of smoke, he exhaled slowly and spoke with composure.
"In construction work, you run into things far rougher than this. This is nothing. Besides, they're only talking big. No one's actually raised a hand against us—at least not yet."
"Yes, sir… not yet," Yang Hyeong-du replied darkly.
"But with the residents so hostile… is the Chairman really coming to that meeting in a few days?"
"That's what I've heard."
"I know he wants to persuade them himself, but what if something happens? If things turn ugly, it might only make the situation worse."
Having seen the mood firsthand, Yang felt even more anxious.
Manager Hwang clicked his tongue lightly, holding the cigarette between his fingers.
"I'm worried something might happen too, but if the higher-ups say they're coming, what can we do? All we can do is hope it passes without any trouble."
At that helpless remark, Yang Hyeong-du scratched his head roughly with one hand.
"I heard civic group members will also be flooding into the meeting. Honestly, this is driving me insane."
"If the worst they do is throw eggs, we can count ourselves lucky."
"Should I start preparing my resignation letter, then?"
"Maybe so."
Manager Hwang Seok-jin, looking troubled, cast a glance back at the tavern, its lights blazing and loud chatter spilling out into the night. Then he dropped his half-smoked cigarette to the ground and crushed it under his shoe.
"Let's get out of here before someone picks a fight with us. We'll just grab some beers back at the lodging instead."
"Yes, sir."
With his shoulders slumped, Yang Hyeong-du followed after Manager Hwang as he walked away from the pier.