“And after the special feature, you’ll be appearing on two more broadcasts… one will be news and the other entertainment.”
“News and entertainment, huh? Can you give me a detailed explanation?”
“First, for the news… have you ever seen an interview with a guest?”
“I have.”
“Then the conversation will go swiftly. Shaman Park Jinseong will be the guest and will engage in dialogue. Depending on the people’s reactions, the content may vary slightly… but fundamentally, we’ll discuss national defense and magic, and Shaman Park Jinseong will have some time for PR (Public Relations).”
Kim Cheolsu continued speaking.
“And after your appearance on the news, you’ll be on the entertainment show… This is where Shaman Park Jinseong will go to the entertainment program of his choice. Ah, but only on terrestrial broadcasting. It’s preferable for the government to see the desired effect on broadcast.”
I would appreciate it if you could choose a program in the prime time slot.
Kim Cheolsu finished his statement.
“Hmm.”
The picture wasn’t bad.
First, the special broadcast that is heavily funded was quite promising.
A ‘special broadcast’ itself could demonstrate that the government was paying attention to the current situation, and as it would be branded with the name of a well-known investigative reporting program, it could be expected to achieve high ratings and impact.
And for the news.
The news medium isn’t groundbreaking with ratings but conversely, has the characteristic of not falling below a certain level.
It’s essentially the ‘steady seller’ of TV programs.
Moreover, it can convey information broadly to all ages, making it the perfect format to package Jinseong and succinctly summarize the previously aired ‘special’ content.
Finally, the entertainment segment.
This too wasn’t bad.
If news was broad and shallow, the entertainment segment could be deemed narrow and deep.
It was an excellent approach to appeal to specific classes, age groups, gender, and tastes.
Especially if it was a high-rated program, commonly referred to as ‘national entertainment,’ even the narrowness could be overlooked.
Moreover, due to the nature of entertainment, it was conducive for people to develop a sense of familiarity with Jinseong. When appearing on entertainment, there would already be an image set up that ‘the government hired Jinseong to resolve this situation’ through the special and the news, which could transfer goodwill for Jinseong into goodwill for the government.
The only disadvantage might be that due to the ‘entertainment’ program’s characteristics, there was a risk of depicting Jinseong in a ridiculous light or doing what is termed ‘demon editing’ to make him unlikable, but with the support of an unstoppable entity like ‘the government,’ that risk was practically nonexistent.
Moreover, as Kim Cheolsu mentioned, Jinseong was a shaman.
You never know what could happen if you provoke a shaman.
“The fear people have is that ‘if you bear a grudge against a shaman, you never know how things could turn out.’ So, would anyone really risk doing something strange to increase ratings?”
If someone actually did that, they would be ‘selling their soul for ratings,’ and that would hardly be surprising.
Of course, there would indeed be people willing to sell their soul for ratings.
But the solution to that was simple.
Just check once before the broadcast.
In this case, they could show a fake edit to deceive Jinseong, but…
If anything felt off, they could plant an insect in his head to ensure he becomes a vegetable the moment he does something absurd. Or, they could have him faint right before the broadcast to ensure the fake edit airs.
In other words, Jinseong wouldn’t incur any losses.
“Understood. That much should be simple enough.”
Jinseong nodded, confirming the conditions were good.
Thus, the atmosphere began to flow increasingly positively. This continued even when Kim Cheolsu shared warnings and the government’s requests, culminating in:
“I’ll sign the contract.”
“Haha, I look forward to working with you.”
The contract was finalized, confirming that Jinseong would appear on the broadcast.
Kim Cheolsu happily smiled, seemingly pleased with the upper management’s directive to have Jinseong on air, and as he went to the elevator and left the building, he left a word of gratitude behind.
‘Things have gone well.’
Contrary to his expectations of the impending difficulties, everything went smoothly, and the contract was signed without any noise.
Moreover, despite being in a highly advantageous position, Jinseong did not place any particular conditions and readily accepted the request for a friendly disposition towards the government… which, to some, might have seemed an uncomfortable demand.
It could be considered a great success.
Kim Cheolsu embraced his joy and moved forward.
Was it as if his joy was shared by the building itself?
When he previously visited, he thought the empty scenery of the building was eerie, yet now, it somehow felt warm.
Even though nothing had changed and it remained empty.
‘Now that this is successful, I’ll finally get to relax for a bit.’
The principle of the world can be likened to a seesaw — one side goes down, and the other goes up; when the other side goes down, the first side rises.
“Do you understand this has to succeed? Let’s please give it our all. Yeah? Let’s move a bit quicker!”
In stark contrast to Kim Cheolsu, who was expecting rewards and relaxation after successfully finalizing the contract, there was a place that had gotten horrifically busy.
It was the ‘Trace, Investigative, Report’ team.
“Is it even possible right now?”
The reason for their turmoil was simple.
Due to the nature of investigative reporting programs, they needed to run around and gather all sorts of information, but they couldn’t do that.
There was too little time allocated to prepare thoroughly, and saying it was impossible would not suffice against the upper management’s firm stance.
The head of the department personally stepped in, declaring, “You are the most reliable here at our broadcasting station. I believe you can do this.”
This was practically a decree that ‘this task is confirmed, and you must succeed.’
Moreover, the deputy director frequently visited to ask if everything was going well, and even though the director didn’t say it outright, they made subtle hints every time they met.
In such a situation, declining?
Impossible.
Declining now would lead to truly terrifying repercussions afterward.
Therefore, all they could do was accept the task and make it succeed.
As long as they succeeded, a sufficient reward would follow.
The more effort they put in, the more their abilities would be properly recognized.
Everything would flourish for them.
However, the problem was that it seemed challenging to achieve success.
The most fundamental task of gathering information was already proving difficult.
Since the subject was the monsters appearing in the nation’s mountains, it was necessary to investigate related matters, yet the internet was flooded with all kinds of fake information. From military experiment subjects to terror incidents involving remnants of North Korea, numerous theories flooded in, pulling the identities of these monsters into murky waters.
The only relatively reliable resources were the ancient records, but even that posed a problem.
During the Samhan or the Three Kingdoms eras, there were limited records, making it hard to expect anything. The more promising records came from Goryeo and Joseon, but…
Goryeo’s records were either obliterated or altered by Joseon, and Joseon’s records are difficult to find.
Joseon was a nation that strongly rejected and repelled superstitions and strange phenomena. Because of this, records regarding yokai, ghosts, or monsters were scarce.
Educated individuals overlooked them, believing them beneath their dignity to engage with, and did not wish to document them because they were thought to be vulgar.
At least some legends or myths were recorded from academic or ethnic perspectives, but there was generally little interest in topics like ghosts or monsters unless it was from some eccentric individual or a lowly-born concubine of a noble.
Lower-class individuals?
They could hardly leave records at all.
Most were illiterate and could not document their thoughts.
Even after King Sejong promulgated Hangul, while a greater number of people could read and write, there was still a significant issue.
The materials needed for documentation—paper, brushes, ink, and an inkstone—were prohibitively expensive.
Proper writing tools were far too costly for poor individuals to obtain.
Consequently, individuals interested in folklore about ghosts, monsters, and yokai could not leave any proper records. Even if they somehow managed to document something, the poor quality of the tools led to those documents deteriorating before long.
Moreover, it would have been nice if the country was at peace.
Joseon frequently faced foreign invasions, leading to the loss of data that happened countless times.
Were there any surviving materials from all this?
Only a tiny fraction remained; many were burned or distorted during the Japanese colonial period.
The Japanese Empire proclaimed the concept of ‘shimon’ (the idea of everything being one) and sought to eradicate the Korean ethnic identity, thus erasing and distorting stories associated with national identity. They emphasized negative aspects to prevent nostalgia for old nations like Samhan, the Three Kingdoms, Goryeo, and Joseon and infused Japanese elements into their folklore to encourage assimilation.
‘I need to find out if it’s a Korean monster or one from another country…’
Looking through Korean sources for fact-checking proved to be exceedingly inefficient. Hence, the only recourse was to examine sources from other countries, but that posed its own issue.
To properly understand the monster presumed to be a ‘Japanese yokai,’ they needed to go to Japan. They needed to head to Japan, gather relevant data, and conduct interviews to cover the topic.
Japan refused entry.
The Immigration Bureau of Japan denied the ‘Trace, Investigative, Report’ team’s request for entry.
Japan informed them they could not land for filming purposes, providing vague reasons when questioned. Additionally, after prohibiting their entry, they could not reach any folklore professors or notable figures in Japan, and when they did, they were uncooperative.
It was enough to drive one insane.
They committed no crimes, nor were they suffering from mental illnesses.
They composed entirely of individuals free of any overseas travel disqualifications, yet Japan refused to accept them.
Even when they tried recruiting other filming teams as tourists to enter Japan, those teams either caught on or had other reasons for denial.
Had they managed to secure interviews?
All appointments fell apart.
Many claimed urgent matters, canceled, or fell into communication blackouts, providing vague answers like, “I lack sufficient data,” “I cannot confirm this as it’s outside my jurisdiction,” “It’s a contentious issue in academia, I’m cautious speaking on it,” and other endless excuses, offering no concrete answers to their inquiries.
Meanwhile, should they twist or fabricate the reply, they threatened that they would reveal the recording and take legal action using something akin to intimidation, leaving no room to cleverly edit their comments.
“Wouldn’t it work out if Shaman Park Jinseong helped us out somehow?”
“Is that person a magic wand? Aren’t they the very exception in a land known as the magic desert, Korea? Plus, he’s a young shaman, right? Just now becoming an adult, what can we realistically expect from him?”
It would have been nice if there was even a somewhat reliable person.
The very center of this special feature, Park Jinseong, was not a figure one could put much trust in.
A shaman from the magic desert Korea, self-taught without a master, and notably young.
Moreover, with strong government pressure and rumors of connections to chaebols, it was evident that he was a parachute.
So what’s to be done?
It is inevitable that they would have to reverse their expectations.
“…Yeah. It’s tough, so I was just holding onto hope for a moment. Let’s get back to research….”
“…Yes.”
Being inefficient is something that can only be said when other options exist.
Thus, reluctantly, they had no choice but to investigate Korean resources, chase after professors for interviews on Korean and Japanese folklore, and seek every possible angle for fact-checking.
“Come on, let’s rally!”
