God of Blackfield

[The great North Korea has approved the South’s request to connect the Eurasian Rail,” the North Korean female announcer, dressed in hanbok, read the announcement with an exaggerated intonation as if drawn from below.

[This lays the groundwork for North-South peace development. To prevent the rail’s construction from being disrupted, the North and South have decided to entrust its management to the Eurasian Rail Committee.]

At the same time, the announcement from North Korea’s central broadcast was also being reported on South Korean news.

“Wooaaaah!”

Soldiers in the Samsung-dong office erupted into loud cheers. Kang Chan felt the urge to give them all a pat on the back while Kim Hyung-Jung was crying too hard to even even move.

What did we have to go through to get here?

Kim Hyung-Jung slowly stood up and walked to the window. To achieve this, Kim Tae-Jin had to meet Kang Chan first.

Just when he had given up everything in Mongolia, Kang Chan appeared out of nowhere and rescued him. Countless even more astonishing events had followed since then. He remembered Choi Seong-Geon, Hwang Ki-Hyun, Song Chang-Wook, and the other soldiers, including those who fell in the International Building, Libya, and Mongolia.

Their families also came to mind: Lee Yoo-Seul, who kept asking for her father until the end; Um Ji-Hwan’s elderly mother, who buried her dead son and went down to Jangseong; the wife of the counter-terrorism team soldier who sacrificed himself in the International Building; and the struggling smile of Yang Dong-Sik’s daughter.

The faces of those who had sacrificed themselves flashed in his mind. How could this have been accomplished by one person? If Kang Chan hadn’t stepped forward and risked his life for all this, none of it would have been possible.

Kim Hyung-Jung frowned and looked up at the sky to suppress his increasingly reddening eyes.

I miss Kim Tae-Jin. He must be tanned black in Mongolia now. Seok Kang-Ho, Gérard, and the Jeungpyeong men too, who now feel like family.

Kim Hyung-Jung let out a quiet sigh. There was still a lot of work to be done; he had a mountain of tasks left to organize.

“Thank you,” Kim Hyung-Jung blurted out, then turned around. “Whew.”

South Korea had finally truly begun growing.

***

They could finally be discharged. While Kang Dae-Kyung was at the office, Yoo Hye-Sook tidied up the bed and the surroundings with a puffy face.

The soldiers guarding their room were all armed with rifles. They were also wearing black military uniforms with Taegeukgi patches on their sleeves, complimenting their tanned faces and sharp eyes. She had heard that they were counter-terrorism agents, but to Yoo Hye-Sook, they just looked like soldiers.

She had been scared of them at first, but her fear eventually turned into guilt. These were the people who had fought in Afghanistan and risked their lives to stop the terrorist attack on the International Building.

Yoo Hye-Sook felt amazed and delighted when she heard that Kang Chan was alive. However, since then, tears would well up in her eyes whenever she looked at the soldiers outside.

She felt sorry for the fallen soldiers’ families, who would never get to hear the news that their relative had returned alive. Instead, they would learn that their irreplaceable son, father, or husband had run toward death without hesitation for South Korea. The people keeping watch over her were no different. Someday, they too would risk their lives in covert operations, continuing the legacy of bravery and sacrifice without recognition.

Yoo Hye-Sook sniffled, a sense of pity and regret hitting her.

Creak.

The door opened, and Kang Dae-Kyung entered. For some reason, his eyes were redder than hers.

Wiping her eyes, Yoo Hye-Sook looked outside.

“Honey...?” she called.

Hearing rifles clunking and low voices outside, she quickly realized that someone was accompanying her husband. She quickly tried to hide her expression.

I shouldn’t show weakness in front of these brave soldiers...

At that moment, someone entered the open hospital room.

“Huh?” she gasped in confusion.

Kang Chan—her son, whom she missed even in her dreams—had come to visit her.

“Ah? Ah?”

While gasping repeatedly, Yoo Hye-Sook stretched out her arms and approached Kang Chan.

“Mother,” called Kang Chan.

Her son had grown even more. In his embrace, which enveloped her from above her shoulders, Yoo Hye-Sook burst into a loud cry.

***

Kim Gwan-Sik couldn’t help but be stunned. NIS Director Go Gun-Woo had given him a hint earlier at dawn. Nevertheless, the 10 am announcement on TV about North Korea’s approval to connect the Eurasian Rail still came across as a surprise.

Even if next-generation energy facilities were not ready, all preparations for the Eurasian Rail would be complete once the connection line to North Korea was constructed in Goseong.

He worked hard. Keeping his promise, he had given his all to ensure that he’d be able to stand before Song Chang-Wook without shame. Nevertheless, he still found the announcement so unexpected that it seemed as though it had dropped out of nowhere.

He knew there had to be more to this, though. Go Gun-Woo’s call hinted as much, and North Korea’s decision would be too abrupt otherwise. As if to prove him right, Go Gun-Woo revealed far more shocking information after the announcement.

“Assistant Director Kang Chan accomplished this feat and returned at dawn today. You will meet him when you attend the Eurasian Rail Committee meeting soon. I thought I’d inform you in advance so you won’t be too surprised.”

Kim Gwan-Sik felt his soul leave his body, sit on the sofa opposite him, and stare right back at him.

“After we announced that the assistant director had died, he went on to complete operations in Cuba and Bermuda, where he was seriously injured. All of that led to North Korea’s decision.”

“Where is he now, then?” Kim Gwan-Sik inquired.

“He’s out to visit his mother and attend the funeral of the soldiers who died in the recent operation. After that, he has a meeting with the directors of intelligence bureaus from various countries in the afternoon. He has a really busy schedule.”

A few more words were exchanged, but Kim Gwan-Sik couldn’t retain any of them due to the shock.

Ah!

Except for one important message.

“The president wishes to meet you this afternoon.”

***

“Do-Hwan!” a mother cried. A widowed wife wailed alongside her.

“Jin-Su, you rascal!” a father cried as he clutched his chest. His son had manned the machine gun until he took his last breath.

Thud!

Large Taegeukgis were spread over the coffins, and Taegeukgi badges were fixed onto the heads of the coffins. The bereaved families’ heart-wrenching cries filled the funeral hall as they watched the ceremony, refusing to miss the last moments of their beloved.

Despite knowing that they would leave their loved ones behind, the soldiers never retreated.

Standing silently at the back, Kang Chan looked at Yang Dong-Sik’s photo. Even though the ceremony was about to end, no one had called his name yet.

‘So what?’ Yang Dong-Sik’s face in the portrait seemed to shamelessly ask.

‘We’ve taken out Sherman and Ziegfeld.’

‘Don’t worry. I’ll find them over here too.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Please take care of sunbae-nim for me, Assistant Director. That’s all I ask. I really like that bastard.’

Kang Chan felt as if he could hear Yang Dong-Sik. He was standing in a corner with Gérard, Seok Kang-Ho, and the counter-terrorism soldiers behind him. However, no one glanced in Yang Dong-Sik’s direction.

If it weren’t for him, they wouldn’t have discovered that the enemies were armed with C4. He likely wanted to protect Kang Chul-Gyu even in death, and he succeeded.

‘Thank you.’

‘Do I deserve to hear those words?’

Kang Chan felt like Yang Dong-Sik was bashfully smiling.

***

He didn’t know how the past three days had passed. Kang Chan met Lanok twice and also saw Anne, who had regained some consciousness.

“We have only just begun, Monsieur Kang,” Lanok said.

“Do I have to keep doing this?” Kang Chan inquired.

Lanok nodded in understanding.

“I had the same look when I lost my wife. I had such a really tough time back then, too.”

From his bed, he gently covered Kang Chan’s hand with his own.

“This is not something you can avoid by wanting to. Even if you try to escape this, the tasks you’ve left behind will eventually come running for you.”

Does he have to continue working in the world of intelligence too?

Kang Chan smiled bitterly. “I’m thinking of visiting Russia.”

Lanok smiled gently in return and shook his head. Kang Chan had never seen him smile like this before.

“No need to rush over to Vasili. Shouldn't you give Raphael the honor of being the first one to serve you some tea first?"

Turning his head, Kang Chan saw Raphael standing proudly.

“Can I ask this favor?”

“Of course, Monsieur Kang.”

Raphael turned around, his face full of pride.

***

Time had flown by again. A neatly dressed teacher in her thirties stood in front of the class, with parents watching proudly from the back and sides of the room.

“Everyone!”

"Yes, ma'am!"

The children’s responses stretched out like tiny echoes.

“Today, before our lesson, we’re going to meet someone very important.”

Some children were fidgeting with their desks or touching their noses, but they all looked at the teacher with bright eyes.

“These people have made such great contributions to our country that they were given medals of honor. Do you remember what they received?”

“Medals!” the children answered loudly.

“That’s right. Today, our class will get to meet wonderful people and ask them any questions you might have.”

"Yes!” Oh Min-Ju, a small child with big eyes, answered quietly.

At that moment, they heard clankings outside. The teacher and the parents quickly turned their gazes to the door.

“Everyone!”

"Yeees!"

Even while answering, the children’s eyes kept darting outside.

“The National Intelligence Service’s counter-terrorism team, who have made significant contributions to connecting the Eurasian Rail, have come out of their way to visit you today. Let’s all give them a big round of applause!”

Even the mothers craned their necks, peeking outside. The children began clapping enthusiastically, and the mothers joined in.

Clap, clap, clap, clap, clap, clap!

The teacher walked over to open the door.

Clank, clank.

Five men in black military uniforms slowly entered.

“Wow!” the children exclaimed and clapped even more excitedly. The boys looked at them as if they were seeing heroes from a comic book. One of the mothers in the front covered her mouth in surprise when she saw the man leading them.

‘Tomorrow is Min-Ju’s presentation.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘It’s okay. Just make sure to bring bananas when you come. Are you sure you’re ok?’

‘Yes.’

And now, here he was, with the word ‘Republic of Korea’ and a bright Taegeukgi patch on his left arm...

“Oh? Oh?”

Oh Min-Ju stood up hesitantly and looked at her mother with wide eyes before turning her gaze to the front again.

“Dad? Dad?”

Oh Gwang-Taek still had gauze on his ear.

“Dad—ah!”

Running on her thin, short legs, Oh Min-Ju quickly dashed toward him. As Oh Gwang-Taek lifted her up, four men behind him approached and patted her back.

“Everyone! Min-Ju’s father has received a medal of honor for his bravery. Let’s give him and his team another round of applause for working hard for our country.”

Even louder applause filled the classroom.

Oh Gwang-Taek looked at his wife and smiled wearily. It was clear to anyone that he was still recovering from his injuries. He had to have pushed himself too hard just to attend his daughter’s presentation.

“Honey! You’re amazing! You’re such a wonderful father! You’re the best!”

Oh Gwang-Taek’s wife covered her mouth and walked out with tears in her eyes.

***

“Urggh! Agh!”

Unable to hold back his tears, a soldier limped back from the mountains with a heart-wrenching cry.

Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang.

“Hoo. Urgh.”

The soldier plopped heavily on the ground.

Curious about the noise, the door of the barracks opened, and Nam Il-Gyu slowly approached the man, who had passed the first round of training but was likely to be eliminated in the second round due to his injuries.

If asked whether he wanted to continue, the man would invariably insist on pushing through to the end. How frustrated must he be to cry like this.

“It’s okay. You’ll have your chance,” Nam Il-Gyu said softly, comforting him.

“This is unfair, sir!” the special forces candidate, with dried spit at the corners of his mouth, shouted angrily.

Nam Il-Gyu looked closely at him. “What’s your name?”

“Yang Dong-Sik, sir!”

Nam Il-Gyu froze for a moment.

What went wrong?

As the soldier glanced up, Nam Il-Gyu sighed softly and patted Yang Dong-Sik on the shoulder.

“Dong-Sik.”

“Yes, sir!”

“Make sure to come back next year. Get that broken leg fixed and come back even more determined.”

“Yes, sir! Urgh!”

“And stop crying, you idiot!”

“Becoming a member of the Jeungpyeong special forces team has been my lifelong dream, sir!”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-six, sir!”

Thump!

Nam Il-Gyu lightly hit the back of Yang Dong-Sik’s head.

“Hey! People named Yang Dong-Sik never cries! I’ll remember your name, so fix your leg and come back next year. I’ll teach you a special skill then.”

Yang Dong-Sik wiped his tears with his sleeve and looked at Nam Il-Gyu.

“Have you heard of Seoul sightseeing?”

“Yes, sir!” Yang Dong-Sik replied energetically, looking at Nam Il-Gyu with hopeful eyes.

“Good! I’m Nam Il-Gyu!”

Thud!

Yang Dong-Sik quickly stood up.

“It’s an honor to meet a legend like you, Sir! Corporal Yang Dong-Sik, sir!”

“You rascal.”

Nam Il-Gyu chuckled, his cheek twitching.

Creak.

The barrack door opened, and Kang Chul-Gyu stepped outside. Nam Il-Gyu quickly turned around.

“Sunbae-nim.”

Recruits who failed the second training didn’t even get a chance to be trained by Kang Chul-Gyu or Nam Il-Gyu.

“This guy was eliminated because of a broken leg.”

Stomp, stomp.

Kang Chul-Gyu approached silently, exuding a strong presence.

“His name is Yang Dong-Sik.”

Kang Chul-Gyu slowly looked Yang Dong-Sik up and down.

“And he’s crying? What a waste of a perfectly good name.”

“I wasn’t crying!”

“Do you know who this person is?”

Yang Dong-Sik quickly glanced up, catching on.

“He’s Kang Chul-Gyu sunbae-nim,” explained Nam Il-Gyu.

Yang Dong-Sik stood up straight and offered them a salute. “It’s na honor to meet you, sir! Corporal Yang Dong-Sik!”

Kang Chul-Gyu saluted him back.

“Dong-Sik.”

“Corporal! Yang! Dong! Sik!”

“Make sure to come back after your leg heals.”

“I definitely will, sir!”

Yang Dong-Sik’s determined shout echoed across the yard of the barracks.

“Come back as Yang Dong-Sik, who never cries.”

“Yes, sir!”

Wee-oo, wee-oo, wee-oo!

The emergency siren blared through the quiet barracks.

Woosh! Woosh!

Click! Clack! Click! Clack!

From the barracks that Kang Chul-Gyu and Nam Il-Gyu had rushed into, weapons being readied echoed.

At the same time, the engine of a helicopter roared awake from behind the building.

Boom!

The door burst open, and the fully armed Jeungpyeong special forces team dashed out in helmets, masks, and in black uniforms. They were outfitted with rifles, pistols, magazines, bayonets, and radios, and had the Taegeukgi patch on their arms.

They also had the bayonet symbol on their left shoulders—the symbol of the Jeungpyeong special forces team.

Clank! Clank! Clank! Clank!

Yang Dong-Sik remained frozen as the soldiers boarded the helicopter and lifted off into the sky.

Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud!

“I will definitely return next year!” Yang Dong-Sik shouted, his resolve steeled even further.

***

More time passed.

In the grand conference hall of the ASEM Tower, lights shone brightly from the holes in the ceiling, illuminating the area below. Vasili and Lanok were seated at a large table that curved around the front podium. Empty seats in the middle separated them from Ludwig and Yang Bum.

In front of them and the empty seats were thin microphones, water bottles, and cups. Opposite the podium were two hundred seats meant for the directors of other countries’ intelligence bureaus. They were in cascading heights, like bleachers, and had tables in front with enough space for a thin microphone, a drink, and a cup.

Since the meeting hadn't started yet, the people chatted with those next to them or turned around to speak with those behind them, filling the room with quiet murmurs.

“They could have arrived a bit earlier,” Vasili grumbled as he turned his head toward the door.

“The Chairman is entering.”

The announcement echoed through the room, and the large doors swung open.

Thud. Thud.

Lanok, Vasili, Ludwig, and Yang Bum stood up, signaling the two hundred intelligence bureau directors from various countries to rise as well.

Clap, clap, clap, clap, clap, clap.

Kang Chan, dressed in a black suit with a shirt, entered through the door on the right side of the podium with Gérard and approached Lanok first. Meanwhile, the applause continued unabated from those below the podium.

“Chairman.”

“You shouldn’t call me that anymore.”

Kang Chan smiled faintly. He embraced him warmly and exchanged a loud French-style smack on both cheeks.

Afterward, Lanok let out a quiet sigh.

He knew that Kang Chan had met with the intelligence directors individually and gotten their agreement to adapt to the new order. Still, Lanok didn’t expect Kang Chan to now exude an overwhelming aura that made even him feel pressure despite having met Kang Chan many times before already.

Lanok didn’t expect Kang Chan to handle it this well. Standing at the center of the podium like someone who had finally found a well-fitting suit, Kang Chan overwhelmed the world’s intelligence bureau directors with his expression, gaze, and a mere greeting.

The loud applause continued as Kang Chan shook hands with Vasili.

“You shouldn’t be late just because you’re the star,” Vasili remarked.

“I’ll be early next time,” Kang Chan answered. He then turned and shook hands with Ludwig and Yang Bum in turn.

“Good to see you,” Ludwig greeted.

“You look well, Monsieur Kang,” Yang Bum said.

Finally, Kang Chan headed back to the center seat and looked around.

Clap, clap, clap, clap, clap, clap.

“It’s like a Communist Party convention,” Vasili murmured.

As Kang Chan sat down, the applause finally stopped. The four on the podium took their seats, and all the directors in front of them followed. Kang Chan placed his clasped hands on the table and leaned toward the thin red-lit microphone.

“Bienvenue[1].”

The metallic sound from the microphone blended perfectly with Kang Chan’s fluent French.

“After this meeting, you may discuss the finer details with the four people next to me.”

Kang Chan’s low tone spread a peculiar tension throughout the conference room.

“Uzman.”

“Oui, Monsieur Kang,” Uzman, sitting slightly to the right in the front row, leisurely responded through his microphone.

“As you have requested, we have reviewed Israel’s involvement in global financial interventions. After finding sufficient evidence, we have decided on a committee audit and a one-year sanction against the Mossad.”

The gazes of the directors all swept over to Grafelt.

“Grafelt.”

Grafelt, sitting a few rows behind Uzman, leaned into the microphone. “Oui, Monsieur Kang.”

“If you have any objections to my decision, the floor is yours.”

At that moment, Vasili smirked.

“It is to my regret that this has caused misunderstandings,” Grafelt replied. “We will clarify through the audit, and if we receive a positive evaluation, we would like to request for a reduction of our sanction period.”

Kang Chan smiled faintly. “Don’t waste time with trivial wordplay like ‘regret.’”

Grafelt looked at Kang Chan with a confused expression, and the room’s atmosphere dropped, turning almost solemn.

“Regret? There is evidence that the Mossad, together with Japan’s intelligence bureau, sought funds from the Star of David,” Kang Chan said.

Grafelt was rendered speechless. The Japanese intelligence director, who had been almost hiding in a corner, quickly darted his eyes around.

“Despite Uzman’s wise and logical points, you still tried to deceive our committee until the very end. Hence, Japan’s intelligence bureau is also banned from operating for the next two years.”

The Japanese intelligence bureau director didn’t even get a chance to defend himself.

“If we discover any Japanese agents deployed overseas, they will be killed on sight, and if there’s evidence of information exchange with the Mossad…”

Kang Chan sharply looked at the Japanese intelligence bureau director, who quickly lowered his head.

“I will dispatch the Jeungpyeong special forces team.”

A deathly silence briefly filled the room.

“Hmph.” Vasili looked back and forth between Grafelt and the Japanese director, then nodded. “I probably look very benevolent to them now.”

Lanok, the only one who heard the remark, gazed at Vasili but quickly turned back to the people before them.

“Zayden,” Kang Chan called.

“Oui, Monsieur Kang.”

Kang Chan looked for a new person sitting in the front row. He then asked, “Why did the CIA get involved in the African civil war?”

“That matter is not under the CIA's jurisdiction. We had no involvement in the civil war,” Zayden answered. The middle-aged man who looked so remarkably similar to Sherman that he could be his son.

“Alright. Why did the CIA operations team move without reporting to the committee, then?”

“To assess the situation.”

Kang Chan nodded and turned to a page of the document in front of him. The A4 paper being moved sharply resounded through the microphone.

“Clarify the use of the ten million dollars that the CIA handed over to Mujamko in Africa. Then I’ll believe you.”

Kang Chan raised only his eyes from the document and looked straight at the man.

“Shall I tell you if you don’t know?”

“Monsieur Kang, that is…” Zayden trailed off.

“Hmmm.”

Kang Chan slowly raised his head.

“The CIA broke the first rule of our committee. When intervening in conflicts between countries, including civil wars, you have to report to the standing committee first. Did you forget?”

Zayden couldn’t answer.

Kang Chan smiled coldly once more. “Or did you simply ignore it?”

“Not at all, Monsieur Kang.”

“Will you also deny that the ten million dollars was used to purchase Blackhead?”

The room suddenly erupted into a commotion.

“Zayden,” Kang Chan called, instantly silencing the murmurs.

“Oui, Monsieur Kang.”

“You do know that individual purchases of Blackhead are prohibited, don’t you?”

Vasili, Lanok, Ludwig, and Yang Bum were all staring at them.

“Stop giving clumsy excuses. Clear the CIA’s position.”

“That matter seems to fall under the jurisdiction of the DIA. We will investigate internally and report to Standing Committee Member Lanok within a week.”

Kang Chan turned to Lanok, who nodded.

“Alright. Since the standing committee member has permitted it, you will be given a week to explain. Failure will result in repercussions executed in the name of the committee.”

“Understood.”

With the dry conversation ending, Kang Chan slowly looked around at those seated in front of him.

“We have connected the Eurasian Rail and are on the verge of operating the world’s first next-generation energy facility.”

Coldly and drly, he added, “I hope you will attend the inauguration of the next-generation energy facility next month and continue to contribute to the world’s development.”

When Kang Chan stood up, the four on the standing committee and all the directors stood up as well. Kang Chan hugged Lanok again.

“Can I invite you to dinner?”

Smiling, Lanok replied, “I’m always happy to spend time with you if you can spare it, Chairman.”

“You shouldn’t leave Supporting Character 2 too lonely,” Vasili grumbled as he extended his hand.

“Join us, then,” Kang Chan replied.

“Sure,” he readily accepted.

“Ludwig. Can we have dinner together?”

“Of course, Monsieur Kang,” Ludwig answered.

“Yang Bum, do you have time for dinner?”

“It would be an honor.”

After shaking hands with each of them, Kang Chan headed toward the door that he had entered from earlier.

At the underground parking lot of the conference hall, Kang Chan appeared with Gérard. The National Intelligence Service’s counter-terrorism team members quickly greeted them.

“Well done,” Seok Kang-Ho said.

“Wait a moment. Choi Jong-Il!”

Standing in front of Seok Kang-Ho, Kang Chan called for Choi Jong-Il.

“I’m thinking of going to Gapyeong, so I’ll just take Daye’s car. You and the men should take the evening off until dinner.”

“Are you sure, sir?” Choi Jong-Il inquired.

“Yeah. Take a breather.”

Choi Jong-Il smiled. “Copy.”

“Haha! Excellent choice. Let’s go quickly,” said Seok Kang-Ho with excitement. He then sat in the driver’s seat of the sedan.

Naturally, Gérard sat in the front passenger seat, and Kang Chan sat in the back.

Vroom.

“What got into you suddenly? I thought we’d be working until dawn again. Do we really have time for this?” Seok Kang-Ho asked as they left the conference hall.

“I have no other plans today except for dinner. Manager Kim will handle the rest too anyway,” Kang Chan answered.

“There’s no problem at all, then?”

“Hey! Watch the road!”

“Ah, leave it to me!” Seok Kang-Ho replied and focused on driving.

Two years had already passed in a flash. With the next-generation energy facility inauguration a month away, the scenery and the people on the streets seemed unchanged.

Has it become a better place to live?

“Will everything really be over next month?” Kang Chan questioned.

“No way. I think we’ll be doing this for the rest of our lives,” Seok Kang-Ho said.

“That’s dreadful.”

“The work just keeps piling up, doesn’t it? Well, that’s just life. Not for this guy, though.”

“What?!” Gérard, who had become quite adept at understanding and speaking Korean, immediately responded.

“You rascal! Aren’t you having a sweet time these days? Huh? You and her?” Seok Kang-Ho added.

Gérard quickly glanced at Kang Chan, not daring to say anything further.

Kang Chan smirked.

This is good—being alive and together like this.

The car sped along the Olympic road. It had been a long time since they had such a leisurely moment.

When they stopped, Kang Chan got out of the car and sat on a wooden platform by the stream, gazing at the water.

“Here you go.”

This was exactly Seok Kang-Ho’s style. Kang Chan accepted the paper cup he handed over.

“Without this, drinking coffee is only half as good,” Seok Kang-Ho said.

“That’s true,” answered Kang Chan.

The two chuckled as they lit their cigarettes.

Click.

“Hooo.”

White smoke quickly dispersed in the sunlight.

Fresh air, the sound of water, instant coffee, and cigarettes. Damn. You can enjoy life like this with just enough money for gas, chicken, and makgeolli. Why bother with the stiff expressions in those tough meetings just for wealth and fame?

“How’s Mi-Young?”

Kang Chan shook his head slightly.

“Just apologize. You made her think you’re dead. Women seem to have a hard time accepting these things,” Seok Kang-Ho said.

“There’s that, but we also need a bit more time. Annoying people just won’t stop clinging on,” Kang Chan replied.

“Why didn’t you meet Mi-Young instead of coming here, then?”

“She has classes.”

“Ah!” Seok Kang-Ho exclaimed, and quickly brought the paper cup to his mouth.

The stream flowed nonstop as they smoked a cigarette and drank a cup of coffee.

“We’ve done some incredible things,” Seok Kang-Ho remarked.

“That’s true.”

“Feels like it was just yesterday when we met, Captain. So much has happened already since then, yet it’s like the work never ends.”

Kang Chan shook his head. “I’m thinking of taking a trip with Mi-Young after the inauguration next month. I might step back a bit then.”

“A trip? Do you think that’s possible?”

Seok Kang-Ho looked at Kang Chan with a lewd expression.

“Watch it!”

“Haha!”

“Hey! Wipe your drool!”

It’s dirty being with this guy, but it’s never boring.

“Hmm! What’s that guy doing?” Seok Kang-Ho inquired, looking at Gérard.

“Leave him be.”

Seok Kang-Ho glanced back and shook his head.

“He’s always sweet on his own.”

“You, who just had a late child, shouldn’t be talking.”

“Hey! That’s a completely different story!”

While they exchanged nonsense, Gérard approached.

“On the phone again?” Seok Kang-Ho said.

“I’m not like you, you blockhead,” Gérard retorted.

Their bickering wasn’t new. Since they still had about an hour and a half of leisure time, Kang Chan lay down on the platform and looked up toward the blue sky and white clouds.

‘Are you watching?’

It always felt like Hwang Ki-Hyun and Song Chang-Wook were watching from somewhere. It always reminded him how many people they had lost to get here.

If only I were a bit more capable...

‘I’m trying my best, but I’m not sure if I’m doing enough.’

While Kang Chan looked at the distant sky, the two who had been bickering were now amicably sharing a cigarette and chuckling.

“Give me one too.”

“By the way, if the next-generation energy facility is successful, won’t that make South Korea really amazing?”

Kang Chan glanced over and smirked.

Here we go again.

Kang Chan sat up and picked up a cigarette.

When we start talking like this, it always leads to stories of our mercenary days in Africa. We always end up laughing, too.

It was an afternoon, exactly one month before the inauguration of the next-generation energy facility.

End of Part 1.

1. Welcome ☜