Free Web NovelI woke up drenched in cold sweat. The sound of gunfire still echoed faintly in my ears, so I instinctively reached up to rub them.
“Haa...”
Get a grip. I exhaled deeply and pushed myself up from the bed.
Then I stepped into the bathroom and started the shower.
As cold water ran down my head, I tried to recall the dream I had during the night, but the details slipped away.
After standing there for a long while under the icy stream, my mind slowly cleared.
When I came out, Manager Ma was already waiting with a cup of hot coffee.
I took the paper cup and smiled.
“This is why I like you, Manager Ma.”
“Thank you.”
“Go wash up and get ready too. It looks like we’ll be busy again today.”
“Yes, Boss.”
As he turned toward the bathroom, I teased him with a grin.
“Oh, by the way, the hot water’s not working.”
“That’s fine.”
What a boring man. I chuckled softly and carried my coffee to the window.
When I pulled the curtains open, the morning sunlight poured into the room.
The view of the city beyond the glass was bleak—though a little better than yesterday.
Yesterday there hadn’t been a single shadow of a person on the street; today, I could at least see people moving about.
But none of them showed any emotion.
Their hardened faces, silently going about their work, stirred many thoughts in me.
There was no hope left for them. After decades of foreign invasion and intervention, the people who should have stood together had spent their lives aiming guns at one another.
That hadn’t changed, even in my previous life.
The United States had poured support into the country until 2020, but nothing had truly improved.
Those in power cared only about lining their own pockets, paying no mind to their citizens.
And the citizens, in turn, joined guerrilla groups just to survive day by day.
Eventually, even the U.S. grew sick of it and withdrew, and the Taliban, once ousted, reclaimed power—dragging the country back into another civil war.
In the meantime, America had developed many of Afghanistan’s buried natural resources, but that was only the tip of the iceberg.
I had to secure the mines faster—and secure more of them—than the United States ever did.
That was why today’s meeting with Ahmad was so important.
If I could gain his recognition for the mining rights and the surrounding autonomous zones, the profits would be enormous.
I drained the rest of my coffee and drew the curtains closed again.
When I turned around, Manager Ma was already standing behind me. I hadn’t even noticed when he’d come out.
“Let’s sit.”
We sat down together and began our discussion.
“Where were the projected mining areas we received from Russia?”
The Soviet Union had already conducted geological surveys of Afghanistan’s underground resources in the 1980s.
Even after their withdrawal, Afghanistan had kept those reports secret—fearing that once the world learned what lay beneath, the country would become a battleground for the great powers.
I reviewed the data Putin had handed me.
Since Russia couldn’t develop mines in the U.S.-controlled Afghanistan, they had passed everything to me.
Manager Ma spread out a map on the table, circling locations while listing the estimated reserves and mineral types.
So far, neither the United States nor the Western powers had shown much real interest in Afghanistan’s resources.
To win, I had to move first. Out of the many mines marked, I pointed to three.
“Here, here—and this one last.”
All three were as close together as possible.
“If today’s negotiation goes well, I plan to send geologists and research staff immediately.”
The spots I picked were in the southern region—still heavily under Taliban influence. ƒrēewebnovel.com
So naturally, Manager Ma asked with a puzzled look,
“Wouldn’t the north be better?”
Of course, the northern areas were also believed to be rich in resources, but I shook my head.
“The Northern Alliance’s influence there is too strong. They won’t give us access to any stable territory. It’s better if we secure the unstable regions ourselves and use mercenaries to maintain order.”
“Hmm...”
Most of Afghanistan was mountainous, which made military communication unreliable. Ground forces mattered more than advanced weapons.
It would be risky to mobilize government troops for a private enterprise, so private military contractors would be needed instead.
But I owned Black Bear, which gave me a decisive advantage.
Sure, guerrillas like the Taliban still roamed freely because modern communications and high-tech weaponry didn’t function properly—but the Taliban could never stand against Black Bear’s elite units.
“This won’t be a short-term project. We’ll need at least five years.”
Mine development required far more time than most ventures.
Securing rights to a proven, marketable mine would be ideal—but Afghanistan had almost none of those.
“I plan to call in teams not only from Black Bear Headquarters but also from the Korean branch. I want the main overseer here to be someone from Korea. Please find someone suitable.”
“Understood.”
We continued reviewing the map of Afghanistan and discussing details for quite some time.
Then the phone in the room suddenly rang. Manager Ma stood up and answered it.
After a short exchange, he returned.
“A call from the Afghan government?”
“Yes. They’ll be here to pick us up in an hour. Only one person can accompany you.”
Since Ahmad’s bodyguards were Black Bear mercenaries, it didn’t matter if we had a small escort.
“Then let’s start getting ready.”
As I stood, Manager Ma gathered the map from the table.
We finished our preparations and waited about thirty minutes.
Soon, a knock sounded at the hotel door—earlier than expected.
When Manager Ma opened it, Igor was standing there with another man.
Igor introduced him.
“This is Ahmad Zia Massoud, younger brother of Ahmad Shah Massoud.”
A visit from a heavyweight indeed.
Ahmad had two brothers, and the second, Zia, was one he trusted deeply.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Ahmad Zia Massoud.”
His fluent English rolled out smoothly.
“You speak English well.”
“Haha, it’s my only real talent. Thanks to that, I handle most of our dealings with the Americans.”
“You’re doing an impressive job.”
Zia gave a modest, awkward smile at my compliment.
“Let’s go. My brother is waiting. It’ll only take about ten minutes.”
Igor, Zia, Manager Ma, and I left the hotel together.
Zia and I shared a car, while Igor and Manager Ma rode in another.
Soldiers of the Northern Alliance escorted us as we drove.
“This is my brother’s safe house,” Zia said as we arrived—not at the transitional government’s temporary building, but at an old, shabby house.
When we got out, a soldier guarding the entrance saluted Zia.
We went inside together. Ahmad was waiting within, alongside several Black Bear mercenaries.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Ahmad Shah Massoud.”
He spoke in Russian, and I replied in kind.
“An honor to meet you. I’m Kim Muhyuk.”
“I’ve heard you speak Russian well.”
“You speak it well yourself, General.”
“I learned it to survive. We had no choice but to talk to the Soviets.”
His expression darkened slightly, as if recalling bitter memories. I quickly shifted the topic.
“I heard you’ve been appointed as representative of Afghanistan’s interim government. Congratulations.”
“It’s more than I deserve. I accepted because I had to, but I don’t plan to stay in this seat for long.”
So this was the man they called the Lion of Panjshir. Surprisingly, he carried a gentler air than I expected.
“You’ll have to stay longer than you wish, General. Otherwise, another civil war might break out. The Americans preferred Hamid Karzai to you, but they feared renewed conflict enough to name you as representative instead.”
“Let’s talk inside.”
The four of us—Ahmad, Zia, Manager Ma, and I—entered a smaller room. The rest waited outside. freёwebnoѵel.com
Light refreshments had been prepared.
“Please, sit.”
Ahmad and Zia sat first; Manager Ma and I took seats across from them.
“First, I owe you my life. Thanks to Black Bear, I survived.”
Ahmad’s first words were gratitude.
“I’m glad you’re safe, General.”
“I nearly paid the price for trusting the Americans too much.”
After the polite courtesies, the real conversation began.
“I asked to meet you for one reason—to know why you saved me. Can you tell me?”
“If I say it was for Afghanistan’s future, that would sound too self-serving, wouldn’t it?”
“Haha, I like honesty.”
Ahmad laughed heartily. That was enough ice-breaking for now.
I leaned forward slightly and met his gaze.
“I believed you were the only man capable of stabilizing Afghanistan’s chaos. When I learned of the assassination attempt, I relayed the information to the mercenaries stationed here. And I was right. You’ve now become the new leader of Afghanistan.”
Ahmad met my eyes directly, unflinching.
Forget the gentle impression—there was a blade-sharp aura about him.
“And why do you want to end the chaos?”
“You said you liked honesty, so I’ll be blunt. For my own profit. I want the natural resources buried beneath Afghanistan. For that, your country’s stability is essential to me.”
Ahmad closed his eyes and let out a small sigh.
“I reviewed the Russian data. It’s probably even more accurate than Afghanistan’s own. It was compiled in the 1980s, during the Soviet invasion. General, I want to develop those resources.”
My straightforward answer left him silent, still with his eyes closed.
Instead, Zia spoke up.
“Very honest. But even if you develop mines, our government can’t protect them.”
He was simply stating Afghanistan’s reality, where the Taliban and other guerrillas still ran rampant. I nodded.
“I know. Rather than relying on Afghan forces, I plan to secure the mines with Black Bear mercenaries. It wouldn’t be proper to use regular troops for a private venture.”
While I spoke with Zia, Ahmad finally seemed to have collected his thoughts.
“You know our economy is in shambles, don’t you?”
“I do. Especially after the war with the U.S., things have worsened. But the Taliban have been expelled, and with the Americans leading reconstruction, things should start improving.”
“Perhaps in Kabul and Kandahar. But the rest of the country is still under Taliban control.”
Ahmad pressed a bell beside him, and a secretary entered.
He spoke briefly in his own language, and soon the secretary returned—with a bundle of opium poppies in hand.
Placing them on the table, Ahmad said,
“These poppies are our people’s main source of income. This is the reality of our nation.”
I stared at the flowers on the table and asked,
“Are you proposing I join the drug trade?”
I hadn’t expected Ahmad to bring up narcotics.
It was so absurd that my voice came out sharper than I intended.
