Free Web NovelWhile we were talking, President Yoon Changho entered the banquet hall. I noticed it and spoke to Powell.
“I should head over to that table now. I will probably visit the United States before the year ends, so we can talk again then.”
“Let us do that. I will be waiting in the United States.”
Leaving Powell’s table, I moved toward the table where Medvedev was seated.
Delegations from nations friendly with Russia were gathered there.
“Chairman Medvedev.”
Medvedev, who had been greeting someone, turned his head.
A bright smile spread across his face.
“Ah, Mr. Kim. I have been waiting.”
“May I sit next to you?”
“That is a strange question. Of course. Please sit.”
Medvedev, ever affable, even pulled the chair out for me himself.
Smiling, I sat beside him.
The others at the table shifted their attention toward me.
As all eyes turned, Medvedev introduced me.
“Please greet him. This is a businessman from Korea.”
“Pleasure to meet you. I am Kim Muhyuk. If the pronunciation is difficult, you may call me Charlie.”
Foreigners always had trouble pronouncing my name.
Rather than listening to awkward attempts, it was easier to offer them a foreign name.
“Nice to meet you. Mwamba Kabadio, from Congo.”
“Congo? Do you mean the Democratic Republic of Congo, or the Republic of Congo?”
“The Democratic Republic of Congo.”
So, the Democratic Republic of Congo—rampant corruption, little support from the West, nothing worth exploiting.
I hid my thoughts behind a pleasant smile.
“Nice to meet you. As the Chairman said, I run small businesses in Korea.”
“What kind of business?”
“Anything that makes money.”
“······Anything that makes money, you say. Are you perhaps a war merchant?”
“No. I only do legal business.”
Mwamba looked me up and down.
There was a subtle note of dismissiveness in his voice.
People who did not know who I truly was and only saw “businessman” often reacted this way.
And he was from a dictatorship, holding power, so it was even more pronounced.
I wanted to humble him a little, but there was no need to fight for dominance.
While I simply smiled quietly, Medvedev looked visibly displeased.
“Minister Mwamba.”
“Yes, Chairman.”
His face changed instantly—groveling compared to how he looked at me.
“What do you think you are doing right now?”
Medvedev frowned as he spoke, and Mwamba looked confused.
“Mr. Kim is not someone you may treat that way. He is far more important to Russia than your Congolese government ever will be.”
It was unusually stern for the normally mellow Medvedev.
Mwamba looked visibly shaken, glancing between us.
“I... I do not understand...”
“This is your final warning. Mind your manners, Minister Mwamba.”
Now I was going to end up on this man’s blacklist.
Feeling the atmosphere tilt in a strange direction, I stepped in.
“Chairman Medvedev, I am fine.”
“I am not fine. This is a matter of respect. I told you to sit, I called you my guest. Yet he behaves like this.”
Medvedev spoke firmly, then turned back to Mwamba.
“Minister Mwamba. Congo only recently ended its civil war and is finally seeking stability, is it not? How do you think people will view the foreign minister of such a nation behaving without basic courtesy? They will not see you as representing a respectable state. Am I wrong?”
“What? Chairman Medvedev, even so, I cannot let that remark pass.”
“And what if I choose not to let it pass?”
Medvedev stared coldly at him.
Mwamba’s mouth opened and closed silently before he finally managed a response.
“······I will lodge an official protest with the Russian government.”
“Do so. Then the moment I return to the Kremlin, I will have all support for Congo re-evaluated.”
As Medvedev said, the Democratic Republic of Congo had only recently emerged from a brutal internal conflict.
No—more accurately, from an Africa-scale world war.
Ten African nations waged war centered around Congo, and more than four million people died.
Yet barely any country grasped the severity of the crisis.
Unlike the small disputes in Europe that had stirred the UN and the United States to action, hardly anyone stepped in for Congo.
It was the clearest example of how isolated Congo was—and how cold the international community could be.
Even now, rebel groups still acted sporadically.
“Re-evaluate? Chairman, you cannot say such a thing so suddenly. You already promised support!”
“I have not signed the investment agreement yet. Therefore, it can fall through at any moment.”
“Why are you doing this? If I report this to the President when I return, I will be a dead man.”
With a near-tearful ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) expression, Mwamba pleaded. Medvedev looked toward me.
“Apologize. Then I will let it go.”
“······.”
“I really am fine. He is not someone I would work with anyway. It is just some country somewhere in Africa, isn’t it? I doubt we will ever meet again.”
I smiled as I dissuaded Medvedev.
My tone was gentle, but the sarcasm was unmistakable.
It was practically an insult, and I was not in the mood to pretend otherwise.
Mwamba’s face twisted with humiliation.
Seeing my reaction, Medvedev sighed and shook his head.
“Minister Mwamba. Just know that you have squandered an excellent opportunity. You have lost a businessman who could have invested in Congo. All because of your petty pride.”
“······What kind of business does he do, that you go this far for him?”
“It is not about business. He is a friend of Russia. Think about how you treated such a person. That is what I cannot overlook.”
Mwamba’s eyes widened. He stared at me in shock while I looked back with no emotion whatsoever.
After biting his lip for a moment, Mwamba bowed deeply.
“I am sorry, Charlie. I have never been treated well by businessmen, so I made a mistake. Please forgive me.”
“It is fine.”
“Please... accept my apology. The future of my country depends on this.”
His apology seemed sincere, so I considered it for a moment.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Medvedev’s lips curl upward.
This man... so he used me to discipline Mwamba.
Of course, he truly had been angry as well, but he must have thought the timing was perfect.
In the end, I looked at Mwamba again and said: freёweɓnovel.com
“I accept.”
“Thank you.”
Mwamba bowed again.
Then he raised his head and looked at Medvedev with desperation.
Medvedev, feigning reluctance, nodded.
“Support for Congo will proceed as planned.”
“Thank you. Thank you.”
Mwamba bowed repeatedly, looking like a man who had avoided death at the last second.
Finally, the heavy atmosphere at the table lifted.
“Greetings. I am Yoon Changho.”
At that moment, Yoon Changho began speaking into the microphone on the stage.
All the guests shifted their attention to him.
“From today onward, I will fulfill the duties of the presidency. Thanks to the distinguished guests from many nations, my inauguration has shone brightly. Thank you all.”
With that short greeting, he added gold leaf to the faces of the attendees.
As he finished speaking, the audience responded with applause.
Coming down from the stage, Yoon Changho first walked to Powell and the American delegation and began speaking with them.
“Mr. Kim, when you said you would make Yoon Changho president, I was skeptical. At the time, he did not strike me as someone of that caliber.”
With the background noise rising again, Medvedev leaned toward me and spoke quietly.
I could only smile. I was the one who turned Yoon Changho into a “person.”
I had made him Prosecutor General, debuted him in politics, helped him found the Centrist Party, and eventually made him President.
If Yoon Changho had not met me, would he have become president?
No—surely he would have lived an ordinary life and faded away, just as history originally intended.
“And yet he became president just as you wanted... It is impressive.”
“Luck was on our side. He is an excellent figure, after all. I supported him, yes, but if the person has no charm, the people will never choose them.”
“That is true. But it remains a fact that you created him.”
Mwamba stared blankly, unable to understand our conversation in Russian.
Others glanced toward us as we spoke in low voices.
“Let us talk later. This is not the best place.”
From afar, I saw Yoon Changho approaching the table.
As he arrived, everyone at the table stood.
Yoon Changho gave me a brief nod and then smiled as he shook Medvedev’s hand.
“Chairman Medvedev, thank you for attending. Given the setting, let us discuss specifics at a separate time.”
“Of course. Korea maintains close ties with Russia—how could I not attend?”
“Your words alone are a great honor. We, too, wish to maintain our good relationship with Russia.”
“Naturally.”
With warm smiles exchanged, Yoon Changho greeted Medvedev and then greeted the others. fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm
He could not spend too long at any one table, as he needed to greet them all.
After making his rounds, Yoon Changho descended to the first floor.
It was now time for the meetings to begin.
An announcement was made: the meetings would proceed in order—United States, Russia, China, then Japan.
Medvedev headed downstairs for his meeting with Yoon Changho.
Seizing the moment, Mwamba approached me.
“You seem close with the President of Korea as well.”
With a noticeably more cautious tone, I answered with a mild smile.
“Does it look that way? The President and I were seniors and juniors at university. We go back quite a long way.”
“Is that so? I did not know.”
“Haha, not many people do. By the way, I did not expect Congo to attend the Korean presidential inauguration. I thought you were long-time friends of North Korea.”
“No, no. That was something President Mobutu did unilaterally.”
Mwamba quickly waved his hand, clearly trying not to offend me.
“Is that so? I did not know.”
“It is natural that very few people know Congo’s internal circumstances. Many things changed after President Laurent overthrew Mobutu and took office. Unfortunately, he died under mysterious circumstances. But his son succeeded him and ended the war. He will make Congo a wealthy nation.”
I recalled my knowledge of Congo once more.
All I remembered was that the land was rich in underground resources.
Especially diamonds—warlords fought bitterly over them.
And the rare resources. Most of the world’s coltan was buried in Congo.
I had dismissed it as too troublesome before, but perhaps I needed to reconsider.
“If he is that kind of leader, then I am interested. After all, a nation’s fate is determined by who leads it.”
“Exactly. President Joseph is a rational man. Soon, Congo will hold democratic elections. And he will win.”
Watching his confident expression, I asked quietly:
“Minister, could you arrange a meeting with the President?”
“You are saying... you are considering investing in Congo?”
“I will decide after meeting him. I am a businessman. If something makes money, I invest anywhere.”
Mwamba swallowed dryly, then nodded vigorously.
“I will take responsibility for arranging the meeting.”
“Good.”
I pulled out my business-card case and handed him a card.
“This is my card. Contact me once the meeting is arranged. If things go well, I will make sure you are rewarded.”
The card I handed him was made of real gold.
Mwamba’s eyes widened as he stared at the card, then at me.
I deliberately gave him a confident smile.
“My hands are quite large. If I decide to, I can invest far more than you expect. Please convey that to the President.”
