Free Web NovelTogether with Kissinger, I walked toward the Military Demarcation Line inside Panmunjom.
‘Good. It seems they don’t know that Russia recovered the nuclear weapons.’
If they did, Kissinger would have tested the waters somehow.
All he said was that it was a shame I’d received help from the Russian government.
As we talked and walked, we soon arrived near the Military Demarcation Line.
Numerous soldiers and security personnel were already tightly controlling access.
Kissinger and I stopped at a distance from the line.
“How does it feel? This is something you made happen, isn’t it?”
Suddenly, Kissinger poked me in the side as he asked.
I gave a faint chuckle and answered casually.
“So-so. It’s only the beginning, after all.”
“How dull. It’s fine to enjoy it when things go well. I’m still feeling good myself. When President Nixon visited China, you know—what kind of era was that? The era when the free world and the communist bloc were locked in fierce opposition. And yet, I made it happen: the president of the United States, the standard-bearer of the free world, visiting China—the only country in the communist bloc capable of standing toe-to-toe with the Soviet Union.”
Just recalling it seemed to lift his spirits—Kissinger’s shoulders practically rose into the sky.
“At the time, it felt like I owned the world. Creating a foothold to check the Soviet Union by using China.”
The summit between Nixon and Mao Zedong that Kissinger orchestrated became the signal flare for a decade-long era of reconciliation.
With China and the Soviet Union at odds due to border disputes, the United States slipped neatly between them.
Not only did the U.S. bring about the Moscow Treaty—a non-aggression pact between the Soviet Union and West Germany—but it also concluded various agreements and treaties, creating the illusion that a favorable wind was blowing between the two blocs.
But America wasn’t satisfied with that alone.
Through the summit with China, it landed a heavy blow straight to the Soviet Union’s solar plexus.
“What’s happening now is by no means a small event either. In fact, depending on how you look at it, it could be even bigger than that. It’s a crucial summit that creates an opportunity for a closed country like North Korea to return to the international community. You should be proud.”
“I appreciate the words... but I’m still hungry. I have no intention of being satisfied with just this.”
“Haha! What? You really are ambitious. Well, isn’t it better to aim high from the start?”
At that moment, President Yoon Changho emerged from the House of Freedom on the South Korean side of Panmunjom.
North Korean reporters had already crossed the Military Demarcation Line and were filming President Yoon.
His tension was obvious on his face. Even from afar, you could tell his shoulders were rigid.
Watching Yoon Changho, I asked Kissinger,
“Is it just me, or does President Yoon look nervous?”
“No. He looks quite tense to me as well.”
Leaving his entourage behind, Yoon Changho began walking alone.
He stepped into the space between the Neutral Nations Supervisory Commission camps T-2 and T-3.
Then he stopped directly in front of the Military Demarcation Line at the exact midpoint.
Only then did I check my watch. Around now, the vehicle carrying Jang Songthaek should have arrived.
But contrary to my expectations, Jang Songthaek didn’t arrive by car.
Instead, the doors of Panmungak opened.
Security guards in suits emerged first, and Jang Songthaek descended the steps slowly, surrounded by them.
At his side were Kim Yong-nam, Choe Ryong-hae, and other top-ranking North Korean officials participating in the summit.
Most were wearing suits, but a few were dressed in inminbok.
“The man in the center is Jang Songthaek. Have you ever met him?”
Kissinger shook his head, his eyes fixed on Jang Songthaek.
“No. I’ve seen photos, but I’ve never spoken with him in person.”
“Even before becoming the top leader, Jang Songthaek was already part of North Korea’s highest echelon. He was also quite progressive. That’s why I chose him as the person to help.”
“Is that so? I did hear from the Chinese side that he’s pro-China.”
“Well... rather than pro-China, it would be more accurate to call him a pragmatist.”
As Kissinger and I spoke, Jang Songthaek’s security and aides split to either side.
Jang Songthaek walked into the space between T-2 and T-3, where Yoon Changho stood.
From where I was standing, I couldn’t see Yoon Changho’s face, but Jang Songthaek’s was clearly visible.
He walked forward with a broad smile on his face.
At last, the leaders of South and North Korea faced each other.
Jang Songthaek warmly grasped the hand Yoon Changho extended.
Though we couldn’t hear them from this distance, it looked like they exchanged a few brief words.
Then, suddenly, President Yoon Changho crossed the Military Demarcation Line.
It seemed to be an unscripted move—Blue House aides and the press all murmured in surprise.
“Oh? Looks like President Yoon Changho has made up his mind. He knows how to put on a proper show.”
“Does he?”
“Why that reaction? Looks like you already knew.”
Of course. I already knew President Yoon would cross the line.
It was my proposal, after all.
“Yes. I knew.”
Kissinger nodded. It didn’t seem surprising to him anymore.
“As you know, politics is a show. You need to display this level of showmanship. No wonder President Yoon is popular in Korea.”
Just as Kissinger said, every one of these actions would be etched deeply into the public’s mind.
I could already imagine the captions running at the bottom of the live broadcast.
[President Yoon Changho crosses the Military Demarcation Line.]
[South and North Korean leaders clasp hands, taking steps toward a new history.]
Not to be outdone, Jang Songthaek embraced Yoon Changho after crossing the line himself.
Then they raised their clasped hands and posed for photos facing the House of Freedom.
Both men wore broad smiles.
This time, Yoon Changho led Jang Songthaek across to the southern side.
They turned toward Panmungak on the northern side and waved.
Whatever they said to each other, the two men laughed heartily and crossed over to the South together, hands still clasped.
The two leaders then headed toward the House of Peace, where the first round of talks would be held.
They stopped in front of the red carpet laid out in advance.
Now close enough, we could hear their exchange.
“For Chairman Jang, we’ve prepared a traditional honor guard. What do you think?”
“Our Republic’s honor guard is splendid as well, but the South’s honor guard is also impressive.”
Walking along the red carpet, the two leaders stopped before the traditional honor guard.
Dressed in Joseon-era ceremonial attire, the honor guard played traditional music as they led the way, with Yoon Changho and Jang Songthaek following behind.
The two walked slowly, conversing as they went, and soon arrived at the House of Peace.
In front of the House of Peace, Jang Songthaek and Yoon Changho received an honor inspection.
Normally, there would be cannon salutes, national anthems, and formal ceremonies, but due to the special nature of an inter-Korean summit, these were omitted in favor of a scaled-down inspection.
Even so, there was a strangely stirring feeling in my chest.
Kissinger and I watched from the side as we spoke.
“Isn’t it remarkable? Seeing North Korea’s top leader receive an inspection from the South Korean military—here in Korea.”
“It’s a historic moment. No matter how much I think about it, I never imagined I’d see something like this before I died.”
Inter-Korean summits held in North Korea had rarely been widely publicized, given the country’s closed nature.
But this time, almost the entire process was being broadcast live.
In addition to Korean media, more than a thousand foreign journalists from 200 outlets across 50 countries had registered to cover the event.
At KINTEX, where the main press center had been established, over 3,000 reporters gathered to send breaking news to their respective countries.
Across the world, this historic scene was spreading in real time.
After the inspection, the two leaders shook hands with representatives from each country, one by one.
Soon after, they concluded the outdoor events and led the group into the House of Peace.
“Would you like to go inside as well, Kissinger?”
I asked him. Kissinger looked at me in surprise. ƒгeewebnovёl.com
“The House of Peace? We can go in?”
At his question, I lifted one corner of my mouth.
Access to the House of Peace was strictly controlled—only designated South and North representatives and a small number of reporters were allowed inside.
“Yes. We’ve come all this way—wouldn’t it be a shame to just watch from outside? Wouldn’t it be better for you to speak with Jang Songthaek directly as well?”
“Hm. I could do that later at the welcome banquet at the Blue House tonight...”
A conversation in a public setting and one held privately were not the same thing.
Seeing Kissinger hesitate, I deliberately turned my body away.
“If you don’t want to, we can head back now.”
“Hey now.”
Kissinger hurriedly grabbed me. I barely held back my laughter and let him stop me.
“When did I say I didn’t want to? I’m just thinking it over. Let’s go in. I’d like to step into a historic place myself.”
What a fascinating old man.
Pretending to give in as Kissinger pulled me along, I said,
“Let’s go.”
In fact, I had already informed Yoon Changho.
I told him I would attend the meeting with Kissinger after the reporters had all left.
Yoon Changho welcomed my attendance enthusiastically.
Probably because no one knew Jang Songthaek better than I did—but his reaction didn’t feel bad at all.
Together with Kissinger, I headed toward the back entrance.
We couldn’t very well go in through the front, where all the reporters were gathered.
Of course, the back entrance was also guarded by both South and North Korean security.
“Thank you for your hard work.”
I greeted them and was about to pass—
when a North Korean guard suddenly blocked our way.
“You may not enter.”
Caught off guard, a South Korean guard hurried over to explain.
“They are expected guests.”
“I’ve received no such notice. You cannot enter.”
The North Korean guard’s gaze was fixed not on me, but on Kissinger.
Anti-American sentiment still ran deep in North Korea, so it seemed they were blocking first and asking questions later.
“Then ask Chairman Jang Songthaek,” I said. “Tell him that a man named Kim Muhyuk is trying to bring Kissinger inside.”
I had no intention of blaming the guard. He was simply doing his job.
After all, their leader was standing in the heart of a former enemy’s territory. Being cautious was only ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) natural.
“Wait here.”
He spoke briefly and raised his radio.
A moment later—
“My apologies.”
The guard bowed to Kissinger and me. Having received a satisfactory answer, his attitude had become polite.
I patted his shoulder and said,
“No problem. You were just doing your job. May we go in now?”
“Yes. Please proceed.”
As we entered, a familiar face came into view—a staff member from the Blue House Secretariat.
“I’ll guide you. This way, please.”
The tall staffer led us.
We followed him slowly until we arrived at a room that looked like a waiting area.
“The reporters are still present. I’ll come for you once everything is finished.”
He opened the door as he spoke. I nodded, and the staffer closed the door and left.
The moment the door shut, Kissinger tossed aside his solemn expression and walked straight to the table.
He opened a bottle of water that had been prepared and drank half of it without stopping, then let out a deep sigh.
“Ahh. I really must be getting old. Standing for too long wears me out.”
Setting the bottle down, Kissinger collapsed into a chair. He leaned back deeply and closed his eyes.
I, too, had stayed up late reviewing documents and come out early in the morning. Fatigue washed over me. I followed his lead, sinking into a chair and resting for a moment.
“You may enter now.”
How much time had passed?
At the sudden voice, I snapped my eyes open.
The same Secretariat staffer who had guided us earlier had entered the room to call us.
Kissinger also looked drowsy, as if he’d briefly fallen asleep.
Rubbing my stiff neck, I checked my watch. The hour hand had already passed eleven.
It had been over an hour since the talks began.
“Kissinger, let’s go in.”
Kissinger nodded and stood up.
We entered the conference room where both delegations were seated.
At the wide table, three people including President Yoon Changho sat on one side, with three including Jang Songthaek seated opposite.
As the door opened and we stepped in, six pairs of eyes turned toward us.
Meeting their gazes, I let a deep smile spread across my face.
“Hello. I’m Kim Muhyuk.”
As soon as I finished my greeting, smiles appeared simultaneously on the faces of Yoon Changho and Jang Songthaek.
