Free Web NovelPresident Yoon Changho and State Affairs Commission Vice Chairman Jang Songthaek sat facing each other for the talks.
To Yoon Changho’s left and right sat National Security Office Chief Choi Taemin and Minister of Unification Lee Cheolwoo.
On either side of Jang Songthaek were Choi Ryonghae, Director of the General Political Bureau, and Kim Younggun, Director of the United Front Department.
Reporters continuously snapped photos of the two Koreas seated face to face.
“Coming here from Pyongyang, a distance that could be called long or short depending on how you see it, I found myself thinking about many things. The North and the South are not blocked by some vast, towering wall—there is only a line drawn between us. And yet, why has it been so difficult to cross that line?”
Jang Songthaek spoke first. As if prepared in advance, his words flowed smoothly.
“It is not a physical wall that has blocked us, but an invisible wall within our hearts—one so large and so high that it has kept us apart. Now is the time to tear down that wall, for the North and the South to join hands and bring an end to the era of confrontation. The time has come for us to move forward together for the sake of peace.”
After glancing once toward the reporters, Jang Songthaek smiled.
“As I mentioned earlier, there are those who look forward to this historic occasion today, and those who worry. I know very well what it is that you are worried about. At the previous inter-Korean summit held in Pyongyang, many good agreements and promises were exchanged. But did they not all end as nothing more than hollow cries?”
Jang Songthaek openly brought up the summit between Kim Jongil and Kim Hakgwon.
Of the agreements reached back then, not a single one had been carried out to this day.
“At this summit, I hope we can achieve not merely political agreements, but sincere ones. And I hope we can put them into action and show the people of the Republic and of South Korea tangible, positive results. Even if we fail to reach an agreement, I wish to state here—before President Yoon Changho, and before all of you reporters—that we will not resort to empty words.”
Jang Songthaek concluded his remarks in a resolute voice.
After giving the press ample time to take more photos, Yoon Changho began to speak.
“Winter has passed, and the weather has grown considerably milder. Vice Chairman Jang Songthaek has crossed the Military Demarcation Line for the first time in history. Here at Panmunjom, a symbol of division, this means that spring has arrived—a spring where buds symbolizing peace are beginning to sprout. Like spring, when all things grow, I hope the South and the North can move toward a new relationship.”
Yoon Changho, too, opened with words of goodwill.
“The eyes of the people of the South and the North, and indeed of the entire world, are focused on the Korean Peninsula today. First, I would like to pay my respects to Vice Chairman Jang Songthaek for his courageous decision to make this meeting possible. I also hope that through this dialogue, we can reach broad-minded agreements while understanding each other’s circumstances. I will do my utmost to ensure that, during this visit, we can finally share the conversations that we were unable to have for fifty long years.”
With Yoon Changho’s remarks concluded, the reporters once again hammered their shutters like mad.
After the storm of camera flashes filling their vision subsided, Jang Songthaek spoke.
“Now, I believe it is time for us to begin our discussions in earnest.”
As Jang Songthaek turned his gaze toward the press, President Yoon Changho responded with a smile.
“Reporters. Would you allow the two of us to have a more private conversation now?”
At their request, the reporters began packing up their cameras one by one.
At that moment, Jang Songthaek spoke again, looking at the reporters.
“Before that, there is something I must say.”
President Yoon Changho looked at Jang Songthaek with a puzzled expression. This was an unexpected move—something that had not been agreed upon in advance.
The plan had been to make official statements with the press present, and then proceed to closed-door talks.
No one knew what Jang Songthaek was about to say. A heavy tension settled over the room.
“The clash between the North and the South that took place in the West Sea two years ago was a mistake on the part of our Republic. To the South Korean citizens and the bereaved families who suffered harm as a result, I wish to express my deepest regrets.”
A collective gasp escaped the room. That Jang Songthaek would directly mention the First Battle of Yeonpyeong was unthinkable.
And to use the word “regrets,” no less......
The reporters, who had been packing up, raised their cameras again and began photographing Jang Songthaek.
“Through this summit, I promise that we will do everything in our power to ensure that no military clashes occur again between the North and the South.”
Jang Songthaek bowed his head slightly.
Beside him, Choi Ryonghae and Kim Younggun, startled, also hurriedly bowed their heads along with him.
Since the division, there had never been a case where North Korea’s top leader had directly bowed to South Korea in an official setting.
There had, of course, been unofficial apologies.
After the incident known as the Kim Shinjo Affair, the January 21 Blue House raid, when the director of the Korean Central Intelligence Agency secretly visited the North, Kim Il Sung conveyed the following words in an unofficial setting:
— The Blue House raid was carried out arbitrarily by extremist elements within our Republic. Would killing the South Korean president make South Korea disappear, or would killing me make our Republic disappear? It is the same logic. There is no way I would have orchestrated such a thing. After receiving the report, I relieved all those involved of their positions. When you return to the South, please be sure to tell your president that I regret what happened.
Despite being an incident that could easily have sparked a war, only such unofficial apologies were exchanged.
Thus, there had never been a single instance of North Korea’s supreme leader publicly expressing regret toward South Korea—let alone doing so in his own voice.
In international relations, a true apology was difficult by nature.
That was why expressions of regret delivered through political rhetoric were generally accepted as carrying the meaning of an apology.
President Yoon Changho knew this well, and his eyes widened.
“Now, I must speak privately with President Yoon Changho. Reporters, please excuse yourselves.”
Under normal circumstances, the press would have erupted with questions, but this was not such an occasion.
Swallowing their disappointment, the reporters packed their equipment and left the hall.
Once everyone had gone, Yoon Changho spoke.
“I did not expect you to express regret so directly regarding the First Battle of Yeonpyeong.”
Jang Songthaek smiled deeply.
“Were you surprised? I thought long and hard about it. About what kind of gift I should give you, President Yoon. I hear there is an important election coming up in the South soon.”
“Thank you. This will be of great help.”
“I’m glad to hear that. No one knew about this statement—it was something I said on impulse. You can tell from the expressions of the two comrades beside me, can you not?”
As expected, Choi Ryonghae and Kim Younggun’s faces were stiff.
The supreme leader of the Republic had acknowledged the Republic’s fault in his own voice.
Knowing that all of this footage was being broadcast live around the world, the two men were more than a little shaken.
And yet, there was nothing they could say to Jang Songthaek.
“Since it was something Comrade Chairman Kim Jongil did, I did not strictly need to express regret. But I wanted to make it clear that Chairman Kim Jongil and I are different.”
“You did well. Our people, the people of North Korea, and people around the world will have felt your sincerity, Vice Chairman.”
Though it had been an action taken solely at Jang Songthaek’s discretion, it inevitably created a warm atmosphere.
Regardless of how Choi Ryonghae and Kim Younggun felt inside.
“At this summit, our Republic has high expectations. Not only for economic cooperation, but for many things we can work on together.”
Yoon Changho responded to Jang Songthaek’s words.
“I agree. I think so as well. Given that you have made such a bold decision, Vice Chairman, it is only {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} right that we, too, make generous concessions.”
Jang Songthaek nodded, pleased by Yoon Changho’s reply.
“One meeting will not erase the past half-century of confrontation. But if the leaders of the North and the South meet regularly every year and resolve matters through dialogue, is there anything that cannot be solved through conversation?”
He was proposing to make inter-Korean summits a regular event.
Yoon Changho, too, nodded as if ready to accept the suggestion.
“Of course. Next time, I’ll go to Pyongyang. The former president went on and on about how delicious the cold noodles were when he ate them there. Honestly, it leaves those of us who haven’t tried them feeling left out.......”
“Hahaha! Excellent. When you come to Pyongyang, President Yoon, I will personally escort you and treat you to Pyongyang cold noodles.”
After a certain amount of ceremonial pleasantries, the discussion finally turned to substantive issues.
“First, let us talk about the Kaesong Industrial Complex.”
As they discussed each agenda item one by one, the initially warm atmosphere grew increasingly intense.
“I would like us to proceed with the groundbreaking ceremony immediately after the summit ends. Only then will I have something to say to the people of North Korea, would I not?”
As Yoon Changho hesitated, Jang Songthaek studied his expression.
“Is it difficult? But this is something we already agreed upon at the previous summit, is it not? It was delayed due to our Republic’s circumstances, but surely it is not so difficult. In the end, it is a matter of will. Given South Korea’s capabilities, I understand that completion would be swift.” freēwēbnovel.com
“No. Let’s do it. Chairman Song of the Daehyeon Group will be attending the welcome banquet this evening, so let us set aside some time then and finalize this matter.”
Because the agenda had already been coordinated through prior meetings, most issues were resolved without major disagreement.
That said, there were still points of contention—especially regarding military matters.
“As stipulated in the previous agreement, we have already withdrawn major military units stationed near Kaesong to the rear: the 2nd Corps’ 6th Division, the 64th Tank Brigade, the 62nd Artillery Brigade, among others. And yet, we have seen no corresponding movement from the South Korean military. If we have moved back, it stands to reason that the South should also redeploy its forces accordingly.”
Choi Ryonghae pressed the issue.
“That matter will be addressed once the Kaesong Industrial Complex construction begins, after consultations with the U.S. military......”
“Security Chief Choi Taemin, why must the movement of South Korean troops be decided through consultations with the U.S. military? Is this not a matter that should be settled by agreement between our Republic and South Korea?”
Choi Taemin wiped sweat from his brow as he answered.
“......We will review it positively.”
“We cannot be the only ones to suffer losses. Our Republic has even abandoned nuclear development for the sake of peace, so I trust that South Korea will take corresponding military actions. May we place our trust in that?”
“Of course. We think the same way. However, making changes in the short term would be somewhat difficult.”
Unlike North Korea, where the supreme leader could move immediately if he so chose, South Korea could not push everything through by the president’s will alone.
In particular, the South Korean military could not even leave its bases without discussions with the U.S. forces.
Various other contested agenda items were discussed after that, but reaching easy agreements proved difficult.
Still, as this was more of an informal exchange than a formal negotiation, the atmosphere never grew especially sharp.
About an hour into the talks, President Yoon Changho spoke.
“Shall we invite President Kim Muhyuk and Dr. Kissinger to join us now?”
“Very well. Let us do that. We can continue the detailed discussions later. This is only the beginning—no need to exhaust ourselves already.”
Jang Songthaek agreed, and Yoon Changho sent a glance to the security chief beside him.
Choi Taemin rose from his seat, opened the door, and gave instructions to the secretary waiting outside.
“Please bring in President Kim Muhyuk and Dr. Kissinger.”
A moment later, the conference room door opened, and Kim Muhyuk and Kissinger entered.
“Good afternoon. I’m Kim Muhyuk.”
Seeing Kim Muhyuk smile brightly, both Yoon Changho and Jang Songthaek smiled deeply in return.
“Welcome, President Kim.”
“Welcome, President Kim.”
Kissinger followed, speaking in English.
“It is an honor to be invited to such a gathering. My name is Kissinger.”
Yoon Changho had already met Kissinger privately before. The two exchanged greetings with a look.
For Jang Songthaek, however, this was his first meeting with Kissinger.
Jang Songthaek stood and extended his hand first.
“I am Jang Songthaek. I have heard much of Dr. Kissinger’s renown. After all, I have many close comrades in China.”
Kissinger twitched one corner of his mouth as he took Jang Songthaek’s hand.
“I, too, have heard much about the Vice Chairman.”
After finishing the handshake, Kissinger and I took our seats.
As Kissinger could hardly sit on the North Korean side, there was no choice but for me to sit beside Jang Songthaek.
Perhaps because of that, Yoon Changho joked lightly.
“Well now—seeing President Kim sitting over there, doesn’t it make him look like part of the North Korean delegation?”
Jang Songthaek picked up on Yoon Changho’s remark.
“If you would send President Kim Muhyuk to our Republic, it would be a great honor indeed.”
