Free Web NovelDid the two of them really plan this together?
Letting out a quiet sigh at how persistently they were calling for me today, I walked over. Then, in a voice low enough that only the two of them could hear, I complained.
“What is with you two today?”
Instead of answering, both of them simply smiled. As if avoiding my suspicious gaze, Yoon Changho turned to Jang Songthaek and spoke.
“Now that President Kim is here, let’s proceed quickly. I believe it’s time to break the ground, Chairman.”
Jang Songthaek nodded in agreement.
“Let’s do that. President Kim Muhyuk, what are you doing? You should be the one to take the first shovel.”
Too many eyes were on us to properly protest. Reluctantly, I picked up the gold-plated shovel placed in front of me.
“It wouldn’t feel right if I did it alone... The two of you should dig at the same time as well.”
Fortunately, neither of them refused my suggestion.
Watching Jang Songthaek and Yoon Changho take their shovels, I also spoke to Chairman Song Chanwoo standing beside Yoon Changho.
“Chairman Song, you should join us as well. You’re fine with that, right? You’re one of the people actually building the Kaesong Industrial Complex. We should all do it together.”
“Of course. Chairman Song, please pick up a shovel as well.”
Yoon Changho called out to him. Song Chanwoo glanced around briefly before lifting the shovel in front of him.
At the host’s signal, the four of us—including myself—scooped up sand and tossed it forward at the same time.
Thunderous applause erupted, and the explosives and smoke bombs prepared in advance went off, creating a spectacular scene.
Camera flashes fired simultaneously.
I stood in the center with Chairman Song Chanwoo, while President Yoon Changho and Chairman Jang Songthaek took positions on either side.
There was no way these photos could be released as-is.
“Mr. President, Chairman. Wouldn’t it be better if I stepped aside now? The two of you should stand in the center, gather everyone else, and take a proper photo. I don’t think it would benefit either of you for me to remain in the frame.”
That was enough for show.
At this point, both the North Korean officials and the South Korean attendees would have more than enough justification.
For photos and footage intended for public release, a composition with the leaders of North and South in the center, flanked by politicians and business figures, would look far more stable.
After I stepped out, the ceremonial digging was performed again to capture a more appropriate image.
As I watched, I issued a quiet instruction to Manager Ma beside me, in a voice only he could hear.
“All photos and videos that include me—have them deleted.”
“Yes, Boss. What about the North Korean footage?”
“Leave that alone. Judging by how things are going today, they’ll probably use me for propaganda anyway. Just handle the South Korean side. Ask the broadcasters for cooperation, and if they don’t comply, tell them we’ll pull all advertising from companies connected to me.”
“Yes. I’ll take care of it.”
If I couldn’t erase myself from people’s memories, then I could at least erase myself from the records.
Records always outlast memories.
A short while after the ceremonial digging ended, a single excavator rolled onto the empty lot.
As part of the performance, it lifted a flag planted in the ground that read ‘Kaesong Industrial Complex.’
With that, the groundbreaking ceremony finally came to an end.
The celebratory banquet was held at a restaurant adjacent to the ceremony site.
Chefs from the Myeongdong Hotel had prepared the dinner.
At the round table where President Yoon Changho and Chairman Jang Songthaek were seated sat Chairman Song Chanwoo, Han Jiho, Kim Seonggeun, and myself.
“Haha! On such a joyous day, we ought to have some drinks, shouldn’t we? I’ll pour for everyone—please accept.”
Seemingly in excellent spirits, Jang Songthaek personally poured wine for the guests.
“I’ve seen everyone here at least once before... And this gentleman must be the leader of the Progressive Party.”
Kim Seonggeun accepted the wine with a smile.
“I’m not the party leader. After our defeat in the recent election, we formed an emergency committee to reform the party, and I was appointed as its chairman.”
At Kim Seonggeun’s reply, Jang Songthaek lifted one corner of his mouth.
He clearly realized that his performance today had benefited both President Yoon Changho and myself.
“Oh, is that so? Even so, you represent the Progressive Party at present, do you not?”
“That is correct, Chairman.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I hope you’ll do much to help foster harmony between South Korea and our Republic. I hear that in the South, even if the ruling party wants to act, it’s difficult to proceed when the opposition objects. Is that true?”
“Well...”
Apparently unprepared for such a remark, Kim Seonggeun hesitated. frёewebnoѵēl.com
“President Kim Hakgwon must have hoped to see a scene like this as well—North and South united and moving toward a new era. Come to think of it, President Kim Hakgwon was also from the Progressive Party, wasn’t he?”
“That’s correct.”
“Then the Progressive Party would welcome reconciliation with our Republic as well, wouldn’t it?”
Kim Seonggeun was visibly sweating as he struggled to manage his expression.
Yoon Changho and Han Jiho were biting their lips beside him, clearly suppressing laughter. Honestly, it was amusing.
A North Korean leader was openly requesting cooperation from South Korea’s opposition party, and given the history of the Progressive Party’s previous administration, they couldn’t easily refute him.
“Why no answer? I may not know South Korean politics well, but surely one doesn’t change colors purely based on convenience? Principles and ideology are important to politicians—would that really be the case in the South?”
There was no doubt about it. That man had the cunning of a century-old serpent coiled inside him.
Feigning humility, Jang Songthaek said everything he wanted to say.
Kim Seonggeun forced a smile and spoke carefully.
“That’s not the case. However, I don’t have the authority to give such an answer. I’m not a politician, but an external appointee tasked only with stabilizing the party.”
At that, Jang Songthaek raised an eyebrow and called out to me.
“President Kim Muhyuk.”
“Yes, Chairman.”
“The ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) chairman of the Progressive Party says he cannot take responsibility. What do you think of that?”
The intent behind asking me—rather than Yoon Changho or Han Jiho—was obvious.
He wanted an answer stripped of political color.
“The title of emergency committee chairman does make him the party’s representative, but it’s also true that the position carries limited real authority. And Chairman Kim Seonggeun... or rather, Professor Kim Seonggeun, was not a career politician. He taught political science at Korea National University. He seems quite uncomfortable—perhaps we should leave it at that.”
“Hm... If President Kim says so, then I suppose that’s how it is. South Korea is complicated indeed.”
“Politics has always been a history of conflict, hasn’t it? Fierce struggle to produce good outcomes—that’s politics. Concentrating power on one side rarely leads to good results.”
Jang Songthaek might dream of collective leadership, but North Korea had always been a system where power was concentrated in a single individual.
Perhaps displeased by my bluntness, he let out a small cough.
“Now, now. On such a pleasant day, let’s set complicated matters aside and enjoy ourselves. The fact that we can gather in Kaesong and raise wine glasses like this already shows great progress. Wouldn’t you agree, Chairman?”
Yoon Changho lifted his glass to ease the atmosphere.
Jang Songthaek brightened and nodded, raising his own glass.
Everyone followed suit, lifting their glasses and drinking.
After setting his glass down first, Yoon Changho asked Jang Songthaek,
“I hear North Korea is implementing a currency reform this time. I was surprised. What led you to that decision?”
“It’s nothing extraordinary. To open the economy, we must first ensure that economic activity functions properly within the Republic.”
“Still, I didn’t expect you to exchange all existing currency without restrictions. Given North Korea’s economic structure, it must have been a difficult decision.”
“Haha! It was a decision made purely for the economy and the people, not for political reasons. How has the reaction been in the South? I’m curious, Mr. President.”
Curious about South Korea’s response, Jang Songthaek asked in return.
“The reaction hasn’t been bad. Though it’s led to discussions about currency reform in the South as well. It was unexpected, so it’s a bit awkward.”
“Is the South’s economy so poor that it needs currency reform?”
Jang Songthaek frowned as he asked.
“Hahaha! Not at all. If anything, it’s because the economy is too strong. Some are arguing that the currency unit has grown too large.”
“That’s a relief. South Korea’s economy must remain strong for us to pursue various joint projects with our Republic.”
“Don’t worry about that. The die is cast. We’re already riding the tiger’s back, so even if the administration changes, this agreement won’t be broken. Public support is overwhelmingly positive. At this point, the only ones who would welcome renewed confrontation between North and South are the Japanese.”
As Yoon Changho joked lightly, Jang Songthaek burst into laughter.
“Indeed! The only ones who desire conflict among our people are the Japanese.”
They really were in sync.
While Yoon Changho and Jang Songthaek continued their conversation, I turned to Kim Seonggeun.
“Professor, it’s been a while.”
I had taken one of his classes back when I was a student, so we had a brief connection.
I’d been quite surprised to hear that someone who had seemed uninterested in politics was now chairing the Progressive Party’s emergency committee.
“Muhyuk. It has been a long time.”
“Muhyuk... I haven’t heard that in ages. You haven’t changed, Professor. May I ask why you accepted the role of emergency committee chairman?”
“...Why are you curious about that?”
Unlike before, his eyes were filled with caution.
“I thought you had no interest in politics. That’s why, during the IMF period, you refused President Kim Hakgwon’s repeated requests to serve as Prime Minister, wasn’t it?”
He was a veteran academic who had taught diplomacy and politics at Korea National University for over thirty years.
Among his former students were high-ranking officials and even sitting members of the National Assembly.
Yet he had never revealed his political leanings, even to them.
“I judged that it wouldn’t be good for our country if the Centrist Party’s dominance continued unchecked. So I accepted this position to reform the Progressive Party.”
Concern over one party’s unchecked dominance. A reasonable answer, both as a scholar and a politician.
“As expected of you, Professor.”
“But you—why is a businessman like you so interested in politics?”
“Business and politics are inseparable. Even just to protect one’s assets, it’s impossible not to care about politics.”
“A situation where one side holds absolute dominance isn’t politics. It’s dictatorship. And I can’t stand by and watch that happen.”
Even a great professor couldn’t hide the fact that his understanding of politics came primarily from books.
If he’d ever stepped into the field himself, those words would disappear quickly.
“Dictatorship... Professor, is a government that receives overwhelming public support truly a dictatorship?”
“Muhyuk. Do you have any idea how dangerous that statement is?”
“I’m not so sure. South Korea is a democracy, and all power comes from the people. If a government supported by a majority of the population is labeled a dictatorship, isn’t that arrogance? Or perhaps it underestimates the intelligence of the people.”
“Listen here, Muhyuk!”
Kim Seonggeun raised his voice, teeth clenched.
It was loud enough that Yoon Changho and Jang Songthaek stopped their conversation and looked our way.
Realizing his mistake, Kim Seonggeun quickly apologized.
“I’m sorry. I spoke out of turn.”
“It’s fine. But there are many eyes on us, so please restrain yourself, Chairman Kim Seonggeun.”
After Yoon Changho issued a quiet warning, Jang Songthaek asked curiously,
“I don’t mind. But what happened? It looked like you were raising your voice at President Kim Muhyuk.”
“Nothing of the sort. I was simply speaking with a former student I hadn’t seen in a long time.”
“President Kim Muhyuk was your student?”
A student? Does one semester of lectures really qualify as that?
I immediately corrected him.
“No, not at all. I only attended one of his classes briefly while I was in school.”
“Ah, now that I think of it, I heard President Kim graduated from South Korea’s top university. I was told he was quite the scholar in his youth...”
Yoon Changho picked up the thread.
“Not just quite—he placed first nationwide on the college entrance exam.”
Why does he sound proud? I was the one who ranked first. fгeewebnovёl.com
“You flatter me. Weren’t the two of you in the middle of a conversation? Please continue. I have something to discuss with Chairman Kim.”
Receiving my pointed look, the two nodded.
They seemed to be discussing something important themselves and quickly resumed their conversation.
I should find out later what they were talking about.
With that thought, I turned back to Kim Seonggeun.
He was glaring at me, clearly displeased at being sidelined.
This wasn’t the personality I remembered. Without realizing it, I tugged one corner of my mouth upward and spoke provocatively.
“Professor—no, Chairman. Let me be clear. Reforming the Progressive Party won’t be easy.”
Because I intend to make its internal strife even worse.
