Personal Information Is Precious
Hacking.
And a personal data leak.
Ugh. Why does this feel so familiar?
Well, for someone who lived in another world and then came back, it was probably just a sense of déjà vu.
…Right? Surely there was no world where the number-one telecom company in the country got hacked and the entire population had to replace their SIM cards, or where base station data got stolen so hackers could set up fake towers and siphon money left and right.
Yeah, no. A world like that couldn't possibly exist.
Anyway, the important part was that my old, long-ago records had been messily, freely sold off to China.
People half-joked that Korean personal data was a public good, but having my personal information stolen?
"How did it get leaked?"
"We're still looking into that, but our working theory is that a portion of the data set documenting Director Yuria's past activities had been taken outside secure storage, and those materials were exposed to the hack."
"Aigoo."
So in the end, they'd pulled precious information out of the vault on their own and then gotten it stolen?
"Please share the detailed investigation results as soon as you have them. This is a matter of my personal identity, so I'm a little sensitive about it."
"Understood. For now, the bulk of the leaked material appears to be content from the magic lectures you delivered during your activities in the other world."
The Second Deputy Director finished explaining the full situation and promised preventive measures so nothing similar would happen again.
"Yes. Please make sure of it."
Click.
I hung up and a sigh escaped on its own.
"You don't look well."
Serin, who had been buried in her monitor, peeked her face out and asked — she must have read my expression. I scratched my head and answered.
"My personal information got leaked."
"I see…"
Serin closed her eyes and bowed her head as if something inevitable had finally arrived. The dry face-wash she gave herself made it clear she was more than a little rattled.
"Hmm. What to do."
The mention that the stolen material was mostly magic lecture content, and the reports that China was trying to pursue independent magic research of its own…
"Looks like we need to pick up the pace."
Serin nodded at my words and opened her mouth.
"To secure a complete technological edge, the Magic Bureau's projects will need to—"
"Ah. I'm not talking about the Magic Bureau."
Serin seemed to have slightly misread my intent. As she tilted her head, I gave her a sly grin.
"Do you remember what goal I've been aiming for?"
The reason I'd set out to spread magic, founded the Magic Bureau, and stacked research projects one after another was this:
Protect humanity from the Outer Gods, and use the benefits born from applying magic and technology to raise the universal quality of human life.
"…The universalization of magic, and a response to the Outer Gods… was it?"
Not a hundred percent correct, but close enough that I let it slide.
"Right. So here's the question."
Would China, declaring it would go its own way, look good in my eyes?
"Mm… I don't think so."
"Why?"
Serin answered smoothly, as if she already understood what I meant.
"Because it could break the cooperative relationship built for universal benefit. Is that correct?"
I nodded and shot her a thumbs-up.
"China isn't researching magic just because it likes magic. Asian hegemony, energy hegemony, rare-earth hegemony… and this time, magic hegemony too. That's what they're after."
'I just love studying so much, so I'm going to teach myself really hard!'
If that line came out of an elementary schooler's mouth, you'd clap and coo and pat them on the head.
'I just love nuclear physics so much, so I'm going to research it myself!'
If a non-nuclear state said that, the neighboring countries would probably have a collective seizure. Because there was no way that technology would be used for peaceful purposes!
Magic wasn't much different. You didn't even have to look far — the South Korean Ministry of National Defense already had a separate task force researching the weaponization of magic.
"I'm not opposed to weaponizing magic."
The period when advanced science, precision technology, and industrial capacity grew the fastest was precisely when war overlapped with research.
The moment military purpose entered the picture, it became easier to tap into national budgets, and the motivation for technological progress became strongest. If you leveraged that properly, I believed it would have a positive effect on research speed as well.
That was the kind of big data I'd accumulated living a long time in that other world.
"I just don't want research cooperation to happen under a competitive relationship."
I pictured a world split into First, Second, and Third Worlds over a single thing called magic. Everyone playing politics, dumping budgets into weird places — and then the Outer Gods going hey there~ and everyone going aaagh~ and getting wiped out.
"Ugh."
"I don't think you need to look only at the negative scenarios."
Serin, who had been quietly listening, raised a point.
"Hmm?"
"China has volunteered to become an outsider. So wouldn't it be enough for Korea to isolate them first?"
China building up the classic classroom line: 'I'm not playing with you guys!'
And Korea, not caring either way, having a great time with the other kids, high-fiving and charging ahead.
Easy to say, but…
"In the end, when we face the Outer Gods, every country is going to have to join forces."
I wasn't certain — but Earth had clearly been destroyed once, by some means or another. That had come out of the Goddess's mouth, and she was physically incapable of lying, so it was safe to believe.
When humanity stood on the brink of extinction, had every nation failed to cooperate?
Of course they had cooperated. They'd scrambled together only after the crisis was properly upon them.
That couldn't be allowed. We needed to be more thorough, more solid.
And more certain. Without a single residual risk factor…
"Hoo… I'll think through the options we actually have for now."
"Yes, Director."
I spent the rest of the workday fretting that a few extra wrinkles might end up on my forehead at this rate.
In the end, after drafting and deleting plan after plan, I submitted a proposal to the President through the Minister of Science and ICT.
We need to establish an international magic research organization as quickly as possible. Not the existing Outer God monitoring framework — something broader in concept.
The current "Council for the Preservation of Global Values," which 190 countries had joined — effectively every UN member state except North Korea, which couldn't stomach its feelings about me, and Haiti, whose government was nonfunctional after a coup — was a hollow organization.
It was something the UN had been forced to set up after getting thoroughly spooked during that earlier video conference that made the news, but it still hadn't managed any real activity.
I actively pushed for the creation of a body that could take on a much wider range of duties, and exactly ten days later…
"I'm sorry. All we can give you is the principle-level answer that it will be reviewed positively…"
"You son of a b—"
I had no choice but to shelve the plan.
And then it blew up.
Picture an alley where the original restaurant stands firm.
Every resident in the neighborhood knows that place is the original, and they know it tastes better.
'We're opening for business.'
If a copycat — and a low-quality one at that — opened its doors, market principles would naturally favor the original.
"…You must have thought this was a fight we'd obviously win. That's why you stuck to non-response."
But… if the owner of that copycat restaurant was the neighborhood's successful businessman, the early-morning soccer coach, a tennis club officer, and the husband of the women's association president —
If he was a local power broker who could send a dozen people flying with a single snort of contempt —
"Ah. The original of magic is right here, a proper research system is ready, and the supporting research organizations are in place. And yet, this cold reality."
"…Mm."
The massive, suit-clad President listening quietly to me — Jeong Tae-san — gave a small nod with a heavy expression.
"I agree that non-response can be the best response. But you should have at least listened to what I had to say."
I newly realized that even the President's vast shoulders could shrink this much.
"First, I'd like to hear the reason."
The one who spoke was the man seated beside the President — the Minister of Foreign Affairs, who oversaw diplomatic affairs.
"…First, allow me to apologize—"
"Don't apologize. Explain."
"…China's pressure was extremely intense."
As expected. Their intent to buy time because they couldn't win on merit was transparent. I'd anticipated that much.
But what came after was truly unexpected.
"Moreover, we formally inquired about the intent to establish an international body for magic research, but… we received refusals to participate from four countries — the United States, Japan, Vietnam, and Indonesia — and the European Union didn't even reply."
"…Excuse me? What about the negotiation cards I mentioned?"
Not only commercial research rights for every participating nation, but me personally teaching magic and freely sharing technology with every country.
On top of that, I'd proposed handing over a substantial portion of the Magic Bureau's fusion research projects with modern science.
Of course, the answer key I'd shown at the initial Cheongwadae meeting was confidential — but even that had been given precisely because I wanted Korea to serve as the cornerstone of international cooperation.
"We showed them everything. Everything. And still…"
"Haa."
Where exactly had the buttons gotten fastened wrong?
If some countries had agreed and others refused, I might have been able to accept the result.
But when every country came out in open opposition like this, something was clearly happening behind the scenes.
"China again, then?"
The first step toward international cooperation on magic research had been a misstep. No — past a misstep; we'd fallen flat on our faces.
I was thinking, this damn country called China again…, and fretting over how to cook and serve them, when the Minister of Foreign Affairs's expression turned strange.
"…"
"Is there something else you want to say?"
"About the cause of this incident you just mentioned…"
He opened his mouth, closed it again, avoided my eyes, then checked the President's reaction.
While I waited for something — anything — to come out of the Minister's mouth, the President spoke first.
"I'm sorry. Regarding the Applied Research Plan 141 you showed us previously."
"Yes?"
"The fact that Korea had preferentially acquired that plan was already known to every third country."
"…What?"
Every nation already knew we had cheated.
Hearing that absurd nonsense, my head spun.