A House, a Memorial, and Half a Legend
"Can't you tell just by looking?"
"Huh?"
"A Korean has just become the first Asian ever confirmed for admission to the Royal School. That was answer enough, wasn't it?"
"Whoa!"
Jack lit up as if the triumph were his own — the rapture of a man who had seen, with his own eyes, that the heroes' sacrifice had not been in vain. He had his odd corners, yes, but he was as pure a type as they came, and I generally find myself liking people like that.
"If I go to Korea, could you show me around?"
"What do you want to see most?"
"The War Memorial!"
Sometimes that particular mania of his is a bit much to carry.
"No reason why not."
"Other things, too. Anywhere the British Army fought!"
"Sure. Whenever you come, just call."
"Heh heh heh."
Was his mood on the rise?
"Can I eat more?" he asked, cautious.
"If it's too much, we can split the bill..."
"It's fine. Order everything they've got."
"...?"
"British heroes fought for freedom. I ought to pay that back."
"But I'm not the one who fought..."
Leaving the hesitating Jack where he sat, I turned to the waiter.
"Start with whatever you can make, and just keep them coming."
On the way out, the bill settled, Jack spoke with regret all over his face.
"I came without thinking about much of anything, but now I want to get in."
"...?"
"If I enroll, I'll have gained a friend, won't I?"
It wasn't as if the feeling had come from nowhere. While we ate we'd talked about the military, and once the Korean War came up I'd told him about things I'd been through at the GP as if I'd only heard them somewhere. You know the sort of thing — roughly what your gear looks like when you head out on recon, roughly what kind of firepower the crew-served weapons emplaced at the GP can put out. I'd kept it very rough, nothing that would leak military secrets (?), and still Jack listened with his mouth hanging open.
The result, apparently, was that he'd filed me under military nut. No wonder he felt this close after a single day.
"Among people my age, I can't find a single one who's interested in the army."
Of course he couldn't.
"You're the first person I've ever talked about the military with as much as I wanted."
"..."
"I hope I see you again. I really do."
I nodded.
"I'm going to run home and help the food settle. What about you?"
"My driver's waiting in the school parking lot."
"Ah."
He swallowed his disappointment, traded goodbyes with me, glanced around — and then shot off in the exact opposite direction.
Huh?
Fwa—ba—bat!
His back was already a long way gone.
How is he that fast?
If Jack got into the Royal School, did that mean I was about to have a monster (?) for a friend? The pleasant thought drew a small smile out of me.
After about fifteen minutes of walking, the parking lot came into view. A great many people were waiting on their interviews, and perhaps that was why the lot held what looked like one Bentley for every person (?), drawn up in ranks. The fortunate part was that there were hardly any limousines — and since I could see Baker off in the distance, I was able to run straight over.
"It's cold. What are you doing out here?"
"No, it's nothing. Just..."
Baker let the sentence trail away. I was the one who had sat the interview, and yet he looked more nervous than I was.
"Did it go well, sir?"
"Of course."
"Whew."
Only then did the color come back into Baker's face.
"You should eat, sir."
"I already ate, with a friend from the interview."
"You've made a friend already?"
It just sort of happened.
"Must be from doing business. Your way with people really is something else."
"Did you eat, Baker?"
"I held off. Figured I'd make myself sick if I did."
"Then shall we start with a restaurant?"
"What? But you said you'd already eaten, sir..."
"Am I the only one here with a mouth? The two of you need to eat."
I looked from Baker to the chauffeur and back.
British food has a notorious reputation, but that applies only to traditional British cooking. London itself is one of the great dining cities of the world — money pools here, and the chefs worth naming flock in to fight over it. The place we made for was a French restaurant with three Michelin stars.
Baker, looking over the menu, seemed faintly thrown.
"This is too expensive."
However expensive it got, a meal was still just a meal. Maybe he read that in my face.
"I—I mean, I'm glad we're eating something expensive. Haha."
Baker scratched his head, embarrassed. While he studied the menu, I looked through the wine list. The truth was, soju was about as far as my drinking knowledge went; wine, I didn't really know. Even so — these names look awfully alike. So I ordered two bottles of something that seemed decent. Baker started to wave it off as too expensive, then seemed to remember what I'd said and forced the objection back down.
I grinned. This was something I'd wanted to do the moment I had money: walk into a storied three-star restaurant, linger over the menu, and order a famous wine. One line off the bucket list. What did it matter if I spent a few hundred thousand won? Today of all days — the day I'd locked in admission to the Royal School.
I can't drink it. I can at least smell it.
Around the time the appetizer came out, Baker asked me a question.
"When are you heading back to Korea, sir?"
"The day after tomorrow."
"Then before that, perhaps a little leisurely sightseeing... I'll have it arranged."
Baker was writing something in his notebook when I added another request.
"Find me a house, too."
"A—a house?"
They'd said I could go out on weekends. Having a house couldn't hurt.
"It doesn't need to be grand. Somewhere I can walk to school is plenty."
"Ah, sir, I'm a little reluctant to put it this way, but..."
"...?"
"Everything near the Royal School is a luxury mansion. The prices are enormous."
"Then I'll live somewhere enormous. That's all."
Baker added that it would come to about five billion won. Hm. Was he thinking in New York and Silicon Valley terms? Five billion won, by gut feel, didn't seem all that different from Gangnam.
Since we were already on the subject of spending money, one more thing.
"How much would it cost to build a memorial in London?"
"Sorry? Where did that come from all of a sudden..."
Jack had told me that more than eighty thousand British soldiers had fought in the war. If I hadn't known, there would have been nothing for it. Now that I did, I could hardly look the other way.
"I want to make a memorial space to honor the veterans who served."
"...!"
"It has to be large enough to engrave the name of every single person who died."
"The cost will be considerable."
"I don't care."
Wasn't this exactly the sort of thing I'd earned the money for? Saying so aloud would have been embarrassing, so I didn't.
"Sir, does it have to be London?"
"Is there a problem..."
"Ah, well — not a problem, exactly."
"...?"
"If you want to sign a real-estate contract in London, there's no way around the Grosvenor ducal house."
I'd heard they were famous for their land. So it was true.
"They're extremely particular, so there'd be a great deal to watch..."
"We're doing it with good intentions. If we explain the purpose properly, won't they understand?"
"I hope so, but..."
Was the mere fact of getting entangled with a ducal house the burden? Baker looked down at his wineglass with heavy eyes.
Back at the lodgings, I stretched out on the sofa. A mansion to stay in every weekend, and a memorial park in the middle of London — that was what I had just decided. Not a single coin had left my pocket yet.
Is it because I committed to such an enormous expense?
I'd flown all the way to Britain. Shouldn't I earn a little money before I left? The feeling came over me all at once. As it happened, I'd already had President Yang Eokgwan prepare something.
Ought to be about ready by now.
I checked the clock on the wall. It was an hour when a call would do no harm. I picked up the receiver without hesitating, and a familiar voice came across at once.
"Sir. As it happens, I had just finished the preparations."
Oh!
Just in case, I'd asked him to look for a promising British company.
"Over the past several days I went through the companies based in Britain. Most of them, however, rest on finance or oil, and with any ordinary amount of capital it looked difficult to expect a return."
And yet there was confidence woven through his voice?
Which means he found a pretty decent target even in the middle of all that!
Sure enough, Yang Eokgwan pressed on.
"Fortunately, on the startup side there were several quite promising firms."
"Is that so?"
"The one I would most recommend is Architecture, which manufactures semiconductors."
Good grief. Now that was a recommendation with real sincerity behind it. You know what people always say — if it's that good, buy it yourself first. In the years to come, Yang Eokgwan would turn his wallet inside out (?) and become Architecture's largest shareholder. He was recommending me a name he would actually buy himself!
"You are the largest shareholder of Hyeon-gang Semiconductor, after all. If you were to acquire Architecture, I believe we could expect remarkable synergy."
"It's all right, but."
"......?"
"Semiconductors take a long time to turn a profit, don't they?"
"Which is why I also prepared an item on which an effect can be seen in the short term."
As expected. Just as handing work to Jo Sudeok makes the whole world easy, talking about money with Yang Eokgwan settles something in my chest.
"They have not yet established the business, but..."
"...?"
"There is a rumor that a famous British inventor means to found a company."
An inventor. Honestly, it sounded eccentric — the sort of talk that grabs at clouds. But if Yang Eokgwan had found the man himself and gone so far as to recommend him, then he could hardly be ordinary. I waited without a word, and Yang Eokgwan went on, careful.
"Until now, minor inventions have made up the bulk of his work. This time, I am told, he intends to commit himself in earnest."
"What's he making?"
"He is concentrating, they say, on building a powerful motor."
"A motor?"
"Yes. If he can manufacture a good motor, it seems he will be able to turn out a whole succession of derivative products that carry it. I understand he is already filing patents, one after another."
"How much investment does it need?"
"With about ten billion won, I believe we can secure fifty percent of the equity."
"We're putting ten billion into a company that doesn't even exist, and we only get half the shares?"
"He is that much of a legend in the industry, so..."
"Who is he?"
I asked it almost out of irritation. And then, of all things —
"Jeremy Dyson."
"What?"
"In British engineering circles, he is a man who commands tremendous respect..."
"So this Dyson fellow is in the middle of building motors?"
"That is correct."
"And if I put in a mere ten billion, he'll split the shares in half with me?"
"...Yes?"
What was there to agonize over?