The Veteran's Epaulette
Was it because the nobility had answered the call of military service, generation after generation? Jack knew the history of the aristocracy nearly by heart, and when it came to the house of the Grosvenor Duke he was close to a specialist.
"The previous duke went into the First World War as a bomber pilot and was shot down by anti-aircraft fire six months before the armistice. The present duke flew the same type of aircraft through more than thirty operations in the Second World War."
The moment the talk turned to war, excitement began to steal across his face.
"There's a famous story about him. He heard his younger brother had been killed, and he climbed into a fighter without so much as a blink."
The tale drifted on, and before long it had reached the years after the fighting ended.
"I think the war left its mark. The duke put serious money into the American arms industry. They say he's the largest shareholder in Lockheed, and I'm fairly sure that's true."
Lockheed. The firm that would later merge with Martin and grow into the defense contractor that stood for the United States itself. And the largest shareholder of that company was a British ducal house?
It seemed, though, that it was still too early to be surprised.
"A noble, you see, is someone who's been rich since forever. And before the Second World War, Britain held the oil concessions. The Grosvenor family sat right at the center of that..."
I had thought of them as nothing more than great landlords in London. The scale of it was considerably larger than I had imagined.
"They say he poured every penny he made back then straight into America. He already knew oil inside out, so buttering up the drilling companies was nothing to him, and Britain means finance, so he reached into Wall Street as well."
American oil, American finance, and on top of that a fortune sunk into the defense industry? At that level he had skimmed off nothing but the choicest cuts.
"How do you even know all this?"
"Given the way my family is, a lot of things reach me at second or third hand."
"Didn't you say your father is floor leader of the largest party?"
He nodded. And nodded again.
"Anyway, I kept hoping they'd use the money to buy a pile of fighter jets and bring them home, but all they ever did was buy land. After that I lost interest."
The talk of nobles ended exactly there. From then on the subject shifted to Jack's plan of service, if that flood of words could be called a plan.
"As for me, first I get into the military academy, and then... well, serving as a commander is the goal, but what I really want is always to be out in the field, running alongside the men..."
He kept going. I let the rest wash over me. Then a thought seemed to strike him out of nowhere.
"Oh, right!"
"...?"
"Korea drafts, doesn't it? You'll have to go someday too, won't you?"
"I... suppose so."
I had already served out my time and been discharged as an army sergeant, and now I had to go again. My head was beginning to spin at the truth I had worked so hard not to look at. It was as we settled the bill and stepped out of the restaurant that he said it.
"If you're going anyway, how about special forces?"
"Came to quite a bit, didn't it?"
"This much is nothing."
At my words he scratched his head. The embarrassment lasted only a moment. Then he shuffled over to my side.
"I brought you a present."
"A present?"
From his trouser pocket he drew out a long strip of cloth. Looking closer, I could see a military rank marked on it. An epaulette, maybe?
"Walk around London and you notice quite a few pawnshops."
"...?"
"I only glanced in by chance, and of all things a medal was hanging right there. I asked the owner. He said a war veteran had brought it in himself."
A veteran's medal. He had probably taken it less because the thing was worth money than out of respect for a soldier.
"But the man's circumstances are pretty hard, they say. He hasn't been able to come back for it. So I worked a part-time job for exactly one month, to pay back what he'd borrowed."
"What?"
"A war hero's medal, hanging in a pawnshop. That just didn't sit right."
"So you actually got it back to him?"
"Yeah."
Ha! A military nut with a conscience, and the will to act on it besides.
"I think he felt bad just taking it back, so he gave me something. A photograph a war correspondent took of him, and the epaulette he actually wore."
"This is that epaulette?"
Another nod, and another.
"But why give it to me?"
"He fought in the Korean War."
"...!"
"I thought it would be better if you kept it than if I did. And from what I heard back then, you seemed awfully interested in the military..."
Interested, my foot. I had been discharged a sergeant, so I knew about as much as that implied, and no more. But what did that matter now? I carefully took the epaulette from Jack's hand.
"I'll treasure it."
"I knew you'd like it."
Eyes curved like a crescent moon. For the first time, Jack was smiling wide open.
Meanwhile, Park Yonghak sat looking quietly down at the file before him.
A few days earlier, his grandson had picked out a company for him. A British semiconductor firm, quite promising—what about acquiring it?
"If it's that good, you do it yourself. What're you tellin' me for?"
"I'm going abroad to study soon. What am I supposed to do with a company I can't even run?"
Some excuse. Remembering that day brought the smile back. The boy's thinking was obvious enough. Holding too large a stake in semiconductors made him uneasy. Let them call him the largest shareholder and hang electronics around his neck as well, and the mere thought was a nightmare. So he wanted to water down the semiconductor share structure, and quickly.
Not a bad piece of strategy. If Chairman Park acquired the British firm, the semiconductor holding would grow by just that much, and the boy's burden would ease with it.
He snorted. Which was precisely why he had meant not to spare so much as a glance for some British semiconductor company. That was the mind he had made up.
Curiosity, though, was not an easy thing to sit on. It was the first company his grandson had ever singled out and recommended, and he had been wanting to know what sort of outfit it was. The report had come up at just the right moment. He had heard the firm was barely out of its founding, yet the file felt considerably thick. Park Yonghak read slowly through what was inside.
Founded by MIT and Oxford graduates working together?
Hmm.
True to that fine pool of talent, it was a company that certainly had the technology. If there was a single problem, it was capital, as expected. The field being what it was, an immediate profit looked difficult. But if they met the right investor and could move according to a long-term plan, remarkable growth was surely there to be had.
"How's that rascal Jihun know a thing like this..."
If he had his way, he would snap the place up at once and turn it over into his grandson's name.
"That boy'll never agree."
There had to be some way. Was it because the wanting had gotten into him? Chairman Park stared at the thick report for a long time.
The next day I took Jack wherever he wanted to go. He had worked a part-time job for a veteran, hadn't he? If only because that heart of his was too good to leave unpaid, I would give him the full course myself.
The first place we headed was the Army Museum. I had heard of the War Memorial, but an Army Museum?
I didn't even know a place like this existed.
He wandered the halls like a man possessed. How he had memorized another country's weapons and their specifications by heart, I could not say. Where the military was concerned, the boy was a walking encyclopedia. From the Army Museum we went on to the ground where the British Army had fought so bitterly, and at last to the Unification Observatory at Goseong. Only after we had worked through that long schedule did I assume, naturally, that he would want to go in and rest.
I assumed wrong.
"Is there somewhere to exercise?"
He produced an answer I had not expected.
"Maybe because I've been in a car all day... I'm stiff all over. I'd like to run a mountain or something."
Who climbs a mountain in the dead of night?
Then again, the person I would have been worrying over was an absurdly formidable human being. Still, there was no harm in being careful.
"You like soccer?"
"I enjoy watching it."
"Favorite team?"
He was from London. Arsenal, Chelsea, Tottenham, West Ham—one of those names ought to have come out.
"The soccer team under the Army athletic corps..."
Right. I was the fool for asking.
"Forget watching. How about kicking it yourself?"
"I'm not good."
"Who needs to be good? It's just between friends."
At that he quietly scratched his head.
Thirty minutes later we were at the Hyeon-gang FC Youth Ground.
Had I misheard? No. He had definitely said he wasn't much good. Grant him every benefit of the doubt and his soccer was merely ordinary. But the moment he took the ball and ran, there was nobody who could stop him.
Isn't he a whole lot faster than I am?
We were on the same side, so I would never have to contest him directly. Even so, you can just tell. The other team was top-tier even among amateurs, and Jack was practically a sprinter. The finishing, of course, left something to be desired. His kicking was hopeless enough that you might as well have called his feet triangles. He paid it no mind. He ran like a madman the entire match, a border collie working a flock of sheep, and by the time it ended the other side was nearly sick to death of him.
Even after running like that, he smiled as he spoke.
"Maybe because I haven't broken a sweat in a while, I don't really feel like just going in."
"..."
"Actually, I'm better at combat sports than ball games."
"Combat sports?"
"A soldier exists for battle in the end. So you have no choice but to train in every kind of fighting."
"Then have you done wrestling?"
"Wrestling, sambo, jiu-jitsu. I'm confident in any of them."
All through the soccer I had been unable to hide my awe at Jack's stamina. What was he? This time, though, it seemed to be Jack's turn to be surprised.
"Why aren't you budging?"
I had been wondering the same thing. Our strength felt about even, and yet, strangely, my balance never broke. Defending the shots was only the start. I shut down the hand digging for my armpit, then the wrist, then the control at the back of the neck. I did not allow a single one of his attacks. When everything was stopped, he wore himself out on his own.
"...Ha!"
He had the stamina. What he had just understood was that there was no way through.
Now it was my turn. I kept the pressure on Jack's wrist. At this rate the arm would be pinned completely.
"Hngh—"
He tried to wrench it free by brute strength. Right then I feinted a grab at the back of his neck and shot straight for his legs. His mind was entirely on the fight for position. In a flash he was up in the air, and the match ended there. I set him back down on the spot.
Hm. The professor had told me that if a fight ever broke out, I was not even to attempt a shot—only defend. His words, it seemed, had been true after all. I was surprised myself, but Jack's was the most astonished face of all.
"How long have you been wrestling?"
"A few months?"
"What?"
He shook his head hard at the answer.
"No. This won't do."
"...?"