The Railway (1)
At the Peace Gate conference room in Seoul, Unification Minister Kim Do-gyun and North Korea’s Minister of External Economic Affairs Jang Myeong-ho shook hands.
After North Korea’s surprise bombardment, the two Koreas had drafted an agreement through high-level talks.
That had been followed by several rounds of working-level negotiations.
As always, the process had dragged on in a long, grinding tug-of-war, but in the end the two sides had reached consensus on a handful of issues.
And today, Kim Do-gyun was scheduled to stand with Jang Myeong-ho at Peace Gate and issue a joint declaration.
“You’ve come a long way. You are sincerely welcome. I’m Kim Do-gyun, Minister of Unification.”
“A pleasure, Mr. Kim. I am Jang Myeong-ho, Minister of External Economic Affairs.”
Kim Do-gyun smiled broadly as he greeted him.
It was a smile from the heart.
The Unification Ministry rarely drew the public’s attention, unlike some of the other ministries.
Kim Do-gyun had always found that frustrating.
But today’s meeting was his chance to make his presence felt.
He spoke again, his voice bright with excitement.
“The working-level officials on both sides have truly worked hard all this time. At last, the fruit of that labor will see the light of day.”
“However, Mr. Kim.”
“Please, go on.”
“The reason I came today is to present a new proposal.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Exactly what I said.”
Kim Do-gyun could not hide his stunned expression.
“Haven’t the working-level teams already finished all the consultations?”
“Big matters of state are meant to be decided by the leadership, aren’t they?”
“What does that mean... Surely Chairman’s position has changed?”
“In our republic,” Jang said, “restarting the Kaesong Industrial Complex would require a vast amount of capital.”
“That’s why we agreed to shoulder the reconstruction costs ourselves.”
Through their working-level talks, the two Koreas had already agreed to carry out the restoration work needed to reopen the Kaesong Industrial Complex.
After that, the Unification Ministry, the Ministry of Trade, Industry and Energy, the Ministry of Land, Infrastructure and Transport, and Korea Electric Power Corporation formed an inspection team made up of section chiefs and sent it to Kaesong for a full on-site assessment.
Restoring factories and resource facilities: about 300 billion won.
Rebuilding power and communications networks: about 150 billion won.
Replacing and modernizing mechanical equipment: about 200 billion won.
Recruiting and retraining workers: about 50 billion won.
The inspection team estimated the total cost of restoring the Kaesong Industrial Complex at roughly 700 billion won.
And as Kim Do-gyun had said, South Korea had agreed to bear the entire cost.
“In our republic, we’re saying that if the South is already spending such a large sum, then it should make an even bolder decision.”
“What on earth kind of talk is this, when the matter has already been settled!”
Kim Do-gyun’s irritation flared at the thought that he would have to cancel the press conference that had already been arranged, and before he knew it, his voice had risen.
“Mr. Kim. Hear me out to the end. My proposal will benefit the South as well.”
“Then speak.”
Still wearing an annoyed expression, Kim Do-gyun listened to Jang Myeong-ho’s explanation.
But the moment he heard it, his eyes went wide.
His irritated look vanished in an instant, and when Jang finished speaking, he blurted, “Is that really true...?”
“It is,” Jang Myeong-ho replied with a nod.
* * *
In the presidential office.
After receiving the report from Kim Do-gyun, Kim Jin-cheol immediately convened an emergency Cabinet meeting.
All the ministers were summoned, except for the Foreign Affairs Minister and the Health and Welfare Minister, who were overseas on business.
The senior presidential secretaries also attended.
“Now that everyone’s here, let’s begin.”
Once the Cabinet members had taken their seats, Kim Jin-cheol spoke, then turned to Kim Do-gyun and said, “Minister of Unification. You may speak.”
“Yes, Your Excellency.”
All eyes turned to Kim Do-gyun.
“I’m Kim Do-gyun, Minister of Unification. In the negotiations held this morning, we received a new proposal from the North through Minister Jang Myeong-ho of External Economic Affairs. Instead of restoring the Kaesong Industrial Complex, the North has proposed building a new industrial complex.”
The other ministers showed little reaction to Kim Do-gyun’s statement.
It was not especially surprising, and some of them even wondered privately whether this really warranted an emergency Cabinet meeting.
But the next thing Kim Do-gyun said was enough to leave everyone stunned.
“And the North has proposed linking our Donghae Line with Najin City in North Hamgyong Province.”
No one could close their mouth.
Kim Jin-cheol, who had already been briefed, felt his heart begin to pound all over again.
Najin was a special economic zone in North Korea, and a high-speed rail line already connected it to Russian Hassan.
If Najin and the Donghae Line were connected, then a Eurasian railway corridor would run all the way from Busan to Gangneung, Goseong, Chongjin, Najin, Vladivostok, and on to Europe.
There had been talk of this before.
Every year, the Ministry of Land, Infrastructure and Transport prepared reports on inter-Korean rail links.
But everyone had regarded it as impossible.
Now, however, that the North had made the first move, the situation was different.
“Minister of Land, Infrastructure and Transport.”
“Yes, Your Excellency.”
“When will the Donghae Line connecting Gangneung and Goseong be completed?”
“The Gangneung-Jejin railway project is scheduled for completion in 2027.”
“If we invest a little more, can we bring that date forward?”
“It is not impossible.”
Kim Jin-cheol looked around at the ministers.
Each of them seemed eager to speak, each hoping that their own ministry might secure first claim over a massive national project that could one day materialize.
He indulged them.
“Please, speak freely.”
The Minister of Land, Infrastructure and Transport was the first to begin.
“If the North also connects its rail line to the Donghae Line, the economic effects will be enormous. Starting with the immediate reduction in logistics costs, the impact on the shipyards and steel mills along the East Coast would be beyond calculation.”
The Deputy Prime Minister for Economic Affairs added his voice.
“If rail service between the two Koreas is connected within the next five years, Korean companies could take a leading role in reconstruction projects in Russia and Ukraine. We estimate that the reconstruction of Russia and Ukraine alone will take at least ten years.”
Then the other ministers added their own remarks, one after another.
Kim Jin-cheol kept his expression under control and listened to them all.
But their words hardly reached him.
For any politician, it was only natural to want to leave behind some achievement that bore his name.
Whether that drive came from duty or from vanity was another matter altogether.
And Kim Jin-cheol thought that if he could connect the two Koreas by rail during his term, he would go down as one of the most memorable presidents in South Korea’s history.
The ministers spoke for a long time.
Before the Cabinet meeting ended, Kim Jin-cheol instructed each ministry to review the feasibility and economic value of the railway project linking the two Koreas.
* * *
At the National Security Office, of course, directives related to the inter-Korean rail project were issued as well.
Reports with titles like these piled up on Ko Jeong-un’s desk:
Military Safety Management Measures for Railway Sections Passing Through the DMZ
Potential Security Threats and Response Strategies for Inter-Korean Rail Links
Building a Rail-Based Counterterrorism Response System
Possible Contingencies and Solutions in Inter-Korean Train Operations
Establishing Inter-Korean Railway Usage Rules to Prevent Military Clashes
These reports stacked higher and higher on Ko Jeong-un’s desk.
Seong Ha-yeong and the others had to draft several reports a day, and the late nights dragged on for days.
Na Kang-hae was just as busy.
Not long ago, Kang-hae had heard from the owner of Smart Fix that the members of the Empire Faction had vanished without a trace.
The younger members in their early twenties were still running around causing trouble, but there was little chance that interrogating a few low-level insects would yield anything useful.
So Kang-hae bided his time and stayed focused on his work at the National Security Office.
* * *
11 p.m.
At the National Security Office, Kim Jeong-min, a section chief at the Crisis Management Center, said, “All right, let’s call it a day here.”
The staff, worn down by several days of overtime, let out sighs of relief.
“You’ve all worked hard, so let’s grab some chicken and beer just up ahead.”
But the moment Kim Jeong-min said that, everyone’s faces stiffened.
He pretended not to see it and put on his coat.
In the end, the staff followed him to a nearby fried chicken place.
“Cheers—”
The National Security Office staff clinked their beer glasses, and as if they had agreed on it beforehand, all of them took a long pull of draft beer.
Gulp, gulp.
Seong Ha-yeong emptied nearly half her glass in one go.
It was an unwanted company dinner, but a beer after exhausting work tasted like nectar.
“Still, having a beer together after overtime like this will be a nice memory someday.”
Kim Jeong-min set down his glass and said that, and the staff answered with awkward smiles.
“Then the younger staff should have a few more and enjoy themselves.”
He took a card from his wallet and set it on the table.
Then he gathered his things and stood.
“You’re leaving already?”
“Haha. I’m not so oblivious that I can’t read the room. Young people should have fun together. Complain about your bosses a little while you’re at it.”
Kim Jeong-min really did leave the place.
The others tried to stop him, but he knew they were only being polite.
“What’s up with the section chief?”
“He wasn’t usually that kind of character...”
“Can people really change that much?”
After Kim Jeong-min left, the National Security Office staff began talking about him.
He was known for being prickly and keeping everyone at arm’s length.
But there was a reason he had changed.
Several days earlier.
At an upscale Japanese restaurant in Gangnam.
Kim Jeong-min had met with Seong Hun, chairman of Ilseong Group.
The meeting had been arranged by a university senior who worked at Ilseong Group, and naturally Kim Jeong-min had expected someone from the company’s human resources department to show up.
He had never imagined that the chairman of one of the top ten conglomerates in the country would appear in person.
Section chiefs from every ministry were monitored by the chaebol.
They were key working-level officials who helped shape national policy.
And it was an open secret that once they were promoted to bureau director, they were often poached by corporate executives.
Until he met Seong Hun, Kim Jeong-min had thought tonight’s dinner was just another example of corporate oversight.
“Eat.”
When the dishes arrived, Seong Hun gestured for him to dig in.
“Thank you.”
Kim Jeong-min picked up a piece of sashimi from his plate, but because he was so tense, he couldn’t taste a thing.
“You know the staff member under you is my granddaughter, don’t you?”
Of course he knew.
There was no one at the National Security Office who didn’t know that Seong Ha-yeong was part of the Ilseong family.
And the rumors about it were endless.
“Yes, sir. I do.”
“What do you think of Ha-yeong?”
“She’s capable, and quick on the uptake.”
“Haha. Is that so? She’s nothing like her father.”
Seong Hun burst out laughing, and Kim Jeong-min gave an awkward smile in return.
“Tell me, are you any good at swinging a club?”
“You mean golf?”
“Yes.”
“I do play, but these days I’ve been so busy that I haven’t had much—”
“Then next time, let’s skip the meal and just go hit some balls together.”
“If you call, I’ll come running anytime.”
“And one more thing.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Next time, bring me back more information about Ha-yeong.”
If anyone else in Ilseong Group had said that, Kim Jeong-min would have risen in outrage and walked out, his pride wounded at being treated like nothing more than a lackey.
But there was weight in the chairman’s words.
“Who knows? Maybe in a few years, you and my granddaughter will be working together at Ilseong.”
Seong Hun had said that, and Kim Jeong-min had found himself agreeing before he realized it.
* * *
The National Security Office dinner went on to a second round, and it wasn’t over until after 1 a.m.
Seong Ha-yeong stood outside the restaurant, waiting for the others to leave.
She had something to ask Kang-hae.
After all the staff had taken taxis and gone home, Seong Ha-yeong called out to him.
“Excuse me, Kang-hae.”
“Yes?”
“You went to Hong Kong this weekend, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
National Security Office staff were required to report overseas travel in advance, and Seong Ha-yeong knew that Kang-hae had gone to Hong Kong over the weekend.
“Why did you go to Hong Kong?”
“I met Stacy Ho.”
“What?!”
Seong Ha-yeong was shocked, and the alcohol left her body in an instant.
“Are you insane?! That dangerous woman... Why would you—”
“She won’t be sending anyone anymore.”
“Don’t tell me you killed her...?”
“No. I told her that if she sent anyone again, I’d kill her.”
“...”
Seong Ha-yeong was speechless.
Her head spun as she tried to make sense of it.
“Then...”
“...?”
“Well, you’re good at fighting, so I guess you could just kill them whenever assassins came after you... I can’t do that, so... I mean, what I’m trying to say is... thank you.”
Seong Ha-yeong rambled incoherently.
To be honest, what she really wanted to ask was whether he had gone there himself because of her.
But she couldn’t bring herself to say it.
“I went there because of you, Ha-yeong.”
She received an answer to the question she had never asked, and her heart lurched as her mind went blank.
Kang-hae raised a hand and hailed an approaching taxi.
Then he opened the rear door and said, “Get in.”
“Huh?”
“I’m nearby. I can walk from here.”
“Ah... right... thank you...”
Seong Ha-yeong got into the taxi, and as it pulled away, she muttered to herself, “You really do keep throwing people off...”
Standing there, watching the taxi disappear into the distance, Kang-hae muttered to himself as well.
“Did I say too much...?”