Turning the World Upside Down

I woke up to find the world turned completely upside down.

Nothing could describe the current uproar across South Korea more accurately. The entire nation was in an absolute frenzy, and the internet was practically melting down under the deluge of breaking news.

Slam!

Jeon Myeong-cheol brought his heavy fist crashing down onto his mahogany executive desk, unable to contain his boiling rage.

"How the hell did this happen?!"

Not a single piece of the board had moved according to plan. The violent raid on Arcane Technology's laboratory had ended in catastrophic failure. While he had pulled strings behind closed doors to ensure Hwaseong's name never surfaced in police interrogations, coming away empty-handed without a shred of data or hardware meant the entire operation had achieved less than nothing.

Only one viable path had remained for Hwaseong: swallow their pride, establish contact with Arcane Technology, and secure the Magician through sheer purchasing power. Yet even that final lifeline had vanished into thin air the moment Kim Hyung-jun and Park Ji-hyuk held their press conference.

And to pour acid on an open wound, China's sudden sanctions hit out of nowhere. For Vice Chairman Jeon Myeong-cheol, it was enough to drive him completely insane.

"Have you found out why the Chinese slapped us with sanctions?"

"We've tapped every guanxi connection we have, sir, but everyone is keeping their mouths tightly shut," his chief of staff replied, sweating under his collar. "The only fragment of information we managed to pry loose is that the decree was handed down directly from the standing committee of the Communist Party leadership."

"Which means you know jack shit!"

At Jeon Myeong-cheol's venomous sneer, the chief of staff bowed his head in mortified silence.

This single designation had dealt a catastrophic blow to Hwaseong's Chinese business operations. No, calling it a catastrophic blow was an understatement.

The Anti-Foreign Sanctions Countermeasures List.

It was a blacklist reserved for foreign individuals or organizations deemed to have violated international law, infringed upon basic diplomatic norms, implemented discriminatory measures against Chinese citizens, or interfered in domestic affairs. The bar for entry was so astronomically high that almost the entire roster consisted of major United States defense contractors.

The moment an entity was placed on that list, immediate visa bans, revocations, and deportations went into effect for all associated personnel. Simultaneously, comprehensive seizures, confiscations, and asset freezes were executed across all real estate and movable properties within Chinese territory.

In other words, the second Hwaseong was branded with that label, every single asset they owned in mainland China was effectively pulverized into ash.

Jeon Myeong-cheol had clawed desperately to unearth the reasoning, only to learn the directive originated from the pinnacle of Beijing's ruling elite. Even in South Korea, where there was virtually no place where the mighty Jeon Myeong-cheol could not throw his weight around, he was utterly powerless against an iron-curtain decree from the Communist Party.

Let's deal with that disaster later. Shoving the panic aside for the moment, Jeon glared at his subordinate.

"What about those bastards at Arcane? Are they still ignoring us?"

"We confirmed they read our emails, but there has been no reply whatsoever. We managed to secure their personal mobile numbers and attempted direct calls, but they refused to pick up and promptly blocked the numbers."

"Mmh..."

Jeon leaned back against his leather chair, a low groan escaping his throat.

He had no choice but to face reality: his own unbridled greed had blinded him. His long history of effortlessly preying upon weaker companies and snatching away whatever took his fancy had bred an arrogant complacency. He had assumed this venture would play out just like all the others.

Yet while Hwaseong was drowning in self-delusion, wasting time trying to reverse-engineer and pirate proprietary tech, Suseong had aggressively embraced the Magician and bolted leagues ahead.

"No, it's not just a single step ahead," Jeon muttered darkly.

Arcane Technology had declared a total freeze on new contracts. While Hwaseong was trapped in place, running on a treadmill, Suseong would sprint unimpeded at the head of the pack.

"I cannot allow that."

The image of Chairman Lee Chang-ryong's sly, raccoon-like grin flashed in his mind, making his blood boil. Losing ground to Suseong was the one humiliation Jeon Myeong-cheol could never stomach.

"Tell President Kim Jin-gu to march down there himself if he has to. Track down Arcane Technology in person. Secure that Magician delivery contract no matter what it takes! If we shower them with twice the cash Suseong paid, how could those little upstarts dare say no?"

"Understood, sir."

Arcane Technology might have publicly announced a freeze on new deals, but anyone keeping a close eye on them knew full well it was just posturing to drive up their value.

"There's nothing in this world money can't buy," Jeon scoffed with a dismissive wave. "I've never met a single bastard who hates cash."

He was already counting his chickens before the eggs had even hatched—the blissful ignorance of a predator who had no clue China had already delivered the smoking gun straight into Arcane Technology's hands.

Camp Humphreys.

Hyung-jun and I were still camped out here.

Now that the immediate security threat had been neutralized, why hadn't we packed up and left? Simple: moving was a colossal pain in the ass.

If we moved back to the trashed laboratory now, we'd just have to pack up everything all over again once our brand-new research center was built. Why do the same backbreaking chore twice? Our strategy was straightforward: cling to this military sanctuary like stubborn barnacles until we secured a new plot of land and finished constructing our state-of-the-art facility.

Click.

I reached into the automatic polishing machine and pulled out a small, finely cut piece of obsidian, turning it over under the fluorescent light.

"Not bad. Came out smooth."

"What are you up to now?" Hyung-jun asked, glancing over from his workstation where he had been furiously typing away.

"Just shaping some obsidian. Thought I'd run a few experiments on a magic circle."

Normally, a magic circle was designed to draw passively upon the ambient mana evenly dispersed throughout the world. But on Earth, ambient mana was practically nonexistent. When natural density fell short, a mage needed to slot in a concentrated Mana Stone to make up the deficit and boost the circuit's output.

"What about you? What's keeping you so busy?"

"The usual. Sorting through the inbox."

Now that the initial Magician delivery batches were complete, Arcane Technology was officially on hiatus. Hyung-jun and I were taking advantage of the quiet downtime to catch up on personal projects and tackle our backlog of tasks.

"Anything interesting in there?"

"Nah, not really," Hyung-jun shrugged nonchalantly. "Just a sea of desperate begging to sell them a Magician. Mostly from Chinese conglomerates and Hwaseong."

"Replying to all of those must be exhausting."

"It's basically copy-paste, so it doesn't bother me. Every response boils down to: Due to recent circumstances, we are unable to accept new orders. That's it."

I tilted my head, pondering the situation. Following Suseong's grand announcement of their mass-produced solid-state battery, global interest in Arcane Technology hadn't just spiked—it was an inferno. Achieving a commercial breakthrough of that magnitude in such a ridiculously compressed timeframe after unveiling our Zero-Interface Technology had stunned the entire business world.

As a result, Arcane Technology's official corporate inbox, which Hyung-jun managed, was groaning under the weight of partnership inquiries from every corner of the planet.

"Hwaseong can rot, but didn't China end up cooperating with us quite nicely?" I asked.

"They did."

"Then couldn't we sell them a unit or two? We were planning to sell to them eventually anyway."

"That's why I'm debating it," Hyung-jun sighed, tapping his chin. "We did publicly declare that we wouldn't be selling to anyone for the time being. If we turn around and hand them one now, it looks inconsistent."

"A delicate political headache, huh?"

"Tell me about it."

Right on cue, Hyung-jun's smartphone began to buzz on the desk.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Brrr— Brrr—

"Hm?"

Normally, if an unknown number flashed on screen, Hyung-jun rejected and blocked it without giving it a second thought. But this time, his finger paused over the screen. That meant it had to be someone saved in his contacts.

"Who is it?"

"Nylon Musk."

"The Techno King himself? He should be up to his eyeballs in work after receiving his Magicians. Why's he calling out of the blue?"

"Beats me. Putting him on speaker."

The moment the line connected, Musk's booming, larger-than-life voice echoed through the room.

"Long time no see, Techno King. We're doing great thanks to your hospitality. How are things on your side?"

"That's fantastic to hear. Glad the Magician is pulling its weight. So, what brings you to call at this hour?"

"Of course we remember," Hyung-jun replied smoothly. "Have you decided what you want from us?"

Musk let out a roaring, hearty laugh over the speaker. Then, lowering his tone into a conspiratorial whisper, he dropped the pitch.

Hyung-jun and I exchanged a loaded glance.

...Right now? What in the world is this guy plotting to rope us into?

Rewinding the clock slightly.

Austin, Texas. Teslam Headquarters.

Nylon Musk was pacing his executive office, deep in existential contemplation.

"What kind of excuse can I use to bring Kim and Park over to the US?"

To Musk, space colonization was an imperative task to expand humanity's living space—our cosmic Lebensraum. It was a colossal, generational undertaking fraught with countless scientific and engineering hurdles. Massive capital was essential, yes, but recruiting extraordinary minds capable of solving seemingly impossible technical bottlenecks through outside-the-box thinking mattered far more.

That was why ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Musk aggressively scouted top-tier talent from every corner of the globe.

And among all the brilliant minds on Earth, the two individuals who fascinated him the most were Kim Hyung-jun and Park Ji-hyuk.

The sheer awe and shivers he had experienced when watching the Magician's maiden demonstration still sent goosebumps across his arms whenever he recalled it. At that very moment, Musk had become utterly convinced of one undeniable truth: those two possessed something fundamentally beyond the boundaries of modern human science.

He could have deployed spies or private intelligence firms to pry into their secrets, but he consciously chose not to.

If they truly possess a technology operating beyond known physics, picking at it won't help me understand it anyway.

That was Musk's pragmatic calculus. Rather than waste resources attempting to steal impenetrable secrets, strategic partnership was the superior play. Collaborating with them while they stayed in South Korea was fine, but having them physically in the United States, sharing a unified grand vision, would be infinitely better.

The problem was: how could he lure them across the Pacific?

Under ordinary circumstances, this would have been considered visionary executive strategizing. The only slight issue was that Musk was pondering this in the middle of a mandatory quarterly executive performance review.

His chief of staff leaned in, whispering nervously, "Uh, Techno King... perhaps you should refocus on the presentation..."

"Ah, don't worry about it. You guys handle the review," Musk waved a hand dismissively. "It's just an internal report anyway. Why do I need to sit here staring at PowerPoint slides?"

Then why the hell did you call an all-hands executive meeting and sit at the head of the table?!

Every executive in the room screamed the exact same thought in their heads. But entirely indifferent to their deadpan glares, Musk tapped his chin, muttering his internal monologue out loud.

"Should I ask them to consult on one of our aerospace propulsion projects? No, that's too transparent. What if I invite them to a private luxury resort under the guise of an all-expenses-paid tech retreat...? No, that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠strays too far from business. Damn it, what's the hook...?"

Just then, a young engineer sitting at the far end of the long conference table, lazily propping his chin in his palm, tossed out a casual suggestion.

"Why not just invite them over under the pretense of introducing prime investment opportunities? Arcane Technology is drowning in liquidity right now, aren't they? They're going to need massive assets to park all that excess cash."

"What?" Musk blinked, turning his head.

"And while they're over here," the engineer added with a casual shrug, "give them an exclusive VIP tour of our facilities. Kill two birds with one stone."

Musk's eyes widened. He glared intensely at the engineer who dared interrupt his train of thought.

"..."

"..."

The young man didn't flinch in the slightest, coolly meeting the billionaire's fiery gaze.

The entire boardroom held its collective breath. Everyone braced themselves for the inevitable explosion from Musk's notoriously volatile temper.

Instead, Musk slowly leaned toward his chief of staff.

"Hey."

"Y-yes, sir?"

"Make sure that guy gets Employee of the Month."

A collective sigh of relief washed across the room as the tension abruptly popped. Paying zero attention to the bewildered executives, Musk snatched up his smartphone with a beaming grin and dialed the number.

"Long time no see, my friends! How are things holding up on your end...?"