Economic Invasion (3)
“We’ve arrived.”
“Yeah, you sure it’s okay if I don’t go myself?”
“Yes, we’ll talk it over with them first.”
The moment I’d been expecting had finally come. Diplomats sent by the Republic of Korea government had arrived at Nakyuan in person.
After completing the second brewery, our alcohol exports had exploded. It was as if all our previous trades had just been skirmishes—merchant guilds from Gyeonggi Province, close to Gangnam, started flocking there to buy booze by the cartload. Especially the high-proof cognac; even priced at three times the whiskey rate on the chefs’ advice, it sold like hotcakes.
At first, the upper echelons of the Korean government snapped up Nakyuan’s liquor and enjoyed it without issue. But once I began bulk-buying food, they started paying attention to me.
After securing the building materials I needed, I shifted to trading for canned goods and preserved rations. Massive quantities of canned food, rice, flour, and other long-shelf-life staples flooded into Nakyuan.
This wasn’t for consumption here. It was preparation to finally enact the policy I’d been planning for a while.
The ‘Small Group Support Policy.’
Many warlords and factions north of the Han had joined the Union, but smaller groups and warlords hadn’t. Simple reason: they saw no real gain.
Joining meant a strict ban on raiding other Union groups. For these tiny outfits—many too poor to eat today, let alone tomorrow—the restrictions outweighed benefits.
So I devised a way to draw them under the Union’s umbrella. They had labor for farming but lacked experts, tools, seeds, or know-how. Most scraped by on foraging, hunting, or backyard gardens. When things got dire, they raided neighbors.
I gave them reason to join. I donated all the food bought from liquor sales, plus my own stockpiles and booze, to the Union.
Once I kicked off the massive donation, wealthy warlords followed suit, bit by bit. Led by Ham Seong-hoon, the Union established the ‘Small Group Support Foundation’ to aid them.
Not just free handouts. Pledge loyalty and intent to join, and they’d get food, water, Union seeds/tools on loan, plus dispatched farming experts for proper training.
A policy to prevent desperation-driven raids. Every person was valuable labor; I didn’t want them dying pointlessly.
Couldn’t source these supplies internally, so we got them from Gangnam.
Gangnam got edgy when the Union started bulk-buying food and seeds, crossing a line. They dispatched diplomats to Nakyuan.
The executives handled reception. Initially planned to talk outside the barrier to avoid rudeness, but it felt too discourteous. Instead, we blindfolded them, issued passes, and escorted to the bathhouse lounge. Called in chefs to serve food.
Told Na Hye-won to stay in her room, curtains drawn, no peeking out.
The three diplomats entered the lounge; their twenty soldier escorts bathed outside the barrier with my permission.
“May I come in?”
“Yeah, come on.”
Han Eun-ji opened the office door and bowed. As security chief, she had elevator access to my office.
“So… how’s the talk going?”
“They’re still discussing, but… we’re not bridging the gap.”
“Why? Telling us not to buy food with liquor money?”
“Yes. Government reps suggest sticking to building materials like the early trades, trying to persuade the executives.”
“Hmm…”
This could drag on for days. In short: Union side said, “We’re not forcing it—if you don’t like it, don’t buy.” Government countered, “Winter’s coming; bulk food buys go against ethics.”
“I’ll handle it myself.”
“Yes, I’ll escort you.”
Better to end it personally. Han Eun-ji led me to the bathhouse.
“Y-Your Excellency!”
Executives rose in unison as Han Eun-ji opened the lounge door. Diplomats, catching on from their reaction, stood and bowed.
“We never dreamed we’d meet the Union’s Marshal in person. An honor.”
“Sit.”
Everyone sat after me.
“Speak.”
“Yes, Marshal.”
The center diplomat bowed again.
“First, thanks again for this audience. To the point… Government agricultural reforms boosted production, but not enough for three full meals daily for all.”
I nodded silently, chin on hand.
“Bulk food and seed buys now put us in a bind. Frankly, the Union doesn’t seem food-short…”
I waved him off. He bowed and shut up.
“So, you have plenty—why import massive amounts from Gangnam? Suspicious motives. That it?”
“Ah… well, Marshal, you see…”
He stammered, flustered.
“Yes or no. Answer.”
“Yes… No formal ties, yet this behavior raises doubts.”
Polite facade, arrogant tone. Didn’t matter. I’d anticipated this; we’d planned responses in meetings.
“Enough. Chief Secretary.”
“Yes!”
Han Seol responded.
“Cease all Gangnam trades effective today.”
“Yes, immediately. We’ll recover the 800 bottles slated for tomorrow.”
“Clear? No more deals with Gangnam. Head back knowing that.”
Diplomats gaped, stunned.
“M-Marshal! Cease trades means…?”
“No more booze to Gangnam. What you wanted, right? Nothing else?”
Everyone rose as I did. I left wordlessly for the mansion.
“Do-hyun, the government diplomats all left.”
“How’d I do?”
“Full of dignity.”
“Did as planned, but you think it’ll work?”
“Yes, it’ll stick. They wanted different trades, not a cutoff.”
“Alright, let’s wait and see.”
No need for open conflict. Stir internal strife instead.
After cutting Gangnam trades, we dealt with northern merchants. Cheaper than Gangnam prices, naturally.
Soon, Gangnam guilds heard and came north. Rejected. Asked why? “Government sent diplomats; Marshal agreed no Gangnam trades.”
Plan worked perfectly. Gangnam merchants, warlords, elites turned on the government.
Government caught in a bind. Short-term fine, but long-term, wealth drains north—especially vital food.
Couldn’t ignore tax-paying guilds and elites. This ‘government’ was a coalition tacitly backed by Gangnam powers as legitimate, treated as superiors. Old terms: more like a noble clan. No full cooperation, no unity.
Guilds furious at secret ‘treaty’ without consultation. Taxpayer rage hit hard.
Denials fell flat: “No such treaty.” Union spies reported panic; they blamed the lead diplomat. “We sent for formal ties; he botched it into a cutoff.”
Ugly. Pathetic.
Less than a month later, that diplomat returned to Nakyuan.
Evening reading with Seo I-rang; stepped out.
Raining.
“Do-hyun.”
Han Seol held an umbrella over me. Walked slowly to the barrier.
A man knelt knee-deep in wet mud, soaked, waiting. The diplomat had knelt since morning in the downpour.
“M-Marshal! I apologize for my rudeness last time!”
“Dinner soon. Make it quick.”
“Yes!”
Desperate for survival, he needed a formal deal—not a verbal one.
He splashed through mud on dress shoes, grabbed papers from the car. Han Seol took and read them.
“Monthly sales cap at 10,000 bottles, renegotiate details every six months. Two percent tariff on volume.”
“Hmm.”
10,000 monthly? Effectively unlimited. Two breweries maxed out under 2,000 high-proof. Two percent? Freebie.
“I’ll think it over… Come back tomorrow.”
“Yes, Marshal!”
He bowed 120 degrees.
Back home, signed immediately. Ideal plan realized.
They approached first for ties; we got hugely favorable terms. Gangnam wealth would trickle north steadily, fueling Union policies with endless food.
War isn’t just guns and blades.