The Cake Is Not a Lie (1)
Seoul Special City, Jongno District, Republic of Korea.
Among them, the view from Sejong-ro 1 was the most special of all.
For six million people living on this territory, or nearly eight million ethnic Koreans including those north of the Military Demarcation Line—
the man who held the most absolute power sat here for thirty-five years.
The owner of the building with its striking blue roof could almost be called the owner of the Republic of Korea.
This was the result of the solid soil of presidential centrism he had laid down over the past decades.
Although the title “president” was used, the seat occupied by Park Byung-hwi was closer to that of a monarch from the era of absolute rule than to a term-limited president.
With a single gesture, major national affairs were decided. Corporate structures were reshaped with sticky fingers. The press eagerly hailed those decisions as necessary resolve. Citizens, as always, blindly accepted them as truth.
Park Byung-hwi had lived this life for more than thirty years. Even now, when he closed his eyes, the May 16 incident would come back to him.
How much thought had it taken to receive this building, once called the Central Intelligence Building?
On that very day in 1961, Park Byung-hwi had made the resolve that he could no longer entrust the love of his country to ordinary politicians. He had made the decision to save the nation.
Only after he swept aside all the politicians who had tried to siphon the state for private use did Park Byung-hwi rise to the supreme position.
By heaven’s oath, it could be said that over the past thirty years, Park Byung-hwi had almost never filled his pockets with personal gain.
Why, you ask. The treasury being plundered to create hundreds of billions in slush funds, or university spots being handed out to children for their golden paths, or private desires being satisfied to the fullest.
He would not say there was zero. As a human being, that was only natural.
But compared to the supreme positions that were to come, that level was pathetically small, he was sure.
And even the predecessors and successors who plundered far more personal gain than he himself had, compared to those humans north of the Military Demarcation Line, the amount was pathetically small.
There had been an event that unintentionally forced him to live frugally.
On October 26 of some year, an assassination attempt by someone he had always trusted, without warning.
Fortunately, thanks to the palace mage of the Blue House who personally crafted the magic bulletproof vest, he had not died. But after that, Park Byung-hwi had lived with the paranoia that “no one could be trusted.”
If at the time, instead of a few sips of modest wine he had been drinking at the banquet, he had drained it to get truly drunk, he would have almost certainly died.
So frugality had become inevitable. Not only did he no longer drink expensive liquor until he passed out, but the more he ate, the greater the chance that poison had been slipped in.
Though he had somehow won through now, running the country was still no easy task.
People who used to think that plain rice and meat soup were enough were now crawling out into the streets demanding democracy and the rest.
It was infuriating for Park Byung-hwi. Did they not know that if the National Assembly returned and the two-party or multi-party system took root, the daily lives of the people would be pushed to the back of the line because of political strife?
The more he imagined that future, the heavier his shoulders felt under the weight of responsibility.
Only he could save the Korean people.
Just as Stalin had held the office of General Secretary for decades through his strong charisma and leadership despite being the leader of a communist country known for its grotesque comparisons, Park Byung-hwi would have to devote his entire life to the fatherland and the nation.
It was a pity that the grotesque comparison was to the leader of the Soviet Union, a communist country, but it was not denying Stalin’s own ability, independent of ideology.
Park Byung-hwi lifted his head and shifted his gaze to the framed portrait hanging in the corner of the office.
“For my entire life, for the fatherland and the nation.”
Not for personal gain, but only for the fatherland and the nation.
Park Byung-hwi knew the pain of the nation lost very well. He could not help but think of the time when he had served as a Japanese under the Manchukuo government, feeling the northern winds of Manchuria.
The fact that he had served in the Japanese army—more precisely, the Manchukuo army—was something that opponents often brought up without knowing it.
Anyway, after rising to the position of owner of the Blue House, every action Park Byung-hwi had taken could be defined as one that built an indomitable nation.
Modernizing and Westernizing the country to expand economic power had been to allow all six million citizens to live a human life, escaping from the previous backward, pre-modern existence.
Dispatching workers to distant foreign lands through the agreement with West Germany had not only earned foreign currency but also made the industriousness of Koreans known to Western countries.
Dispatching South Korean soldiers to Vietnam, a place with no connections, had firmly imprinted the role of ally of Korea in the mind of the superpower of the Western world, the United States.
As the price, look. Hadn’t Reagan, Bush, and Clinton all refused to allow South Korea to develop nuclear weapons?
He was not talking about the nuclear warheads separately held by the US forces in Korea or the tactical nuclear bombs dropped from bombers.
Instead, it was plutonium made from naturally mined uranium from the Uirang mine in Pyeong-san, enriched.
Because of technological limitations, actual hydrogen bombs had been difficult to demonstrate. More precisely, the theoretical foundation had been laid, but making actual bombs was still difficult.
Because talented nuclear physicists loyal to the fatherland were struggling, Park Byung-hwi had expected to receive a real one and conduct the test detonation before the new century arrived.
In the meantime, a report that made Park Byung-hwi frown came from below.
“…There was a gunfight at Busan Port?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. It is suspected to be between Japanese and Soviets, but neither side was captured.”
“No. What I mean is, is this important enough to reach me?”
Hah. How ridiculous. Although Busan Port was considered a strategic resource of the nation, was it really a matter that should reach him just because thugs and communists had a gunfight there?
In the first place, foreign parties quarreling at Busan Port had not been rare.
The local police and customs in Busan were also half-abandoned because there was little profit in arresting them one by one.
Anyways, they were half-abandoned. That was why, not to mention drug trafficking or other important international criminals still at large, he had to prioritize his own choices and focus.
It was no surprise that it was Park Byung-hwi himself who had authorized it.
But the answer that came next made the owner of the Blue House feel a slight unease.
“That is correct, but… because what they said during the gunfight sounded a bit off, I came to report it directly.”
It was not that they did not arrest anyone. The moment the disturbance was detected, the frontline police and customs officials had gone out with their cameras.
The phrase “they said to each other” was likely a reconstruction of the recorded conversation.
Park Byung-hwi sighed and answered.
“Ha… All right, let’s listen first.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. I have brought the material directly translated and edited. Please check it yourself!”
“Why bother with this…”
He had thought a verbal report would be enough. But he still did not know if it had risen to the level of documents.
However, the more he read the document’s content, Park Byung-hwi’s expression began to twist.
“…Why are ‘they’ mentioning Gori Nuclear Power Plant and plutonium?”
“That is why the relevant institutions are currently checking one by one.”
The Gori Nuclear Power Plant near Busan was one of the strategic facilities where he had instructed to store the plutonium he had enriched.
The reason plutonium had been transported from far away in Pyeong-san in North Hwanghae Province to near Busan was so that when the IAEA sent inspectors, it could be claimed to be plutonium generated from the reactor itself.
He was told it could vary depending on the type of reactor, but Park Byung-hwi did not know about that. Those were matters handled by the subordinates.
Therefore, the fact that plutonium was stockpiled in large quantities at Gori Nuclear Plant was information known only to a few.
Japanese and Soviets who were fishing in the waters of Busan Port should never have known about it.
If only Gori Nuclear Plant had been mentioned, it might have been overlooked. But the word that came after was rather unusual, so Park Byung-hwi felt somewhat displeased.
“Did those yakuza thugs really say ‘plutonium’? You didn’t mishear anything else?”
“Exactly as you heard, Your Majesty. Since you know Japanese, you can check the original text I attached below as well.”
“Ha, so that’s it…”
Because he had once served in the Kwantung Army under the Japanese Empire, Takagi Akio— no, Park Byung-hwi—Japanese had been as natural to him as breathing.
Therefore, the anxiety about the current situation where “seeing is believing” could not help but sprout.
“How should we handle it, Your Majesty?”
Park Byung-hwi had thought about it and soon inclined toward the judgment that there was no need to act first.
He did not know what those thugs and communists were plotting, but reaching the full truth would still be difficult.
It was difficult to call it an ordinary conversation, but the fact that nuclear power plants and plutonium had suddenly appeared during the conversation did not mean they were approaching the truth.
“We should strengthen the defenses. Withdraw troops from elsewhere and deploy them more to the Gori Nuclear Plant.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. Shall I have the specific personnel changes handled by the field operations?”
“Yes, as always. And for now, strengthen monitoring of foreigners nationwide, especially in Busan. Particularly Japanese and Soviet nationals.”
“Understood!”
Monitoring of foreigners had always been an efficient method.
They might be planning something themselves, but they could also fish out the so-called “foreigners” who were making a fuss.
After giving these instructions, Park Byung-hwi finally felt relieved. He had not moved too obviously. If it had been a mistake, he could simply correct it later.
Even if the actual situation he feared occurred, they could be suppressed with the expanded troops. Since the United States was still on their side, they could take a stronger stand then.
“All right, I’ll go out. I need to rest a bit.”
Park Byung-hwi gave the dismissal order. His head had hurt a little after he had used it for once.
He would not have done this before, but he was definitely aging.
If he had not received the elixir that slowed aging from the palace mage, he would have collapsed from overwork and old age long ago.
And at the same time, in Seocho District, Seoul Special City, Republic of Korea.
“Secretary of the Foreign Affairs Bureau, are you well? The weather in the Tsushima Strait is not very good.”
“Thank you for your concern. The comrades who had to move directly said it was treated well by them.”
“Then that is what was done for you. The bonus will be deposited by the same route as last time, so please check it.”
“Understood. But is this really enough? It was only that I had the script written by the people there in Busan…”
As the owner of the Blue House wiped away his startled heart, on the other side of the Han River, only 10 km away in Seocho District, a single witch smiled faintly.
“Of course, Your Highness. That alone is enough payment for the money.”