Sovereign Default, Part 3

Although she had reached a tentative conclusion, the absolute truth was something only those directly involved would ever know. It was highly unlikely that the Yankees of the New World had remained completely ignorant of South Korea's attempts to develop nuclear weapons all this time.

Even in this world, the era of the American-led... whatever-you-called-it global order had not fallen. The balance of power had simply shifted from a unilateral hegemony to a divided pie. Therefore, the possibility that South Korea had independently entered into some secret pact with the United States could not be entirely dismissed.

Perhaps magic was involved here as well.

It was not an entirely wild speculation. After all, Stalin and his lackeys couldn't have been the sole architects of every supernatural anomaly in the world. What other reason could there be for the President surviving the gunshots that echoed through the KCIA safehouse on October 26, 1971? He wasn't wearing a bulletproof vest, yet a bullet fired from point-blank range failed to pierce his body? There was only one logical answer: a pre-cast defensive spell had triggered.

Thus, it was not difficult to deduce that the President, having narrowly escaped death, would have concluded that there is not a single soul in this world to trust.

Of course—

But agonizing over it all day won't change a thing.

Using her telekinesis to hold the document stamped with the South Korean government's official seal to avoid leaving fingerprints, Yerina ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠fluttered the paper and asked, "Where did you get this, and from whom? Actually, scratch that. Tell me when and how you obtained it as well."

Even before she thrust the paper toward him, Ham Cheon-ho recoiled in horror. It was as if he were facing something utterly terrifying, or as if he had been caught red-handed doing something he shouldn't. This reaction was immensely helpful in allowing Yerina to grasp the true nature of the document.

"Ah, so you stole it too, didn't you?"

"Actually... it's not like that..."

"Save the excuses. Just answer my original question."

The rambling, semi-coherent explanation from the prospective puppet president boiled down to this: he knew very little himself, having merely received a copy secured by another director. This meant the list of people Yerina would have to track down and interrogate to uncover the truth had just grown longer.

In the end, is this information useless for now?

Even if she climbed the ladder of Chinese guanxi she had extracted from Ham Cheon-ho, it wouldn't guarantee her access to a nuclear weapon of ambiguous origin. Orchestrating a covert approach while simultaneously maintaining the status quo was no simple task. It was the classic dilemma: information too difficult for her to claim, yet too precious to let anyone else have.

Of course, having it is still infinitely better than not...

For starters, the United Kingdom was already a nuclear power. When the day came that she held the entire British Empire in her grasp, those assets would naturally fall into her hands. Still, when it came to nuclear weapons, the more the merrier. The "good" she ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sought to realize through her utterly self-centered "lines" was always better off being abundant and widely distributed.

Just then, a sharp *ding* echoed from the target's study desktop. She had connected the DVD drive earlier that evening, and only now did the notification chime to signal that all the data had finally finished copying. The data transfer speeds of this era were truly abysmal.

Since she couldn't verify the nuclear lead immediately anyway, and with this task complete, there was only one piece of business left in this house. This time, Yerina fluttered the document she had brought with her.

"You asked me earlier, didn't you? If it was money ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I wanted."

"..."

"Take a look. Read it through, and you'll understand."

The document she handed to the puppet president outlined her demands. It was a comprehensive list of what he was expected to provide to the syndicate's second wave, which would be arriving shortly after her. As Ham Cheon-ho carefully read through the pages, his expression grew increasingly bewildered.

"Is... is this really all...? This isn't even a matter of whether it's possible or not... It's simply a question of how long it will take...?"

"One does not slaughter the goose that lays the golden eggs. As long as I hold your leash, I won't make any unreasonable demands."

The exhausted president's face remained a mask of sheer doubt. It was painfully obvious what was running through his mind: If this was all she wanted, did she really have to go to such extreme lengths? Yerina saw no need to clear up his confusion.

"Isn't it reasonable? If you sign, you'll be able to exercise all the voting rights for both my shares and this gentleman's."

Did she have any intention of interfering in the management? Not in the slightest. As previously established, Cheonma Sangsa was merely a shield and a stepping stone for the syndicate to extend its influence into South Korea. For that to work, the shield had to stand firm and protect them; if it crumbled under the weight of the foreign exchange crisis, it would defeat the purpose. Granting the president absolute control over a twenty to thirty percent voting block would serve as a vital tool to guarantee the company's survival amidst the den of corporate vipers.

Despite his slowed cognitive functions caused by her Charm and her surprisingly rational demands, his curiosity ultimately triumphed over his fear. The puppet president managed to part his trembling lips.

"...Will this truly suffice? I mean, if you hold this much equity, calling an official shareholders' meeting would be—"

"But there's a condition attached, isn't there? This must be executed purely as a verbal agreement, completely hidden from the other directors and shareholders."

Making an overt move was out of the question. Did he expect her to broadcast to the Reds and the British Ministry of Magic that we are doing something highly suspicious over here? She had chosen this tedious, roundabout method precisely because security and secrecy were paramount, yet here he was, practically whispering a suggestion to throw all that caution out the window.

"Ah, yes...! Of course...! I understand...!"

"Enough talk. Just sign. The people who will execute the terms will arrive in a few days, so make sure you are prepared."

Surely he understood by now. He had to realize she wasn't like those sleazy foreign funds or corporate raiders lurking in the shadows, waiting to pounce on a vulnerable target. Sincerity always gets through in the end—and pressing a gun to someone's head was a form of sincerity in its own right.

Only when Yerina watched Ham Cheon-ho pull a fountain pen from his breast pocket and sign the paper did she finally allow herself to relax. She had worried that things might get unnecessarily complicated, but it seemed the first step of her East Asian business trip had been successfully taken.

Yerina took the signed document herself. Normally, such agreements would involve an original for safekeeping and duplicate copies for each party, but as she had established, security was the absolute priority. Who knew what might happen if that man kept a copy or duplicate? She would keep the sole copy. Only the dog on the leash and its master should know the leash exists. It wouldn't do for anyone else to find out.

Of course, this introduced the risk of the president failing to fulfill his contractual obligations. What if he simply denied ever signing it in the first place? Taking legal action was, naturally, out of the question. But just as commoners follow the law and rulers write it, Yerina was a law unto herself. There was no way she hadn't prepared for such a contingency.

The fact that the document Ham Cheon-ho had just signed held no legal weight also meant that the voting rights of the shares held by the syndicate and its shell companies had not actually been transferred. Thus, at the slightest hint of non-compliance, she could easily leverage her power as the major shareholder to tear Cheonma Sangsa apart.

That wasn't all. "The people who will execute the terms" referred, of course, to her subordinates who would arrive shortly. Their duty would be to monitor the president to ensure he fulfilled his end of the bargain, while simultaneously utilizing Cheonma Sangsa's infrastructure as a trading company to receive various goods.

And that's not the only thing.

This arrangement also included preparing for the eldest son—who was still staring back and forth between her and his father in utter bewilderment—to study abroad in the UK. It was called "studying abroad," but in reality, he was a hostage. A modern-day Crown Prince Sohyeon, albeit of far less historical significance. By keeping the eldest son and heir to the family business permanently within the syndicate's sphere of influence under the guise of education, the probability of Ham Cheon-ho harboring any treacherous thoughts would dwindle to zero.

Next came the tedious task of casting Charm repeatedly. The fewer people who knew that she and Pavel had infiltrated this residence tonight, the better. It ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was far safer to erase the memories of the remaining servants and family members. Clutching her increasingly throbbing temples, Yerina had to push the limits of her Charm once again.

At least it improves with every use. I suppose that's a silver lining...

It was a comfort that her capabilities as a mage, however modest, were steadily expanding. This was also thanks to the fact that she no longer needed to bestow her "baptism" as frequently as before.

"My people will visit you soon. You'll recognize them immediately as mine, so don't worry too much."

"Understood...! D-Do not worry...!"

Yerina offered a bright, beaming smile as she delivered her final warning. "Oh, and of course, you didn't see anyone or anything tonight, right? Well... I trust you won't do anything foolish."

Whether due to the heating or the suffocating atmosphere, her prey nodded frantically, drenched in sweat. Having completed the first step of establishing her beachhead, Yerina left the residence in high spirits, taking care to disperse every last trace of lingering magical residue.

It was only after she sank deep into the back seat of the car that she could finally breathe a sigh of relief.

"Ugh... that was exhausting! Back in my younger days, working a six-hour stretch was nothing."

As she chuckled, feeding the DVD and the contract to her magical beast, a dry response came from the driver's seat.

"When you speak like that, Milady, it only makes me feel more depressed."

"Aren't you still in your prime, Pavel? You're... twenty-nine, right? And you joined the syndicate eleven years ago."

"You remember."

"Of course I do. You are my most precious subordinate, after all."

Yerina's memory of her first meeting with Pavel was just that intense. To a five-year-old child, how could a man lying face down in the mud, his clothes torn and his body covered in bruises, not leave an indelible impression? Even to a soul jumbled by an uninvited journey through time, it was a memory that could be recalled with only a moment's reflection.

Pavel tried to hide it, but he was clearly moved. Since it wasn't empty flattery on her part, she was more than happy to say it.

"...I will take us to the hotel."

"Yes, let's do that. Being this sleep-deprived brings back memories of hunting Reds."

She was referring, of course, to the time she had thoroughly slaughtered the British communists, led by Kim Philby, in Southend. Back then, she had spent the entire journey sleeping in the back seat as they traveled between their Greenwich safehouse and the Southend monastery. And what of the memories of her first moments in this world that had flashed like nightmares every time she closed her eyes?

Fortunately, those nightmares had grown far less frequent as the syndicate expanded its reach. In those fragile early days, she could have been hunted down and killed by the Soviet of Materialists or the Ministry of Magic at any moment. Compared to six months ago, her circumstances had improved dramatically. Now, she was even establishing a foothold in a region that previously had no connection to the syndicate.

If she continued to drive stakes into the ground one by one like this, she would stand a very high chance of victory in the eventual showdown with the Soviet of Materialists. Perhaps these future plans were a bit too nebulous for now. But that was just the exhaustion talking.

Perhaps noticing her nodding off through the rearview mirror, Pavel spoke up.

"If you wish to contact headquarters, now would be the optimal time... but I suppose that will be difficult today."

"Ah, it's... 7:00 PM on Monday in London right now. Delis must have just left the office."

"I will send a brief dispatch on your behalf for now."

"Yes, please do."

The time difference with London made real-time communication with her subordinates at headquarters a massive hassle. Well, at least she had one of them right here beside her. Feeling a sudden surge of playfulness, Yerina asked the driver's seat with a chuckle,

"Pavel, we've cleared a major hurdle. Shouldn't we at least have a little celebration of our own?"

"...What are you planning to say now?"

Though he clearly sensed some nonsense coming from her tone, Yerina giggled anyway. "How about a drink? A pint of Guinness?"

"Milady... please, do not say such things, even as a joke..."