First Contact (4)
The handover with the syndicate members dispatched from London went seamlessly. The departments that showed the most prominent cooperation were, without a doubt, Finance and Intelligence. The former aimed to squeeze as much pus as possible from a stock market that had festered to the core during the foreign exchange crisis, while the latter sought to infiltrate our newly secured puppet president and his network of connections. Perhaps due to some twist in history, it didn't look like a full bailout would be implemented here. The economy was tottering, but it seemed to lack that final, decisive blow. It was a shame, really. If it had collapsed entirely like in my original history—to the point where they couldn't even service their debts—the syndicate and its shell companies could have slipped right into the international debt collection consortium.
Of course, saying their cooperation was prominent was purely relative. A far from negligible number of subordinates had been dispatched from other departments as well. Monitoring the movements of those who had become local collaborators—willingly or otherwise, including our puppet president—fell to Human Resources. Meanwhile, establishing a seamless, wiretap-proof communication platform was the task of the Technical Department. The latter required extra care, given that South Korea was a nation where wiretapping and censorship of both citizens and foreigners were practically a daily routine.
I spread out a week's worth of newspapers I had acquired on the table and let out a dry chuckle. "Isn't it hilarious? A corpse with clear signs of torture is found right in the middle of Seoul, yet there isn't a single report about it."
"The familiar taste of censorship and control. The extreme ends of the spectrum always resemble each other, don't they? In that sense, one could say they are quite alike." Pavel nodded, responding to my critical tone.
"Indeed. What even is ideology anyway?"
Even when the syndicate was based in Kaliningrad, it had never been particularly "red." In the first place, wouldn't it be stranger if a criminal syndicate smuggling with the West for private profit were communist zealots? What held the organization together was my father's charisma and resourcefulness, and now, it was simply my magical prowess. That was why we were able to pull off a soft landing when we abandoned Kaliningrad and declared we would settle in London.
"It really is a bizarre world. Calling each other fascists and reds... nothing has changed since the eve of the Great Patriotic War—ah, World War II."
Even so, ideology is ultimately what binds people together. In a way, perhaps even our syndicate is a form of Juche ideology, with me as the supreme leader.
Anyway, humming in agreement, I suddenly remembered something and asked Pavel, "Come to think of it, didn't the Security Department dispatch new personnel as well?"
"On paper, they belong to Human Resources... but it makes little difference." The Security Department, headed by Pavel, had also dispatched new personnel, determined not to be outdone. Of course, as he said, the key players were a few mages from the Equinox, who were officially registered under HR. Until just a month ago, these were the very syndicate members who had been learning the practical applications of the Magic Bullet from Pavel. Naturally, they shared a deeper bond with Pavel than with their nominal boss, the head of HR.
Recalling how Pavel had trained them, I thought, I can't let subordinates like them sit idle.
The Equinox had secured their position as the exclusive magical force of the Provisional IRA through private contracts. There was no better asset for the syndicate to slowly stretch its tentacles from its base in Belfast into Northern Ireland and the independent Republic of Ireland beyond. In fact, the plan was progressing smoothly, step by step. It was all thanks to the exploits of our frontline mages and the backing of support departments like Intelligence. With a subordinate directly under me who could cherry-pick information from the Ministry of Magic and other government agencies, it would have been stranger if things didn't go according to plan.
If swallowing the underworld of Northern Ireland—which was at least under the jurisdiction of the British Ministry of Magic, however weak their influence—was this easy, then the independent Republic of Ireland, which possessed even less, was child's play.
It's all thanks to our island pirate friends.
Driven by their age-old malice—the mindset of "if we can't have Ireland, we'll at least ruin it"—the total magical military strength of the Republic of Ireland was practically zero. Magically occupying the entire island didn't even require mobilizing the entire Equinox; taking just a few men along as needed was more than enough.
If our sole objective was merely to swallow them up, this would have been excellent news. However, from my perspective, as someone who had to worry about my subordinates' proficiency and experience, I couldn't help but feel inwardly dissatisfied with how easily everything was playing out. What would happen if they only picked easy battlefields, only to be caught off guard when a truly difficult task arose?
That was why I couldn't help but be genuinely pleased when an opportunity requiring mages arose in the far-off Far East. For the other syndicate members to carry out their duties with peace of mind, they naturally needed mage bodyguards attached to them. The South Korean military and police, local magical forces like the Agency for National Security Planning, local thugs operating independently, and perhaps even the occasional North Korean or Soviet materialists we might run into. If we wanted to gain experience by tangling with them over the long term, this country was the absolute perfect environment.
Amidst these thoughts, Pavel asked, "Are you not worried?"
"Worried?"
"Though we must ensure it never happens, I mean in the event that our men are captured by this country's authorities or hostile organizations."
"..."
Honestly, it would be a lie to say I wasn't. Although I had poured my heart and soul into taking every possible measure to increase my subordinates' survivability, it could never be a hundred percent. This was the reason why I couldn't be entirely happy, even though an environment had been created that would solve their lack of experience in one fell swoop.
If only I could mass-produce the improved Rosetta Stone, their survival rate would skyrocket...
The CNC machine tools essential for mass production were currently stacked neatly at the Port of Busan, waiting to be transported. We did have subordinates in the Technical Department who knew how to operate machine tools. However, because Soviet knowledge and expertise regarding machine tools were so outdated, they were currently receiving additional training on how to handle the machinery from skilled workers introduced by our puppet president. Still, the general consensus was that full deployment wouldn't be possible until sometime next year.
"Even if my mind isn't entirely at ease, for now, we have no choice but to take the risk," I replied, clicking my tongue. At that, Pavel made an unexpected remark.
"You really do take after Lord Bronsky in some ways."
"...Me?"
"Blood will tell, after all. Lord Bronsky also held the stance that once he took subordinates under his wing, he would keep them there until the very end, unless they betrayed him first."
I pondered this for a moment, tilting my head. "I don't know about that... I find it hard to believe that the measures I'm about to order for worst-case scenarios could be described as 'keeping them under my wing.'"
As I had thought earlier, the subordinates running the South Korean branch of the Northern Covenant Syndicate were to be accompanied by a certain ratio of Equinox bodyguards. And since I was going to meet the Equinox members anyway, I decided to spend about a day of my time to bestow upon them the benefit of refining their Magic Bullet control. As for the space needed for this special lecture, I could easily squeeze it out of Ham Cheon-ho. Using our puppet president's connections, we could secure a long-term lease on an empty factory at the edge of Seoul in the Guro Industrial Complex for a price far below market value. Guro Industrial Complex, which was in decline before its eventual transition into a digital complex, had plenty of vacant lots.
Hearing the core principles of Magic Bullet operation directly from me, rather than through Pavel, was intended to elevate the members' magical capabilities. However, it was also a measure I was implementing to prevent information leaks.
"Are you referring to your instruction to shoot them if push comes to shove?"
In the event that our syndicate members were on the verge of being captured alive by the ANSP or communist spies, I intended to order the Equinox bodyguards—who had been protecting them just moments prior—to blow their brains out. There was no need to explain this to everyone individually; it was an order I planned to deliver all at once on the day everyone gathered at the factory complex in Guro-gu. Since they would end up dead anyway after spilling all their secrets under torture, it was better to cut them loose ourselves beforehand. For that, the accuracy of their Magic Bullets needed to be as high as possible.
Yet, in this scenario, the direct cause of my subordinates' deaths would ultimately be my command. Being tortured to death was not a guaranteed future, but having their skulls pierced by my order would be. Even if it was mere semantics, the fact that I felt this way was what mattered. Ordering the execution of subordinates who had remained loyal to me, even after the organization had nearly dissolved and undergone a massive purge... It was no wonder I had doubts about the phrase "keeping them under my wing until the end."
"Are you joking?"
"I am entirely serious. The time I have spent serving the syndicate is only slightly less than your current age, my lady."
"...And?"
"During those ten years, there was never a single instance where Lord Bronsky personally ordered an execution, excluding traitors. In all other cases, it was the result of the endangered members taking their own lives."
"..."
When I remained silent, Pavel added, "I know. You are thinking that even those were ultimately forced suicides, aren't you, my lady?"
"You know me well."
"But every single one of our members owes a great debt to Lord Bronsky and you, my lady, in one way or another. Though the weight of that debt may vary, even the lowest among us has received far more than the value of their own life."
Ah, now I understood what he was trying to say. In the young Yerina's memories, Pavel was a man who wouldn't have been surprising to find dead at any moment had I not thrown him a lifeline. The same went for Delis, who could have thrown himself into the River Thames at any time without raising an eyebrow.
"Since the moment we set foot in the syndicate, our bodies and souls have belonged entirely to you. Why should the thoughts of a tool matter to the master wielding it?"
Honestly, I prided myself on having a clear sense of self-awareness. Yerina Bronska was, after all, someone who would kill and discard anyone at a whim for the sake of her goals and the organization. Yet, it wasn't as if I lacked a moral line entirely. It was just that my line was drawn light-years away from where an ordinary person would place theirs.
I stretched my arms and legs wide, as if to show I had steeled my resolve.
"Pavel."
"Yes, my lady."
"You really are a terrible person."
Just now, that moral line of mine took a massive step backward.
"...I am well aware. I simply prefer swearing my loyalty to Lady Bronska over being a good person."
Still, I felt incredibly fortunate to have subordinates like him by my side. Living as a villain didn't seem so bad after all.
A few days later, with a much lighter heart, I ordered my subordinates to die if push came to shove. The members of the Equinox resolved to do so, following me with a spirit of self-sacrifice. Having taken the time to point out the core principles to each of them, they absorbed my teachings like sponges, stepping forward one by one into a more advanced realm of their own magic.
I'd love to teach them cognitive-disruption magic while I'm at it, but...
There was a reason why that particular spell was classified as high-level magic. Even Pavel, whose magical talent was superior to anyone else in the organization besides me, had struggled to internalize it. The magic displayed by that dying Juche mage was not something that could be easily passed down like the Magic Bullet.
As I handled various matters with a lingering sense of regret, the South Korean branch of the syndicate quickly took shape. Backed by a large mid-sized enterprise on par with a conglomerate—or rather, using it as a shield—it would have been stranger if it had taken any longer. Once I was confident that the South Korean branch could function stably without my presence, I departed for my next business trip.