75 Negotiation (2)
That was the benefit the United States stood to gain, but they hadn't yet mentioned what the Balhut Cult could get out of it. Diplomacy existed to pursue mutual interests, and if there were gains only for America with nothing for the Balhut Cult, there was no reason for the cult to accept this deal.
Of course, America had plenty of ways to satisfy the Balhut Cult.
"First off, we can recognize the legitimacy of the Balhut Cult. Of course, in this apocalyptic situation, this intangible benefit from us might not feel like a solid gain for the Balhut Cult, so think of it as a complimentary service."
"Yes. Even if America doesn't recognize us as a government, we're in an era where we can force it through strength or prove it outright."
"The law of the jungle! Regrettable, but we must acknowledge what deserves acknowledgment."
Through this deal, the Balhut Cult would first gain official recognition from America as the true government ruling the Korean Peninsula. But as Steven had pointed out, the cult wasn't in a position to pursue such intangible benefits, and he nodded along with Yu-na's follow-up.
The Balhut Cult could prove its power to the masses without America's approval, and more people would recognize it as the government. This was an age of survival of the fittest, where strength meant you could claim anything.
"Ah! How brutal. And yet, there are those who welcome this apocalypse as a better era. Haha."
"I get that."
Steven lamented the reality but didn't deny it. He knew the flow of the times had shifted dramatically, and even America was in the same boat as other nations—locked in a struggle for survival.
"So, what can you offer the Balhut Cult in return?"
"We can provide many things. Food first and foremost."
"Food, you say."
America claimed it could supply food to the Balhut Cult. It was an unexpectedly out-of-left-field proposal, but Yu-na had learned the hard way during the apocalypse just how vital food was—and how it could be wielded like a weapon or bargaining chip, especially after the push into Pohang.
"I've heard there's a Korean proverb: the more, the merrier. Food is something you can never have too much of, right?"
"Can't argue with that."
More food was always better. The Balhut Cult was reclaiming farms near the Hyongsan River, known as the peninsula's breadbasket, but it was December now. Not the season for planting, and rebuilding fields ravaged by zombies would take time. In the interim, they needed sources of sustenance—and fishing in Pohang was just one option.
"That said, we can't survive on fish alone for the next six months while farming ramps up. What's wrong with seeking happiness through delicious meals?"
"Th-that's true."
But eating the same thing day in, day out would lead to the Garcia effect—rapid palate fatigue. Variety was key to prevention, and tasty food boosted morale tremendously. Kim Tae-hyeon raked in profits from cult soldiers precisely because he sold instant gratification: flavorful meals and refreshing drinks that satisfied primal urges.
Pursuing good food was human nature, pure desire.
"First, we can provide soybeans for free."
"Soybeans? You mean beans?"
"Yes, beans. We have such a massive surplus that handing them over as aid won't be an issue. Besides, Americans don't eat them much anyway."
Beans were a staple in Korea, often unnoticed. From soybean sprouts to the fermented pastes like doenjang and soy sauce that Koreans loved—all derived from beans. They couldn't make gochujang, Korea's beloved secret sauce, but tofu was another bean-based staple that no table felt complete without. Even soybean oil and livestock feed made beans versatile enough to fill multiple roles on the Korean plate.
At the mention of soybeans, Park Cheol-gon finally snapped to attention, speaking up as if he'd just pieced it together.
"Wait, isn't that the soybeans meant for export to China this year?"
"You know your stuff. Yes, they were originally destined for China. But as you know, China's in chaos from the apocalypse."
To put it bluntly, the soybeans Steven referenced were surplus meant for China. That country consumed over 100 million tons annually, with America as a key supplier. Korea ate plenty too, with recipes beyond what he'd listed—like soy milk. Steady soybean supply would enrich the cult's meals.
The promise of free aid for such a treasure had saliva pooling at the mouths of the Balhut Cult members.
Koreans had a saying: an army marches on its stomach. This was the perfect deal to fill it.
'I'm starving now. Ugh. Are they trying to conquer our stomachs!?'
Yu-na was no exception; drool gathered at her lips just like the others. Steven had effectively captured the cult's appetites, giving him leverage for the negotiations ahead.
'Damn Midwest bastards. Screaming for independence, yet they swallow when it's sweet and spit when it's bitter.'
Truth be told, Steven hated hawking soybeans so blatantly. It felt less like a special envoy's diplomacy and more like a door-to-door salesman. He'd packaged it as a win for America, but peel back the layers, and it was the Midwest states—rebelling against the White House with independence declarations—forcing intervention.
'Yeah, too much is the problem. Piled to the rafters.'
The American Midwest was the nation's breadbasket, producing the soybeans in question. Known as the Farm Belt or Corn Belt, it fueled agribusiness with vast grains for domestic use, export, and livestock. Self-sufficiency wasn't an issue amid the apocalypse.
'The real problem: Americans can't consume it all.'
Production outstripped domestic demand by miles. Pre-apocalypse, surpluses went abroad—especially to China, top importer. Now, with China gone, soybeans and grains rotted in silos as malignant inventory. Storage costs mounted for quality control, but the Midwest lacked solutions.
'Wasting money on storage, begging us to sell it off. Shameless? What the hell.'
The "independent" Midwest governors had shamelessly begged the White House for help, which sighed at their hypocrisy but scrambled to offload the stockpile. That's when the Balhut Cult—a stable government on the Korean Peninsula—caught their eye. Already seeking allies to bolster central authority, the White House pledged to buy the grain cheap and donate it as aid.
'Livestock feed has limits anyway. Storage costs money. Those bastards can't complain about this deal.'
It wouldn't fully quench the Midwest's woes, but that wasn't Steven's problem. Rebels against the White House deserved no more loyalty. Plus, the White House promised to buy enough soybeans to ease their pain—hard to gripe now.
America aimed to slowly tame the Midwest through controlled exports, drip-feeding relief.
'So please, just take it. We can give you everything you want!'
They couldn't botch the first step. Gradual concessions would train the Midwest; the cult's acceptance was the lifeline.
"Next year's apocalypse will be even harsher. City stockpiles aside, you can't rely solely on production from the Hyongsan River breadbasket, can you? Beyond soybeans, we have corn and other crops ready."
"Heh."
America's might—the "room leader cheat map" of internet fame, overwhelming abundance. Soybeans were just the start; other grains too. Drool wouldn't stop for the cult leader and executives.
But diplomacy was diplomacy. Yu-na responded to Steven.
"That's definitely a gain for us. But not for America, right? Free aid means you're basically giving it away."
"Haha, true. But it's profitable for the White House. If you want more details, can I take that as acceptance of our proposal?"
Yu-na pondered briefly. Unwilling to decide alone, she glanced covertly at the Mirror of Foresight, where Bahamut resided.
No issue. Let us form the alliance.
Bahamut saw no malice in Steven and approved the alliance. The surrounding Balhut Cult executives lit up with eager anticipation at the prospect of an American alliance, eyes on Yu-na.
"Yes. We accept the White House's proposal."
"Excellent choice. Truly grateful. We'll hash out details through our teams for a mutually agreeable treaty. But yes, I should answer your question from earlier."
Yu-na agreed to the alliance. Steven praised the decision, proposed formalizing via staff, then—perhaps as a minor courtesy—offered to answer her prior question.
"My question? Is it okay to say?"
"Haha. Consider it my personal courtesy. A small deviation for our future partnership."
With acceptance secured, no obligation remained, but Steven framed it as goodwill for allies—a minor indulgence.
"The reason for free aid to ally with the Balhut Cult? Simple. America is fracturing. We just need a strong ally to resolve it."
"You can say that outright?"
"A quick overseas internet search reveals it. Not well-known in Korea, but common knowledge in Western Europe."
Blunt exposure of America's dirty laundry, yet Steven brushed it off. No one could intervene directly in U.S. affairs amid the apocalypse, and the cult couldn't exploit it aggressively. Besides, it was public info.
"Our central government's authority has plummeted more than expected. We need a powerful ally to mutually guarantee it. Even better if you'd join our fights directly."
America had resources aplenty but crumbling central power. A strong ally to uphold prestige was essential; one willing to fight alongside, ideal.
"Not to say you're the only choice. We've sent delegations like mine to other nations with strong awakeners forming governments."
"I see. Now it makes sense."
Not unique to them—America had dispatched envoys elsewhere for survival, means be damned. Yu-na got it. The other cult members deflated slightly; realistic, if disappointing.
"Let's pursue mutual benefit and survive this apocalypse as allies."
"Of course."
Steven offered his hand; Yu-na shook it. Thus, the alliance between America and the Balhut Cult was sealed.