The Splendor of Mount Kumgang
The once-quiet fishing port of Donghae had vanished. What had been a sleepy harbor just a few years earlier was now a bustling hotspot drawing thousands of tourists every day. The reason was simple: Donghae Port served as the first gateway to Mount Kumgang tourism.
Following the historic summit between Kim Young-sam and Kim Il-sung, inter-Korean relations had surged forward at an unprecedented pace, culminating in the trilateral summit at Panmunjom and the declaration ending the war—an outcome no one had foreseen. President Clinton’s Nobel Peace Prize was even being discussed as recognition for his role in fostering the reconciliation mood. Normally, the prize would have come the year after the declaration, but setbacks in Israel and Kosovo had delayed matters. Rumors suggested Clinton was the frontrunner this year. With both Jeon Myeong-heon and Kim Il-sung gone and Clinton’s term ending, further postponement was impossible.
The peace between North and South had become a global issue worthy of the Nobel. Naturally, Mount Kumgang tourism flourished. Operated by Asan Co., a subsidiary of Mirae Group, the tours were booked solid through the following year. Yoo Jae-won and Tiffany would have faced long waits had they applied as private citizens, but North Korea and Asan had extended the invitation first, securing swift approval.
Kim Dae-seok mentioned there had been complications—primarily over Yoo Jae-won’s entourage and security detail. Whenever Yoo Jae-won moved, more than ten people moved with him, and he was especially particular about protection. The North Koreans, however, viewed the heavy escort as excessive and a sign of distrust. In the end, they agreed to accommodate the full security team as a gesture of goodwill, allowing the tour to proceed.
Passing through the immigration checkpoint installed at Donghae Port felt strangely surreal. Though still within one country, they had to complete full entry procedures as if crossing into another nation.
“It feels peculiar,” Tiffany said, sharing the same sentiment.
Though married to Yoo Jae-won and holding Korean nationality through him, Tiffany had retained her American citizenship. She was indifferent to the distinction, but Yoo Jae-won understood the advantages of American nationality all too well. He had not applied for U.S. citizenship simply because of the marriage; the issue was far too sensitive. When news of their wedding broke, the biggest controversy in Korea had not been about Tiffany’s connection to Chevron but about nationality. Speculation ran rampant that ID Group would become an American company, and that any children would make it an American enterprise. Yoo Jae-won had no such intention. While he acknowledged America’s strengths, he had no plans to relinquish Korean citizenship. Korea was every bit as fine a country as the United States. His previous life’s hardships there were experiences he never wished to repeat, yet Korea had not offered only bitterness. Moreover, after 2020, climate change would hit the United States hardest among major nations, while Korea’s transformation would remain minimal. When Siberia thawed into vast grasslands and Yellowstone became a sea of fire, Korea would face little disruption. It would weather the economic and political turmoil other nations endured and still ride the wave of the Fourth Industrial Revolution, maintaining its status among advanced countries. With such a long view, Yoo Jae-won had no desire to actively pursue American citizenship. His greater plan was to earn honorary citizenship after demonstrating extraordinary capability during the 9/11 attacks the following year.
“We warmly welcome Mr. and Mrs. Yoo Jae-won aboard the Kumgang!”
After clearing immigration, they boarded the Kumgang, docked at the harbor, and were greeted by an elaborate welcoming ceremony. Bouquets were presented, and attendants in elegant hanbok applauded. Cameras from Korean Central Television recorded the scene. Yoo Jae-won and Tiffany responded graciously to the North Korean preparations. Though relations were at their peak, they could sour again at any moment. In his previous life, Mount Kumgang tourism had ended abruptly after an unexpected fatality. North Korea had refused to apologize or promise preventive measures. The tours had lasted only ten years before being suspended indefinitely. The incident had been a border guard firing on tourists. Armed soldiers had remained stationed at checkpoints even in the sole open tourist zone, and one guard had shot despite clearly recognizing the victims as tourists. When the backlash came, North Korea had simply denied responsibility. Kim Jong-il, championing Songun politics, had refused any apology, believing it would diminish the military’s prestige. It had taken nearly thirty years for tourism to resume.
From the outset, Yoo Jae-won had advised Jeon Myeong-heon on ways to eliminate the risk of such senseless accidents. He had ensured the guard post overlooking the beach near the Mount Kumgang Hotel was relocated to a nearby hill invisible to tourists. The slope was steep, and word had it that soldiers cursed Jeon Myeong-heon every time they climbed it for duty. The true instigator of the move was now enjoying lavish hospitality aboard the Kumgang. Yoo Jae-won believed that even North Korean soldiers deserved ordinary lives rather than becoming killers, even if it meant scaling a mountain.
Once the lively ceremony ended, the Kumgang sounded its deep horn and departed. Though a cruise ship and not particularly fast, it carried the couple and their party steadily closer to North Korean soil.
The next day, they docked at a temporary port near Mount Kumgang. The leisurely voyage had kept them at sea for twelve hours, yet the ship offered ample entertainment. They purchased North Korean souvenirs—mushroom liquor, ginseng, and snake wine—and enjoyed a respectable dinner. Thanks to the rapid opening of inter-Korean economic cooperation, the Arduous March had become a dark chapter of the past, and the meal service reflected the improvement.
Upon arrival, another boisterous welcome awaited them as they disembarked. Such ceremonies were standard for tourists, but the presence of Yoo Jae-won and Tiffany elevated the scale considerably.
After the event, a group in people’s uniforms approached Yoo Jae-won.
“Greetings, Mr. Yoo Jae-won and Mrs. Tiffany Yoo. I am Kang Cheol-woong, assigned to guide your historic Mount Kumgang tour. These are my assistant attendants. We sincerely congratulate you on your marriage and wish you every happiness in the years ahead.”
Kang Cheol-woong had a sturdy face, accompanied by female guides. Being addressed as “teacher” felt odd—Yoo Jae-won associated the term with school instructors in the South—but in the North it was simply an honorific. The greeting also reminded him that they were now married. In America, a wife took her husband’s surname, so Tiffany’s legal name was Tiffany Yoo. He had never used her full name before and only now felt the change.
“Thank you for the congratulations. Please convey our gratitude to Chairman Kim Jong-il for arranging today’s events.”
“Of course! Comrade Kim Jong-il specifically instructed us to pay special attention to you both. I assure you there will be no inconvenience during your Mount Kumgang tour.”
The meeting with Kang Cheol-woong’s group had been prearranged, so Yoo Jae-won and Tiffany responded smoothly.
“Ah, and we have brought gifts in return.”
Through Kim Dae-seok, they presented their offerings. The scale was substantial: thirty iWorks notebooks and one thousand Xbox sets, along with one thousand copies each of Doom 3, Halo, and Tekken game DVDs. The notebooks were intended for Kim Jong-il and the North Korean leadership, while the Xboxes were meant for the youth.
“On behalf of the Republic, we thank you for your generosity, Mr. Yoo!”
The gifts had been preapproved, so Kang Cheol-woong expressed thanks without hesitation. Yoo Jae-won did not expect these items to reach the supreme leader the way the Egg series once had. North Korea had normalized to the point of conducting regular trade with multiple countries; export bans were no longer as stringent. Anything not directly tied to nuclear development could be obtained through official channels. Even computers with the latest CPUs were purchasable shortly after release.
His only lingering expectation stemmed from Kim Jong-il’s personal interest in him. When the Egg computer had reached Kim Jong-il previously, the leader had searched his own name online alongside Yoo Jae-won’s—an intelligence report delivered via the rootkit embedded in the machine, its accuracy one hundred percent. The discovery had sent chills down Yoo Jae-won’s spine and marked the beginning of heightened security measures. Though the rootkit had proven useful, he had deliberately omitted one from the iWorks notebooks this time, fearing detection.
Koreans often viewed the North as a destitute nation, and it was indeed among the poorest. Yet when a dictatorship concentrated national resources strategically, the results could exceed expectations. North Korea’s IT talent development was one such case. Kim Jong-il had clearly been inspired by Yoo Jae-won’s rise from nothing to build ID Group. IT was a field where a single idea could yield enormous returns. Still, Yoo Jae-won harbored no great concern. He doubted a dictatorship could produce truly innovative internet services. No matter how hard they tried, platforms like YouTube, Netflix, or Facebook would never emerge. The most they could cultivate were hackers—or rather, low-grade crackers. Their technical skill was not poor, however, so even if Yoo Jae-won had hidden rootkits, determined analysis by professional crackers would likely uncover them. Fortunately, he no longer needed covert methods; the iWorks notebooks’ LAN card MAC addresses and Android OS authentication keys would allow legitimate tracking of user activity.
After the grand welcome, the three-day Mount Kumgang tour began.
Three days later, it felt as though the tour had only just started, yet the time for farewell had arrived in the blink of an eye.
“We’ll come again!”
“Mr. Yoo Jae-won and Mrs. Tiffany Yoo, you are always most welcome.”
The breathtaking scenery of Mount Kumgang was unforgettable, enough to make returning an instinctive promise. Despite warnings of danger, he felt no regret for choosing to visit. They had toured the Mount Kumgang Hotel and coastline, confirming that the problematic guard post from the past had been cleanly removed. A few imperfections remained—graffiti marring the natural beauty. These were not the usual tourist scrawls but blatant propaganda carved into the rocks:
“Let us take pride in Chosun, the glory of having the greatest leader Kim Il-sung as our Suryong in five thousand years of national history!”
Such overt praise for the dictator was etched across the boulders. Tiffany, who could read Hangul with ease, struggled to suppress laughter at the sight. The sentences were toe-curlingly awkward, and Yoo Jae-won felt a pang of embarrassment toward King Sejong, who had created the script. He longed to mock them openly, but insulting the Kim family was the North’s greatest taboo, so he restrained himself.
Fortunately, once they entered the Inner Kumgang, the inscriptions nearly disappeared. As a military zone, civilian access was restricted, removing any need for propaganda. The couple thus enjoyed unspoiled nature and true relaxation.
Having completed their schedule in the North, Yoo Jae-won and Tiffany returned by ship to Donghae Port, then proceeded directly to Gimpo Airport for their next destination. The private jet departing Gimpo was bound for Shanghai.