Chapter 98
I’m translating the full chapter and preserving the in-universe article/comment blocks as styled HTML, while keeping the narrative in natural English prose.CHAPTER_TITLE: The Gold Book Farewell
I had never planned to stay in California for long.
The matter with the Kelly family had been wrapped up smoothly enough, after all.
I’d done what I could. Cross-verification of the artifacts through a trustworthy institution. All the other logistics were Crosier Fine Art’s responsibility.
But then, unexpectedly, a farewell ceremony was put on the schedule, and that changed everything.
Going back to Korea only to turn around and return here again was a burden I could do without.
So I spent the intervening days like a tourist on a holiday, wandering famous sights under the California sun, and browsing every yard sale and flea market I came across.
In between, I made sure to check the shared files Team Leader Choi Yi-seo kept sending over.
I even skimmed auction sites whenever I had a spare moment.
And somewhere along the way, one unexpected thing after another kept piling on.
Prominent figures from all over California began reaching out one by one.
Hollywood stars, business leaders, collectors, even politicians.
I received more than a few dozen invitations to parties alone.
I politely turned down every single one.
Just meeting them sounded exhausting.
I was already here over a matter tied to the repatriation of cultural heritage.
If I showed up at some party, I might as well be handing people a reason to say I was just burning through tax money.
The sightseeing was one thing.
If photos of me at a party made the news, just thinking about it was terrible.
And so several weeks passed.
Before I knew it, the farewell ceremony was right around the corner.
Then, around that time, an article dropped out of nowhere.
- At a White House briefing that day, President Doramp made a highly unusual statement, speaking at length and referring directly to the Korean War in connection with the return of Sejong the Great's accession gold book.
"More than 36,000 Americans lost their lives on Korean soil. Some people call it the Forgotten War, and I don’t like that phrase. It is not a forgotten war. It is a war that must never be forgotten. Returning this relic is part of that larger story. The countries that were our enemies back then should remember the blood we shed."
- It has been revealed that President Doramp has decided to send his own private jet for this farewell ceremony, and the move is drawing attention. The aircraft is a Boeing 757 painted entirely gold, a machine well known as one of the president’s trademarks.
President Doramp also posted about it directly on social media.
- Doramp’s at it again.
- You have to take half of what Doramp says with a grain of salt.
- No, seriously, is that gold-covered jet for real?
- But a lunch with Doramp? Is Appraiser Kim Si-woo going to faint from the pressure? lololololol
- The inside of that plane is supposedly insane. I heard it has a bed, a shower, and even a conference room.
I stared at the article for a moment, dazed.
I hadn’t even been told about the arrangement yet.
I found out through the article first.
He’s sending a private jet?
When I put my phone down, General Manager Yang Dong-seok, who had been reading the article next to me, tilted his head.
"...Are we riding it too?"
"I honestly don’t know."
The two of us looked at each other.
An awkward silence settled between us for a moment.
Fortunately, not long after that, we got a call from the White House.
"Would it be possible for two Nutflix crew members to board as well?"
The person on the line said they would check for a moment.
A long hold tone stretched on, hanging between the two of us.
A little later, the voice came back on the line.
The answer was yes.
Once I passed that along, Yang Dong-seok’s mouth practically reached his ears.
"Doramp’s private jet, huh. I’ll have something great to brag about over drinks for years. Haha."
"Exactly. That’s prime drinking fodder."
Director Choi Min-ho was busy telling everyone around him about the whole thing on his phone.
* * *
VIP waiting area at the California airport.
At the far end of the runway sat a plane gleaming gold.
In large letters across the front of the fuselage was the name.
Written in English, it said Doramp.
It was a private jet overflowing with self-admiration, no matter how you looked at it.
And it was gold, of course.
General Manager Yang Dong-seok couldn’t stop the corners of his mouth from lifting as he looked at the jet.
"Haha. Thanks to Appraiser Kim Si-woo, I get to ride Doramp’s private jet. Much appreciated."
"Not thanks to me. Thanks to the Miller family."
The Millers were gathered nearby, staring at the plane and admiring it in their own ways.
Clack had his arms folded as he took photos and said, "Good grief. Never thought I’d see this in person."
When Appraiser Kim Si-woo had first come looking for them, he remembered being puzzled.
It was a cherished keepsake from his father, yes.
But why had someone come all the way from so far away?
Even after hearing the explanation directly, all it really meant to him was that it was an extraordinary artifact.
As his father had said, it was only right for it to return to where it belonged.
He had thought that would be the end of it once the relic was sent back to Korea.
He never expected things to spiral this far.
Jacob had already pulled out his phone and was snapping photos from every angle.
With Doramp’s private jet and the runway behind him, he seemed to be testing angles for a selfie to upload to Byeolstagram.
Clack looked at Jacob and said, "Jacob. This is the time to be a little calmer."
"Come on, Dad. When else do we get a day like this?"
"Hmph. Fair enough."
Clack then quietly joined in with his wife and Jacob for a few photos of his own.
Once we boarded, we were stunned by the lavish interior decorations.
The seats were wide and luxurious, enough to make us stare.
"Wow. You’d only ever see something like this in a movie."
"Exactly."
Yang Dong-seok was already stretched out comfortably to one side, smiling.
"Not even first class would be more comfortable than this."
"Well, it is a private jet."
Director Choi Min-ho answered while photographing every inch of it.
Then a flight attendant approached us.
"Welcome. I’m Kristen, the flight attendant assigned here. If you need any drinks or food, just let me know. Everything’s complimentary, of course."
At the blond beauty’s question, Yang Dong-seok’s eyes gleamed.
"Do you have alcohol?"
Kristen answered with a smile.
"Of course."
Even the menu looked expensive.
A long list of costly liquors was laid out before us.
Yang Dong-seok clicked his tongue softly and hesitated over what to choose.
Then he caught Clack’s eye beside him.
The two men looked at each other for a moment without saying a word.
Then, at the same time, they lowered their gazes back to the menu.
"This one..."
Yang Dong-seok muttered under his breath.
"Wouldn’t it be nice to eat a little, get a little drunk, and sleep?"
Clack, watching his wife’s expression beside him, agreed in a low voice.
"That does sound good."
Yang Dong-seok pointed at the menu and asked Kristen, "What’s this?"
"Blanton’s Original. It’s a single-barrel bourbon made at Buffalo Trace Distillery in Kentucky. It’s aged for at least six years in oak barrels. It’s not easy to find on the market."
"And this one?"
"Macallan 18 Year. A single malt from the Speyside region of Scotland. It’s aged for eighteen years in sherry casks only. It’s famous among whiskey enthusiasts."
"Could you explain the one next to it too?"
"Pappy Van Winkle 20 Year. It’s a Kentucky bourbon, but production is so limited each year that it’s almost never distributed on the general market. Even paying several times the retail price doesn’t make it easy to get."
Yang Dong-seok narrowed his eyes and looked at Clack.
"Which one do you like, Mr. Clack?"
"I only drink beer, so I don’t know much about liquor. But I’d like to try a little of everything."
"Same here. Hmm, hmm. Could you bring small portions?"
Yang Dong-seok gave an awkward grin, and Kristen replied with the same unfailing smile.
"I’ll bring some snacks to go with the drinks as well."
Across from us, Jacob was spreading open a menu in front of another flight attendant and ordering food one item after another.
"Jacob. I told you not to go wild."
"I’m going to try everything. We’ve got to eat a lot while we’re here. I was hungry anyway."
Jacob’s mother shook her head like she’d given up on him, then glanced at the menu herself and started ordering dishes one by one.
"By the way, aren’t you eating, Appraiser Kim Si-woo?"
"You two enjoy yourselves. I’m not much for alcohol, and I should catch up on some sleep I’ve been missing lately."
I leaned the seat back and closed my eyes.
Once word got out that I would be having lunch with Doramp, the calls had poured in nonstop over the past few days.
High-ranking officials from government ministries, secretary offices from major corporations, and places everyone would recognize by name all contacted me one after another.
The government wanted Doramp to speak well of Korea.
The corporations were just as frantic.
For companies whose business in the United States could be shaken by tariffs or regulations if Doramp decided to raise them, this farewell ceremony and Si-woo’s lunch were a rare chance to get a word in or show their faces.
Let’s just sleep.
The plane’s engines rumbled softly as we began to move.
* * *
I slept at a luxury hotel three blocks from the White House, then got up the next morning and dressed in the suit I’d brought with me.
I put on the suit I’d bought in advance and waited at the hotel reception.
The Kelly family stood beside me in a line.
Clack kept adjusting his tie over and over.
Jacob was quiet in his ill-fitting suit.
Clack’s wife also looked plainly tense as she smoothed down the hem of her dress with her hand.
Then a black motorcade slid into view outside the hotel entrance.
A security vehicle led the way.
Behind it came two heavy armored Cadillac sedans and stopped.
There wasn’t even a license plate on the bodywork.
When the door opened, a man in a black suit stepped out and said, "We’ll escort you."
The man personally pulled the car door open.
For a trip that would take less than a few minutes on foot to the White House, an armored vehicle had come all the way to the hotel entrance.
So this is class, American-style.
The interior was quiet and spacious.
Whatever soundproofing it had, once the door shut, all the noise outside disappeared completely.
Clack looked out the window and muttered, low, "This is the first time I’ve ever ridden in a car like this."
"Same here."
The vehicle rolled forward slowly.
Before long, it stopped in front of the White House security checkpoint.
Guards carefully inspected the underside of the car.
Our identities were verified.
Just seeing the guards holding rifles was enough to make anyone tense.
At last the car started again and pulled up in front of the North Portico.
The reporters waiting outside all fired their shutters at once.
I squinted briefly, then stepped out of the car.
A White House staffer approached and said quietly, "This way, please."
The entire lunch wasn’t being broadcast live.
But the press was allowed in to film as far as the greeting with the president before the meal.
The State Dining Room.
A long table stretched beneath a heavy chandelier.
As President Doramp entered, the sound of camera shutters burst out again all at once.
Doramp strode straight toward me.
Without hesitation, he wrapped an arm around my shoulder and said, "Mr. Kim. I enjoyed the documentary you made."
"Thank you. I’m honored to be invited to the White House."
The cameras clicked furiously.
The photos taken at this exact moment would go out around the world.
There was nothing to gain by standing out here.
The best course was to stay quiet and get through it.
Doramp turned to the press corps.
"Appraiser Kim is here. These days, he’s about as famous as I am."
A small ripple of laughter passed through the reporters.
Doramp paused briefly.
"Especially the documentary called Singing Bird was amazing. I watched it myself and shed tears. It clearly showed the wounds innocent people suffer when war breaks out."
The sound of reporters writing notes could be heard.
"Unnecessary wars must never happen. As President of the United States, I will do everything I can to make sure they don’t."
It was a strangely loaded statement.
Whatever Doramp might say, the first thing was to keep my expression under control.
I simply wore a faint, unreadable smile, as if I had no idea what he meant.
This room was far more dangerous than it looked.
One expression, one sentence, and it would all be out in the world.
Please, just don’t talk politics.
This was the border between life and death.
One wrong word, and a reputation could crash straight into the ground in an instant.
"Since Mr. Kim is here, why don’t you say a few words?"
Then Doramp tossed out one more line.