Wielding Influence
Before the Runner-related system message was broadcast across the world.
"We'll take a fifteen-minute recess."
Those who had participated in the summit rose from their seats. Britain had set out to establish an upper limit for every nation in order to protect its domestic steel industry, with tariffs waiting for anyone who exceeded it. Today was the day those limits would be decided, and the fortunes of every country in the room were splitting in opposite directions.
Before leaving the hall, Japanese Trade Minister Masaru allowed himself a smile. At the end of his gaze sat Korean Trade Minister Kim Woohyuk.
Must be dying inside.
Kim Woohyuk's expression was, in fact, grim — and he had every reason to be. The upper limit just handed to Korea was 15%. Compared to the 30% given to China and the 25% given to Japan, it was an absurdly low figure.
That's what you get for not investing properly from the start.
China was the largest holder of British bonds. Japan was next. Britain had had no choice but to grant those two nations generous limits.
And they should have known when to stop being stubborn.
It wasn't as though Korea had been given no options. Britain, playing the great power, had offered them a chance: the upper limit would be raised, provided Korea shared the technologies of its various industries and opened its markets. Kim Woohyuk had refused. The miserable number of 15% was the result.
Masaru placed a call to the Japanese government to make his report.
The man on the other end and Masaru both smiled with deep satisfaction. It wasn't personal resentment that made them so invested in Korea. That was simply the nature of the sentiment between the two nations. Slap a Korea–Japan match title on anything — soccer, baseball, it didn't matter — and the whole country caught fire. Politics was no exception.
If Japan, the relatively stronger nation, came out of this negotiation with a worse result than Korea? Even an objectively good outcome would still get them hammered by public opinion. The gap in the ratios was so enormous that there was no longer any danger of that happening.
"Yes. There don't appear to be any variables, so I'll contact you again once it's wrapped up."
Masaru hung up and stretched, the picture of a man with not a care in the world.
Not far away, Kim Woohyuk — looking like death itself — slumped back in his chair.
Worse than I expected.
A hollow laugh escaped him. He had come to negotiate, and he had never even gotten to have a negotiation worthy of the name. Britain's proposed technology sharing and market opening was, in essence, a demand that Korea abandon every industrial export it had besides steel. Completely unacceptable.
The bullying's only gotten worse since the Tower appeared.
This was a world in which players were national power, and Britain was far ahead of Korea on that front as well. That was precisely why they could afford to table conditions this outrageous.
I have no face left to show Chairman Jin Taegon.
The steel industry, alongside automobiles and semiconductors, had long been one of the great engines of Korean exports. And among its companies, Genex had contributed to the nation's development from the very beginning. Fifteen percent. The number made his chest ache.
If only it stopped at Britain.
This was almost certainly just the beginning. Today's result would serve as precedent in every negotiation still to come. To the great powers, Korea would look like a country you could simply hand 15% and be done with.
"We'll begin the final consultation."
Kim Woohyuk sat up with a wretched heart. They called it a consultation. In truth, it was nothing more than the ceremony of receiving a final sentence that had already been written.
"First…"
Just as the British minister began to speak, a system chime rang out of nowhere.
A system message is being transmitted to all regions.
As the message began to materialize, every mouth in the room fell open. Officials' phones started ringing with terrifying urgency. The British side, in particular, had erupted into a frenzy of activity.
"My apologies — we'll need another ten minutes of recess."
The British officials huddled together in one place, pressing their fingers to their temples.
"What does the Prime Minister say?"
"He says they're in an emergency meeting."
"The timing is unfortunate. This should have come out after the summit was over."
"Indeed."
The System was an existence more absolute than anything else in the world. Its identity and its principles had never been identified, but the fact that it possessed omnipotent power was beyond dispute. And that System — whose influence dwarfed that of any media outlet on earth — had just advertised a single player's exploits to the entire planet. Using, no less, the staggering phrase that he had saved Britain's sun.
"The reaction is explosive."
The officials' faces darkened. From TowerSite, which boasted the highest concurrent user count on earth, to the comment sections of articles across every news outlet, praise was pouring in that Runner — a mere individual — had saved Britain, a nation. And if Korea's 15% upper limit were announced in the middle of an atmosphere like this? Every last bit of that praise would curdle into condemnation and abuse, and all of it would come crashing down on Britain.
"Yes, Prime Minister. Yes. Yes. Understood. We'll proceed that way."
The Trade Minister hung up and stepped toward the microphone.
"Minister Kim Woohyuk. Would you come here for a moment?"
Amidst a taut, crackling tension, the behind-the-scenes negotiations between Britain and Korea began.
Jinhyuk and his companions trudged across Snowdonia Park. Jinhyuk himself was sunk in serious thought.
Does the System like me? Or does it hate me?
It was usually so unfriendly, and then it went and blasted a message like this across the entire world without so much as a warning. He couldn't get a read on the System's stance at all.
He stared at his phone, which was burning up with notifications.
"Ugh."
He quickly switched it to sleep mode. Later problems could wait until later.
"Where's Bungbung?!"
"Did they abandon us, sir?!"
"No. There are still two hours left until the pickup time."
He calmed the furious Momo and Kancho. They had finished their business so quickly that the leftover time was just hanging in the air.
"Shall we eat?"
"Sounds good, sir!"
"Momo wants to cook!"
They left the park and looked around for a while before spotting the perfect place. It seemed to have been set up as a campsite, cooking permitted. Momo pulled well-dried firewood from her bag and stacked it high, and in no time at all she had built a campfire that could put a school retreat bonfire to shame. She really did have a capable pair of hands.
"Kancho, light the fire!"
"Yes, ma'am!"
Jinhyuk, who had been watching quietly, reached out in a hurry. Kancho, his wrist caught, looked back at him.
"I think something weird just came out."
He made Kancho open his tightly clenched fist, and a handful of explosive clay appeared.
"Planning to blow everything sky-high?"
"Nothing better for lighting a fire, sir."
That would have been true if this were a building or a mountain. It was neither.
"I'll light it. Kancho, you keep it from going out."
"Yes, sir."
Jinhyuk lit a scrap of paper with a lighter and tucked it under the firewood. Kancho dashed over, crouched down, and blew on it in frantic little puffs. After a short while, the fire caught the logs and began to blaze.
"I brought the fire to life, sir."
Kancho walked back with his face covered in soot.
"I'm gonna make a ton!"
While Momo pulled out ingredient after ingredient and got to cooking, Jinhyuk sat Kancho on his lap and wiped the little guy's chubby cheeks clean.
"Hold this for a bit."
He had Kancho hold the phone, which was already playing a video, and watched while he wiped away the soot with a wet wipe. It was a clip that had just been uploaded and had already seized the number-one trending spot.
"Why is this number one?"
He wondered, briefly, whether people had gotten unusually interested in politics lately. He found out why soon enough.
So it wasn't someone else's business after all.
Honestly, he hadn't even known a negotiation like this was happening. Reflecting that he ought to pay a little more attention from now on, he scrolled down through the comments.
I wouldn't say no to that.
He indulged in a happy little of steel companies pooling their money to gift him a private jet.
Jinhyuk nodded along with a thoroughly pleased expression.
The level of trash talk here really is in a league of its own.
This truly was a country famous for the richness of its insults. While the worst curses in Japan amounted to "idiot" and "moron," Korea possessed an entire arsenal of language capable of tearing a person to shreds. Perhaps that was why their talent for roasting someone was so outstanding.
"It's done! Army stew and spicy pork stir-fry!"
"Ooh."
That was enough video. He scooped up Kancho and hurried over to the campfire. Momo's army stew was bubbling merrily, packed with sausage and ham to suit the chef's own tastes. Jinhyuk was the first to ladle up a spoonful of broth and try it.
"How's Momo's army stew, huh?!"
Jinhyuk hit her with a double thumbs-up. It was pleasantly spicy and punchy — army stew exactly the way a Korean grandmother would make it.
"I was craving something spicy. This is perfect."
"Give me some too, sir…?!"
Kancho, who had been holding out his bowl, launched himself through the air and kicked Elia square on as she approached with something in her hands.
"Granny! What are you trying to put in the stew?!"
Elia, who had landed hard on her rear, held out a potion.
"I was just going to slip in a little stamina tonic, that's all."
She rubbed her backside and pushed herself up. Momo, horrified, threw herself between the pot and Elia.
"No! My army stew will die!"
Jinhyuk got to his feet, stepped over to Elia's side, and peeled the snarling Kancho off her.
"Elia's under special watch."
"Special, is it? How nice."
Elia, who only ever heard what she wanted to hear. They resumed the meal with a fierce watch kept on her the entire time. Momo's cooking was getting more impressive by the day — good enough that she could have opened a Korean restaurant on the side and still had people lining up.
"The scenery is splendid."
Seira swallowed the ham she'd been chewing and looked around. Darc and Jinhyuk followed her gaze. Leaving the national park hadn't made the beauty of the landscape disappear.
"Ramen drop!"
"Put in five of them, sir!"
They made a thorough job of the noodles as well, after which Jinhyuk flopped onto his back and sprawled out. Kancho looked down at him with a worried face.
"They said if you lie down right after eating you'll turn into a cat, sir."
"That wouldn't be so bad."
A full, heavy stomach and a mountain breeze stirring past. If it had been the middle of the day he might have stretched out and stolen a long nap — but that was out of the question. Jinhyuk opened his eyes and looked at his companions.
"Shall we go walk this off?"
He intended to make a quick trip of it before the helicopter arrived. He heaved himself up with some effort, then pressed the button.