How I Landed Korean Investment in South America

The negotiations didn't take long. Once we actually sat down and talked, it was obvious they'd come prepared to offer some kind of compensation from the start.

Anyway, here is what we would be receiving from the United States:

A modest settlement, looked at one way. But the American government hadn't been particularly at fault in the Chevron affair, and I was willing to take it.

Of course.

"If we assign development of the Northern Oil Fields to Chevron," Ellen said, "we will have them concede the entire amount excluding drilling costs."

Chevron, though, was a separate issue.

"That's all? I feel like we'd get more than that if we sued."

"That is hardly a small sum. Given that the Northern Oil Fields have estimated reserves of over seven hundred million barrels, this proposal is worth at least thirty billion dollars."

"This is a case where a nation's president was killed. And not just him — the entire cabinet along with him. You still think that's a lot?"

"That is precisely why the government side is offering these benefits..."

"That's because you failed to keep your own corporations in line..."

"Even so, we cannot simply hand over liquid assets... If we are not careful, the shareholders will sue..."

"...?"

After all that pushing and pulling, we finally settled it.

"Very well. Let's do it that way."

The American government would build a highway connecting to the Northern Oil Fields and modernize the Port of Libertad. For the record, the deal stipulated that every last laborer — excluding technical specialists — would be hired from among San Marcos nationals.

"It's a little disappointing that the American government is paying for something Chevron started."

"Don't worry. We'll squeeze it out of them on your behalf."

That was what Director Ellen whispered to me before he left.

Well, he wasn't wrong. You've got to know when to take your cut and walk away. There's a reason even the gangsters only take half of what they skim.

I've already had my revenge. There's nothing to gain by making an enemy of the United States.

Honestly, I knew the compensation was inadequate. But for a powerless San Marcos, this was as far as we could go. It wasn't as if we could declare war on America, let alone hit them with economic sanctions.

Suing them and making the case public would have been the best option on paper... but it was obvious that would turn into a grinding fight that could drag on for years. And if the administration changed in the meantime? If the United States banned imports of San Marcos coffee beans? The economy would collapse overnight.

Better to take the practical win. A hundred times over.

That's what it means to be a small nation... tsk.

With the negotiations concluded, Ellen and John Brown flew home that same day. The looks on their faces as they left were thoroughly satisfied, which stung a little, but I made myself be content. We'd gotten everything we could, after all.

Anyway, that evening after seeing the two of them off, I headed over to the residence where Minsik and the other Koreans were staying. If I didn't see them today, I wouldn't get another chance.

"Cheers!"

"You've all worked so hard!"

The clink of glasses rang out brightly. The drinking party was a good time. Jokes in Korean after so long were a delight, and that uniquely Korean table culture — the pouring, the turning of the glass, the noise of it — was as lively as ever. After a few rounds, Minsik, who never could hold his liquor, was thoroughly drunk.

This bastard was the same way back in school...

The guy, his face flushed red, tapped my shoulder and asked in a sly voice:

"Hey, about Chief of Staff Isabella. Hmm? Any chance you could set us up?"

"Cut the shit. She wouldn't even look at a bum like you."

"Aish, that's so cheap! Hey, what's wrong with me, honestly? I'm good-looking, I've got money, I've got skills."

"Sure. Average face, family money, and a job you were parachuted into."

"You crazy bastard! Just tell me. Why won't you set me up? Don't tell me there's something going on between you two. Come on, spit it out. Is there? Isn't there?"

"There's nothing, you idiot. I'm so busy with work I could die. Dating? What dating?"

I brushed off Minsik's nonsense and poured drinks for the technical team.

"You've all really worked hard. We won because of you."

"Oh, not at all! If anything, we got to collect real combat data, so it was valuable for us too."

"When we get back to Korea, we'll have to tell everyone the war stories. Hahaha!"

"Though I don't think anyone would believe us if we said a Korean was serving as president of a Central American country."

The mood was warm and easy. Chattering away in my mother tongue after so long, I could feel the accumulated stress melting right off.

"I've got a schedule tomorrow, so I'm heading out first. Travel safe. Get in touch when you're back in Korea."

"Yeah, okay. You take care of yourself too. Don't go getting assassinated somewhere."

"Piss off."

I exchanged a reluctant goodbye with Minsik and left the residence. Outside, Isabella and the bodyguards were waiting. I was about to get in the car when someone stepped out of the darkness.

"Chairman Moon?"

It was Moon Sung-moon of Daeho Trading. I'd figured he was lying low after skipping the drinking party, but apparently he'd been waiting for his moment.

"I have something to discuss with you. I can assure you it won't be a losing proposition."

Here it comes.

He was someone I was going to have to deal with sooner or later anyway.

"Isabella, go on ahead."

"But, Your Excellency..."

"It's all right. Fellow Koreans — a few things to discuss."

After sending Isabella off, I followed Chairman Moon around to the back garden of the residence. The noisy chatter from inside carried all the way out here.

"I apologize for approaching you at such a late hour..."

"It's fine."

I answered as plainly as I could, then asked:

"Chairman Moon, I don't like beating around the bush."

"Neither do I."

"Then let's hear it. Who are you, really?"

When I asked him point-blank, Chairman Moon answered with a grim expression.

"I'm Moon Sung-moon, CEO of Daeho Trading. On the surface."

"And underneath?"

He drew a business card from his inner pocket and bowed.

"Park Moon-soo, Deputy Director of the National Intelligence Service's Foreign Intelligence Bureau."

"Park Moon-soo?"

"Yes — as in Park Moon-soo, the legendary undercover inspector. I joined the NIS because I wanted to work under an alias, you see."

He tossed out a joke that wasn't even funny, apparently trying to lighten the mood...

Pfft.

Wait, why was that actually funny?

I summoned the acting chops I'd once ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠used to play Servant Number Three in Romeo and Juliet, wiped the smile off my face, and put on a poker face.

"Why did you come looking for me?"

"The NIS has been watching San Marcos for three years. More precisely, we've been watching a man named Eugene Choi."

"Since then?"

I must have looked completely blindsided, because he explained.

"Yes. It's a nationalist goldmine, isn't it? A Korean serving as Minister of Resources in a country on the other side of the world. And he hasn't even filed a nationality-renunciation report. Play it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠right, and you can even get economic cooperation out of it."

"Ah..."

"So we were planning to contact you at some point, and then... the terrorist attack happened. You may not believe this, but there were internal discussions about a rescue operation. However..."

Park looked at me with a mix ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of admiration in his eyes.

"You became a dictat— that is, a president. And one who had completely seized control of both the military and the administration."

"Ahem. I am not the president. I'm merely the Acting President, following democratic procedures."

"I see."

I was telling him the literal truth, but Park didn't look like he believed a word of it.

"We were still figuring out how to make contact when Hyunhwa Systems reached out. They said Your Excellency was urgently looking for military drones. So we rushed a report up the chain, and the government fast-tracked the export approval."

"I appreciate the help, but..."

Nothing in this world is free. If the Korean government had gone out of its way to help, there was definitely a reason.

"I asked him what that reason was."

"The Korean government wants economic cooperation with San Marcos."

"What kind of cooperation, specifically?"

"Korea's labor costs have risen considerably over the past few years. Labor-intensive industries like textiles and garment manufacturing are losing their competitive edge. So we're looking to move production overseas, but wages in Southeast Asia have gone up quite a bit, and China carries too much risk."

"So you want to relocate to San Marcos?"

"That's right. Labor is cheap here, and more importantly, a Korean is in charge. Also..."

Park added:

"The public safety here is on par with Singapore."

"Ahem. I did put some effort into that."

"It's truly remarkable. Rounding up every last criminal and throwing them into forced-labor camps... No president in the world could pull off a policy like that."

"......"

What is this? For some reason, that doesn't sit right with me.

"Korea's ODA — official development assistance — runs about $3.9 billion annually. We're also planning to concentrate a substantial portion of that on San Marcos."

"Oh?"

"Frankly speaking, rather than throwing money at Southeast Asian or African countries, backing a nation whose head of administration is a fellow Korean is a far better investment, isn't it?"

Not a bad offer. But questions remained.

"What's the catch? You're not telling me you'd support us just because I'm Korean."

Park lowered his voice.

"We want resources."

"...We've already agreed to develop the Northern Oil Fields with Chevron."

"Crude oil is certainly a fine resource. After all, Korea's national dream is striking oil off the East Sea, isn't it?"

Park joked. Then his tone shifted.

"But what I'm talking about right now is a different resource."

"Which is?"

"Nickel and cobalt. Given the ever-growing electric vehicle market, these are the minerals we need to secure as a top priority."

I was so surprised I asked back:

"San Marcos has those?"

"Yes. Enormous amounts."

"How do you even..."

"I don't know if you've heard of Chosun Zinc."

"I know them. Comprehensive non-ferrous metal smelting company. They have a nickel smelter as well."

"That's right."

Park shifted the tone again.

"San Marcos's previous prime minister was planning to establish a joint venture with Chosun Zinc to develop a nickel mine. The reserve surveys were already complete — they were ready to break ground — but the terrorist attack put everything on hold."

"...I had no idea."

And I'd been the Minister of Resources at the time?

"That sort of thing happens often in developing countries. Ahem. Rather than vesting it with the government..."

"Ah."

He'd been planning to pocket it himself.

It made sense, actually.

Setting up a joint venture to share the profits is far better than just selling off the development rights. On top of that, he'd had a $6.5 billion slush fund, so he wouldn't have been worried about having the capital.

Not a bad deal.

I nodded and answered.

"The mining development rights — would that be enough?"

"For now, that would suffice."

"'For now' means you want more than that."

"You never know. There could be more oil fields. Ah — and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I mean developing them through a reasonable contract, not taking them for free."

There was no reason to refuse. If we could get Korea's cooperation, it could accelerate my plan to turn San Marcos into an industrial nation by years.

"All right. Let's do this together."

"You're accepting?"

"I have no grounds to refuse. You're offering to create jobs for my impoverished people — why would I turn that down? But the terms should be the same as what the previous prime minister proposed. We set up a company, and the equity is fifty-fifty."

"Then what about the investment capital..."

"We put in the same amount. You have the technology. I'm not that much of a crook."

"Understood. I'll report this as soon as I return."

"Then I'll be heading back. If anything comes up, contact me here."

I handed him my card and was about to leave when Park added one more thing.

"Ah, I nearly forgot to mention this."

"What is it?"

"The Korean public still doesn't know Your Excellency exists. The government has placed an unlimited embargo on the story. We'll also be putting a gag order on the Hyunhwa Systems people who came with us this time."

"...Why?"

He'd been calling me patriotic content a minute ago. Wouldn't someone like me be a source of national pride?

I stared at him, not understanding, and Park smiled bitterly.

"Because of historical issues, many Koreans have a rather dim view of dictators. Public opinion could turn sour, so we're waiting for the right moment to go public."

"No, I'm not a dictator..."

"Well then, until next time."

Park didn't even wait to hear my protest. He bowed politely and vanished.

"Well... I'll be damned."

I stared blankly at his retreating back.

Me, a dictator? I'm just a rational, efficient administrator.

He's got it completely wrong.

Someday I'd have to invite him out to Tortilla Farm, nestled in that vast wilderness, and clear up the misunderstanding.