How I Rode the K-Coin Wave in South America (3)

Seoul, Republic of Korea. Near Gwanghwamun, a newspaper company's giant electronic billboard burned with headlines.

And that was hardly all. The volume was no longer what it had been at the peak, but news about San Marcos kept coming, steadily, without pause. A tiny South American island nation that, mere months ago, no one could have found on a map was now being recognized as an economic partner of South Korea.

On the stock market, Eugene Choi theme stocks slammed into the daily upper limit day after day. In the bookstores, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the complete absence of any title actually about San Marcos had not stopped vaguely related books on South America from colonizing the bestseller tables.

And of course, posts began appearing on the community travel boards.

Thousands of comments flooded the post.

The travel review spread by word of mouth at a ferocious speed. Before long, a phenomenon had broken out on Koreana Airlines' reservation site: every ticket to San Marcos was sold out.

The San Marcos boom had arrived.

About a month after the first Korean tourists began to arrive, I sat in the Presidential Palace office staring at a report I could scarcely believe.

The numbers were telling me everything I needed to know. The K-Coin I'd boarded was going to the moon.

Libertad International Airport, which a few months ago had been so deserted the flies were doing laps, now teemed with Korean tourists. Restaurants downtown were running out of ingredients and shutting their doors early.

"Tourist spending is projected to exceed five million dollars a month."

I couldn't hide a satisfied smile at Secretary Lessa's report.

"Excellent. Tourism is going to be a real cash cow for our economy."

Of course, where there is light, there is also shadow. I was worried about the side effects of tourists pouring in like a flood. My expression hardened as I looked at Lessa.

"Secretary Lessa."

"Yes, Your Excellency."

"Do you know the one thing you have to watch most carefully in a tourist destination?"

"Please tell me."

"Price gouging. The moment the tide comes in and people get greedy and start emptying tourists' pockets, it's over. And Koreans spread word fast. One post goes up saying they got ripped off in San Marcos, and the tourists will vanish overnight."

At my firm tone, Lessa nodded, his eyes gone cold.

"We have already announced that any establishment caught gouging will be shut down immediately, and the owner permanently banned from doing business. For taxi drivers, we have spoken of license revocation and vehicle seizure."

"And crimes like theft or pickpocketing? How do you intend to handle those?"

"I have been ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠discussing with the Chief of Police whether we ought to cut off the hands of anyone who commits a crime against a Korean tourist."

"No."

What was this, an Islamic theocracy?

They've lost their minds. Seriously.

Cut a man's hands off for a bit of stealing.

"...Don't do that. Send them to the Tortilla Farm for labor instead. One month every time they're caught, and we'll bring in a three-strikes rule — third offense, they work for three years."

"As expected, Your Excellency is merciful."

"Come now, I wouldn't go that far... Are there any other problems?"

"There is one problem we cannot solve immediately."

"What is it?"

"A shortage of things to do."

Lessa swiped through his tablet as he reported.

"The tourists enjoy downtown Libertad, the beach, and the resorts well enough, but a great many of them say there isn't enough to hold them for four days and three nights or longer. We have no shopping malls. No theme parks."

"Mm. That's not something we can fix overnight."

You couldn't just knock that kind of thing together.

"Still, we can't sit on our hands. Any good ideas?"

Beside me, Isabella's eyes lit up as if she had been waiting for exactly this.

"As a matter of fact, I have something prepared."

"What is it?"

"A trekking course."

"A trekking course?"

"Yes. We would build one in Jorumaldo Forest Park, which I mentioned previously. A walking trail from the entrance all the way to an observatory with a commanding view of the city, so that tourists can take in the full panorama of Libertad."

"That's perfect for Koreans. They love a good hike."

"In addition, a sculpture is currently being produced for the observatory — something that will become San Marcos's new landmark. Once it is complete, I expect the course will be an essential stop."

"A sculpture? Like an observation tower, or...?"

"Something like that. Very... grand. Magnificent, really."

A faint flush rose in Isabella's cheeks, as if she could already see just how magnificent it would be.

"That's Chief Isabella for you."

"Thank you, Your Excellency."

"Good. Proceed with the trekking course, and I'd like the two of you to put together some smaller attractions as well. A night market, a food tour — that sort of thing would be nice."

"Yes."

With the meeting on the tourist problem wrapped up, I rose from my chair. The next item on the schedule was waiting.

"Well then. Shall we go greet our guest?"

"He is waiting in the reception room."

I straightened my clothes and headed for the reception room. The man I was about to meet was the first ambassador the government of the Republic of Korea had dispatched to San Marcos.

A real diplomat, at last.

I reached for the doorknob of the reception room, already looking forward to a productive conversation —

— and heard something I had not expected in the slightest.

Eugene's hand paused on the doorknob.

Do I go in, or do I not.

He wasn't angry. It was just a man talking to himself, and besides, San Marcos was a developing country. Walking in right then, though, would have been awkward for both of them, so he stood at the door for about ten seconds before entering.

"A pleasure. Eugene Choi, Acting President of San Marcos."

At Eugene's appearance, Ambassador Eom Gyu-sung rose from the sofa.

"Eom Gyu-sung, Ambassador of the Republic of Korea."

"I hope the journey here wasn't too inconvenient."

"The roads weren't paved, so the car did bounce around a bit — but I took that as a testament to how close to nature everything is. I wasn't bored. Plenty of scenery to look at."

"...I see."

The words were a compliment to San Marcos's landscape. The actual meaning was a jab at a poor country. Eugene forced a smile and gestured toward a seat.

"You seem quite warm. Isabella, would you have them turn down the temperature in the reception room?"

"No need. I don't intend to stay that long."

"Is that so?"

The ambassador charged with diplomacy toward this country had just announced he would be the first to leave. Isabella's eyebrow twitched — and Eugene flicked a hand at her.

Stand down.

San Marcos was a weak nation that had only just learned to walk. There was nothing to be gained from letting the relationship with Korea go sour.

"Have you had a chance to see the embassy? We put some thought into selecting it."

"The view was quite something."

"It's a bit out of the way, but we chose it for security reasons. We'll be running a shuttle bus and improving the roads for you."

"Security... I see."

The conversation continued in that vein. Eugene would extend a courtesy; the man would receive it with indifference, and take another quiet swipe at the state of San Marcos. It never quite crossed the line into a diplomatic incident, but he had a remarkable talent for leaving the other person in a foul mood. Eugene, for his part, never once let the smile drop.

"I look forward to working with you, Ambassador. I hope you'll do your part for the prosperity of both our nations."

"I'll try."

Eom Gyu-sung gave a perfunctory handshake and walked out of the reception room without looking back.

The door had barely closed before Isabella let out the breath she had been holding.

"Your Excellency! How can such a rude man exist? We must protest to Korea at once—"

"That's enough."

Eugene waved a hand and loosened his tie.

"The important thing is that an ambassador came at all. As for his personal temperament — that's something we can simply endure."

"But—"

"It's fine. It's not as if we'll have to see him unless something special comes up."

Isabella looked at Eugene, who was smiling a bitter little smile.

In the official car pulling away from the Presidential Palace, Eom Gyu-sung snapped every time the vehicle lurched over a pothole the roads had never been properly repaired to prevent.

"Ah, fuck! This is such bullshit!"

He tore his tie loose with a snarl.

"Are you all right, Ambassador?"

"Do I look all right? Do I look all right to you? I'm stuck in this third-rate garbage dump of a country, you get that? Huh?"

Eom Gyu-sung stared out the window at the passing streets of Libertad and ground his teeth.

This was not supposed to be his post.

He had been Consul General in Chengdu, China — known inside the foreign ministry as something of a China hand. He had solid connections in Chinese political circles, and, more importantly, a mistress stashed near his posting, kept carefully hidden from his wife. If this assignment had never come through, he would still have been living large with her, throwing his weight around...

Instead, the Blue House had suddenly declared that San Marcos was now the most important country in the world, promoted him to ambassador, and shipped him here.

"Eugene Choi... it's that bastard's fault. If that son of a bitch hadn't drawn all this attention, I never would have ended up here."

To Eom Gyu-sung, Eugene was not a hero. He was an enemy.

"We've arrived, Ambassador."

A secretary from the Korean Embassy in San Marcos brought the car to a stop. Eom Gyu-sung looked out the window and recoiled all over again.

"Ha... fuck, they really outdo themselves. This hillbilly shack is supposed to be an embassy...?"

A single-story building, wide but low, waited for him in a forest on the outskirts, a long way from downtown Libertad. It had originally been the Portuguese governor-general's villa — one floor, in exchange for a great deal of space.

Eom Gyu-sung unpacked his things, grumbling all the while.

"Get out. Tell everyone no one comes in."

The moment he entered the bedroom he bolted the door, dug a phone from deep inside his inner pocket, and dialed.

Ring... ring...

The nasal Chinese on the other end of the line undid Eom Gyu-sung's face at once.

"Mi-ring. It's me."

Eom Gyu-sung sat on the edge of the bed and settled in to properly vent.

"This place isn't fit for human beings. No air conditioning, the food's terrible... the whole place reeks of corn. I'll pull every string I can and get to Beijing as fast as possible, so just wait a little. Okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. Hermès? Chanel? The second I get there I'll buy you everything. Lucky for us, the budget for a first-posted ambassador is pretty generous. I'll just skim a little off..."

Since things had turned out this way, Eom Gyu-sung decided he might as well take it easy for a while and treat it as a chance to recharge.

What he did not know was that Eugene was, at that very moment, talking about him to Moon Sung-moon of the National Intelligence Service.

"Yes, Deputy Director. The ambassador? Ah, we had a very good meeting."

At Moon Sung-moon's question, Eugene briefly recalled Eom Gyu-sung's irritated face and the cursing.

...Honestly, it's a complete mess.

But he swallowed the words.

If the Korean government decided that San Marcos was so backward diplomats were avoiding it — if they pulled the embassy and downgraded it to a consulate — that would be a disaster. Bilateral relations were only just ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠beginning to ripen. He could not throw cold water on them now.

Having an ambassador here at all is what matters.

Eugene answered in a deliberately bright voice.

"Oh, not at all. He seemed like an excellent man. Very hearty, very down-to-earth. And his manners were impeccable."

Eugene hung up, having stressed the relationship between the two countries as hard as he possibly could.

A moment passed.

Moon Sung-moon's reaction, once the call had ended, was the exact opposite of what Eugene had expected.

"Hearty? Down-to-earth?"

Moon Sung-moon's eyes narrowed.

Eugene Choi was no ordinary man. According to the NIS's own investigation, he was cruel enough to snap the neck of his greatest political rival on the very day martial law was declared. And that was hardly all. He was an iron-blooded ruler who had packed the gangs rotting society — and the corrupt officials along with them — off to a collective farm.

And a man like that went out of his way to offer praise that did not add up?

If that was not a threat — get rid of that bastard immediately, or who knows what will happen to bilateral relations — then what was it?

Moon Sung-moon pressed the intercom on his desk.

"Dig into Eom Gyu-sung, the one we sent as ambassador to San Marcos. Yeah. Tear through everything from his days as Consul General in China. Money flows, women, his in-laws' third cousins — I don't want a speck of dust left."

Moon Sung-moon's eyes glittered, sharp as a blade.

The night in San Marcos was peaceful. Eom Gyu-sung's fate, however, was already being pulled into the heart of a storm.