The More, The Merrier

Valentin had confidently shouted "the more the merrier," and I wanted to shout back "sell everything we've got." But the truth was, even though we'd built some rapport, I still couldn't fully trust Valentin's organization. So... I decided to use Nakamura's method. Little by little, frequently, over a long period—building trust. After all, I held the upper hand.

The drug market boom hadn't ended that long ago, so there wasn't much inventory left in the market. From what I could gather, the European market was mostly developed countries with limited production capacity. There were the usual small-time growers in every country, but no large-scale operations, which meant almost everything was imported. Transaction costs were also high. In other words, even if you supplied the same quantity, the amount that actually reached the buyers was significantly smaller. That explained why crack was everywhere, and it seemed the demand for pure product was higher than in the United States.

Valentin's eyes lit up at the mention of pure product and he immediately demanded it. So I threw in the leftover BS, the Sleeping Series, and PO as bundle deals. With production running at both the Cheonan and Haman factories, we had surplus stock anyway.

I disguised myself as an overseas student from the organization. Claiming I needed approval from above, I asked for a down payment. He handed it over without hesitation. The price was 1.5 times the Korean market rate, in dollars. When he asked if euros would work, I told him euros were useless and insisted on dollars—the global reserve currency. He paid in dollars without issue.

That was how we signed the first contract: ten kilograms of every product we had. The next day, Valentin received the shipment in Busan and put it on a plane. I was genuinely surprised. I knew we were the delivery kings, but even here things moved fast.

When I asked for the balance, he just smiled and dodged. "It'll take two weeks to get here. I'll pay once I receive it." —Scotchwhisky(37.4)

I told him a direct flight would only take fifteen hours, but he explained there was no direct route and customs clearance was slow. "It's not as fast as South Korea." Ah... so this place really was different.

While I was being treated like an honored guest at Valentin's house, I received a message from Diaz. I was grateful he was still alive, but the sudden contact made me worry something had gone wrong.

Even the first and second shipments combined should have been enough for a decent ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠regional conflict. "Are things that bad?" —GB(38.5)

From what he explained, the group that had attacked Gonzales and Johnny had asked the Americans for help after we retaliated. They couldn't win against the U.S., so they planned to surrender—but only after wiping out the rival organization first. Time was short, and shipments from North Korea would take over a month to reach Cancun.

Global time perception really was different. "Please take care of yourself. Let me know if you need anything." —GB(38.5)

...Right. Gonzales was dead. "Understood." —GB(38.5)

My energy drained away and my replies became half-hearted. I missed Gonzales. Then another message arrived—about 150 contacts. They were all IDs, probably Gonzales's trading partners. There was the U.S. military guy, the Cider hyung from Busan, and even White Socks. I contacted Redflag and asked him to source weapons. He was thrilled and immediately went to look into it. He said if this deal went well, he'd finally get his promotion.

As the Camilio family's new supplier, I went to pitch to Valentin. "Hey Valentin~" I called out while coming down from the third floor to the second. The attendants said he ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was on the first floor. When I went down, he was talking with his father. The atmosphere was different from when I'd first arrived. His father smiled occasionally and looked at him with pride. Valentin's shoulders were puffed up to the sky. I decided to send him even higher.

"Excuse me." I interrupted, figuring it was acceptable. Thankfully, they welcomed me. Pointing at my phone, I spoke to Valentin.

He looked shocked. "Really? Pure? Not crack?" —Scotchwhisky(37.4)

"Same quality, like sample." His face lit up and he immediately reported to his father. Watching father and son both stunned was satisfying. Since they were treating me so well, I had to sell them the goods. I'd gone from being just a friend's son ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to an employee of a client, and now, in no time, I'd become a VIP of the family. All thanks to my good connections.

When I asked Valentin for a location, he gave me the name of a port. Checking the map, it was on the French Atlantic coast. When I asked why there, he said it was a port his family controlled. Filthy rich. I joked that I'd need his help when I had shipments to Europe, and he told me to contact him anytime.

I told Diaz we needed 300 kg for Europe and to send the container to the designated location. He readily agreed to prepare and ship it. At least the logistics network was still intact. When I sent the down payment, he refunded it, saying it was for weapons. When I said that wasn't enough, he told me to reach out if he ever needed money or product. He insisted that even family should handle money transactions properly, then finally told me to deposit the amount into the account after settling it.

Redflag's efforts hadn't gone well. He'd searched hard, but there were no stray shipments like the one headed to El Salvador last time. When I asked what to do, he said the goods were being prepared for loading in Vladivostok. As soon as he received the dollar deposit, production had started. He spoke bitterly. It was good that the product would sell, but it felt like an entire people's army division had been sacrificed. When I asked what he meant, he explained that after reporting to his superiors, they'd initially said they'd produce it. But when there wasn't time to run the production line, they'd taken supplies meant for the front lines instead. He also mentioned his promotion—to manager of the weapons factory. His posting was Najin. His wife and kids were in Pyongyang. Since he traveled often between Russia and China, he told me to contact him if I wanted to meet.

I told him I didn't want to meet with the NIS. He said the same—he didn't want to meet with the Ministry of State Security. After months of no sales activity, I'd cleared everything in one go and contacted the executives for the first time in a while. I wanted to know how things were in Korea. They'd told me to lie low, and I had. But what bothered me was that Miju hadn't contacted me either. The first time she replied in a day, the second in three days, the third in a week—I figured she was busy. Then at some point, she stopped replying before I even messaged.

After I fled to Europe, all our communications had to go through Skylight. The old network had been scrapped.

I told him about my connection with Valentin here in England and that I'd opened a new client. "Secretary Ko already reported it. You're truly impressive. Even there, you're working." —HamoHamo(37.1) I also mentioned the Cancun situation. He told me to be careful. It was hard to get used to people around me leaving.

I started with some light small talk about the current situation. His tone was casual, so I thought everything was fine—but it was serious.

Of course I did. The prosecutor who had arrested me.