Entry (2)
"Hand over your passport too."
"Here it is."
"What the hell? Why's it a Korean passport?"
"...?"
Kim Mi-young. Min Cheol-woo scrutinized the passport from every angle, like it was stamped in stone, then eyed her with deep suspicion.
"You guys. You forged a Korean passport too?"
"Th-this isn't forged! I defected to South Korea as a North Korean! It's my legitimate citizenship!"
"So you got Korean citizenship just to play industrial spy errand girl for the Joseonjok?"
"..."
Mi-young clamped her mouth shut. Truth be told, considering the shit Oriental Group was pulling in Korea, "industrial spy" was putting it kindly. They'd been using Oriental Shipping and DongYang Department Store as bases to distribute the blue drug disguised as a new narcotic through Korea's underworld. It was the kind of crime that deserved death.
Of course, Mi-young had never once felt any sense of identity as a Korean since birth, so she had no guilt about it. For now, she decided to keep quiet.
"I ain't got much patriotism myself. But let's verify it anyway. You wouldn't be planning to stab me in the back and side with the Chinese Communist Party if shit hits the fan, right?"
"N-no, sir! Absolutely not! I worked at Oriental Shipping purely because of my connection to President Han Si-yeon—never out of loyalty to the Chinese Communist Party! Back when I was a nurse in China, those bastards from above would squeeze protection money out of us... I still grind my teeth thinking about it! It's only natural I'd feel more affinity for fellow Koreans in the South than for the Chinese, right? No matter what happens, I won't betray you, Mr. Cheol-woo!"
"..."
"...Probably."
Meeting Cheol-woo's silently piercing gaze, Mi-young dropped her eyes and mumbled in a voice suddenly stripped of confidence.
No matter what happens? People had to be careful with their words. Even she might betray him if her life was on the line. Of course, in that situation, Cheol-woo might understand.
...Or maybe not.
For now, she's safe. Listening to her desperate defense, he got the measure of her. She wasn't just lacking superhuman abilities or mental fortitude—she had virtually no ambition either. No wonder; if she'd craved wealth and glory, she wouldn't have slaved away for President Han in the first place. Feed her, give her a safe place to stay, look after her well-being, and she'd follow obediently. She was like a hamster. No backbone for betrayal.
"We're here. Everyone, stick to the script. One slip-up and we're fucked."
"I suck at English anyway, so no worries about me messing up. Wait! What if they ask how I got permanent residency without speaking English?"
"We're married, remember?"
"Oh. Right."
The spousal cover story was turning out more useful than expected.
The yacht soon reached the harbor, and Cheol-woo carefully reversed it right up to the dock.
Thud.
Stepping onto the wooden deck, he spotted a crowd of white guys rushing over from afar. Too many for a simple immigration check.
What's their deal? Turning back, Cheol-woo instantly got it. Ah—
Bloodstains plastered everywhere, sword gashes, bullet holes. No wonder they were swarming.
"Welcome, Mr. David Min. May I have your three passports?"
"Here."
"Yes. We'll return them after processing. We also need the yacht's provenance. It wasn't listed among your declared assets."
"..."
Cheol-woo paused, weighing his options. How much to reveal? But then—Do I even need to hide anything?
Not knowing what they already knew, half-assed lies could backfire hard. Better to minimize bullshit and cover only the fatally incriminating parts with ironclad stories.
"It's a long story."
"Doesn't matter. Tell us."
"My wife and I headed to Hong Kong for our honeymoon, just the two of us."
"Hic!?"
"Don't mind her. She has these fits sometimes."
"Ah, yes."
"Hong Kong got locked down mid-trip, trapping us on the main island. We bought this yacht from a local Brit with cash. Then we escaped Hong Kong together with Kim Mi-young, a Korean we met there."
"So you were stuck in that hellhole the whole Hong Kong crisis...?"
The immigration officers stirred, faces skeptical. Hard to swallow.
One transmission dispelled the doubt. At least the yacht's journey from Hong Kong here was verified.
"..."
"..."
The officers stared at Cheol-woo with eyes questioning if it was true.
No choice—he explained the whole thing. Yes, he killed locals, but self-defense—they pirated first, he counterattacked. Their faces turned subtly odd.
"Let it slide?"
"Yeah, Philippines is in anarchy now, so the warrant's void anyway."
"Can't go to Palawan for a full investigation at this point. Pretend it never happened?"
"Agreed."
Watching the incident vanish on the spot, Cheol-woo was impressed. Advanced country perks—protecting their own. Or just lazy asses avoiding extra work. Either way, one charge down.
"We'll unload and inspect the yacht's cargo."
"Go ahead. Just don't break shit."
"What the hell is all this...?"
Staff entering the cabin froze one by one, sighing in shock. One corner crammed with gear. Ammo and guns in absurd quantities, wooden deck insufficient for display.
"This might complicate entry, Mr. David."
"Why? Australia's got legal gun ownership, right?"
"Only licensed firearms."
"Then apply for permits. War trophies from Hong Kong."
"Uh... process takes forever."
"Don't care."
"Why bother? Sell 'em to us—odds are low on approval anyway."
"I'll decide after the process."
As expected, they weren't thrilled about a bundle of weapons like a peddler's sack. Pushing to disarm them entirely—Cheol-woo's mood soured. Disarming once meant rearming would be hell. In this crisis, weapons were non-negotiable.
"This carry-on—"
"Don't open it. Non-destructive scan if you must."
"Pardon? Why?"
"Hong Kong monster specimen inside. Might still be alive... Oh. Hear that noise?"
"..."
Officers paled. Hong Kong gone to shit—heard it a million times, but never felt it. "Monster" hit different. X-ray showed a massive spider-like shape in the bag. Faces went ghost-white.
"Can't import this. We'll confiscate."
"It's my property. Confiscate what?"
"We can't allow private property posing biological risk."
"Fine, sell you the sample."
"No. Import banned outright."
"..."
Cheol-woo bit his lip before these stonewallers. Didn't they know the value of a live monster sample? Just hand it over? Straight-up robbery. Thought citizens got kid gloves—apparently not here.
He snapped.
"Fuck entry then."
"Pardon?"
"We'll turn around and leave. This is bullshit. Head to the States or wherever."
Two weeks since portals opened—he assumed everyone knew the score. Wrong. Australia still pristine and peaceful, clueless to the severity. Hong Kong survivor? Probe for intel, sure—but stripping guns and samples? If he left with all this, tough shit. Their regret wasn't his problem.
"Sis. Let's go. This ain't worth it."
"Talk broke down?"
"Yeah. Total thugs. No need to grovel for Australian entry."
Options aplenty: New Zealand, US, Japan... Any nation craving Hong Kong intel would roll out the carpet. No point clinging to a country blind to human resources.
Brushing past stunned officers, Cheol-woo reloaded gear onto the yacht, ready to shove off—
"Pardon? Who is this?"
"State your name and rank."
"Y-yes?!"
The frantic voice crackled from the radio. Confusion rippled across the officers' faces.