Chapter 178
Chapter 178
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 178
Chapter Title: LOVE & PEACE(3)
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“No, Chairman! The Deputy Prime Minister came looking for Chairman Han? He even brought a map. Y-Yeah, he came with a map...!”
“I told him to come alone. Stay in your room and sleep it off. Might as well sober up while you’re at it.”
Professor Kim, half-forcibly kicked out of my room. This drunken old man is utterly useless.
If anything... the feisty young lady who followed him in might actually be more helpful.
“The Deputy Prime Minister? Looking for you, Chairman Han?”
“Yeah. He suddenly came straight to me.”
“Hmm...”
Princess Hina formed a V with her thumb and index finger, pressing it to her chin. She pondered deeply like that for a while, then let out an exclamation the moment she opened her eyes.
“Ugh, what a creep.”
“What’s with that reaction now?”
Princess Hina’s face displayed a truly multidimensional expression.
Conversations with her never quite feel natural. She’s completely unpredictable, I suppose.
Shaking my head, I tried to gently correct this eccentric woman.
“Even if it’s just a fake relationship, that doesn’t seem like the kind of reaction you’d give a boyfriend...”
“No. Not to you, Chairman Han. To that Deputy Prime Minister.”
“Oh.”
Her face twisted in disgust, like she was on the verge of nausea at the mere memory.
Well, even a wild filly like her still carries the title of princess. It’d be weirder if she didn’t have connections to high-ranking politicians.
“Have you met him? That guy.”
“A few times at official palace events? He’s been prancing around everywhere since I was little. Now he’s holed up in his office playing king as Deputy Prime Minister.”
“So... what kind of person is he, the Deputy Prime Minister?”
“I told you. He’s a total creep of a human being. Just, what’s the word...”
Princess Hina struggled to put the image in her head into words.
After groaning for about ten minutes, an apt description finally emerged from her lips, delivered with her signature airheaded charm.
“Snake-like?”
“Snake-like... you say?”
“That professor from the British wizard movie. Snape or Steak or whatever. He looks exactly like that guy.”
She was probably referring to Professor Snape from Harry Potter.
In that case... the Deputy Prime Minister must be a stern, sharp-edged type. This could prove a bit of a headache.
“Oh, right. But there’s something about him.”
“What...?”
As if suddenly remembering something she’d forgotten, Princess Hina’s head lit up like a bright incandescent bulb.
She flopped carelessly onto the bed, stretching her hand toward the ceiling, and continued with a grin.
“The Deputy Prime Minister. That snake-skinned old man. In a way, he’s simpler than you’d think? Easy to handle.”
Her next words followed.
If what she said was true... things might just resolve more smoothly than expected.
After all, materialistic people are easier to deal with at the negotiation table than those with complex convictions.
“Just think of him as a machine. His entire thought process runs on pure profit and loss.”
* * * *
Snake-like person.
Princess Hina’s description of the Deputy Prime Minister’s vibe was spot on.
Outwardly, he appeared as a mild-mannered middle-aged man, but the eyes scanning me up and down were nothing like an ordinary person’s.
In a room deep within a meticulously groomed Japanese garden, the Deputy Prime Minister offered me a porcelain cup and posed a question.
“Green tea alright?”
“Ah, thank you.”
An awkward silence hung in the air.
Our eyes met, but neither side lowered their guard easily.
Sizing up each other’s capacity, like a subtle clash of blades.
As we moistened our parched throats with the tea amid the taut tension, the Deputy Prime Minister spoke first.
“Chairman Han, do you have any interest in traditional East Asian paintings and calligraphy?”
“I know the basics. I have people around me who insist on such refined hobbies.”
“Perfect. Then.”
He slowly raised his hand, pointing toward one wall.
There hung... an exquisitely beautiful artwork. No, a cultural artifact that looked like it had just been pulled from some collector’s vault.
“This is... Dream Journey to the Peach Blossom Spring?”
“You recognize it right away.”
Dream Journey to the Peach Blossom Spring.
A painting from the Joseon era, considered among the finest, yet in Japan’s possession.
The Deputy Prime Minister rose with a complex expression laced with multiple intentions and walked toward the wall.
“I... always read the inscription before the painting itself. And my favorite autograph is this one.”
A fluid, elegant script flowing gracefully.
The faded ink on the aged hanji paper belonged to.
“Prince Anpyeong. Son of King Sejong of Joseon, assassinated by his own brother, Grand Prince Suyang.”
The mask of courtesy began to slip from his smile.
Fitting the “snake-like” label perfectly, he tightened around my throat with atmosphere alone, without moving a muscle.
“Politics, and power—they’re terrifying things. You have to point a blade even at your own blood kin. Let alone.”
“......”
“A complete stranger with no blood ties keeps trying to undermine the foundation of my power.”
His venomous fangs gleamed sharply.
Wrinkle-framed eyes twitched, brimming with undisguised hostility aimed straight at me.
Like driving in a wedge, he hurled a near-threat of a question and fixed his gaze.
“What should I do? I’d like to hear Chairman Han’s answer. Right here, right now.”
* * * *
Piercing glare.
And a forced response.
He was asking me: Didn’t you shatter the anti-Korean election frame? So, did you bring an alternative?
If not... everything I have in Japan, including Ammunition Group, would head straight to ruin—that was the threat attached.
“Since you’re so fond of calligraphy, I’ll answer with a brush. Could I borrow some writing tools?”
“As you wish.”
Thus, my prepared response.
Gripping the brush, I pressed hard and scrawled four rough characters on the blank paper.
-Wu and Yue in the Same Boat
“My answer.”
Wu and Yue in the Same Boat. In other words... bedding down with the enemy.
The anti-Korean sentiment centered on Dokdo. The strained Japan-Korea relations. But why not bury that and join hands before our mutual massive profits?
A faint twitch crossed the Deputy Prime Minister’s face as he saw the idiom I wrote. Not purely negative—almost amused, even.
“Ha! You set my boat on fire, and now you want passage money?”
I could see it. The anger was deliberately staged.
I understood. The flow of this man’s emotions.
That allowed me to play my next move even stronger.
“That rickety old boat? Even if you board it, you’ll just end up fish food in the middle of the Pacific. Why trust something built by Yakuza scum?”
“...You know quite a bit.”
“The anti-Korean issue has already passed its stop. Why not flip the board with Princess Hina’s dating scandal instead?”
The Deputy Prime Minister pondered, his face deep in thought.
A subtle smile tugged at his lips as he regarded me.
“Flip the board, you say.”
“It’ll be the spark to restore Japan-Korea ties. Use it to capture the moderates.”
“You’ll play the clown yourself?”
“I’m already halfway there. And you won’t need to worry about your far-right supporters either, right?”
Japan’s far-right citizens who react fiercely to the anti-Korean issue.
But... there’s another issue they’re even more sensitive to.
The Emperor. And the entire Imperial Family, including Princess Hina.
“Kaneyama Hayato’s twisting himself into knots, dying to be dragged to the slaughterhouse as a sacrificial lamb.”
“......!”
“By mobilizing the yellow press to insult the princess, nay, the Imperial Family and Emperor himself—it’s time to draw blood, no?”
In the shifted election frame, a perfect scapegoat.
The Deputy Prime Minister nodded unconsciously. I drove the wedge home with my next words.
Convincing him he could make a 180-degree turn and board the same boat as me.
“Isn’t it obvious to Your Excellency what’s more profitable—and less risky?”
* * * *
Kaneyama Hayato’s residence.
It was early March, the chill not yet fully gone, but he sat there shirtless.
Unable to quell his rising fever.
“Ha! Have these bastards all grown balls collectively? Why the hell isn’t anyone picking up?!”
Tax audits from the National Tax Service, administrative orders from local governments, even minor police crackdowns.
Suddenly, Kaneyama found himself cornered like a noose tightening around his neck. He demanded answers from his Yakuza underlings.
“What the hell’s going on! I told you to find out!”
“W-We’re not getting responses from anyone, Boss.”
“They’re straight-up ignoring us? All of them?”
The bureaucrats who’d taken improper bribes from celebrities under his control.
Judging their leashes too loose, Kaneyama’s ferocious scowl darkened further as he decided to draw his blade.
“These fuckers... Yeah, they haven’t tasted real bitterness yet. Only when one hangs himself will the rest snap to attention.”
“What do you plan to do...?”
“The first one who rebelled was that National Tax Service Director, right?”
“Y-Yes. It started when he reopened the suspended tax audit.”
The National Tax Service Director, already on his shitlist, was chosen as the example. Kaneyama issued orders to his subordinate.
“Release the bribe videos. Blast them across our media outlets. Keep them on the front page for a week straight.”
“Yes, Boss!”
“When a dog bites its master’s hand, make sure it feels the crushing humiliation to its core... Argh!”
-Crash!
Black-uniformed men burst in amid a shattering explosion.
Heavily armed with submachine guns, they pressed one to Kaneyama’s forehead and barked.
“Special Investigators from the Cabinet Intelligence and Research Office, under the Deputy Prime Minister! If you don’t want a bullet hole in your skull, get on the floor!”
“What the fu—Gah!”
Kaneyama, clueless, was stomped under heavy boots.
Even as handcuffs and ropes bound him tight, he remained oblivious. To why his end had come like this.
And to the man who orchestrated it all—for him, Kaneyama was merely a disposable pawn.