Chapter 19
Chapter 19
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 19
Chapter Title: Killbangwon (3)
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The dawn in the desert was quite chilly.
Contrary to the sweltering daytime when it felt like a fireball was suspended in the sky, a coolness seemed to have settled over everything.
A faint sand breeze blew in on the cold air.
The aimless wind crossed a deserted hill and tapped against the glass windows of Prince Bin Salman's mansion.
A long corridor laid with lapis lazuli and gold-painted tiles in neat rows.
Flanking both sides were antique artworks displayed like soldiers at attention.
"So, what is it you're trying to say, Secretary? That I should just sit tight?"
Prince Bin Salman slowly made his way down the corridor.
His face was deeply furrowed, as if something displeased him, while he listened to his loyal aide, the secretary.
"I'm merely concerned that Your Highness revealed your claws too soon."
"It's just a mere facilities manager position at best. Didn't I deliberately avoid anything involving military forces?"
Frustration raised the prince's voice a notch.
And though it was still dawn, the secretary glanced around warily, lest anyone overhear.
Growing even more cautious, he lowered his voice and spoke.
"Some of your cousin princes are already making moves, Your Highness. There are even whispers of them dispatching inspectors..."
"Ha! May those scum fall to hell! Their antics are just like the spawn of vipers. Soon they'll incur Allah's curse."
The secretary couldn't hide his dismay.
Startled, he urgently cautioned the prince, who was letting his hot blood run unchecked.
"Your Highness, you must mind every word. The palace walls and ceilings have ears."
"Isn't it true that those bastards are gradually tightening around my neck? In the end, they'll bare their blue venomous fangs right in my face and ask this."
Prince Bin Salman passed through the corridor and opened the glass door leading to the garden.
At the same moment, the sunrise peeked over the western mountains.
The thick darkness of dawn began to fade, as if diluted in water.
And there, under the garden streetlamps, piles of dead insects caught his eye.
The remains of pathetic creatures that had thrown themselves into the bright lights last night, unaware of their doom.
Seeing those remnants that might foreshadow his own future, Prince Bin Salman spoke in a voice laced with anger.
"Power. Did you truly not know the end of fools mesmerized by that flickering flame?"
"......"
"Before those vipers' filthy fangs block your windpipe, it'd be better to hurl your body at it like that."
As the morning prayer call echoed from large speakers, the desert ground began to glow red-hot.
From deeper inside the corridor, in the mansion's housekeeper quarters, footsteps were approaching.
The secretary's impatience grew with the swelling sound of those steps.
In case any of the housekeepers might be spies for his cousin princes, the secretary hurriedly changed the subject.
"Your Highness has a full schedule of external engagements from this morning. Please, compose yourself."
"...Understood. I'll hold back. So, what's the first item on today's agenda?"
The secretary let out a sigh of relief.
Only now did he relax, seeing his master wouldn't simply vent his boiling blood unchecked.
Stroking his bushy white beard, the secretary pulled a notepad listing the schedule from his pocket.
"A company called Ammunition Group from Korea has requested an audience with Your Highness."
"Ammunition Group? Ah, that arms manufacturer. Trying to peddle their wares to us, I suppose."
Ammunition Group.
He'd certainly heard the name before.
A company recently pushing aggressively into the Iraqi military supplies market.
Prince Bin Salman received the profile of this visitor from his secretary.
His brows furrowed at the sparse resume of the empty-headed strategy director his age.
"Ammunition Group. Strategy Director Seo-jun Han. Is he from their owner family?"
"Yes, Your Highness. Son of the late chairman and eldest grandson of the current director."
"He seems like the type with bloodline but no ability. I see no reason to meet him."
His mind already cluttered, Prince Bin Salman considered canceling the entire morning schedule.
Wanting some fresh air, he stepped out through the glass door.
Just then, a wooden chair sat beside the garden brazier.
"Hoo..."
Plopping down onto the chair, Prince Bin Salman received a letter from his secretary.
"What's this? This letter?"
"It's from Ammunition Group's Strategy Director Seo-jun Han, the one I mentioned earlier, Your Highness. He insisted it be delivered in strict secrecy."
"Hmm..."
Prince Bin Salman read the letter with an indifferent expression.
The crackling firewood in the blazing brazier filled the brief silence.
At that moment, as the hot sun sufficiently warmed the ground, a housekeeper approached with a bucket to extinguish the fire.
"Hey, hold on!"
Having finished the letter, Prince Bin Salman hurriedly blocked the housekeeper.
And then, tossed onto the lingering embers, the letter paper from far-off East Asia.
Prince Bin Salman's face flushed with excitement. Turning to his secretary, he said,
"I'll meet him right now. Ammunition Group's Strategy Director Seo-jun Han."
"Your Highness?"
The letter paper burned with black smoke. Red embers crept toward a line that hadn't yet turned to ash.
-I will become the sword you need for the Prince's Rebellion.
* * * *
Prince Bin Salman, dressed in a white traditional Arab thobe.
After a brief greeting, he seemed eager to cut to the chase.
"Dismiss the guards. I have private matters to discuss with these people."
"Your Highness, by royal protocol..."
"Now!"
Prince Bin Salman issued an eviction order to the burly security chief.
He was taking pains to ensure word of this conversation didn't leak to his political rivals.
Even after the door closed, he confirmed the footsteps receded completely.
Finally, after scanning me up and down, he opened his tightly shut mouth.
"You dare incite rebellion against me and dishonor the royal family?"
His face feigned rage, as if ready to lop off my head that instant.
But I knew what filled Prince Bin Salman's mind.
And what future he envisioned for this country.
"I wrote it thinking it was a rebellion worth attempting and a royal family worth dishonoring."
"What?"
"Isn't it a royal family doomed once the oil era ends? Unless a proper master appears in time to exterminate the parasites."
Indeed, before my regression, Prince Bin Salman had pulled the trigger on reform.
Struggling to break free from oil dependency.
Judging by his efforts to shatter the old ways and lay the groundwork for secularization... surely, this man harbored ambitions beyond mere lust for power.
"Saudi Arabia. Does this pseudo-theocracy hold any hope?"
Kim Won-cheol, who had been quietly listening beside me, suddenly went wide-eyed.
My words, bordering on provocation and insult, seemed to catch in his throat like a dried jujube.
"Kuh... Hack! Hack hack!"
Not even on the gallows for treason yet, and Mr. Kim Won-cheol was hacking up a storm.
I kindly handed him the water pitcher from the table. Smiling faintly, I continued.
"So, will I have your answer on the letter today? As you can see, my companion's condition isn't the best, body or mind."
"Ha! What an absurd fool."
Unlike his spoken words, his mind seemed tangled in thought, as Prince Bin Salman fell silent.
The only sound in the room was the pendulum of the wall clock carved with a lion swinging back and forth.
How much time passed?
By the time the sun hung high, sufficiently heating the sand dunes, a voice announced prayer from outside.
-Allah is the Greatest! I bear witness that there is no god but Allah!
Though it was prayer time, Prince Bin Salman didn't prostrate on the carpet. He sat still, hands clasped, unmoving.
And his changed expression. Unlike before, it bore the resolve to drop the needless theatrics.
As if this prayer time were perfectly timed to declare his decision.
"You wrote that you would become my sword. The sword needed for the Prince's Rebellion."
I nodded.
Prince Bin Salman continued.
"I want no pie-in-the-sky talk. Tell me what, when, and how you plan to proceed."
"We have military supplies loaded for shipment to the Iraqi army."
I gestured for Mr. Kim Won-cheol to retrieve the documents from inside his briefcase.
Inside the yellow envelope was a copy of Ammunition Heavy Industries' bill of lading.
-Rifles: 450 units, light machine guns: 80 units, wheeled armored vehicles: 30 units, anti-tank missiles, and thousands of rounds of ammunition required for operation.
Weapons originally meant for the Iraqi army.
But if ISIL, the Islamic extremist force, rampages soon, the day I'll get paid in full won't come.
At least not until the day I regressed from prison.
"What a coincidence. This ship bound for Iraq... suddenly developed engine trouble. Or rather, it will. Right in Saudi territorial waters."
The ship's engineer handling the engine was already bought off.
I extended my right hand toward Prince Bin Salman.
Five fully spread fingers. That was the deadline I could offer this ambitious Arab prince.
"Five days. Exactly five days from now, this ship docks at Saudi's Jubail Port."
All preparations for the Prince's Rebellion were perfectly in place, thanks to me.
Even near Jubail Port in Bahrain, PMC (private military company) members I'd prepaid were ready.
"Ha... Haha."
Prince Bin Salman let out a hollow laugh.
Bewildering, no doubt. But thrilling too, right?
Go on, take the hand I'm offering.
This sudden opportunity looks promising to you too.
Normally... you'd have to hide your claws for nearly a decade under scrutiny from the royal rivals.
"Hoo... Mad. Completely mad. Won't the fallout in your home country be tough to handle?"
"We'll just be victims robbed of supplies by unknown forces. Officially speaking."
"You're going to play it that way..."
Prince Bin Salman tapped his fingers on the gold-carved table.
The prayer chants echoing outside raced toward their end.
As the praises to God faded with a heavy metallic chime.
The prince spoke.
"This must be the will of God as well."
"We'll have to believe so."
"You talk well for someone who doesn't even believe in God."
With his resolve set, Prince Bin Salman.
Extended his right hand to me, just as when we first met, seeking a handshake.
Not mere formality, but treating me as a true comrade in arms.
"And your price? Ammunition Group—and you—what do you want?"
"I..."