Chapter 202
Chapter 202
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 202
Chapter Title: In Israel (3)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Inside the Israeli Embassy, with a view overlooking Cheonggyecheon.
The Israeli special envoy plenipotentiary, whose name remained unknown, stared silently out the window at the Ammunition Group headquarters building.
After enough time had passed for the coffee aroma to become familiar in his nostrils, the Israeli Ambassador to Korea entered the room.
"You've had a hard journey, Special Envoy. Coming all this way... I hope our hospitality has been satisfactory?"
Was it because he was a Mossad alum too?
His attitude was impeccably deferential, as if serving a far superior.
The envoy didn't even turn his head toward the ambassador. Instead, he spoke slowly, indifferently.
"What could possibly be lacking? I'm just here to do my job. And..."
Tap, tap. The envoy lightly drummed his fingers on the glass window.
The Korean summer here seemed unusually humid, with heavy rains. A single raindrop trailed down the window like a weary tear.
"From the home country all the way here to Korea, and now I have to head even farther east."
"Ah, yes, we've been informed. You're heading to the United States? It seems the homeland's policy has been firmly set."
"It has to be. The situation has turned out this way."
The outside world gradually darkened. Rain streamed down the window like tears, tracing the reflection of the envoy's face.
And right in front of him sat a silver candelabrum, the quintessential symbol of Judaism.
In the dim night, tiny flames flickered dreamily atop the seven-branched candlestick.
"The Jewish people have always been like candles in the wind."
"That's always been the case. Thousands of years of history prove it. At least we stateless folk have been spared that much, I suppose."
"Who's to say. Having a nation doesn't guarantee safety either."
Rattle, rattle.
The rainy season must have begun, as fierce winds started battering the windows wildly.
The Israeli envoy fixed his gaze on the seven flames and continued.
"Even after establishing a nation in the Promised Land of Canaan, the winds blew relentlessly for sixty years. And now..."
Cutting himself off mid-sentence, he reached out and flung the window handle open with all his might.
As if waiting for the moment, a violent storm surged into the room along with thick sheets of rain.
Leaving only faint wisps of gray smoke behind, the seven candles lost their light and warmth in an instant.
"If the great tree that served as our windbreak abandons us, the little candles on the menorah will go out."
"Special Envoy..."
"Even if the Ammunition Group pressures the Korean government into lodging a protest, do not give them any room for negotiation. Absolutely none."
The envoy's resolve was set.
His face—trained over years to leave no lasting impression—now bore a striking color that would lodge in the memory.
"In this shifting international landscape... every single seed in the warehouse counts."
The situation was changing breathlessly.
For Israel, all that remained was its cutting-edge technology.
To the envoy, that vital technology seemed to be what Saudi funds were eyeing, cloaked behind the smokescreen of the Ammunition Group.
"For the safety of the homeland, I will do anything."
Even breaking a promise with some far-eastern corporation wouldn't stir a shred of guilt.
The envoy rose from his seat. As he moved to leave the room, the ambassador spoke up.
"Ah, Special Envoy. What if they come not with protests, but with proposals? Proposals that could... change the board."
"That's not something an individual can alter. Put such worries aside. Well then."
A board no individual could change.
On this vast chessboard with America, the Middle East, and Israel in play, no single person's move could overturn the game.
Unless that person could part the Red Sea.
The envoy stepped outside, lit a cigarette, and recalled the man he'd spoken with here yesterday. He chuckled wryly.
"Well, Han Seo-jun, was it? That young fellow won't work miracles like Moses, so it's impossible."
* * * *
"No way, really? That guy we met back then was Mossad? What kind of fucked-up bullshit is this?"
"Pretty much confirmed. According to the Foreign Minister."
Mossad.
The Israeli intelligence agency that outstripped even the CIA or Korea's NIS in infamy.
Reporting directly to the Prime Minister, it wielded influence in foreign affairs and security far beyond any cabinet ministry.
Enough that last night, over drinks, the Foreign Minister had broached the subject with worried eyes.
'It'll be tough, Chairman Han.'
'Which part?'
'Well, the Middle East situation is getting weird. Do you know anything? For instance...'
He trailed off, as if pondering something, then downed his drink, wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and continued.
'Shale oil, for example.'
'......!'
Shale oil.
Right... it was around this time it started becoming a hot topic.
The next-generation oil resource buried in overwhelming quantities across the US, extractable at dirt-cheap prices.
Its emergence rocked oil-dependent nations—across the entire Middle East region.
'With shale oil, America's stake in the Middle East has dropped way lower than before. That's why Israel's panicking.'
'So the guard dog that protected the Middle East has become a useless mutt just eating scraps now?'
And Israel, wedged like a pickle among the Islamic oil states of the Middle East.
If its hegemon master America pulled back, Israel—the former fearless barker—might have to settle its karmic debts.
Faced with potential annihilation, Israel's options weren't wide.
'A guard dog baring teeth amid jackals is no surprise. It's survive-first thinking.'
Likely why they were deploying Mossad through back channels instead of formal diplomacy.
The drinking session with the Foreign Minister had been more helpful than expected.
As I wrapped up the recollection and started racking my brain, what do you know—right in front of me was Kim Won-cheol looking downright miserable.
"Ugh... Thinking back to how those bastards tormented me in the Middle East back in the day, I nearly piss myself at night."
"Come on, you're already doing that? And you were bragging about still being young."
"Ah, it's not my prostate—it's mental trauma. Listen."
Back during the Middle East construction boom, he'd gotten tangled with some two-bit terrorists and ended up interrogated alongside them by Mossad.
"Brutal as hell, I tell you. That Arab next to me had something shoved right down his throat. Made me wonder if the guy had a dental license."
"Was he fearless, or just brainless...?"
The brutality and viciousness were tongue-clicking levels. No easy common ground with an outfit like that.
"Anyway, we're in a bind. If the face they show us is Mossad, economic logic won't fly at all."
"And Israel's relevant ministries are stonewalling with refusals. Our arguments just..."
Kim Won-cheol trailed off, eyeing me. I picked up right where he left off.
"Security. Security trumps economic logic."
"Overwhelmingly so."
Rummaging through fuzzy pre-regression memories, Israel never actually got invaded.
So... if we navigated this stormy adolescent phase of international tensions, there'd be no real obstacles.
Including the Israeli firm I'd earmarked, Motors Eyes.
"Security's for the state bigwigs. Our calculus should be different."
Kim Won-cheol's shiny bald head sprouted a question mark.
"What... do you mean?"
"Business runs on business logic. Motors Eyes—in self-driving core tech—is there any substitute?"
"Nope. It's a must-have whale."
"There’s your answer."
"My answer... came out?"
I stood and moved to the window. Turns out, the buttons on my cardigan were done up wrong.
I undid the ivory buttons entirely, then started redoing them from the top.
"First button's all off, so let's redo them one by one, nice and slow. First, zoom out the picture. The whole Middle East."
Buttons refastened top to bottom. My gaze drifted down to a large wooden globe reflected in the mirror.
And smack in the globe's center—a perfectly timed nation. Saudi Arabia.
"Been a while since I heard from that guy. Crown Prince Bin Salman."
* * * *
"Have you converted?"
"Pardon?"
It had been ages since I'd spoken on the phone with Crown Prince Bin Salman.
Instead of a friendly greeting, he hit me with a theological curveball.
"I hear Koreans usually have no religion, following Confucius or whatever that philosopher is."
"What on earth are you talking about?"
"Chairman Han Seo-jun, if you've converted to Catholicism... what am I supposed to tell my youngest sister, who's waiting only for marriage?"
Some misunderstanding, tied to that [Garden of the Lord] incident.
He must've twisted it into me purging cults to restore Catholic orthodoxy.
"I get the Japanese princess marriage. A man can have up to four wives. But if you can't marry that girl at all, it's a problem!"
"No, it's not like that."
Who said too many cooks spoil the broth? Bin Salman was rowing solo straight into Misunderstanding Mountain.
Even bringing up polygamy—heading straight for the peak.
"She's crying right now. Hasn't left her room. Hearing her sobs breaks my heart."
"Th-there's a misunderstanding here."
Only after a long explanation over the phone did the misunderstanding clear.
His youngest sister... the ten-year-old kid from that banquet?
No way he'd taken my half-joking remark seriously.
Anyway, confirming I had no religion, Bin Salman finally softened his tone.
"Ah, why didn't you say so earlier? A man may be the center, but making a woman cry is no good."
"Ri-right... Anyway, I get it. My fault entirely. The reason I called today is something else."
The wooden globe whirred into motion.
My finger touched its center as it slowed.
East of the Mediterranean, in the Promised Land of Canaan—where Middle East guard dog Israel was barking up a storm.
"Israel. And the whole Middle East situation seems to be turning serious."
"It's gotten a bit tricky, yes. For example..."