Chapter 209
Chapter 209
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 209
Chapter Title: The Desert is Always Sunny Before Overcast (3)
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Near a military airfield outside Washington D.C.
Amidst men in camouflage fatigues stood two men in suits, like dots on a leopard's spots.
They were State Department staffers, glancing repeatedly at their watches while moistening their dry mouths with saliva.
"Dear me... this is a fine mess. Of all times for their landing slots to get tangled up like this."
Saudi Arabia's Crown Prince Bin Salman. And Israel's top Mossad operative turned special envoy with full powers.
The nerve war between these two, which had raged from the heart of the Arabian Peninsula, seemed to be carrying on even in American airspace.
Up in the same sky, both sides were throwing tantrums to land first.
"Uh... sir? Wouldn't it be easier if they both just came in together like this? It's an unofficial visit anyway, so the protocol's minimal."
"Foolish talk. It all depends on who you're dealing with. Keep your eyes peeled and watch closely."
With a majestic roar of engines, both private jets touched down on the runway almost simultaneously.
Immediately, the forward doors of the planes swung open, and the two nations' top power brokers descended the stairs, glaring daggers at each other.
Even from this distance, the frozen atmosphere was palpable.
"Good lord, it's brutal... looks like they're ready to throw punches."
"When the top dogs from two oil-and-water countries share the same space, it's bound to be tense."
"This could blow up any second... the Middle East really is a mess. Not that we Americans have room to talk."
The United States of America. More precisely, the seeds of conflict sown by Secretary of State Yang Wenli.
Those seeds had sprouted into vines and kudzu in the blink of an eye, entwining each other tightly.
The moment one relaxed, it would be devoured whole by the other, reduced to mere nutrients in the soil.
"Whew, someone needs to play tranquilizer. Oh...!"
And then, at that moment.
A red airplane appeared on the radar, drawing closer until it came into view.
As the massive Ammunition Group flame logo drew all eyes, the State Department team leader muttered to himself with a small chuckle.
"Hurry up already. What's the protagonist dawdling for?"
"Sir? Protagonist? Who do you mean...?"
The engine's roar died down, and a young man slowly stepped out of the plane.
Turning his back and pointing a thumb over his shoulder at him, the team leader said to his subordinate.
"Keep your eyes wide open and take a good look. He's about to top the State Department's watch list."
The sky was exceptionally blue today.
Unlike the sticky summer rains, this cloudless winter day boasted crystal clarity.
As if foretelling the events to come.
"Han Seo-jun. Current chairman of Ammunition Group... and a contender for the next Nobel Peace Prize."
* * * *
"How unpleasant."
On the vast runway stood Crown Prince Bin Salman in traditional Arab robes.
The moment he spotted the State Department staffers waiting for protocol, he began voicing his displeasure.
"Your Highness...?"
"Utterly insulting. Are you doing this on purpose? Even for an unofficial schedule, this is no mere mistake!"
He pointed at the Israeli envoy.
Unfazed by the challenge, the black-suited Israeli special envoy approached and spoke.
"The usurper has a lot to say for himself. I'd believe he was a bearded girl."
"What did you say!"
Their distance closed in a flash, close enough to grab collars.
As their sharpened glares clashed silently in the air, the envoy continued his taunt.
"He's forcing his way into a seat he doesn't deserve, so naturally he whines about feeling slighted and insulted."
"You filthy Jew, how dare you before whom!"
Bin Salman's bellow was matched by his entourage reaching for their waists.
Click—the dull sound of pistols cocking rang out instantly. The Israelis, sensing the gravity, formed a semicircle around their prideful leader.
"......"
"......"
Even the U.S. military police on the airfield had no time to intervene before tension peaked.
One touch—like a razor nicking a taut thread—and it would snowball uncontrollably off the cliff.
In the hair-trigger standoff, filled only with the sound of gulps, that razor finally grazed the thread.
"You must have energy to spare for fighting."
A voice sharp as could be.
Yet... the taut thread didn't snap. Absurdly, the electric atmosphere loosened at this man's mere arrival.
"Given your precarious positions—like candles in the wind. Wouldn't you agree?"
He removed his sunglasses and alternated glances between the two power brokers.
It was none other than.
"Chairman Han Seo-jun... or so they say."
"Ahem, we seem to have shown an unseemly sight..."
Bin Salman and the Israeli envoy flushed with embarrassment.
The mediator's calm hands rested on their slumped shoulders, releasing all tension.
"No need to get heated so soon. After all... you'll have plenty of chances to raise your voices, threaten, persuade, and crush each other elsewhere."
He raised one hand, pointing to something in the distance.
Beyond the expansive runway peeked the Washington Monument, the obelisk symbol of D.C.
Gazing at the sleek white stone pillar embedded in America's heart, he spoke slowly.
"Let's head there right away. To Secretary Yang Wenli's table, where he'll be drooling over bloody steaks."
* * * *
In the car heading to the State Department.
Instead of my soulmate who'd roamed the Middle East with me, Kim Won-cheol, someone else sat beside me.
"Chairman, I'll report."
"Ah, Aide Yoo Se-na. Any word from Korea?"
"Yes. Chief Secretary Kim says he arrived safely. It's a serious matter, so he'll brief you upon return."
Kim Won-cheol had suddenly jetted off to Korea at Grandmother's urgent summons.
When I asked what it was about, he'd shrugged that he didn't know either—then gone radio silent.
Hence, Aide Yoo Se-na as his stand-in.
"Well, nothing for it if it's urgent. Let's handle things here first."
"Understood, Chairman."
"You got the handover from Korea, but to recap: the 'Jerusalem Plan' is..."
Through the windshield, two cars ran parallel.
Bin Salman's pristine white Rolls-Royce and the Israeli envoy's black Bentley.
Their vehicle tastes suited them so perfectly, it was almost eerie.
I pointed at the two cars jockeying and growling with index and middle fingers.
"Reconciling those two who can't stand each other—and convincing Secretary Yang Wenli to boot."
"Is it... possible? Just getting into the Secretary's office looks tough."
"If I convince Yang Wenli, those two troublemakers will have no choice but to reconcile."
"Pardon?"
"The key that perfectly fits what's in Yang Wenli's head to resolve this... I have it."
The State Department building loomed ahead.
Stepping out, I approached the two still exchanging glares and soothed them.
We'd soon face that glutton chomping bloody steaks together.
"Alright then. Let's go in. Time to awaken the picky eater's taste buds with a new recipe."
* * * *
Rewind the clock two days, to the Secretary of State's office.
"Sir, how should we handle this private visit?"
A cautious aide approached Yang Wenli.
The Secretary looked thoroughly displeased. Getting no reply, the aide tried again.
"Regarding protocol, like the dinner arrangements and who gives the welcome..."
"Are you wasting my time on such trivia?"
Yang crumpled his report in irritation.
Visibly annoyed, he tossed a perfunctory answer at the aide.
"They'll come as they please, so we can skip pointless protocol without issue."
"Sir...?"
"Whatever bullshit they pull in that godforsaken desert sandbox won't affect U.S. interests anymore."
"Then about the dinner schedule..."
The word "dinner" flipped some switch.
Yang hurled his half-eaten sandwich into the trash.
"Ha! Dinner for those clowns?"
He yanked bills from his wallet and flung them at the aide.
"Just get burgers! No need for a banquet hall—do it like last time!"
Like last time.
For foes he deemed unworthy of dinner time, he'd given a curt welcome here in his office.
Ignoring their words, devouring a steak solo.
"Chat idly while I eat here—that's enough."
"...Understood. Oh, one more thing. Another guest for the informal meeting."
"Ha! Two headaches are bad enough—one more? From where!"
Yang wanted no more Middle East quagmire, no escalating matters.
But the aide's follow-up left him puzzled.
"Korea? South Korea? Why are those merchants sticking their noses in the Middle East?"
"Not an official diplomat. You met him once before—Ammunition Group's Chairman Han Seo-jun."
"Han Seo-jun? Why would that businessman...?"
"The internal checks delayed the report, but please review this first."
The aide handed over a USB from Ammunition Group.
Click—Yang scrolled the data screen. His expression morphed artistically.
From a rigidly composed still life to wild modern sculpture.
Silence fell, then Yang spoke.
"Damn it... set up the banquet hall immediately."
"Sir?"
His long-laid plans upended from the start, fury uncontainable.
"Clear the entire State Department hall that day! Are you dense?!"