Chapter 212
Chapter 212
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 212
Chapter Title: Jerusalem Plan (3)
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“Thank you! Thank you!”
The V-for-victory pose wasn’t reserved just for the president.
These weren’t people desperate to pry open their armpits or anything—they’d grab my hand and hoist it triumphantly skyward at every photo opportunity. Bin Salman Crown Prince, the Israeli envoy, Yang Wenli Secretary of State, even the Pope. Everyone.
“Peace forever! The peace railway starting here in Jerusalem will bring the three religions together hand in hand!”
The first to kick things off was the president himself.
He’d treated me like a sacred relic from the moment we stepped off the presidential plane, seating me right beside him, and it seemed he was determined to milk this event for all it was worth.
Not batting an eye at the flashing camera shutters, the president kept beaming with that radiant smile.
“And the ones laying the first tracks? None other than the ‘Korean’ Ammunition Group! South Korea, the land of peace, has done it again, folks!”
He put extra emphasis on the word “Korean.”
A closer look revealed that a good chunk of the reporters were from Korean media outlets. He was clearly going all-in to pull every last drop of hype.
The camera shutters rained down like that for a good while. But at that point, I still had no idea.
What it truly meant to receive the original baptism.
“Oh…! Guardian of our Catholicism, Saint Seo-jun Han, Chairman!”
When it came to baptism, the Pope was the ultimate authority.
It was fine when this holy grandpa suddenly approached me… but what was with that weird prefix tacked on upfront?
“Saint…? You mean like Saint Peter or Saint John? No, I’m a hardcore atheist—what the hell is this?”
“Hey now! Play along a bit. You know how to read the room—why fight it?”
The president poking my back with his finger from the side.
Looks like this sly fox had coordinated with Grandpa Pope in advance.
He half-shoved me toward the Pope and stepped back, just grinning ear to ear with satisfaction.
“Come here, my dear friend who follows Christ’s will.”
“Uh, Your Holiness? Mind explaining what’s going on first…?”
My wish for a proper explanation went unfulfilled.
No, he didn’t even give me a chance to wish for it—he started stuffing bread and wine straight into my mouth.
“Mmph, mmph…! What the—suddenly…?”
“The wine is the Lord’s blood, the bread His flesh. May you be blessed through this Eucharist!”
He’d shoved church ritual into some corner and whipped up an impromptu communion service.
Seeing the cardinal nodding approvingly from below the podium… it looked like the Vatican had already signed off on this.
Only after the holy water was smeared on my forehead—baptism I never asked for—did I finally break free from Grandpa Pope and approach the president.
“Cough, cough! What the hell was that?”
“What else? The old Pope got what he wanted, so he’s in high spirits.”
“Still, that was a bit much…”
“A bit much? Anyway, we’ve already sorted the Korea visit on top of it. No strings attached—he’ll come whenever we say.”
“Talks wrapped up that fast?”
“Planning a ten-day nationwide tour. All thanks to you.”
The Pope was slated to visit Korea around this time next year.
Having gotten everything he wanted, the president’s face was blooming with a full-on grin.
After a few more photos, he whispered to me, pointing to a quiet corner off in the distance.
“Ah, looks like someone else who owes you big time is here.”
Clack, clack. Footsteps approached the podium slowly.
An East Asian face, but with a mindset more mainstream American white guy than anyone: Yang Wenli, Secretary of State.
“Seeing you again, I can’t tell if Chairman Seo-jun Han is just catching a few birds with one stone or what.”
Slithering up like a snake, he threw an arm around my shoulder in a flash.
Flashing a bright smile for the reporters, he murmured just loud enough for me to hear—secrets that weren’t really secrets.
“Lobbying’s legal in America, you know. This [Peace Track] thing? We’ll push it hard, so don’t forget the California gubernatorial race next year.”
Yang Wenli, openly angling for support.
Yeah, in a way… this might actually be for the best.
When someone’s greed is out in the open and their calculations are crystal clear, at least they’re clean in a deal.
“I know you’re not one to settle for just governor.”
“Hm?”
“Senate Majority Leader, Vice President… and then President. We’ll stick together until the day you become America’s first East Asian president.”
“Ha! My eyes didn’t deceive me.”
Pleased with my response, he gripped my hand tight.
After the handshake and a quick hug, he leaned in closer, tossing out what sounded like a dinner invite.
“Steak from now on—at banquets together. You’re worth stepping out of the Oval Office desk for.”
Then, with his other hand, he grabbed the Pope’s.
He needed that two-shot with the Pope to lock in the Catholic Hispanic vote in California.
“Today, we’ve ascended the mountain of Jehovah. Please, Your Holiness, offer a blessing from this holy place!”
“Oh! May revival come to Christians worldwide, and to American Catholics led by our Secretary Yang Wenli!”
The not-quite-revival-meeting revival went on like that for a few minutes.
Just as the feast of holy words started feeling a tad dull, Yang Wenli sidled up to me.
“Oh, right. The Nobel Peace Prize—I recommended you. Don’t forget.”
“No wonder it suddenly gained steam. That was your doing, Secretary?”
“That’s the world for you. Death merchants winning Peace Prizes and all.”
“…Who knows. I’ll let it play out.”
I’d gotten word from the Nobel Committee that I was a Peace Prize nominee, but I hadn’t expected this guy to submit the letter.
Adding that it was a surprise gift he’d put real thought into, Yang Wenli pointed off somewhere.
“Peace Prize? Think about it at next year’s ceremony. For now… looks like some folks over there are dying to see Chairman Seo-jun Han.”
Two people waiting desperately for me.
Originally sworn enemies, and still not exactly fond of each other… but now in the same boat: Bin Salman Crown Prince and the Israeli envoy.
“Go on. After all, you’re the one who made these enemies fall in love.”
* * * *
-Click! Click! Click!
Three V’s lined up in a row.
Squeezed between these two guys who were way bigger than me, I felt like a lowercase y.
Thankfully, the Great Armpit Championship didn’t drag on. Bin Salman grabbed the mic first.
“The wise counsel of Seo-jun Han, benefactor of Islam, has brought us all together here!”
A heavy opener right out the gate.
Luckily, the Israeli envoy’s speech that followed wasn’t so embarrassingly over-the-top that I couldn’t show my face.
“With this! The people of Israel take their historic first step toward permanent security!”
When I came to, I was decked out head to toe in Catholic, Islamic, and Jewish symbols jingling everywhere.
Exhausted, I slipped behind the podium to catch my breath in a chair when Bin Salman approached, offering a water bottle.
“Why not ditch running Ammunition Group and become my advisor instead?”
“…I got that pitch about thirty times from the Korean president on the flight here.”
“Well, I know it’s a no-go. Plus, Ammunition Group’s taking the lead on the whole [Peace Track] build anyway.”
This [Peace Track] railway—from Jerusalem in Israel, through Saudi Arabia’s capital, out to the Gulf.
Naturally, Ammunition Group was tapped to oversee it from start to finish. Oil money for the win!
“And looks like business with those Jews too.”
The Israeli envoy, striding up before I knew it.
He plopped a traditional Jewish kippah on my head with a grin.
“I’m already wearing an Islamic turban scarf tradition thing…?”
“You’ve got Catholic rosary beads too—what’s the issue? And what you’re really after isn’t this, right?”
The Israeli envoy handed me something in his dry tone.
The very thing that had started all this—and brought me to Jerusalem as the endpoint.
“[Motors Eyes]. Acquisition approval.”
“…That was fast. Way faster than I thought.”
“No point dragging it out. Israel’s security is locked in after today.”
[Motors Eyes].
The world’s top autonomous driving software developer.
With this… I’d collected another puzzle piece of future tech. Hard-won, but worth it.
“Alright! All six distinguished guests, please gather together!”
The event protocol chief’s voice from the podium—they wanted a group photo.
The five others lined up beside me in short order.
Korean president, U.S. Secretary Yang Wenli, Israeli envoy, Saudi Crown Prince Bin Salman, and the Pope. All of them.
“Man… that’s a lineup of heads of state and top power players. Chairman Han Seo-jun’s the real deal.”
“Yeah, that guy normal? He’s got his name on every big script, direction, and plan that matters.”
Amid the murmuring reporters, one snippet of Korean hit my ear directly.
Honestly… at this point, I didn’t even worry about my public image anymore.
Letting the familiar-sounding praise flow in one ear and out the other, I smiled at the camera lens straight ahead.
“Alright, say cheese! One, two, three!”
Click! The flash popped bright, capturing the historic moment in one photo.
Clutching that Polaroid, I skipped the follow-up reception and headed straight back to my hotel room, collapsing onto the bed.
“Whew, I’m beat. This was next-level. Huh?”
I’d turned in early from sheer exhaustion, but apparently rest and I just weren’t meant to be.
As if waiting, my cell phone rang right away. On that square screen, the caller ID showed… those three oh-so-familiar letters.
“Kim Won-cheol… Uncle?”