The Anointed Ones (8)
“Until we arrived here, we still harbored doubts and fears. But—”
“But?”
“When you provided us with lodging, we were shocked to see a clock on the wall. Koreans never tell us the time. You didn’t forbid our prayers, you overlooked our use of blankets as prayer rugs, and you even allowed us the freedom to wash our hands and feet as needed. Since you didn’t cover the windows, we could gauge the direction of Mecca from the sun’s path.”
All those generous clues I’d given the Uighurs.
“Those caring for us assured us that all our food was halal. And as time passed, conditions improved even more. On the Prophet Issa’s holiday, a large ship arrived with fresh supplies, and each of us got our own room... Clean water, warm beds. And the lavish feasts you so generously provided. We’d never known such peace even back home.”
Maryam let out a deep, trembling sigh.
“That’s why my siblings are gripped by greater fear than ever. What if this isn’t salvation? What if this happiness vanishes like a demon’s trick, and endless torment returns... My siblings, haunted by nightmares daily, ask me several times a day. Is the benefactor truly the savior sent by Allah? Have we finally found a refuge? I had to see you to answer them. To explain our situation, seek permission, and coordinate in advance.”
“I understand your position, but I’m a man who doesn’t believe in God.”
“Truth be told, neither do I.”
“...?”
“More precisely, I no longer believe He is benevolent. I can’t anymore. Allah isn’t the merciful one described in the Quran. The world we’ve endured proves it.”
“Unexpected. I heard you prayed diligently.”
“It’s the weight of the lies I’ve told my siblings... God loves you, God hasn’t abandoned you, God will send a savior, my words will come true, and so on.”
“Is that all?”
“...Yes. I’m truly an apostate, and my prayers reach no one.”
“Have you confessed this inner truth to anyone besides me?”
“Never. Not to a soul.”
Then Alim Shahidi had spilled the truth like catching a frog while chasing a cow. Despite the cabin’s warmth, Maryam, confessing her apostasy, shivered as if in a cold wind. Her voice quivered on the verge of breaking.
“In short, you want me to play the false prophet.”
“What if it’s false? If the Almighty isn’t good, wouldn’t a false prophet defying His will be the greater good?”
Such bold logic amid her tension. No ordinary woman. Amused for once, I chuckled briefly and countered.
“How do you know what kind of man I really am to say that?”
“I don’t know you, but one thing’s certain. The grace you’ve shown is the greatest kindness we’ve known in this world. Without it, we wouldn’t be alive now... That’s enough for me.”
“Doesn’t seem quite enough.”
“It is. Whatever path you lead us down, it can’t be worse than what we’ve endured. If it doesn’t improve, we’ll simply leave this cruel world. My siblings and I have nothing left to lose.”
“No matter the path, it won’t worsen... Since it’s come up, where do you think I’ll use you and your siblings now that I’ve taken you in?”
“I don’t know, but you do. In a world created by an evil Almighty, pure kindness doesn’t exist. So there must be good reason you’re sheltering and protecting us.”
“What if I’m just keeping you to sell somewhere else?”
Though unspoken, it was her lingering worry. Maryam paled but swallowed once and denied it.
“That doesn’t fit... We’re enjoying too much luxury now. It’d be odd to waste money on people you’d sell off soon.”
Sharp judgment.
“Please don’t test me. Relying on your generosity, I dare propose a deal. We offer everything—ourselves—for just one refuge.”
“If I accept, you become a scholar of the umma following me?”
“...Yes. It’ll mean more lies to my siblings who rely on me. Benevolent lies needed to survive this fearsome world.”
“As your superior, I might order dangerous, filthy tasks. Maybe even kill or die on command.”
“We’d still live anew until death. As I said, we’ve nothing left to lose. No home to return to. Refuse, and their spirits break forever. So please...”
I pondered. Setting aside distaste for the method, it profited me alone. Strictly, it wasn’t a full contract like with my other subordinates—willingly pledging life for life—but since I’d saved them, it didn’t fundamentally violate my recruitment principles.
“Suyeon, what do you think?”
Suyeon answered my Korean question calmly.
“I’ll follow your judgment, sir.”
A needless question. Who was it that once suggested creating debts of life for needed talent?
I’m slated to play the Second Coming of Christ against my fate.
Islam has Judgment Day and the Messiah too. At the world’s end, Prophet Mahdi returns first, then Prophet Issa (Jesus) rises from death to aid him against falsehoods and evil. At war’s end, they defeat Al-Masih ad-Dajjal (false messiah) to build God’s kingdom—the prophecy in Hadith, sacred after Quran.
Thus, Mahdi resembles Christianity’s Second Coming. Just as pastors claim to be the Returning Christ, Islamic leaders claim to be Mahdi. Even in America, a Turkish self-proclaimed Mahdi faced trial for years on fraud and rape charges, like a cult leader.
I ended my endless hesitation. Survival is absolute; business needs flexibility. If accepting, do it thoroughly. Give the hijabless unbeliever one last chance to reconsider.
“Prepare the helicopter.”
“Yes.”
With Gao Xusen seizing full municipal security control came perks like helicopter freedom. I couldn’t fully evade dense air surveillance, but I could render it meaningless. Gao Xusen might note my flights, but not their purpose.
He won’t dare ask outright.
That would be unparalleled stupidity. “I’ve been monitoring you—what’s your destination?” Hardly.
The communist noble wasn’t that dumb. At most, he’d send someone to check takeoff and landing sites.
Maryam grew anxious at the unknown-language exchange. I beckoned her.
“Rise. We’re going somewhere together.”
“Where...?”
“You’ll see when we get there.”
On Becklux’s top deck, the helicopter was prepped. The unveiled woman flinched at the rotor wind and roar. I guided her half-frozen form to a seat, buckled her in, and fitted the headset.
“First time in a straight-riser, I assume.”
Xinjiang Uighur Autonomous Region is among China’s poorest inland areas. No chance she’d flown like this. Maryam replied, slightly pale.
“Yes... Until recently, I’d never even seen a ship, let alone ridden one.”
“Don’t fear. It’s just fast transport.”
Passengers: me, Maryam, two armed guards. Suyeon wasn’t among them—as de facto second-in-command, she’d hold the fort in my absence. She silently saw me off, clutching her whipping hem.
I signaled the cockpit.
“Take off.”
“Where to?”
“Circle Haizhu District airspace first, low and slow.”
“Roger.”
My subordinate pulled the stick; the near-critical rotors defied gravity in seconds. A short scream echoed on comms—Maryam’s, eyes squeezed shut, gripping the seat.
“Open your eyes, Maryam.”
“...”
“Open them and look out the window.”
Maryam cracked her eyes, slowly turning to the nightscape. Soon, fear faded. She saw black smoke rising across the city.
“What’s that...? What’s happening here?”
“Not just this city. All China faces turmoil. No time since World War II has the Korean diaspora’s fate hung so precarious.”
From Karamay camps to Hulong Bang sites. Some to Maizuchi’s membership harem. The Uighurs I saved had never truly seen China’s reality. Even after, they’d been near-confined aboard.
Maryam stammered.
“You mean the Koreans are precarious... China might collapse?”
“Not immediately, but possible. Even if not, major setbacks loom. With luck, your people could seize freedom and independence.”
“No way—”
“Only with great fortune. Xinjiang independence doesn’t guarantee a Uighur state. You know better than I how fiercely and viciously the Koreans there band together.”
“Yes...”
Xinjiang hosts the mighty Xinjiang Production and Construction Corps (XPCC)—14 divisions, 185 independent regiments, up to three million troops. Also a corporate empire with 11 listed firms and countless farms. A modernized tuntian soldier system.
With provincial-level status, they’re Xinjiang’s true rulers—capable of holding power even if the central government falls. They lead ethnic erasure policies.
Uighurs aren’t even the majority—colonization left Koreans at half, Uighurs near half. How could Uighurs oust rulers gripping surveillance, economy, military? Best case: bloody struggle for a corner of autonomy.
“Guess why I’m showing this? To awaken another possibility?”
“...Yes.”
“You can make a new proposal.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know how deep and desperate your siblings’ faith runs. Judging if they can bear truth and reality’s weight—and what’s best for them—falls to you, who’s kept them alive. I need only your loyalty, whatever happens.”
I could bend their hearts soon without fanaticism—better for organizational health. But despair kills, and faith borders madness. If Maryam’s “siblings” were that broken, use them as-is.
“Need more time? I’m not one with much, but I’ll wait days if needed.”
I wasn’t granting favors. I was fortifying future loyalty.