Dragon and Tiger Clash (5)
Hushan Liang spent the entire day observing the exam, had dinner at the testing ground, and only then returned home. I instructed him to place the Norwegian drone in Mi-ju's hands. They should discuss among themselves to decide the order, then get her approval before coming to collect it. It was part of the process to repeatedly reinforce Mi-ju's authority as my local proxy.
'This should be enough for him to know how to conduct himself from now on.'
The three deputy directors weren't in a rush for achievements anyway. With their promotions already confirmed, bringing in new merits now would likely just go to waste. I'd already pushed them quite a bit up to this point. The right time to rack up accomplishments would be after their promotions, once they'd settled into their new departments. It would help them solidify control over their subordinates, too.
At sunset, in the car heading to the Becklux, I said to Kyung-tae,
"About lunch earlier."
"Yeah?"
"You didn't touch a drop of booze."
"Ugh…."
Kyung-tae scratched the back of his head with an embarrassed look.
"You noticed that?"
"It stood out."
In the three days since the puppeteer's death, we'd been on high alert for any possible traceback. We couldn't miss even the slightest sign. The all-clear had come just this morning. We'd stay vigilant, but no need to maintain full combat readiness. With Britain teaming up with America for a nerve war against China across the South China Sea and Taiwan Strait, they had limits in investigating the puppeteer's cause of death. And the longer the investigation dragged, the more the scene would degrade. The awakened trees that survived the shockwave's storm would extend roots or wield magic to devour human remains.
Rest is essential for people. A drink or two is tolerated even for officers and soldiers on the front lines. Those small deviations and relaxations often yield better results than constant tension. Pull a human mind too taut, and it snaps.
So Kyung-tae's sobriety stood out, especially since the guy had been a heavyweight drinker even before awakening. Getting sluggish off a couple shots of distilled liquor? I'd seen him down three bottles of baijiu and still shatter his pistol record at 15 yards during an organization event. Perfect scores and a faster time to boot.
An awkward silence filled the car.
"I get how you feel, but if you keep this up every time, you won't last."
Breaking the quiet, my words made Kyung-tae's face flush deeper with shame.
"Every time…?"
"Yeah, every time."
What was eating at him was probably the night he beat the puppeteer to death. Even though it was on my orders, he had to evac from the sinking ship first, and I went alone for the kill at the end. His shame was understandable. But what could we do? My strongest card was myself. Even if the organization's security detail resembled Alexander the Great's Companion cavalry in role, the fundamental gap in ability meant these situations would repeat. I'd summed it up in that one word: every time.
Kyung-tae sighed with a hollow smile.
"Making you worry about even this… I got nothing to say, hyungnim."
"Don't sweat it."
"It was the first time something like that happened since I started serving at your side."
"You did your best with what you had in that situation. Isn't that enough?"
Saying that, I couldn't help thinking how ridiculous it was.
'Feels like I'm comforting a dejected hunting dog.'
It happened sometimes. Talented people with no immunity to failure. Kyung-tae felt bad for troubling me over this, but from a management standpoint, if the cost of promoting young geniuses was just this minor hassle, it was a bargain. What I really wanted to avoid wasn't the bother of talent management—it was having no talent to manage.
Kyung-tae scratched his head vigorously again and smacked his lips.
"Next time, I'll do better and be more help, hyungnim."
"That's all I ask."
The car, flaunting Public Security plates, took the fastest route with other drivers yielding voluntarily, arriving at the dock in 15 minutes.
The Becklux, moored at the pier, was still under repairs. The charter owner had been shocked to learn late about the Italian passenger ship's combat involvement and damage, but with the rising Guangzhou Public Security Bureau backing us, they didn't dare complain. Pissing off a hotshot communist noble meant no compensation—and maybe losing the ship outright. Gao Xusen had even floated the idea. But I had no interest in petty gains that'd indebt a business partner.
Fix it properly and return it—or
'Buy it outright.'
Once I'd rolled with a mobile base, it exceeded expectations. For legit high-threat hunting and hazard exploration worldwide, something like the Becklux would be invaluable. Two-thirds of the planet lacked stable power, let alone mass clean water. And hygiene? Pests and local diseases could tank morale and combat effectiveness. Bedbugs alone—common in many spots—are hell only survivors know. Back when I had to foot every deal personally before the organization solidified, they drove me nuts.
So to prevent non-combat losses from food, drink, and sleep, a sanitized mobile base was key. With small cruises and RO-PAX ships perfect for conversion still dirt cheap, offer a bit over market, and owners would line up. Buy 'em, dry-dock for refit—worth considering.
Boarding the Becklux, I headed straight to the conference room. The cramped space, now even tighter, sported an upgraded secure video system. Every component met or exceeded U.S. TEMPEST anti-eavesdropping specs—top-tier. Pointless with China departure days away? Nah, it doubled as an ops test.
'Kinda tight….'
Each HQ gear shipment boosted mobile productivity, but elbowing Soo-yeon? The rest of the secretaries were sardined worse. Felt like cramming into Russian mil-gear that prioritized crew convenience for the dogs. Next base: something bigger than Becklux.
Execs for today's meeting, notified of my ETA, were logged in and waiting.
"Everyone eaten?"
Affirmatives came back. Half called me hyungnim, half Chairman.
I scanned the faces, then turned to Soo-yeon last.
"You, Soo-yeon?"
"Yes."
"Good. Let's start."
First report: asset manager Yeouido Kim, real name Kim Jae-hwan. Grim-faced, he opened with a deep sigh.
"Now for the interim report on Q4 food investments…."
The gist: unexpected accidents and diplomatic variables tanked returns below expectations.
"China's unilaterally choking food exports to Korea, freezing our funds there. If it were official, we'd have legal recourse—but nope. Sneaky as hell. Endless export delays, random hygiene nitpicks halting deals indefinitely, then 'fire damaged goods, can't inspect'—bull. Even guanxi appeals get 'top-level decision, hands tied'…."
Was this a report or a rant? Enough to grasp anyway—I'd tracked it via prior briefs.
'Officially weaponizing food to choke Korea, but really just short on chow themselves.'
Last summer's once-in-a-millennium floods had slashed China's harvest, sparking a food crisis. Feeding disaster victims outnumbering Korea's population? National security meltdown. Awakened beasts ravaging fields and silos, plus other bio-hazards, worsened it. Snatching foreign capital and contracted goods was convenient. Dictatorship twists legal processes for wins. Diplomatic fallout? What relations left to sour? First World already sanctioning hard. U.S. leads food weaponization. Target weak links like Korea—can't fully side with America economically, plus PARTO membership has 'em tiptoeing China. If the victim government stays mum, others hesitate. China's easy pick: Korea.
Tap, tap, tap.
As Kim Jae-hwan rambled, drawing eye-rolls of 'here he goes,' Soo-yeon got my silent nod and rapped the mic for attention.
"Director Kim."
"Huh?"
"Keep reports concise and clear. Respect the Chairman's time."
"R-right… got it, Director Kang."
Her flat delivery hit him like a death threat. After ~10 minutes, I tilted my head.
"Didn't I tell you to hold off on Africa?"
"Y-yeah… Political instability obvious, so guideline was pull farms/food from portfolio where possible."
"Yet you bought plenty of farmland. Why?"
"Global trend, figured safe. Many vested states—major upheaval needed to lose out. No backward African shithole bucks great powers without trying. Worst case, lean on Korean gov diplomacy…."
"So my advice seemed overly cautious?"
"…Sorry, Chairman."
"No reprimand. Returns speak."
Despite the gloom, his ag investment quarterly yield: 17.23%. Solid, trailing top funds little, thanks to soaring global commodity prices.