#22. Torch of Anti-Communism (8)
Among the theories that explain human social decision-making processes, there's one called the Garbage Can Model. It describes how, in a state of chaos lacking rational review and verification, countless opinions ebb and flow, clashing repeatedly until a decisive moment arrives when the proposed alternatives finally converge on a compromise—thus producing a decision.
In my view, Korean politics after the Armed Infiltrator Vlog scandal had devolved into exactly that kind of garbage can. Politicians firing off policies in all directions and hurling blame at one another eventually began sketching the outline of a rough compromise about a fortnight later.
This was thanks to one shared sentiment among them all: a sense of crisis. If they kept squandering time like this, the nation's fortunes would tilt disastrously—not just that, but their own personal safety might be jeopardized.
Of course, this crisis wasn't something that bloomed organically; it was largely injected from the outside. Primarily through scoldings from voters and the media.
In the end, the government and ruling party abandoned their existing policy trajectory. They scrapped the plan to absorb high-risk hunters as military manpower reserves—in other words, expanding forced labor. At least on paper.
"Our government will swiftly develop detailed implementation plans based on the 'High-Risk Hunting Equipment Ownership and Operation Permit Grading System' alongside the 'Public Commission Points System.'"
"These new systems have been designed to maximize respect for the freedoms and rights of civilian hunters engaged in high-risk hunting and other fields requiring special abilities."
"The core of the 'High-Risk Hunting Equipment Ownership and Operation Permit Grading System' is to classify various weapons—including firearms—and other socially sensitive equipment by grade, allowing only hunters who have contributed to public safety and benefit to access higher-grade gear."
"Next, the 'Public Commission Points System' is a mechanism to systematically evaluate how much special certified ability users—our hunters—have contributed to the public good. Hunters will receive quarterly evaluations by fulfilling commissions from the government and local authorities, and based on those results, they can obtain permits to operate higher-grade weapons and equipment."
"Additionally, cumulative public points will be incorporated into the promotion criteria for national certified ability qualifications, along with commission history. In other words, hunters who don't perform public commissions won't be able to advance to knight, master craftsman, or technical expert ranks, no matter how long or distinguished their high-risk hunting careers."
"While not yet finalized, we're also discussing assigning grades to specific hunting zones and targets to differentiate access rights by points."
"To prevent indiscriminate issuance of firearm ownership permits, public commission rewards in points will have quarterly caps set by each local authority. Moreover, to ensure equitable survival rights between rural areas and the capital region, local governments with lower economic power and higher environmental risks will receive more available points—we promise this."
"Furthermore, the special certified ability craftsman exams and high-risk hunting craftsman exams, which became uncertain due to recent turmoil, will be held as soon as possible."
"All hunters who captured southern infiltrators and contributed tangibly to the public good will be awarded the Order of National Merit, and they'll receive substantial bonus points in special certified ability and high-risk hunting exams, equipment operation grade evaluations, and public project contract selections."
"Finally, I'd like to take this opportunity to offer my apologies."
"Amid global chaos from anomalies inexplicable by existing science, as civilian hardships mount daily, our government has faltered in confusion, failing to find the right path forward."
"As the one responsible for state affairs, I sincerely apologize to all citizens who felt anxiety over this political disarray."
"Though we face immense difficulties, I believe—and our government believes—that there is no crisis we cannot overcome by uniting our strength. When all in this nation set aside political differences and ideologies to become one, the crisis we face will open a window of opportunity."
"Everyone, let's overcome this together."
"That concludes my remarks."
Hearing the announcement, I finally thought, Okay, now we're getting somewhere with actual policy. The intent to exploit Awakened ability users for free or cheap labor remained unchanged, but it was undeniably more refined in many ways.
In a country where firearm possession is basically illegal by default, this was a way to emulate the American militia model while minimizing social unrest and maximizing public benefit. Hunters venturing into high-risk hunts would desperately chase equipment operation permits. As competition intensified, you'd even see some willing to handle minor commissions for free just to rack up points.
In essence, the government had created a second form of payment to substitute for their budget shortfalls. How much this would resolve the brain drain of human resources remained to be seen.
From my perspective, the benefits far outweighed the costs. Soon, good days would come. Days when I could openly roll out the Public Security Joint Mobile Strike Team in front of headquarters without worrying about law enforcement scrutiny.
The potential headache, Governor Kang Jungseong, had handed me an even bigger distraction, leaving him no bandwidth for meddling busybody antics. His method? Gambling.
Dealing cards to someone with the Golden Age's Eye was less reliable than swimming with your hands tied. Back in the organization's early days, my personal shoe-leather gambling had even been a key funding source.
But a gambler's reputation could threaten my life if taken too seriously—especially in a world where people might interpret rumors of a "psychic-vision gambler" in very literal, unconventional ways.
Once the organization stabilized, at VIP clubs directly managed by headquarters, I'd played the role of the consistent mark, losing just enough each time.
I'd lose money, but use the tables to buy what cash alone couldn't: development rights unobtainable legally, purchases of unencumbered public land without sale plans, advance policy intel. Gambling venues became stages for acquiring the unbuyable with money.
With prime access, ironclad security, and transparent operations, these VIP clubs drew politicians, journalists, local bigwigs, and chaebol scions alike.
When I showed up incognito and played recklessly, the overconfident members—buoyed by their track records—burst into hearty laughs. Governor Kang Jungseong, my mark, was naturally among them.
"Hahaha... You sure about this, President Hong? I've never seen you win a big-stakes game."
Kang, who started off all smug, turned ashen after half a day of relentless losses, down 4.1 billion won.
"Today's my lucky day, it seems."
I deadpanned coolly, and Kang fell back on the corrupt politician's natural reflex.
"Hold on, hold on... President Hong. You really planning to take it all?"
"Ah, of course we'd appraise the land."
"No, I mean—argh, do you have to take it in cash? Like always, let me sell you some public land, issue a building permit, slot a friend into a spot... You know, options."
When his assets took a hit, he'd just plug the gap with taxpayer money and abuse of power. That's why this guy could gamble without bankruptcy fears. It was the root of his confidence to double down after losses.
I feigned reluctance repeatedly, then tossed him a lifeline just before his biometrics screamed defeat and rage.
"If you insist, what choice do I have? For old times' sake... I've long wanted a country club near Geomdan Mountain. Could you help secure permits for enough land to fit a 36-hole plus extras? Help with the site acquisition, and it'd be even better."
A 36-hole country club near Seoul—anonymous memberships alone would fetch billions per slot. Elite courses cut at 18 holes, so this was double the size of a top-tier one. In an era of widening safety gaps between capital and provinces, such development rights were gold.
Kang looked pained.
"Uh, well, 36 holes is awfully big, isn't it? And 'plus alpha'?"
"If you secure the permits, I'll not only return today's losses but add an equal bonus on top. Clean, laundered funds. And once the CC's built, I'll send you a membership."
"...I'll do what I can."
"Don't keep me waiting too long. I've got business plans too."
"I'll try."
The politician, stumbling over words before succumbing to temptation, was now too busy coordinating with contacts to spare attention elsewhere. If this panned out, it'd cover next year's election funds—with surplus. Shadow money included, naturally.
Hope this works out.
Our tourism development subsidiaries were struggling lately with rising maintenance costs from environmental threats hitting their scenic, remote sites. Offshore casinos for foreigners had also seen drops as vague sea fears spread, per reports. Gamblers' addictions kept the decline modest, but with all affiliates hurting at once, group metrics were tanking.
Sure, surface woes didn't threaten keeping them afloat—I could always siphon from HQ or others. But prolonged infusions risked third-party suspicion: "How's that company staying afloat?"
Even slim odds like that should converge to zero ideally. Given their roles in smuggling, laundering, fake IDs, asset masking, and control chains, full shutdowns weren't even on the table.
A capital-region mega golf course was the perfect way to rationalize low-margin rural sites.
A membership-based 36-hole CC in the metro area? Annual sales over 20 billion easy.
Operating margins might hit single digits, but high volume hid the trees in the forest. Golf's outlook stayed bright too. Enhanced strength and senses didn't guarantee flight in every sport. Awakened often struggled with fine power control from overstrength.
In short, tweak the rules a bit, and golf was one of the few sports where normals and Awakened could still compete fairly. Thus, demanding the golf course from the governor wasn't my whim—it was part of the mid-to-long-term disguised operations normalization plan from internal strategy sessions.