Descent of the Demon Master-Chapter 1342. Establishing (2)

Back in South Korea...

Kim Myeong-Chan glanced at Yi Jong-Wuk. “So? How did they respond?”

Yi Jong-Wuk replied stiffly. “It sounded like they were willing to accept our proposal, sir. There weren’t any disagreements during our negotiation.”

“Is that right?”

Kim Myeong-Chan reached out toward a slightly crumpled packet of cigarettes on his desk. He took a cigarette out and mouthed it. His movements while lighting the cigarette seemed relaxed somehow.

“I’m relieved to hear that.”

“...”

After blowing out a large puff of smoke, Kim Myeong-Chan rested his head on the chair and stared at the ceiling of his office.

Yi Jong-Wuk lowered his head a little while mulling over this event.

The one who approved the Assembly’s demand on the spot was none other than Kim Myeong-Chan. Yi Jong-Wuk didn’t have the authority to make such decisions, after all. Then again, it wasn’t just him. Other department heads would never unilaterally make decisions of this magnitude.

Still, three hundred billion?

Considering the benefits the country stood to gain if this mission was successful, they shouldn’t have minded pumping over three trillion won into this project, never mind three hundred billion. Even so, Yi Jung-Wuk still felt deeply uncomfortable about giving away such a humongous sum of money.

He muttered quietly, “I know that this situation is critical, sir, but the amount still seems a bit too excessive...”

Kim Myeong-Chan shook his head. “It’s fine.”

“But...”

“Manager Yi.”

Kim Myeong-Chan dismissively waved his hand to indicate that there was nothing more to discuss regarding this matter.

“My apologies, sir.”

As Yi Jong-Wuk bowed his head, Kim Myeong-Chan lazily exhaled another cloud of cigarette smoke.

“No, don’t apologize. It seems I’m on edge. Forgive me. But it makes sense that I’m not in the best of moods right now.”

“I understand, sir.”

Yi Jong-Wuk wasn’t paying lip service here. He, too, could feel the stress sucking out all the lifeblood from him with every passing hour. Since he was this stressed, just how much worse would it be for the Prime Minister?

Watching Kim Myeong-Chan’s complexion getting worse every day made Yi Jong-Wuk worried about his boss getting hospitalized from overwork.

It wasn’t as if he didn’t sympathize with the Prime Minister, of course. East Asia would turn into Hell if this mission failed for some reason, after all!

Regardless of the threat, “assassination” would always be seen as an extreme solution to the problem. As such, the failure would lead to serious repercussions. If they hadn’t started this, then fine, there wouldn’t be anything to worry about. But they had started it, and now, the dread of the worst-possible blowback was theirs to deal with.

Considering all this, no wonder Kim Myeong-Chan was rapidly turning into a dried-out husk of his former self.

As the day of reckoning loomed closer and closer, it got harder and harder to relax, even for a minute.

“Look, Mister Yi.”

“Yes, sir?”

“Do you think we’re giving them too much money?”

“Logically speaking... Yes, I understand that this amount is reasonable. However, personally? Sir, this is tax money collected from our citizens’ blood and sweat, so...”

Kim Myeong-Chan reclined relaxedly. “Let’s make a few things crystal clear first.”

“Sir?”

“We’re not spending tax money here.”

“I don’t follow?”

Kim Myeong-Chan noticed Yi Jong-Wuk’s confusion and chuckled slightly. “Don’t underestimate the system governing South Korea’s government, Mister Yi. Whether it’s the President or the Prime Minister, do you think we have the authority to pilfer hundreds of billions from the annual budget without facing consequences?”

“...”

“It seems you still have not shed the remnant mindset from the military dictatorship days, Mister Yi. What you’re thinking of can only happen in dreams these days. Nowadays, you need the bean counters’ approval even if you want to buy a piece of gum.”

“Then, that money...?”

“Just know that it’s not coming from tax.”

Yi Jong-Wuk stopped asking there. He could already guess the answer, anyway.

Well, the Korean government isn’t the only one who will lose so much if Rhee Ki-Gwang seizes power up north, after all!

Indeed, the first group of people who’d suffer first from that eventuality should be corporations. Their stock prices would plummet to rock bottom when Rhee Ki-Gwang became the next leader through a coup d’état. Worse still, every international investor would withdraw their investment and flee the country.

Many corporations would gladly spend a few hundred billions to prevent such a catastrophe from becoming a reality.

“And secondly...” Kim Myeong-Chan muttered, his gaze locked on Yi Jong-Wuk suddenly getting colder. “Money is incredibly important.”

“Yes, that is so.”

“However, there are moments when money becomes completely useless bits of paper. Especially when you’re trying to run a government.”

Yi Jong-Wuk furrowed his brow after failing to understand what Kim Myeong-Chan was saying.

Useless? Money didn’t have any value? He couldn’t understand it.

“I’ll simplify my explanation as much as I can. South Korea faces an abundance of issues even as we speak. Some of them can be sorted out somehow by pouring an exorbitant amount of money into them. But that means money can’t solve some of the problems facing us. Problems, such as the friction between different counties. Or the generational gap. Or the North Korean situation. Things like those.”

Kim Myeong-Chan lazily puffed away at his cigarette. Watching his figure was enough for Yi Jong-Wuk to realize the heaviness of the pressure the Prime Minister was under.

“But now, we have an opportunity to solve one of such problems with money. That’s why I have no issue with dumping hundreds of billions, Mister Yi. What you need to understand is that... Money is only valuable when society is functioning as it should.”

Kim Myeong-Chan stubbed this cigarette out, then mouthed another one. But then, he took out a single banknote from his pocket and lit that up instead.

“Money will become as worthless as toilet paper in a destabilized society. Wouldn’t it be a jackpot if the problems could be sorted out with toilet paper?”

Kim Myeong-Chan lit up his cigarette with the burning banknote before tossing it into the ashtray, a wry smirk etched on his face.

Yi Jong-Wuk frowned slightly. “Honestly, I... still don’t understand, sir.”

Kim Myeong-Chan wasn’t surprised to hear that. Yi Jong-Wuk hadn’t reached a high-enough position to gain the necessary understanding yet, after all.

“But I get that you didn’t arrive at this decision lightly. And it’s my job to obey your orders,” said Yi Jong-Wuk.

“Fella, you’ve chosen the wrong bed to lie in,” said Kim Myeong-Chan, his smirk deepening. “A Prime Minister is nothing more than a meat shield, you see? A man like me might get dumped out at any given moment, after all. It might be a better idea for you to find a different big fish to throw your lot in before it’s too late.”

“But sir, it’s the same story everywhere, isn’t it?”

“Indeed. That’s right. Maybe that’s the dilemma all public officials of our era must live with.”

Kim Myeong-Chan grinned bitterly.

The change in administration meant the change in the head of the National Intelligence Service, as well. In that case, who could be trusted with on a long-term project?

After all, such projects required anywhere between several years to a decade-plus to complete. But the aforementioned change in the leadership would void all the time, manpower, and money invested into such projects in an instant. And everyone involved would lose their jobs.

Kim Myeong-Chan wasn’t trying to badmouth the concept of democracy, of course. However, there were times in this job that made him ponder if this system of democracy was actually a hindrance to ensuring the future prosperity of this country.

For instance, all the projects he had been overseeing would go down the toilet in the blink of an eye if the current administration lost the public’s favor. The approval rating falling off a cliff meant the Prime Minister would get replaced by someone else, after all.

Before that happened, though...

Before his insignificant political life was snubbed out, he must produce an outstanding result. Even if that meant he must risk everything.

Kim Myeong-Chan glanced at Yi Jong-Wuk. “So? What’s our situation, then?”

“We’ve already handed over all the information we’ve gathered, sir. What remains now is waiting for the result those people will bring us.”

“In other words, it’s out of our hands now?”

“Yes, sir. That’s the only way to describe it,” said Yi Jong-Wuk.

“Is that right..?”

Kim Myeong-Chan stubbed the ash on the ashtray. The sight of the ashes falling into the ashtray soiled by the burnt remnant of a banknote made him chuckle wryly for some reason.

That... looks like my current sorry state, doesn’t it?

All the passion he used to have when he first took office got immolated by the flames called reality. What remained in its place was pitch-black ash. The faintest of faint warmth still hiding within these cooled ashes was the last remaining motivation that kept him moving forward.

“Mister Yi. Find out where that leak is.”

Yi Jong-Wuk gravely nodded. “We’re already on it, sir.”

Without a doubt, the leak of information was a serious problem, but Kim Myeong-Chan didn’t want to criticize Yi Jong-Wuk or the NIS.

This was like a battle between a shield and a spear. A strong spear should be able to penetrate the shield. To stop that from happening, the logical thing to do was to strengthen the shield. As for what was required to strengthen it, well...

It’s money, isn’t it?

Although it was a little disheartening to reach this conclusion so soon after mouthing off about how useless money could get in certain situations, reality wasn’t so kind.

China and the United States of America spent an inconceivable amount of money to keep tabs on other countries. Maybe the amount the Chinese government had invested into monitoring South Korea was several times higher than the NIS’s annual budget.

When the situation was like that, criticizing his underlings and ordering them to stop every single enemy attack was... Well, it would be nothing more than a toothless moron throwing a tantrum. Kim Myeong-Chan should acknowledge what needed to be acknowledged and face the harsh reality for what it was.

“Mister... No, Manager Yi.”

Yi Jong-Wuk stood up straight. “Yes, sir?”

“I want you to assess the situation from the top again. Make sure we have made no other slip-ups. No matter what, we must succeed in this mission.”

“Understood, sir.”

“As for Plan B...”

Kim Myeong-Chan stopped talking there abruptly, his brows furrowing.

What he meant by Plan B, of course, was the back-up plan in case Kang Jin-Ho had failed in the mission.

“We... will not go ahead with it.”

Yi Jong-Wuk frowned deeply. “But, sir...?”

“It’s not going to work. No matter how much we dress it up, the risks are far too severe. That plan is no different from trying to start a war. Even if things don’t escalate that far, we’ll still be forced into giving up everything. Not just our honor, but pretexts, justifications, you name it... They’ll all be taken away from us.”

Yi Jong-Wuk sighed deeply. In his heart, he knew Kim Myeong-Chan was correct. But scrapping Plan B meant everything now rode on Kang Jin-Ho’s shoulders. Of course, that was the same as before, but now... He knew for certain that they were going all-in.

“Then what are your orders, sir?”

“Assess and reassess until the mission commences. I don’t care if other departments in NIS must drop what they were doing to focus on this mission. Get as many bodies on this. If you need funds, spend it. You can get permission later.”

Yi Jong-Wuk was handed an incredible authority here. Maybe too much for a measly manager of a single department in NIS.

“Prime Minister, sir. This is...”

“Bet your everything on this, Mister Yi. Because the only outcome of the mission’s failure will be you and I losing our jobs. Actually, that would be nice if that’s where things end for us.”

“Understood. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good. Now, can you leave me alone for a bit?”

Yi Jong-Wuk faltered and didn’t move from the spot.

Kim Myeong-Chan’s withdrawn eyes locked on the younger man. “Is there something else you’d like to get off your chest, Mister Yi?”

“...No, sir.”

“Then, you’re excused.”

“Understood. Well, then.”

Yi Jong-Wuk deeply bowed, then headed to the exit. Even as he walked away, however, he glanced at the Prime Minister one more time, his expression unreadable.

Now left alone in his impressive office, Kim Myeong-Chan wordlessly stared at the doorway before slowly looking up at his ceiling again.

Dammit!

All he wanted to do was be a moderately greedy politician who enriched himself to a moderate degree.

He much preferred to be remembered as a Prime Minister who had enjoyed smooth sailing in his job. But it seemed the heavens had other ideas.

A hero during turbulent times could easily become a capable leader and a politician during the era of peace. But the corrupt politician during peaceful eras would sometimes have no choice but to become his exact opposite when trouble came knocking on his doorstep.

Being greedy over power and wealth could only be done when there was power or wealth left to pilfer, after all!

If South Korea itself fell, everything Kim Myeong-Chan had built up over the years would become meaningless.

In the end, what separated a hero from a corrupt fool was this one simple factor: did that person use their superior intellect to line their pockets? Or did they sacrifice themselves for the sake of their nation?

Kim Myeong-Chan was standing at that crossroad right now.

“Three hundred billion, is it...?”

He smirked softly.

Sure, I’ll give it to you. I don’t mind at all.

“...As long as you can come and collect it, that is!”

Kim Myeong-Chan slowly pushed himself off the chair. His body felt as heavy as a soaked sponge, but it was still too early to kick back and relax. He had far too much work left, after all!

The first order of business would be to report this in.

Everything was unfolding as scheduled, but it was out of their hands now. All they could do now was pray that Kang Jin-Ho would do a good job. Kim Myeong-Chan couldn’t remember ever making such a hopelessly incompetent report like this before in his life.

Without a doubt, his “superior” would try to console Kim Myeong-Chan. But that would never soften the blow from the sense of powerlessness.

We need power.

A power that would ensure that South Korea remained firm even against the pressure from other powerful nations; a power that only existed in Korea that could stand up to the rest of the world...!

They needed the power that would remain unfazed even from all the threats coming from the enemies surrounding this country.

Cold light flickered sharply within Kim Myeong-Chan’s aging eyes just then.