Chapter 28: That Time I Moved into the Presidential Palace in South America

TL: Skye

On the north side of Libertad, there was a small hill.

It wasn't particularly high, but it wasn't low either, offering a panoramic view of the entire Libertad skyline. Behind it ran a small stream, making it the perfect spot for a café. And there, on that very spot, stood a grand structure of white and blue.

That structure was none other than the San Marcos Presidential Palace. The palace, which had been completely obliterated in a bomb attack, had been rebuilt after roughly nine months of construction.

And today was the day of the completion ceremony for the new Presidential Palace, with hundreds of government officials beginning to arrive.

The first thing they saw was a massive, imposing wall standing four meters high, encircling the grounds like a fortress.

Painted in spotless pure white, it could have been mistaken at first glance for the exterior wall of an art museum, but its overwhelming height and the sharp iron spikes mounted along the top spoke volumes about this being a space of power that no one could trespass lightly.

Past the enormous iron gates and inside the grounds, an expansive lawn stretched out like an emerald carpet, breathtaking enough to draw gasps of admiration.

At the far edge of that green sea, where neatly trimmed ornamental trees stood in rows like honor guards, the Presidential Palace rose in magnificent splendor, so blindingly white it stung the eyes.

Marble pillars gleaming like jewels under the scorching South American sun, a stately domed roof, and the flag of San Marcos fluttering at its peak. It was a sight majestic and beautiful enough that anyone would recognize it as the heart of a nation, yet in stark contrast to that exterior, the equipment and people inside were anything but gentle.

On the rooftop, three 20mm Vulcan cannons had their barrels aimed at the sky. In one corner, a military helicopter loaded with missiles displayed its presence, and over in another corner, an armored vehicle kept watch over the front gate.

Yu-jin had opposed it, but Isabella had pushed the security system through to the very end, making the Presidential Palace look as though it were on a wartime footing.

"......"

Cold sweat trickled down the backs of the attendees. It felt as if someone were making a deliberate show of exactly where power resided.

That was when it happened.

Thud, thud, thud.

The heavy front doors swung open, and the sound of military boots striking the floor echoed through the hall.

Hundreds of eyes snapped toward the entrance in unison. The first to emerge were men in black sunglasses and matching black suits.

The bodyguards of the newly established Presidential Palace Security Service scanned the attendees with emotionless eyes and lined up on either side.

The openly displayed submachine guns sent a chill running through the crowd.

Shortly after, the real power players of San Marcos walked out.

Commander Pedro, who held military authority in one hand; Lucio, who had recently been promoted to Director of the SIA in recognition of his contributions during the civil war; and Isabella, the Chief of Staff who had seized control of all personnel appointments in the executive branch.

From behind those three, standing at the pinnacle of military, intelligence, and administrative power, the true ruler of San Marcos revealed himself.

Yu-jin Choi. The iron-fisted dictator who, on the very day martial law was declared, had personally snapped the neck of his most formidable rival, Major General Thiago, and seized the throne.

Since he had taken power, San Marcos had been spinning at a furious pace.

He declared a war on crime, rounded up every last gang member, and shipped them off to a modern-day Gulag called the Tortilla Farm.

Then he sent corrupt bureaucrats to sit right next to those gang members, citing incompetence as the reason.

And that wasn't all. Just when things seemed to be stabilizing, he launched a civil war against the regional warlords and emerged victorious.

Having completely consolidated control over San Marcos, his next move was to regulate food prices.

He imported massive quantities of grain from the United States and released them onto the market at half the going rate. He even distributed them entirely free of charge to the most impoverished households.

The grain importers and wholesale and retail businesses were utterly devastated as a result, but not a single one of them dared to utter a word of protest.

On the contrary, he gained overwhelming support from the people.

So when the man who had secured both power and the hearts of the people made his entrance, everyone swallowed hard.

"Attention!"

"Salute to His Excellency!"

Snap!

Hundreds of attendees... no, officials raised their hands in salute in perfect unison.

Yu-jin furrowed his brow.

Had someone's salute been crooked?

As everyone stood drenched in cold sweat, he stepped up to the microphone.

"I know you're all busy, so thank you for coming today."

His voice was quiet but carried authority.

"Over the past few months, our San Marcos has weathered a massive wave of hardship."

Yu-jin gripped the podium and continued.

"Terrorism paralyzed the government, and greedy men tried to tear this nation apart."

He paused for a moment and surveyed the crowd. Everywhere his gaze fell, people flinched and lowered their heads.

"But we did not crumble. We emerged stronger. We cut away the rotten flesh and allowed new growth to take its place."

Only then did the audience grasp the true intent of the speech.

He was issuing a warning. That anyone who challenged him in the future would be dragged off to the Gulag.

"This building is the proof. The weak San Marcos of the past is dead. We have been reborn as a nation of steel, unshaken by any outside force."

A nation of steel. That was as good as a declaration that Yu-jin's iron-fisted rule would last forever.

"All the conditions are now in place. All that remains is to work for the people. Forget the old ways of doing things. The laziness of taking a week to approve a single document. The recklessness of spending the national budget like it was free money. All of that was buried in this very ground along with the explosion."

"I will not promise you a comfortable life. Instead, I promise rewards equal to the sweat you shed. But mark my words. There are no free rides in this country. There is no place anywhere in San Marcos for the incompetent, the lazy, or the corrupt."

When the speech ended, the plaza was engulfed in a silence so complete that not even a breath could be heard.

Yu-jin finished his speech with a satisfied smile.

"Now, let us begin. Together, let us write a new chapter in San Marcos' history."

The moment the speech ended.

Clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap.

Thunderous applause erupted.

Pedro nodded in satisfaction, Isabella clapped with tears of emotion in her eyes, and Lucio watched with hawk-like vigilance to make sure no one had failed to applaud.

Standing on the platform and waving, Yu-jin looked like a king who had once commanded the medieval age.

'Nice to see everyone so full of enthusiasm.'

Yu-jin stepped down from the platform with a sense of pride.

***

The moment they moved out of the Ministry of Defense and into the Presidential Palace, Isabella launched a full-scale organizational restructuring.

The first thing she did was expand the secretariat, which had been operating with only a skeleton crew. She recruited capable civil servants and assigned two staff members under each Senior Secretary.

According to her, the workload had been far too excessive all this time.

'Well, the Senior Secretaries had been handling the ministers' responsibilities on top of their own, after all.'

And this was no exaggeration. The woman I had thought was made of iron resigned from her position as SIA Director and handed it off to Lucio, and her complexion changed dramatically.

If before she had given off the vibe of a career woman dripping with a fatigue-laden decadence, now she was more of an ice-cold career woman.

Well... she was beautiful either way.

The second change was the establishment of the security service. She selected one hundred soldiers from the Special Operations Battalion who had distinguished themselves during the civil war and founded the PSS. She issued submachine guns as personal firearms, then deployed anti-aircraft guns, attack helicopters, and armored vehicles, turning the Presidential Palace into an impregnable fortress.

To be honest, what I had envisioned was something like the open, approachable image of the American White House, not some terrifying fortress that looked like a frontline guard post on steroids. But Isabella had stayed up through the night preparing all of this, so I couldn't very well tell her I didn't like it to her face.

"What do you think, Your Excellency? Can you feel the spirit of San Marcos?"

"...I suppose so."

I had no choice but to simply accept it.

The last area she restructured was, on a personal level, the one I was most pleased with...

"Your Excellency, dinner is ready."

Believe it or not, the Presidential Palace now had its own dedicated kitchen and chef.

And not just any kitchen.

"What's on the menu today?"

"Spicy stir-fried pork."

They could make Korean food.

A Korean chef, you ask?

No. It was the same chef who had run the kitchen during President Juan's era.

Here's how that came about: Paulo, the chef I had personally rescued on the day of the bombing, had sent me a letter of gratitude asking how he could ever repay the debt.

So I replied casually, without thinking much of it, asking him to cook me a Korean meal someday if the chance came up...

Paulo had been studying Korean recipes ever since, and now, having returned as the Presidential Palace chef, he was preparing three Korean meals a day.

"Your Excellency, I adjusted the ratio of chili flakes to chili paste to two-to-one. I also mixed in a bit of peperoncino to achieve that authentic Korean spiciness."

Paulo asked with eyes full of anticipation.

I took a bite, and the spicy yet slightly sweet flavor was better than most casual Korean restaurants back home.

"Mmm...! Perfect, Paulo. You're cooking as well as a Korean kitchen auntie now." [TL: "Kitchen auntie" (주방 이모님) refers to the middle-aged women who commonly work as cooks in Korean restaurants and cafeterias, known for their hearty, home-style cooking.]

"Thank you! Next time, I'll try my hand at fermented skate soup, which I hear Koreans love."

"Let's maybe hold off on that one..."

In any case, Paulo's Korean cooking was the real deal.

I mean, a South American man making braised short ribs and beef radish soup?

At this rate, give him a little more time and he'd be fermenting his own kimchi.

With the Presidential Palace restructuring complete,

a hearty meal in my stomach,

it was time to get to work.

"Your Excellency, the Korean business delegation has arrived."

"Let's head over right away."

The doors of the newly built grand conference room swung open, and the Korean business delegation came into view.

Three middle-aged men had come along with CEO Moon.

"Thank you for making the long journey. I'm Yu-jin Choi, Acting President of San Marcos."

"Thank you for the invitation, Your Excellency."

CEO Moon rose from his seat and introduced the group.

"This is Choi Ilju, CEO of Taeyang Apparel, which supplies shoes and clothing to Laiki and Radidas."

"Thank you for having me. I'm Choi Ilju."

CEO Choi bowed at a full ninety degrees. I shook his hand briefly and moved on to the next person.

"This is Park Chanjun, CEO of Korea Zinc, the nation's top and globally renowned non-ferrous metals company."

"I'm Park Chanjun."

"A pleasure."

The issue was the last person...

"I believe you'll recognize this gentleman. He's been in the media quite a bit."

Someone I had never expected showed up.

"I'm Jeong Suman of Hyunhwa."

It was none other than Min-sik's great-uncle, the chairman of Hyunhwa Co., one of Korea's premier conglomerates.

*****

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