Chapter 61: That Time I Went from South America to Korea.

TL: Skye

Preparations for the visit to Korea moved faster than expected.

Senior Secretary for Foreign Affairs Sophia coordinated with the Korean government and laid out the agenda for advance negotiations, while Isabella made meticulous preparations, including setting up an emergency contact network so nothing would fall through the cracks in her absence.

Ten days later, Isabella and I boarded a chartered jet leased from Koriana Airlines and headed for Korea.

WHOOOOSH!

"Your Excellency, are you all right? Your face has flushed."

"Ah, it's nothing. The thought of going home after so long has me a little... excited."

"How many years has it been?"

"Twelve years now, give or take."

After college I'd crossed over to the States, racking up two years in an MBA program, five at Silicon Valley Bank, three as a minister in San Marcos, and a solid two more as Acting President.

"Time really flies."

"Returning home as a head of state in your own right, the homecoming must feel altogether different."

"It's good to be going back, yes."

"Was there a particular reason you stayed away for so long?"

"Hard to say. Maybe because my parents had passed, the urge to go back just never came."

"The reason to return was gone, then."

"Hmm, you're right. I suppose that's it."

"Perhaps Your Excellency was destined from the very beginning to become the sky over San Marcos."

"...Wait, how on earth do you draw that conclusion from this conversation?"

Between chatting with Isabella, getting through the in-flight meal, and grabbing a nap, before I knew it a city was coming into view beneath the puffy clouds.

'Korea, at last.'

For some reason, my heart was pounding.

Not because I was glad to be back, but because I knew exactly how much was riding on what came next.

'The purpose of this trip is crystal clear.'

On paper, it was about strengthening bilateral ties and economic cooperation between the two countries, but my real objective lay elsewhere.

Pulling in more investment from the Korean government and Korean companies.

A healthy amount was already flowing in, but only more would push San Marcos's development into high gear.

And, equally important, another agenda item.

'First order of business: demolish a bowl of sundae-gukbap.'

That is: eat as much Korean food, of as many kinds, as humanly possible.

However many Korean products got imported, packaged stuff just couldn't beat what came out of an actual restaurant kitchen.

Yangnyeom chicken, yachae gopchang, sundae-gukbap, somori suyuk, samgyeopsal: there was a whole world of food to plow through during this visit.

While I was straightening up, fortified by this momentous resolution, Isabella spoke up.

"Would you like to go over the talking points one more time?"

"Isabella."

"Yes, Your Excellency."

"There's no need to be so tense."

"I worry that any misstep on my part could diminish Your Excellency's standing. And Korea is an economic powerhouse. For San Marcos, this is an enormous opportunity."

"Things are already going well as it is. Results would be welcome, but even without them, I'll have San Marcos on its feet within ten years. You have my word."

"......"

That was the only way I got to retire and put my feet up.

In any case, looking somewhat relieved, Isabella nodded with a faint flush in her cheeks.

"Yes...!"

After more than ten hours in the air, the plane finally rolled to a stop on the runway.

Following the flight attendant's cue, I straightened my tie and rose from my seat.

"Shall we?"

Moments later, the cabin door opened and the airstairs were rolled into place.

The instant I stepped out, taking in that familiar, exhaust-tinged Korean air after so long...

"?!"

...the sight in front of me stopped me in my tracks.

FLASH! FLASH!

Hundreds of camera flashes detonated in unison, washing my field of vision white.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The salute cannons fired, and trumpets rang out in chorus right after.

A red carpet rolled out from the foot of the airstairs and ran on as far as the eye could see, flanked on both sides by an honor guard in full dress uniform.

'Hold on... they're rolling out the red carpet like this?'

Slightly dazed by a reception fit for a visiting U.S. President, I made my way down the steps, where the Korean Prime Minister came forward to greet me.

"We sincerely welcome your visit to Korea."

"Thank you for the warm reception, Mr. Prime Minister."

"The President himself is waiting on tenterhooks. We'll take you straight to the Blue House."

"Please, lead the way."

Isabella and I followed the Prime Minister's lead and climbed into the prepared motorcade vehicle.

The moment we settled into the back seat, Isabella, sitting beside me, leaned in and whispered, her face flushed.

"They seem genuinely thrilled to have you here, Your Excellency."

"I know. Even I'm surprised. I didn't expect it to be quite this much..."

Honestly, however much we'd developed, San Marcos's economic clout was still about half the size of Myanmar's.

And with a population only a fifth that size, our value as a market wasn't exactly enormous either.

"It seems Your Excellency's reputation has reached even the far edge of Asia."

"......"

Soon after, the limousine, flanked by a police escort, was tearing across the Incheon Bridge.

Isabella couldn't close her mouth at the Korean scenery passing by outside the window.

"An entire forest of buildings that tall... is that Seoul?"

"That's a place called Songdo, in Incheon. They built it by filling in the sea."

"You're telling me they reclaimed that much land from the ocean?"

"The airport we landed at was built the same way."

"Good heavens...!"

When we passed through Incheon and merged onto Seoul's Gangbyeonbuk-ro Expressway, Isabella's eyes went wide as saucers.

"It's truly beautiful. To build a city this developed while still preserving nature..."

"It wasn't always like this. They poured an enormous amount of money in to make it this way."

"Someday I want Libertad to look like this too."

"It'll happen sooner than you think."

The car eventually exited the expressway, passed Gwanghwamun, and turned in through the main gates of the Blue House.

Pulling up in front of the blue-tiled main building, I found the Korean President himself standing out front, waiting.

"Welcome home to Korea."

"Thank you for the invitation, Mr. President."

We shook hands in front of a barrage of cameras.

Then we moved inside, where, on the surface at least, the atmosphere of the summit that followed was warm and convivial.

"Please, have a seat. The tea will get cold."

"Thank you."

After an exchange of pleasantries dripping with diplomatic flourish, we got down to business.

"News from San Marcos has been reaching even the Blue House lately. The Miracle of the Caribbean, they're calling it. The products from Tortilla Bank in particular, the one you recently established, have become tremendously popular here in Korea."

"We've been fortunate."

"Heh, fortune nothing. Dangling 8% interest and hoovering up foreign currency the way you have, that's no ordinary feat. Frankly, my Finance Minister isn't sleeping these days. With the exchange rate already through the roof, billions of dollars getting sucked across the Pacific has him in a real state."

He delivered the barbed remark with velvet smoothness. A wily old fox who'd survived Yeouido politics, through and through. [TL: Yeouido is the district housing the National Assembly; shorthand for Korean politics.]

Unfazed, I took a sip of tea and lobbed it back.

"I'd say it's less an outflow than an investment. That money will come back to Korea once it's grown, after all."

"Heh, that's a fair point as well."

The President set his teacup down and leaned forward.

"The truth is, our companies are very interested in San Marcos. But as you know, jobs are a finite resource."

He affected a troubled expression.

"From the government's standpoint, frankly, we have real reservations about our companies investing in San Marcos. If factories start picking up and relocating en masse, there won't be any jobs left at home, will there?"

"The reason companies are interested in San Marcos is our flexible labor market and low wages. Korea, unfortunately, can't offer either."

"......"

"Furthermore, in the case of the nickel mine and the refinery, San Marcos covered half the project costs ourselves."

"You're not, by any chance, eyeing management control?"

"We're not China."

I parried with an answer packed with implication, and the President gave a small nod.

'A real old fox, this one. Fine, I'll dance to his tune.'

I put on a regretful expression.

"I understand perfectly why you have these concerns. As President, you can't help but worry about people's livelihoods."

"......"

"Which is why, in conjunction with this visit, I've prepared a gift that benefits us both."

Right on cue, Isabella produced a document, and I slid it across the table.

"We will develop an industrial complex of three million pyeong near the port, exclusively for Korean firms. The land would be leased free of charge for fifty years, and the corporate tax rate cut by half for ten." [TL: 1 pyeong ≈ 3.3 m²; the complex would span roughly 10 km².]

"...That's a fine policy."

A flat expression. I drove the wedge home.

"And we will be placing an order for nuclear power plants."

"N... nuclear plants, you say?"

The President's eyes nearly bulged out of his head.

And no wonder. Korean nuclear plant exports were only just beginning to take off.

So if San Marcos placed an order for one?

Better yet.

"I'm told if you're going to commission nuclear plants, building two at once is by far the most economical."

What if it was a double order?

'That'd put wings on it.'

And this wasn't a deal favorable only to Korea.

Chronic power shortages were one of San Marcos's long-standing afflictions.

Sure, we could fire generators with crude pumped from our own oil fields, but...

'Long-term, dollar for dollar, nuclear wins, no contest.'

Looking ahead, nuclear wasn't a choice; it was a necessity.

"...Are you serious?"

The President asked, making no effort to hide his surprise.

"Yes. We've already finalized the site selection on the southern coast. And along with the plant order, I intend to bundle in the construction of an ultra-high-voltage transmission grid to deliver the power nationwide."

"Nuclear plants don't come cheap."

He was right. The reason developing countries that wanted nuclear plants couldn't have them came down to one thing: money.

Even Korea, world-famous for offering the best value on nuclear builds anywhere on the planet, ran close to ten billion dollars in construction costs alone for two reactors at once.

Throw in the transmission grid, and over the long haul, the figure climbed to fifteen billion.

Now that we were an oil-producing country, San Marcos could absolutely cover that kind of bill.

'But a penny saved and all that.'

Isabella and I had come prepared with the most favorable terms possible.

"The truth is, I made a few calls before flying out. France's Areva was extremely keen."

"France, you say?"

"They offered to build it on their dime, no upfront burden on us, and take the operating revenue for thirty years in exchange. The Japanese went ahead and offered to lend us the construction costs outright at a low rate."

A nuclear plant order from San Marcos, with me, a Korean, sitting as its president, and it gets snatched away by another country? And of all places, by Japan?

That would be a misstep the press would chew up and spit out until there was nothing left but pulp.

"But I've decided to go with Korea. You boast the best value in the world, after all."

"......"

The President, who had fallen silent for a moment, gave a small laugh and shook his head.

"I never imagined for a moment you'd come armed with something like this. It seems I've lost today."

"Win or lose, what does that have to do with diplomacy? We just find a way to make it work for both sides. Win-win."

"Very well. Tell me what you want. The Blue House will do everything in its power to help."

"Thank you."

And so I walked into a summit I'd already won before it began.

*****

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