God of Blackfield

As Kang Chan smirked, Raphael walked in with their steaks. Lanok’s gaze on Kang Chan didn’t budge at all while Raphael set down the plates.

“Mr. Ambassador,” Kang Chan began.

As if sensing something was up, Raphael hurried up.

“Do you remember when I asked you to let me go to Mongolia?” Kang Chan asked.

“Of course,” Lanok replied.

“Since then, you’ve helped me protect those important to me and shaped me into the person I am today. I don’t know how much energy this Blackhead contains or how much it’s worth, but…”

While Lanok briefly nodded, Raphael quickly exited the room.

“... the moment I got my hands on it, I immediately thought of you. I don’t know anything about its worth, but it doesn’t really matter. It’s my gift to you. I hope you can take it as a token of my gratitude for all you’ve taught me.”

Lanok’s lips curved into a smile.

“You have a way of making people feel touched sometimes, Mr. Kang Chan,” he said.

“I do?” Kang Chan questioned.

The mask was completely off of Lanok’s face now.

“To properly utilize the Blackhead as an energy source, I would need the red wavelengths that you give off along with denadite and cetinium,” Lanok stated.

Lanok picked up the wine glass in front of him.

“You’ve given me a great gift. It’s only proper that I return the favor, yes?”

Kang Chan also raised his glass. It wasn’t polite to refuse a toast from the host.

“I’m going to build a power plant in South Korea to generate electricity from Blackheads. Naturally, it requires your active cooperation and a supply of denadite and cetinium.”

“Once this plan succeeds, South Korea will become an undisputed superpower in the world.”

Lanok took a sip of his wine.

“I didn’t know you could be surprised, too, Mr. Kang Chan.”

“Mr. Ambassador. Your plan would require concentrating France’s technology and intelligence in South Korea. Is that even possible?” Kang Chan asked in disbelief.

Lanok burst into laughter. Soon after, he replied, “France, Russia, and my other friends’ countries would prepare the facilities. If this pushes through, I would like to ask for your cooperation.”

“Of course, Mr. Ambassador.”

“One more thing. Please look after the future of France.”

“I’ve already promised you that,” Kang Chan said, reassuring him.

Lanok set his glass down. The steak was growing cold, having failed to stimulate their appetites.

“The Eurasian Rail will only truly be a success once we’re free from the oil of the Arabs. After all, new logistics centers can only be made once we’ve rid ourselves of their influence. That’s precisely why Vasili agreed to this plan.”

Matters like this were still too complicated for Kang Chan. He wished they could have some coffee instead of steak right now.

“An infinite supply of electrical energy will change the engines of locomotives and other vehicles. The future is going to be the age of electric engines, and South Korea will be at the center of it all.”

Lanok couldn’t just be making things up, but Kang Chan thought his explanation seemed too good to be true.

“There will be a revolution, just like when humans invented the oil engine. A huge battle will ensue to prevent this from happening and to take over Korea’s vested interests.”

So this was why the UIS was throwing a fuss.

Kang Chan finally felt like he understood a bit of what was going on.

“I recommend immediately starting an energy project that would connect France and Russia to South Korea. The denadite and cetinium being supplied from Mongolia and the Blackhead in my safe… I can’t wait to see you use those materials to open the doors to a new world,” Lanok said, his expression tinged with a hint of regret.

“It seems we’ve passed the timing for a meal. Why don’t we enjoy some tea and cigars instead?” Lanok suggested.

Kang Chan brightly agreed. “Let’s do that.”

Lanok smiled at him as he pressed the intercom button. A moment later, Raphael cleared away the food and set down hot tea, cigars, and cigarettes on the table.

“Raphael, could I have some coffee instead?” Kang Chan asked.

“Of course, Monsieur Kang,” Raphael replied.

After taking the plates away, he brought a small porcelain teapot and cups. He then poured Kang Chan a cup of coffee.

“You have no idea how much I’ve been looking forward to this day,” Lanok said, seemingly reminiscing, as he exhaled the smoke from his cigar. “I’ve always wanted to defeat the power of the Arab oil and Jewish money—to create a new order through the Eurasian Rail.”

Kang Chan wordlessly sipped his coffee, staring at Lanok.

“It is my greatest fortune to have met you, Mr. Kang Chan.”

“On another note, Mr. Ambassador, I would like to strengthen the security of the embassy,” Kang Chan said.

“Vasili called you, hasn’t he?” Lanok mused.

“Yes.”

Kang Chan had forgotten that he was dealing with a bunch of sly snakes here.

“I see. Our security will follow your instructions, then,” Lanok stated.

“Instructions? I just want to be of help.”

“There will be a lot to do. You’ll have to negotiate with the Korean government about what you just discussed with me, and then there’s the arrangement between France, Russia, and Korea. It would be difficult to deal with the resistance from the Arabs and the Jews while doing all of that.”

“Can’t I avoid all of that in exchange for giving you the Blackhead?” Kang Chan joked.

The two spent about two hours talking about different topics, including what happened in Africa, what Kang Chan was thinking about, and what they had to do moving forward.

Kang Chan found it nice to be able to catch up with Lanok after such a long time. Heedless of the time passing, the clock soon went past nine o’clock.

“It’s getting late,” Lanok said as if breaking a magical spell. The mask returned to his face.

“We can’t finish this overnight, but I’d still like to ask you a favor now. Use the Blackheads’ energy properly, and no matter what obstacles lie ahead, make sure the Eurasian Rail gets connected.”

Kang Chan could see in Lanok’s expression that something was troubling him—something he couldn’t talk about. However, Lanok wouldn’t reveal what it was even if he were to ask now that the mask was back on.

“I’ll come back soon to finish the steak I didn’t get to eat today,” Kang Chan said with a grin.

“Perhaps Vasili will join us next time,” Lanok replied.

After exchanging a French greeting, Kang Chan left the office. Now that he thought about it, Raphael, who was waiting outside, and the French agents standing in the middle and at the end of the hallway had tension in their eyes. Was this simply because of the threat from the UIS?

Stepping into the embassy’s parking lot, the darkness and cold rushed at him.

“Raphael,” Kang Chan said.

“Yes, Monsieur Kang?”

The streetlight illuminated Raphael’s nose swiftly turning red.

“Is the ambassador under some threat that I am not aware of?” Kang Chan asked.

“I am not aware of any such thing.”

Raphael sounded as if he had memorized that answer.

“You got my number, right?”

“I do.”

“Let me just say one thing. The ambassador is like a teacher to me. If anyone, for any reason, threatens him, I want to be the first to know.”

Raphael’s eyes glistened as he looked at Kang Chan. Perhaps it was the Frenchman’s weakness for the cold, or maybe he was moved by his words. Maybe it was both.

“Merci beaucoup, Monsieur Kang,” Raphael said.

Kang Chan climbed into the car surrounded by agents.

On his way back to the hospital, bright lights that he didn’t see yesterday caught his attention. He was doing something that the people laughing and chatting behind those glass windows had no idea about.

Just a few days ago, soldiers were killed in Africa, and Park Chul-Su and other members of his team stood right in front of death’s door.

Five hundred years of electricity from the energy of the Blackhead? A huge economic impact from the Eurasian Rail?

Would that mean anything to their fallen brothers?

Should they simply accept their death because, as special forces soldiers, they were supposed to put their lives on the line for their country in the first place? What about the families they left behind, then?

Shouldn’t the families of those killed in Africa not be thrown into a challenging environment like Lee Yoo-Seul? Shouldn’t the value of the Blackhead, which was paid for through the soldiers’ blood and flesh, be returned in part to the families?

Kang Chan looked out the window. Thought after thought crossed his mind. He even wondered if what he was about to do would inadvertently fill the stomachs of bastards like Yang Jin-Woo.

He mindlessly turned his head, finding the agent in the passenger seat busily bobbing his head up and down.

What was the best course of action he could take right now?

He was still lost in thought when the car arrived at the hospital.

He was hungry.

Kang Chan entered the building with a crowd of agents around him. As he got on the elevator, he turned to an agent.

“What are you having for dinner?” Kang Chan asked.

“There are packed meals upstairs,” the agent replied.

“Got any extra?”

“We do, sir. Did you not have dinner?”

“No,” Kang Chan replied.

Two agents quickly exchanged glances.

“If you need something, we can quickly prepare it for you,” one of the agents said.

“No need. Let’s just eat together,” Kang Chan insisted.

“Where are the packed meals?” Kang Chan asked.

“We’ll bring one to you, sir,” an agent replied.

“There’s no fun in eating by myself. Where are they?”

The agent pointed to the room at the end of the hallway.

“Let’s go.”

Kang Chan walked down the hallway. On the way there, he opened the door of the room that Seok Kang-Ho was in.

Seok Kang-Ho turned from the TV and got up. “Hey, you’re back!”

“I haven’t eaten yet, so I’m going to grab some food with the agents,” Kang Chan informed him.

“He did. We just didn’t get the time to eat. Have you eaten?”

“I’ll come with you anyway. You mentioning food got me feeling hungry again.”

When Kang Chan turned around, the agent told him they had enough for Seok Kang-Ho as well.

Dressed in shabby patient clothes and dragging an IV behind him, Seok Kang-Ho followed Kang Chan and the agents who went to the embassy with him into the room at the far end of the hall.

The agents resting inside jumped up and greeted Kang Chan.

“Where’s the food?” Seok Kang-Ho immediately asked.

The room seemed to have been repurposed, considering it had a table large enough to be used in a cafeteria.

The agents quickly put meals, soup, and water on the table.

“Come, take a seat,” Kang Chan said, a pack in front of him. The agents all sat down.

The atmosphere filled up with nervousness. No one dared pick up their spoons first.

“You’re not going to pray, are you?” Kang Chan joked.

“What are you talking about? Hey! Let’s eat already!” Seok Kang-Ho grumbled.

Everyone finally opened their packs, revealing white rice with separately packed side dishes. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t great either.

Kang Chan felt a bit sad. It was rice, side dishes, and soup. However, unless it was an urgent situation such as war, the food felt insignificant to feel the pride of risking one’s life.

“About my visit to the embassy…” Kang Chan began as he scooped up some rice with wooden chopsticks and popped it into his mouth.

Everyone's eyes immediately darted to him. He could even feel the gazes of the agents sitting near the table.

“I was told we have a chance to make South Korea the strongest country in the world.”

The statement probably sounded random and ridiculous. He could see the confusion in the agents’ faces.

“Just like how some of our men sacrificed themselves in Mongolia and Africa, trying to claim that chance will likely require the NIS agents to lay down their lives.”The most update n0vels are published on NoᴠᴇFɪre.nᴇt

A few of the agents stopped eating.

“I debated about this on my trip back from the embassy. It’s funny, but seeing this meal box helped me decide. I want to take this opportunity to turn our country into the strongest in the world and allow the future generation of agents to work for an intelligence bureau that can rival even the intelligence bureaus of France, the United States, and Russia.”

The agent sitting across from him gulped.

“I’ve got just one question…” Kang Chan trailed off, looking at the agents. “Considering the severity of the situation, even I can’t say how many agents will have to be sacrificed in the future. Are you sure you won’t regret becoming just another nameless star on the NIS wall?”

Kang Chan made eye contact with the agent who had been in the passenger seat during his trip to the embassy. He saw the same determination that he had seen in the eyes of the soldier who died with a broken finger, Yoon Sang-Ki, who held on despite being shot in the stomach, and Cha Dong-Gyun, who would much rather let go than let his brothers-in-arms die.

The room had become so quiet that Kang Chan could even hear something being dragged outside rather clearly. Everyone seemed to be holding their breaths.

“You’re not sure?” Kang Chan asked.

“We…”

The answer came from his left.

“Every day, we go out there with only one mission in mind—to serve our country. If our sacrifice would allow South Korea to shine, everyone here would gladly become a star.”

Kang Chan grinned.

He pushed his half-eaten meal to the middle of the table. They all stood up at the same time. Unfortunately, there wasn’t any big bowl they could use.

“Look in the bathroom! There should be a large basin in there,” Seok Kang-Ho said.

An agent went inside and brought out a plastic basin.

In the end, they mixed all their food in the basin.

Men were strange. The awkward atmosphere they had while eating clean lunch boxes disappeared as soon as they mixed all their food in the basin.

“This is what we’re made for,” Seok Kang-Ho uttered, his mouth filled to the brim with rice. He dunked his spoon back into the basin.

Combining all their meals resulted in an enormous amount of food. Although the agents had put a good portion into their containers, there was still more than half left.

Kang Chan ate a spoonful.

The doors opened, and Hwang Ki-Hyun and Kim Hyung-Jung walked inside, instantly dampening the atmosphere. The agents greeted them, then anxiously looked at each other.

Much to their surprise, Hwang Ki-Hyung approached the table with a nonchalant expression.

“Got any extra spoons?” he asked.

“Here, sir,” an agent said, quickly ripping off the plastic wrap of a disposable spoon.

“Can I also have some?” Kim Hyung-Jung asked with a smile, walking over.

When one of the agents tried to scoop a portion into a meal pack container, Hwang Ki-Hyun shook his head. “Stop that! Bibimbap doesn’t taste good when you put it in a separate container,”

He then dug his spoon into the basin.

This old, refined gentleman filled his mouth with rice. Right after, he reached for the basin with the spoon again.

“Who mixed it?” he asked.

“I did, sir,” an agent quickly responded.

“Manager Kim, why don’t we assign him to the kitchen?” Hwang Ki-Hyun joked.

“We should definitely consider it,” Kim Hyung-Jung joked back as he ate a spoonful of rice, his left hand right below the spoon to catch any food that might fall.

The awkwardness was short-lived.

The spoons clattered back and forth until the basin was finally empty. After a moment, they each took a paper cup of instant coffee.

Hwang Ki-Hyun sat down at the table and glanced at the agents sitting across from him and standing around him.

“That was a good meal.”

The scene looked more like a company executive comfortably gathering his employees rather than the director of the National Intelligence addressing his field agents.

“I cannot risk my life in the field like all of you do, but…”

Hwang Ki-Hyun sharply gazed at the men.

“I love and I am proud of South Korea just as much as all you do. I will do my best to make sure all of your hard work and suffering will not be in vain.”

Kang Chan grinned, impressed by Hwang Ki-Hyun’s speech.

“Let’s have a toast! Bottoms up!” Seok Kang-Ho shouted as he raised his cup high.