Chapter 142

<Between Delusion and Concept (3)>

Moon Seok-il quickly changed his expression and shook his head.

He had been overly pleased by the news that the person who had led the young men of South Korea through hardship had died. Of course, to an outsider, it might have just looked like a slight smirk.

“You can cut off limbs, but not the neck.”

Moon Seok-il used the term “onggi” to describe Pyongyang’s security.

It meant that eliminating someone surrounded by such tight and rigorous security was impossible.

“Maybe if we sent in a hundred fully armed SSS agents with bombs, it could work.”

Regardless of success, it was a display of immense confidence.

To predict success with just 100 people—Moon Seok-il’s pride and belief in the SSS was absolute. They were agents like no other in the world.

‘Money really is something. To have people so skilled that even Uncle Moon Skill praises them.’

Jin-hyeok nodded.

If they were that agile, it might be possible if they pushed hard in a short period without expecting survival. Even before launching a high-altitude assault, a quarter of the team would likely be sacrificed to anti-aircraft fire, and half of the remaining half would perish during the descent. Of course, this was all hypothetical.

“Who knows? Maybe Kim Il-sung grabbed the back of his neck in frustration after that rocket launch from Saein the other day.”

Moon Seok-il, uncharacteristically, spoke at length and added a joke.

Jin-hyeok, caught off guard, unconsciously bared his teeth.

So, did he die a few days earlier? Jin-hyeok nodded.

It seemed like he had died during the World Cup before, but this felt a bit early.

The topic ended there.

Both Jin-hyeok, who knew the situation, and Moon Seok-il didn’t react sensitively. Nothing earth-shattering would happen because of it.

“Please submit the report on the new building construction.”

“Sure.”

Even though he had already reported to the vice chairman without being asked, it was better to follow the proper procedure. Moon Seok-il didn’t add anything more.

It didn’t matter if Moon Seok-il didn’t report properly. It could be handled through Min Yong-rak, but since it involved SSS and Sakdo, Moon Seok-il needed to be aware.

Jin-hyeok liked Sakdo.

It was the perfect place for secret operations. A quiet island amidst the bustling fishing boats and coast guard patrols. It was an open secret what kind of facility it had been in the past, and knowing it still operated under government tacit approval, the coast guard didn’t pay much attention.

“Is the rocket launch site close by?”

“About 20 minutes by boat. Southwest.”

Moon Seok-il pointed somewhere, but all that was visible was sea fog.

Still, that direction was likely accurate. He didn’t need a compass.

A few days ago, a satellite launch vehicle had successfully blasted off into the atmosphere from that direction. It was a vehicle capable of placing a 1-ton practical satellite into low Earth orbit, a project led not by the government but by the private sector.

3 trillion won had been invested, with over 400 small and medium-sized enterprises, including Saein Aerospace, participating. It was a masterpiece by Hong Ki-jun, who had absorbed Russian technology. What he had given to Russia remained unknown, but Hong Ki-jun wasn’t the type to make a losing deal.

‘How much time did he save?’

It was reasonable to assume he had secured the necessary personnel in advance for today. Such high-level talent doesn’t just sprout overnight. Even Jin-hyeok couldn’t help but marvel at Hong Ki-jun’s preparedness. He had been fervently scouting engineers, both domestic and foreign.

With that level of preparation, realizing Jin-hyeok’s vision might not be a pipe dream.

“What are you building the research institute for?”

“Not to make anything immediately. We just need a place for research.”

“Still, I’m curious.”

It was Moon Seok-il’s pure curiosity.

He had heard that mobile phones were already developed and in testing, and that radio-controlled drones were waiting for government approval. They could be equipped with cameras or bombs, and could deliver supplies to places inaccessible by car. With such dazzling progress, what more could they develop?

“It might sound like nonsense. Future technology is like that.”

“That’s true.”

“First, we need to launch a lot of satellites.”

It’s still just a test launch.

To fully operationalize the project, they needed two more test launches to ensure reliability.

“Something like autonomous cars?”

Moon Seok-il recalled a technology he had once heard about from Hong Ki-jun. Something about satellite communication sending and receiving signals, and cars driving themselves.

But Jin-hyeok smiled and shook his head.

“That’s something anyone can think of. Unmanned fighters, autonomous navigation systems, things like that.”

Jin-hyeok paused for a moment.

There was nothing he couldn’t tell Moon Seok-il. He just needed a moment to organize his thoughts.

“Robots.”

When Jin-hyeok finally spoke, Moon Seok-il let out a silent sigh.

Big build, strong strength, but still a kid. Robots? Like Taekwon V or Mazinger Z? An image of a fist launching like a rocket and returning flashed in Moon Seok-il’s mind. That’s not science fiction, that’s delusion. Even with a chaebol backer, this seemed too far-fetched.

“They’ll be deployed in dangerous places instead of people. Machines can be fixed if they break, but people can’t. We’ll use satellites and mobile communication base stations to minimize positioning errors, and people will control the robots from safe locations.”

Jin-hyeok explained simply, with a pleased expression. It was the look of someone seeing their dream future unfold before their eyes.

Moon Seok-il, who had only partially understood, blinked.

“You’ll need good control skills.”

“Not really. You just need to use your body well. Sensors on joints and muscles will make the robot mimic your movements. They’ll be connected in real-time via remote communication. What do you think?”

Jin-hyeok’s eyes sparkled like a child sharing a fantasy, but Moon Seok-il awkwardly scratched his cheek.

He understood the words, but was it really feasible technology? In a world where people cheer for the convenience of automatic cars.

Moon Seok-il was a born fighter. He sought to improve his strength out of a competitive spirit, but his lack of intellectual curiosity limited his ability to engage in deep conversations with Jin-hyeok.

“It’ll take a long time. A long time…”

As if reading Moon Seok-il’s mind, Jin-hyeok muttered like an old man.

Whether it was the heat or his frustration, a sigh mixed with lingering thoughts escaped.

“But if we prepare early, maybe we can speed it up…”

His tone didn’t sound entirely confident.

Jin-hyeok’s eyes were filled with the sea fog. The future was like that fog—unless you pushed through, you couldn’t see what lay beyond the sea.

It was technology that hadn’t been realized even in his lifetime.

Superficially, the reasons were endless. There was a lack of active participation from big capital, and even with money, the government couldn’t easily lead such a project. Technology had to come first, and it was natural. It was also calculated that death benefits for soldiers and firefighters who lost their lives in the line of duty were cheaper than replacing them with machines.

‘Where is a life not precious? What is more precious than life?’

Heroes are glorified only in the moment, but the families left behind must bury the person who will never return in their hearts forever. Moreover, they must worry about their livelihood after losing the breadwinner.

The sorrow of those left behind cannot be imagined without experiencing it. Even in the past, Jin-hyeok didn’t collapse or curse the world as if he were the sole protagonist of tragedy. As an adult, he didn’t show it, but he was someone who empathized and felt sorrow for others’ pain. Perhaps that was more of an innate trait inherited from his parents than something acquired.

‘Whether it takes 20 years or 30 years.’

Developing robots to replace humans in dangerous situations was one of the things he absolutely wanted to achieve.

It wasn’t out of some grand intention to value others’ lives. It was a selfish act to console himself, who had consumed emotional energy empathizing with sorrow and anger, and to conserve mental energy.

Jin-hyeok looked back at Moon Seok-il.

“Definitely.”

Moon Seok-il, with a somewhat blank expression, looked back at Jin-hyeok.

“Tell him.”

To Uncle Hong Ki-jun.

With his keen eye for talent, Hong Ki-jun would scour the earth to find the right people. If there weren’t suitable candidates, he would create the environment to nurture them. His influence had already extended beyond Asia.

The Saein Group had already adopted a system of young and capable professional managers. Jin-hyeok believed Hong Ki-jun had the resources.

If Moon Seok-il didn’t deliver the message properly, it could be done through Min Yong-rak.

‘I don’t have the connections or information, so it’s right to leave the rest to Uncle.’

Moon Seok-il, with his lips tightly sealed, just nodded. He figured Jin-hyeok had already noticed his special connection with Hong Ki-jun, so there was no need to feel pressured.

“Let’s leave the long-term tasks to Uncle Hong Ki-jun and focus on what we can do now.”

“What can we do now?”

Moon Seok-il blinked at the unexpected statement.

“We need an instructor.”

For the training camp, they needed a guide to lead according to the schedule.

Moon Seok-il would look good in a red cap.

He already had plenty of sunglasses, so just buying a cap would do.

“Head size 56, right?”

Jin-hyeok, descending from the Sakdo summit, turned back to ask. He could buy a one-size-fits-all, but it was polite to ask.

“Yeah.”

Sharp eyes. As they descended the steep and slippery slope, Moon Seok-il muttered while holding onto tree branches.

***

The silence in the car on the way home was longer than the asphalt road.

Moon Seok-il wasn’t the type to speak unless asked, and Jin-hyeok was the same. So, their conversations always had a formal tone, even if it was nonsense.

“Can you get me a bomb?”

“What kind of bomb?”

Jin-hyeok, looking out the window, asked in a low voice, and Moon Seok-il, keeping his eyes on the road, asked back.

“One that can destroy reinforced concrete structures.”

“Be more specific.”

Is there any structure made of concrete without steel reinforcement? Unless it was shoddy or rushed construction, there were no exceptions. Even someone without an architecture degree knew that.

“Enough to collapse a Han River bridge pier.”

“…”

A sigh escaped Moon Seok-il’s nostrils.

“Is it because the safety inspection operation didn’t go as planned?”

“Yes. Exactly.”

Moon Seok-il had been meeting all sorts of people in Seoul, Mokpo, and Gunsan, trying to influence shipping companies at Jin-hyeok’s request. It was a task that utilized his skills, and since no one was hurt in the process, he let it slide. He figured there were reasons Jin-hyeok couldn’t share.

When Jin-hyeok asked for a secure phone, Moon Seok-il got him one, only for Jin-hyeok to confess he had made a prank call to the airport. When he heard on the news that the bomb threat caller was Son Jin-hyeok, he wondered if this kid’s puberty had hit too hard. It was like the sky was about to fall.

And now, he wants to blow up a Han River bridge.

There had been preliminary work. The goal wasn’t to point out the construction company’s poor work or the supervising official’s lax inspection. It was to highlight safety issues and prompt reconstruction. But in the end, Moon Seok-il’s efforts had come to nothing.

The construction had been completed long ago, and there were no responsible parties or officials left. It was the transparent limit of a bureaucracy.

Who was he supposed to threaten in such a situation?

‘At least the Minister of Construction and Transportation.’

Recalling past events, Moon Seok-il weakly shook his head. Even the most skilled operative couldn’t pull off the impossible.

But was there some grim reaper in this kid’s shadow making demands?

‘If it weren’t for that grim reaper, I’d ask outright.’

The gag order tied to his life was too strong.

As he pondered, Jin-hyeok asked.

“Can’t you get it?”

His tone was clearly disappointed.