Daeyeon Development Chairman’s Office.
Kwon Sangyeol, Kwon Jua’s father, was sitting there.
“My friend asked me to meet you, so I agreed to come, but… I still don’t trust you, sir.”
Daehun had been on guard against Kwon Sangyeol from the very beginning.
He made no effort to sugarcoat it.
To be honest, Daehun disliked the fact that Kwon Sangyeol was sitting here at all.
If not for Inbae’s recommendation, he would never have met him.
He had said he would meet him once, but he had not been particularly willing.
This was the man who had tried to use his daughter as collateral to expand his business.
And now he was being asked to entrust work to such a cowardly man.
He did not like it.
Kwon Sangyeol was simply not Daehun’s kind of person.
That was why Daehun had opposed the plan to merely frighten Kwon Sangyeol and then rescue him again.
Wouldn’t it be better to just break something—
Or perhaps leave him barely breathing?
That was Daehun’s way.
Even though he knew he shouldn’t do that,
Even though he knew he couldn’t because Kwon Sangyeol was Kwon Jua’s father, he had still said it.
That was how much he hated Kwon Sangyeol.
Just sitting across from a man who did business with his daughter made him feel disgusted.
If not for Inbae, he would never have met him.
But Inbae had put it a little differently.
‘We need to give him work. He needs something he can focus on. If we give him that, he probably won’t care much about anything else. It’ll be better that way. For us, and for Jua.’
And that was how this meeting had come to be.
“I still have a lot to learn. I’ll do better.”
Kwon Sangyeol lowered his head.
He had definitely changed.
The greed and obsession that had once clung thickly to his face had faded.
He looked like a man thinking less about what he could take and more about what he needed to do.
And he had made up his mind.
He would let Kwon Jua go.
He would never use his daughter as a tool again.
Kwon Sangyeol had done a great deal of reflecting after being kidnapped.
He had realized how meaningless a life determined by others could be.
He needed to apologize to Kwon Jua.
As a father, as a human being, and as an adult.
But he could not confirm where Kwon Jua had gone.
Her phone was turned off, and when he called the hospital, all they told him was that she was away providing medical aid.
Rather than go looking for her, he decided to wait.
He would apologize when Kwon Jua returned.
Until then, Kwon Sangyeol resolved to do whatever he could.
“Then I’ll put it simply. We’re planning to establish a school that teaches and trains people in K-culture. In the long term. We need a roadmap for it. Do you think you can handle that?”
Kwon Sangyeol exhaled once before answering.
“Of course I can. You won’t be disappointed.”
.
.
.
“Here we are.”
“Yes.”
Led by Daehun, we had come to a vocational high school.
We were here to check on the progress of the K-culture school entrusted to Kwon Sangyeol.
It was somewhat unexpected that Kwon Sangyeol had called us to a high school.
We were filled with doubts.
But there was something strange about the school.
There wasn’t a single student.
There were no teachers, staff, or even security guards watching over the school.
And today was neither a weekend nor a school holiday.
“What’s going on here? Why isn’t there a single person?”
“Tell me about it.”
Daehun and I whispered to each other.
“By the way, sir. Is this really a school? Why isn’t there anyone here?”
Daehun asked.
“It’s closed.”
Kwon Sangyeol answered with practiced ease.
Closed?
This place?
When people said a school was closed, didn’t they usually mean somewhere crumbling and abandoned?
The kind of place suited to a horror tour.
But this place was different.
It was in far too good a condition to be called an abandoned school.
It might have been closed, but it looked as though classes could begin right away.
The clean buildings and spacious athletic field,
The auditorium, cafeteria, and practical training building were all still intact.
There were no people, but everything else remained just as it was.
“It’s pretty good.”
“It’s more than just good. This is excellent.”
When Daehun spoke, I added my own comment from beside him.
Knowing how Daehun felt, I could tell he had deliberately understated Kwon Sangyeol’s abilities.
But work was work. It needed to be handled as such.
Once emotions became involved, everything turned into a mess.
Whether he knew how Daehun felt or not, Kwon Sangyeol continued his explanation.
“We held discussions with the government regarding K-culture. We told them we intended to educate people in K-culture and spread it, and the government said it was a good idea and agreed to cooperate actively. It’s useful to have the government involved in things like this. We receive plenty of support, and the procedures are simplified. This abandoned school right here is proof of that.”
“Hmm…”
Daehun let out a low hum.
Then he asked a question.
“Why was this school closed in the first place? Was there some kind of accident? It’s in such good condition.”
“The student population declined. On top of the country’s low birth rate, there was a severe aversion to vocational schools, so this school was eventually merged with one of the neighboring schools.”
“I see.”
“Actually, the land here is incredibly valuable. The grounds are large as well, so many people had their eyes on it. But we became the preferred negotiating party. Our plans happened to align well with government policy.”
Kwon Sangyeol continued explaining.
“They’ve agreed to give us the right of first negotiation not only for existing closed schools, but for schools that close in the future as well. Of course, this place has to succeed first.”
Kwon Sangyeol looked extremely excited as he explained the site.
It was as if the only word in his mind was success.
To be honest, I was surprised.
I had never imagined we would acquire an abandoned school.
I hadn’t even realized there were abandoned schools in Seoul.
By working with the government, we had saved a great deal in many areas.
We could receive substantial assistance not only with funding, but also with publicity.
Administrative procedures, as well as cooperation from local governments and other government agencies, had become much easier.
Kwon Sangyeol had a decent head for business.
“We’re preparing to remodel the facilities according to the curriculum. We’re considering buying the houses behind the school and building dormitories there. If possible, I’d like to purchase the school itself and build them on the school grounds, but there’s a high chance that won’t be possible. So, as Plan B, we’re also looking into land for the dormitories.”
.
.
.
After inspecting the school, we moved to another location.
That was where Kwon Sangyeol’s presentation began.
“As I researched K-culture and worked out a plan, I realized that this is one enormous current. All we have to do is ride it.”
He advanced to the next slide.
“Rather than teaching foreigners something, I wondered if it might be better to draw them into K-culture itself. We would support people with different languages, cultures, and skills so that each of them could make K-culture blossom in their own way.”
Click.
“So the school we create shouldn’t be an educational institution. It should become a platform. A place where culture circulates, intellectual property circulates, and content and technology connect naturally. A place whose soil is K-culture.”
Click.
“I’ve given this project the provisional name K-ORIGIN.”
“The countless networks and intellectual properties created through the K-ORIGIN project will become K-ORIGIN’s true assets.”
“This school will be the starting point. From Asia, it will expand across the entire world.”
When Kwon Sangyeol’s passionate presentation ended, applause erupted from all around the room.
I was slightly taken aback.
This project wasn’t supposed to be anything so grand.
It didn’t need to spread throughout the world through Asia.
I had created this school simply to bring in the kids from Unity Town and teach them skills like beauty techniques.
Some of them had a knack for working with their hands, so I had made the program so they could learn.
I had only started it because I thought they might have better prospects if they learned in Korea.
Beauty, food, fashion, webtoons, content, games, even lifestyle—
It was meant to teach them such things so they could make a living.
The reason I had given Daehun ten trillion won,
Wasn’t that I had invested ten trillion won into the K-culture school. I had simply given it to Daehun because I had a lot to thank him for.
Under the name of an investment.
But the scale was growing far larger than I had expected.
And that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.
If anything—
It felt as though the project had put on clothes that fit surprisingly well.
The picture taking shape was looking pretty good.
*******
A farewell party was being held in Unity Town’s grand auditorium.
The food was plentiful, and music flowed through the hall, but there was no laughter.
“Congratulations.”
“That’s wonderful.”
Words of congratulations passed between them, but there was no strength behind them.
They could not properly meet one another’s eyes.
They wore expressions that looked as though they might burst into tears at any moment.
It was a gathering to celebrate the children who were leaving Unity Town to begin new lives.
The children had grown up exceptionally well.
They were entering a wide range of fields—major corporations, judges and prosecutors, the military, medicine, engineering, and other professions.
But no one was smiling.
They had failed to achieve what they truly wanted.
What they wanted was not a good job.
What they genuinely desired was to become members of the Rebel Army.
Those who had failed to become rebels would leave Unity Town and scatter throughout the Philippines.
That was why their faces were not bright.
They had done their best, but they could not smile in the face of a dream they had failed to achieve.
They remembered the years they had worked themselves to the bone.
The Rebel Army had been the standard by which they measured everything in the world.
But they had not become rebels.
Even so, they were not failures.
Objectively speaking, they were already on the path to lives among the Philippines’ elite.
They had secured social respect and stable futures.
They had attained positions not granted to just anyone.
But Unity Town had different standards.
It valued becoming a rebel more than social success.
The Rebel Army was a place only the chosen could enter.
Intellectual ability, mental strength, physical fitness, and situational judgment all mattered.
And above all else, loyalty.
One had to pass every one of these tests to become a rebel.
The fact that they had fallen short at that threshold weighed heavily on them.
It was like the expression of an Olympic athlete who had won a silver medal—not one of joy.
While everyone had their heads bowed, someone climbed onto the platform.
It was Simon, the leader of the Rebel Army.
After taking the stage, Simon slowly looked at the children, one by one.
Not one of them wore a bright expression.
Simon took the microphone and spoke.
“Raise your heads.”
At Simon’s gentle words, so unlike his usual tone, the children lifted their heads one after another and looked at him.
“You are not losers. Do not bow your heads.”
“You have every right to be proud of what you have achieved.”
“Not being chosen for the Rebel Army does not mean you have failed.”
“You have passed the most difficult and grueling test in this country.”
“You were not rejected. You simply were not chosen ‘yet.’”
“Unity Town will not abandon you.”
“There will always be a place for you in Unity Town. So come back whenever you wish. We will welcome you.”
Simon paused for a moment, met the children’s eyes once more, and continued.
“However. You are being given a new mission.”
“Make Unity Town the best. This is your new mission.”
“Make people say that those from Unity Town are different.”
“Make people throughout the Philippines acknowledge anyone who comes from Unity Town.”
“You are no longer rebels, nor are you children of Unity Town. You are ‘pioneers.’”
“You are pioneers who will scatter across the Philippines and show the world how remarkable Unity Town is.”
“You are the pioneers who will lead Unity Town along the path ahead from the very front.”
“So do not bow your heads. Pioneers do not bow their heads.”
“They do not cry, either.”
“When you feel like crying, come to me. I will gladly cry with you.”
Finally, Simon spoke in a deeply moving voice.
“Do not forget. We have Lord Alex.”
“Lord Alex will always watch over us. So conduct yourselves with dignity.”
“Face everything with your heads held high.”
“Show them exactly what Unity Town is.”
“My Lord Alex.”
“My Lord Alex.”
When the speech ended, Simon called out Alex’s name.
Everyone in the auditorium shouted Alex’s name after him.
It felt almost like they were calling upon the name of a god.
But they seemed accustomed to it.
With those words, Simon stepped down from the platform.
The children who had been crying wiped away their tears,
And tried to cover their sorrowful faces with smiles.
It seemed as though they were gradually casting off their disappointment and frustration.
Perhaps they liked their new mission as pioneers; they looked as though they were steeling their resolve.
They appeared determined to make Unity Town something special.
.
.
.
Kwon Jua, who had come to provide medical aid, had been invited to the farewell ceremony and was sitting in a corner.
She had been unable to refuse when people urged her to stay and at least have a meal.
Life in Unity Town had been interesting, too.
So she wanted to share in their joy.
She wanted to congratulate the children as they went out into society.
But the atmosphere was strange.
For a farewell party, it was far too gloomy.
Why was that?
Only much later did Kwon Jua learn the reason.
She discovered that the children were sad because they had failed to become rebels—their dream.
She was somewhat taken aback.
Among the children who were leaving were judges and doctors.
From Kwon Jua’s perspective, those were perfectly respectable professions.
To be honest, they were a hundred, a thousand times better than being a rebel.
But here, it was being treated like failure.
No—it was being perceived that way.
Then there were Simon’s words from the platform.
Become pioneers. Hold your heads high. Don’t cry.
Each and every word had been far too heavy.
Rather than offering consolation, he had given them a new mission.
And the name that echoed through the auditorium at the end—
“Alex.”
It was a name she had heard many times before.
One person flashed through Kwon Jua’s mind.
Wasn’t Inbae’s English name Alex?
She shook her head unconsciously.
As if telling herself that it made no sense, as if admonishing herself.
‘It couldn’t be… It couldn’t be Inbae, could it?’
But an unsettling discomfort lingered in a corner of her heart.
She was left with an inexplicable sense of unease.