The Blue House, Republic of Korea.
“Mr. President. Today is the inauguration of the president of the Philippines.”
“Is that so?”
The secretary reported it lightly while going over the schedule.
Then he held out a tablet.
“Here is the congratulatory message.”
President Kim Minsu skimmed the message.
There was nothing remarkable about it.
It was filled with safe diplomatic language.
Congratulations on your election.
Let us work together for peace and cooperation in Asia.
Obvious, clichéd phrases filled the tablet screen.
They had already sent a message immediately after the election,
but sending another one for the inauguration was customary.
“Good. Let’s send it as is.”
President Kim Minsu nodded.
There was nothing in it that could cause any problems.
“The inauguration ceremony is currently underway. Would you like to watch it?”
There was no particular need to watch the ceremony itself.
If it had been a change of government in a major power that directly affected the situation on the Korean Peninsula, like the United States, Japan, China, or Russia, that would have been one thing.
But a change in leadership in a Southeast Asian country was not particularly important.
Unless the country’s national policy direction changed drastically, ceremonial congratulations and working-level consultations would be enough.
Even so, Kim Minsu answered differently.
“Let’s watch for a moment.”
It was only with the casual thought of checking the new president’s face.
The screen turned on,
and on a podium draped with the Philippine flag, the new president, Patrick, was taking his oath.
The cheers of the crowd rang out.
“President Patrick won more than 62 percent of the vote.”
“Sixty-two percent?”
Kim Minsu asked back, as if he could hardly believe it.
“He is extremely popular in the Philippines. Locally, they’re even calling President Patrick a ‘new hope.’”
“Is that so?”
President Kim Minsu looked back at the screen.
A president elected with 62 percent of the vote.
President Patrick looked different now.
As he watched the screen, he spotted a familiar face among the honored guests.
A face he knew.
Huh?
Gong Inbae?
Why is Gong Inbae there?
Why at a presidential inauguration?
The Gong Inbae on the screen was not seated somewhere the camera merely swept past.
He was seated in the very front row of the VIP section.
He was sitting squarely in what could be called the seat of highest honor.
People around him were even coming over to greet him.
They were not simply greeting an acquaintance in passing.
It was deferential and courteous treatment, as though they were paying respects to a superior they had long served.
People invited to a presidential inauguration were not invited for no reason.
They were core figures of the new president.
Political sponsors, or people who would become future partners in governance.
The president would build a new era together with them.
It was not a place one was invited to merely because of personal connections.
Kim Minsu himself had agonized over the matter again and again before sending out invitations.
So why was Gong Inbae there?
He could not understand the situation.
Kim Minsu’s attention was no longer on Patrick, but on Gong Inbae.
The investigation report on Gong Inbae’s past flashed through his mind.
That report that was practically blank.
He needed to find out what had happened in the Philippines during that blank period.
“Investigate the materials on Gong Inbae again. Include overseas networks.”
“Yes, sir.”
The secretary answered immediately and left.
It could have been simple attendance.
Perhaps he had donated a large sum in political funds, or perhaps he had worked for the campaign.
But to dismiss it as coincidence, Gong Inbae’s presence bothered him too much.
He was giving off an immense aura, enough to be felt even through the screen.
Come to think of it, Gong Inbae had not been intimidated in the slightest even before Kim Minsu.
He was the Gong Inbae who had summoned Wei Zhonglin with a single phone call.
And now he was sitting at the inauguration of the Philippine president, receiving greetings.
He absolutely needed to grasp what kind of person that man was.
This was a matter related to national security.
*******
Zamboanga, Philippines.
Dennis visited Shin Junggi’s workshop.
He brought a thick iced chocolate, the kind Shin Junggi liked.
Shin Junggi was very fond of dense iced chocolate with far too much sugar in it.
Because Shin Junggi ate it so deliciously,
Dennis had tried a sip once as well, but he had not even been able to swallow it.
A sweetness sharp enough to sting the tip of his tongue.
Chunks of chocolate lodged among the thick chocolate.
Cold ice.
Shin Junggi was especially fond of that drink.
Dennis knew that too, so whenever he went to see Shin Junggi, he always brought iced chocolate.
Even if Shin Junggi did not welcome Dennis, he welcomed iced chocolate.
As soon as Dennis handed over the iced chocolate, Shin Junggi poked in the straw and began slurping it down.
Ugh… It looks sweet just watching him.
Dennis spoke to Shin Junggi.
“Junggi. You know that radar you made this time? The market response is very good.”
He spoke with the affable smile he had honed over long years of sales.
“There you go lying again.”
But Shin Junggi brushed off Dennis’s words lightly and shot back.
Even so, a faint smile formed at the corners of Junggi’s mouth.
“What lie? I’ve never told a lie in my life.”
Dennis made a fuss, putting on a serious expression.
“Hehehe. I mean, we haven’t even made the product yet, so how can the response be good?”
Shin Junggi laughed.
Dennis, seeming awkward, laughed along.
Shin Junggi knew that Dennis was good at lying.
There was no malice in his lies.
Dennis’s lies were simple.
He lied constantly to make the other person feel good, to give them strength.
You’re pretty. You’re cool. You’re handsome. It’s good. You did well.
How did you come up with something like this? Amazing.
He found even the smallest changes and praised them, then praised them again.
He always told white lies, saying someone had done well.
But Dennis hurriedly made an excuse, as though slightly flustered.
“No, I mean there’s that much interest. People’s interest is incredible.”
“Of course. Do you know what went into making it?”
Shin Junggi did not press him any further and played along appropriately.
“It’s not just talk. We’ll have to see a demonstration before more concrete conditions come out, but even now, it’s very positive.”
“That’s a relief.”
Dennis looked around and spoke very cautiously.
“And also. We got contacted by Parallax.”
“Parallax? What’s that?”
“You call yourself an arms smuggler and you don’t know Parallax?”
“I know what the word means. It means an object appears differently depending on the observer’s point of view. It’s a term that came from astronomy, and now it’s used a lot in graphics and the humanities too.”
“Huh? That’s not what I mean. You really don’t know? You don’t know Parallax?”
“I told you. I only know the meaning.”
“Wow. That’s like a tech YouTuber not knowing Apple or Samsung.”
“What?”
“Parallax is the biggest broker and dealer on the black market. Number one in the industry. And they don’t just sell. They even consult.”
“Consult?”
“Yeah. They consult on war. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say Parallax is involved in every modern war. If you include civil wars and disputes, you probably couldn’t even count how many wars those bastards have caused.”
“Then we can just sell it to them. If they’re number one in the industry, they’ll pay a lot.”
Shin Junggi’s tone was indifferent.
As though he had no interest at all in anything like Parallax.
It simply meant they should sell to whoever paid the most.
“The thing is, people are saying they’re declining now, so I’m hesitating.”
“Declining? What does that mean?”
“With all these peace agreements and whatnot, wars aren’t happening. And even when war does break out, the costs have dropped tremendously. They’re cutting back on lethal weapons, and cheap weapons like drones, satellite communication equipment, and explosives are filling the battlefield.”
“Ah—so war doesn’t make money anymore?”
“Something like that. Compared to before, it’s absurdly low.”
Shin Junggi spoke in a voice that showed he had absolutely no interest in that.
“Well. Just sell it however you see fit. If you get a high price, the boss will be happy, won’t he?”
“Have you ever seen the boss happy about something like that? He doesn’t even care whether we sell it or not.”
“Exactly. If we want to make him care, we have to bring in a lot of money. Not just a decent amount.”
“Is that so? I’ll have to work even harder this time. If I want to catch the boss’s eye.”
Shin Junggi smiled faintly as if he agreed.
“Anyway, Dennis, take care of the sales. You’re good at selling.”
“That’s right. No one can keep up with me there.”
Shin Junggi told a white lie he did not mean.
Dennis smiled happily.
.
.
.
A hotel in Singapore.
Dennis met Gavin, the purchasing director of Parallax.
“Pleased to meet you.”
Gavin held out his hand.
Dennis clasped it and greeted him.
“I’ve been looking forward to this moment very much as well. To think I’m doing business with Parallax—it feels like a dream.”
“Is that so?”
“Of course. Isn’t Parallax the ultimate goal for every smuggler? I feel as if I’ve achieved my dream. Haha.”
“Since you put it that way, I feel much more at ease. I think today’s conversation will be very fruitful.”
Gavin smiled.
But contrary to Gavin’s smile,
Gavin had come here today without knowing exactly what the situation was.
He had merely obtained information that one of the arms smugglers in the Philippines had developed something rather decent.
He had only confirmed that it was a technology related to radar; he did not know the details.
It was not that he wanted this technology, nor that he needed it.
He did not even know what this technology was, so how could he want it?
He did not want the technology, and he did not need it.
He was not even curious.
He had simply come to stake a claim before it was sold elsewhere.
With the shackles called a contract.
Parallax was a consultant.
That meant they were the people who set the board and designed the game.
If a war broke out with technology Parallax did not have, things became painful.
They could not respond.
It became impossible to control.
So if they heard that a new technology had emerged, they bought it first no matter what.
Regardless of its contents, they put in a purchase request first.
Then they tied it down exclusively as much as possible.
They made sure Parallax could monopolize it if they could.
But if that was difficult, they bought it cheaply.
At the very least, they had to know what kind of weapon it was in order to devise a counterstrategy.
That was the entirety of Gavin’s strategy.
The most troublesome situation was when a technology Parallax did not have was released exclusively through a competitor.
Well. Even that was not actually so troublesome.
Just somewhat annoying.
If they shoved a gun in their faces, they would hand everything over on their own.
Those bastards would draw guns too, but we had far more guns.
So before the situation became complicated, before it grew bigger, the best option was to pay a reasonable amount and buy it exclusively.
It was necessary in order to control war.
A technology Parallax did not know about must not appear in the world.
Gavin, too, had arranged this meeting without knowing what technology Dennis had brought.
He had simply done so to secure exclusivity.
To monopolize it in advance before the wrong people got their eyes on it.
That was the only reason.
What Dennis had made—he had no interest in that.
However, he wanted to prevent only one situation: a technology that Parallax did not have circulating in the market.
.
.
.
Parallax had not been this vile from the beginning.
In the early days, they had done things by the book.
They organized their own research teams and created technical teams.
They devoted the money earned from arms dealing to weapons development.
They thought that with just a little effort, the world would become one ruled by Parallax.
“Parallax, controlling every conflict in the world.”
The thought alone was thrilling.
For that to be possible, technology was essential.
They had to possess every technology.
Only then could they negotiate, control, and consult.
But compared to the costs going in, the speed of development was markedly slow.
In short, it was not profitable.
The funds required were astronomical, while the results produced were pitiful.
Failure repeated itself.
It was absurdly far from their goal of ruling the world through technology.
The costs and the time involved were too great to simply endure.
In the end, they changed direction.
Not development, but seizure.
They chose to steal the projects of other countries.
Projects that could not officially exist.
Weapons research each country quietly kept hidden.
Nuclear, biochemical, next-generation weapons, experimental-stage weapons systems.
Parallax targeted those.
For example, say a country that had joined the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty was secretly researching nuclear technology.
Then that technology was stolen.
Could that country say, “Parallax stole our technology”?
The moment they made that claim, a far bigger problem would arise.
Parallax had precisely exploited that contradiction.
Every country, by default, developed weapons unofficially.
There were weapons they developed secretly, without anyone knowing,
and there were times they lied that they were in the final stages of development in order to frighten their opponents, even when they were not developing anything at all.
In the end, weapons were merely a means to protect a nation.
If a little lie could protect a nation, they could tell it a hundred times, a thousand times.
And.
Couldn’t they just say it later, or develop it later?
Lying was bad, but something they had not yet said was hard to call a lie.
In any case, Parallax had made good use of this hypocrisy possessed by nations.
They recruited researchers with little money and hired hackers.
They extracted data and erased traces.
It was far cheaper, far faster, and far more certain than developing things themselves.
That was how their technology accumulated.
But another problem arose.
The world gradually began to stop fighting wars.
Peace agreements increased, and wars came to an end.
Large-scale wars decreased.
Weapons did not sell.
Parallax agonized over it.
How could they create more conflicts?
How could they make more weapons be used?
But contrary to Parallax’s wishes, the world increasingly began to cry out for peace.
Organizations like Parallax became targets of condemnation.
It became harder and harder to make money.
They needed a breakthrough.
.
.
.
“So… you’re saying you can make virtual enemies appear on radar?”
Gavin’s voice lowered.
He was deeply shocked, but he calmed himself once more and tried to grasp the situation accurately.
“Something like that. We can amplify signals so they appear as multiple targets, and we can also create targets that don’t exist.”
At Dennis’s answer, Gavin chose silence.
Instead, dozens of scenarios exploded into his mind.
A fighter squadron that did not exist.
An alert warning of an invisible fleet’s approach.
Mistaken fire.
Emergency armament.
Preemptive strike.
With just that radar, countless situations of terror could be created.
Terror became money.
Gavin slowly smiled.
This would work.
This would make money.
Even without war, it could make war begin.
It could overturn the board.
The corner of Gavin’s mouth twisted upward.
“What did you say this thing was called?”
“Phantom Grid.”