I woke up drenched in cold sweat. The sound of gunfire still echoed faintly in my ears, so I instinctively reached up to rub them.
“Haa...”
Get a grip. I exhaled deeply and pushed myself up from the bed.
Then I stepped into the bathroom and started the shower.
As cold water ran down my head, I tried to recall the dream I had during the night, but the details slipped away.
After standing there for a long while under the icy stream, my mind slowly cleared.
When I ca out, Manager Ma was already waiting with a cup of hot coffee.
I took the paper cup and smiled.
“This is why I like you, Manager Ma.”
“Thank you.”
“Go wash up and get ready too. It looks like we’ll be busy again today.”
“Yes, Boss.”
As he turned toward the bathroom, I teased him with a grin.
“Oh, by the way, the hot water’s not working.”
“That’s fine.”
What a boring man. I chuckled softly and carried my coffee to the window.
When I pulled the curtains open, the morning sunlight poured into the room.
The view of the city beyond the glass was bleak—though a little better than yesterday.
Yesterday there hadn’t been a single shadow of a person on the street; today, I could at least see people moving about.
But none of them showed any emotion.
Their hardened faces, silently going about their work, stirred many thoughts in .
There was no hope left for them. After decades of foreign invasion and intervention, the people who should have stood together had spent their lives aiming guns at one another.
That hadn’t changed, even in my previous life.
The United States had poured support into the country until 2020, but nothing had truly improved.
Those in power cared only about lining their own pockets, paying no mind to their citizens.
And the citizens, in turn, joined guerrilla groups just to survive day by day.
Eventually, even the U.S. grew sick of it and withdrew, and the Taliban, once ousted, reclaid power—dragging the country back into another civil war.
In the anti, Arica had developed many of Afghanistan’s buried natural resources, but that was only the tip of the iceberg.
I had to secure the mines faster—and secure more of them—than the United States ever did.
That was why today’s eting with Ahmad was so important.
If I could gain his recognition for the mining rights and the surrounding autonomous zones, the profits would be enormous.
I drained the rest of my coffee and drew the curtains closed again.
When I turned around, Manager Ma was already standing behind . I hadn’t even noticed when he’d co out.
“Let’s sit.”
We sat down together and began our discussion.
“Where were the projected mining areas we received from Russia?”
The Soviet Union had already conducted geological surveys of Afghanistan’s underground resources in the 1980s.
Even after their withdrawal, Afghanistan had kept those reports secret—fearing that once the world learned what lay beneath, the country would beco a battleground for the great powers.
I reviewed the data Putin had handed .
Since Russia couldn’t develop mines in the U.S.-controlled Afghanistan, they had passed everything to .
Manager Ma spread out a map on the table, circling locations while listing the estimated reserves and mineral types.
So far, neither the United States nor the Western powers had shown much real interest in Afghanistan’s resources.
To win, I had to move first. Out of the many mines marked, I pointed to three.
“Here, here—and this one last.”
All three were as close together as possible.
“If today’s negotiation goes well, I plan to send geologists and research staff imdiately.”
The spots I picked were in the southern region—still heavily under Taliban influence.
So naturally, Manager Ma asked with a puzzled look,
“Wouldn’t the north be better?”
Of course, the northern areas were also believed to be rich in resources, but I shook my head.
“The Northern Alliance’s influence there is too strong. They won’t give us access to any stable territory. It’s better if we secure the unstable regions ourselves and use rcenaries to maintain order.”
“Hmm...”
Most of Afghanistan was mountainous, which made military communication unreliable. Ground forces mattered more than advanced weapons.
It would be risky to mobilize governnt troops for a private enterprise, so private military contractors would be needed instead.
But I owned Black Bear, which gave a decisive advantage.
Sure, guerrillas like the Taliban still road freely because modern communications and high-tech weaponry didn’t function properly—but the Taliban could never stand against Black Bear’s elite units.
“This won’t be a short-term project. We’ll need at least five years.”
Mine developnt required far more ti than most ventures.
Securing rights to a proven, marketable mine would be ideal—but Afghanistan had almost none of those.
“I plan to call in teams not only from Black Bear Headquarters but also from the Korean branch. I want the main overseer here to be soone from Korea. Please find soone suitable.”
“Understood.”
We continued reviewing the map of Afghanistan and discussing details for quite so ti.
Then the phone in the room suddenly rang. Manager Ma stood up and answered it.
After a short exchange, he returned.
“A call from the Afghan governnt?”
“Yes. They’ll be here to pick us up in an hour. Only one person can accompany you.”
Since Ahmad’s bodyguards were Black Bear rcenaries, it didn’t matter if we had a small escort.
“Then let’s start getting ready.”
As I stood, Manager Ma gathered the map from the table.
We finished our preparations and waited about thirty minutes.
Soon, a knock sounded at the hotel door—earlier than expected.
When Manager Ma opened it, Igor was standing there with another man.
Igor introduced him.
“This is Ahmad Zia Massoud, younger brother of Ahmad Shah Massoud.”
A visit from a heavyweight indeed.
Ahmad had two brothers, and the second, Zia, was one he trusted deeply.
“Nice to et you. I’m Ahmad Zia Massoud.”
His fluent English rolled out smoothly.
“You speak English well.”
“Haha, it’s my only real talent. Thanks to that, I handle most of our dealings with the Aricans.”
“You’re doing an impressive job.”
Zia gave a modest, awkward smile at my complint.
“Let’s go. My brother is waiting. It’ll only take about ten minutes.”
Igor, Zia, Manager Ma, and I left the hotel together.
Zia and I shared a car, while Igor and Manager Ma rode in another.
Soldiers of the Northern Alliance escorted us as we drove.
“This is my brother’s safe house,” Zia said as we arrived—not at the transitional governnt’s temporary building, but at an old, shabby house.
When we got out, a soldier guarding the entrance saluted Zia.
We went inside together. Ahmad was waiting within, alongside several Black Bear rcenaries.
“Nice to et you. I’m Ahmad Shah Massoud.”
He spoke in Russian, and I replied in kind.
“An honor to et you. I’m Kim Muhyuk.”
“I’ve heard you speak Russian well.”
“You speak it well yourself, General.”
“I learned it to survive. We had no choice but to talk to the Soviets.”
His expression darkened slightly, as if recalling bitter mories. I quickly shifted the topic.
“I heard you’ve been appointed as representative of Afghanistan’s interim governnt. Congratulations.”
“It’s more than I deserve. I accepted because I had to, but I don’t plan to stay in this seat for long.”
So this was the man they called the Lion of Panjshir. Surprisingly, he carried a gentler air than I expected.
“You’ll have to stay longer than you wish, General. Otherwise, another civil war might break out. The Aricans preferred Hamid Karzai to you, but they feared renewed conflict enough to na you as representative instead.”
“Let’s talk inside.”
The four of us—Ahmad, Zia, Manager Ma, and I—entered a smaller room. The rest waited outside.
Light refreshnts had been prepared.
“Please, sit.”
Ahmad and Zia sat first; Manager Ma and I took seats across from them.
“First, I owe you my life. Thanks to Black Bear, I survived.”
Ahmad’s first words were gratitude.
“I’m glad you’re safe, General.”
“I nearly paid the price for trusting the Aricans too much.”
After the polite courtesies, the real conversation began.
“I asked to et you for one reason—to know why you saved . Can you tell ?”
“If I say it was for Afghanistan’s future, that would sound too self-serving, wouldn’t it?”
“Haha, I like honesty.”
Ahmad laughed heartily. That was enough ice-breaking for now.
I leaned forward slightly and t his gaze.
“I believed you were the only man capable of stabilizing Afghanistan’s chaos. When I learned of the assassination attempt, I relayed the information to the rcenaries stationed here. And I was right. You’ve now beco the new leader of Afghanistan.”
Ahmad t my eyes directly, unflinching.
Forget the gentle impression—there was a blade-sharp aura about him.
“And why do you want to end the chaos?”
“You said you liked honesty, so I’ll be blunt. For my own profit. I want the natural resources buried beneath Afghanistan. For that, your country’s stability is essential to .”
Ahmad closed his eyes and let out a small sigh.
“I reviewed the Russian data. It’s probably even more accurate than Afghanistan’s own. It was compiled in the 1980s, during the Soviet invasion. General, I want to develop those resources.”
My straightforward answer left him silent, still with his eyes closed.
Instead, Zia spoke up.
“Very honest. But even if you develop mines, our governnt can’t protect them.”
He was simply stating Afghanistan’s reality, where the Taliban and other guerrillas still ran rampant. I nodded.
“I know. Rather than relying on Afghan forces, I plan to secure the mines with Black Bear rcenaries. It wouldn’t be proper to use regular troops for a private venture.”
While I spoke with Zia, Ahmad finally seed to have collected his thoughts.
“You know our economy is in shambles, don’t you?”
“I do. Especially after the war with the U.S., things have worsened. But the Taliban have been expelled, and with the Aricans leading reconstruction, things should start improving.”
“Perhaps in Kabul and Kandahar. But the rest of the country is still under Taliban control.”
Ahmad pressed a bell beside him, and a secretary entered.
He spoke briefly in his own language, and soon the secretary returned—with a bundle of opium poppies in hand.
Placing them on the table, Ahmad said,
“These poppies are our people’s main source of inco. This is the reality of our nation.”
I stared at the flowers on the table and asked,
“Are you proposing I join the drug trade?”
I hadn’t expected Ahmad to bring up narcotics.
It was so absurd that my voice ca out sharper than I intended.
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