TL: Skye
Back in elementary school, everyone had to stand in front of the class at some point and talk about their dreams for the future.
I hear YouTuber and idol are the popular choices these days, but when I was young, boys usually said pilot or president, and girls said teacher or nurse.
I was no different.
"I want to become president when I grow up. The reason is because my parents—"
But here's the thing.
"Senhor Presidente, gostaria de um café? (Mr. President, would you like some coffee?)"
I never expected to achieve that dream in an island nation in Latin America.
***
The Republic of San Marcos: an island nation in South America and a dictatorship. After 300 years as a Spanish colony and 40 years under Portugal, it finally gained independence in the 1970s, making it a late bloomer among nations. It's technically a UN member, but with a population of just over 6 million, a GDP of 17.36 billion dollars, a per capita GDP of 2,800 dollars, and an economy that uses the US dollar instead of its own currency, you could call it one of the most underdeveloped of the developing nations.
The only silver lining is that it's fairly large for an island nation and has beautiful natural scenery.
'Other than that, there's absolutely nothing going for it.'
The circumstances that brought me to San Marcos were simple.
One day, while working at a major tech company in Silicon Valley, I was suddenly laid off.
My visa was about to expire anyway, and I'd saved up a decent amount, so I was planning to return to Korea and find a new job when...
"Yu-jin, I heard you're looking for work?"
Ian Marcos, a rich friend I'd met during our MBA program at Duke, came to me with an enticing offer.
"I'm actually quitting my job too and heading back home to help with the family business. Want to come with me? I'll get you at least double your current salary. It'll be great for your career too."
High salary and career advancement. Two things no working professional could turn down.
So I happily followed him there, and then...
"How would you like to become a minister in our San Marcos?"
His father made me an extraordinary offer.
That's when I learned the truth.
Ian Marcos, the one who'd made the offer, was the only son of San Marcos's absolute ruler, Juan Marcos.
'This bastard.'
I mean, if your family business is politics, you could have mentioned that.
"Me... a minister?"
"To be precise, I'd like you to take the position of Minister of Natural Resources and Tourism."
"This isn't like hiring a secretary. You're offering me a cabinet position after just one meeting... I honestly don't understand what makes you think I can handle this."
"Ian tells me you're an excellent manager with an exceptional head for numbers. If that's the assessment of my son, whose judgment is sharper than anyone else in this country, then that's good enough for me."
"Even so, I'm a foreigner. I can't possibly be a minister. And I have no experience in this field."
"You'll get used to it as you go. Why do you think I'm going to such lengths? The current minister can't even do basic math. Do you have any idea how many times he's gotten swindled on contracts? You can't even imagine the losses this country has suffered because of him."
"I'm sorry, but I can't accept. Regardless of the circumstances, a ministerial position is out of the question. You should find someone smarter to—"
At first, I tried to refuse. I had no interest in politics and knew nothing about natural resources or tourism.
But then.
"Ian tells me you were making 170,000 dollars at your last job. How does 350,000 sound? Plus room and board, a car, and a secretary. Everything provided."
After a calm discussion, I realized there was no reason to refuse after all.
"I'll start tomorrow. I can learn the job as I go. Ha ha. I'm from South Korea, you know. We're known for our adaptability."
"South Korea! I know that place well. I hear the men there serve in the military?"
"Oh, don't get me started. I was a mortar specialist. I'd carry an 81mm mortar on my back, climb to a 600-meter elevation, and strike enemy positions single-handedly."
"Oh...! I like you even more now. You seem very tough. Back in my day, I handled mortars myself..."
"A true soldier recognizes another. I knew from the moment I saw you. That aura radiating from a distance..."
Let's be honest here. This was too good an opportunity to pass up.
I had no idea how a ministerial career would look on my resume, but with a great salary, plus room, board, and a car? There was no reason to say no.
The only thing that bothered me was working under a dictator...
[Juan Marcos: Born 1948, he organized the Marcos Independence Army at age 20 and, after seven years of struggle, led the independence movement against Portugal to establish the Republic of San Marcos. Though he is a dictator, he is known for not pursuing personal gain...]
I excused myself to the bathroom and quickly searched Wikipedia, confirming that he wasn't as bad as I'd feared. That sealed the deal.
How should I put it? He was definitely a dictator, but a necessary one.
With an illiteracy rate of 50% and an unemployment rate of 46%, the great Republic of San Marcos would collapse overnight without President Juan's leadership.
And so, I accepted the offer from His Excellency Juan Marcos, the Sun King, and became the Minister of Natural Resources and Tourism.
Did people protest?
Please. When the Sun King Juan Marcos gives an order, who would dare object?
Can someone who isn't even a citizen become a minister?
What's the problem? His Excellency President Juan, whose authority is absolute, said it was fine.
Did others get jealous or give me a hard time?
Well, that part was somewhat true... but no one dared to make a scene about it.
They all knew I was best friends with Ian Marcos, the crown prince set to inherit the absolute monarchy and the new Prime Minister.
Anyway, that's how I became a minister. I threw myself into the work, and three years passed.
*
Beep beep beep—
The electronic alarm clock rang, heralding another morning.
"Ughhhh..."
I forced myself out of bed and turned off the alarm.
"Ah... damn it. I don't want to go to work."
Despite how desperately I'd wished it wouldn't come, that cursed morning had arrived, and I was crushed.
"...But I have to get up. Money doesn't earn itself."
I dragged myself up, went to the bathroom to wash my face, then put on a short-sleeved dress shirt and pants.
When I stepped out of the official residence after getting ready, I was greeted by the government-issued car the President had provided and Resa, my driver, housekeeper, and secretary all rolled into one.
"I'm taking the bicycle today."
"You've been cycling to work all month..."
"I'll go to the cabinet meeting first, then head to the office. Go on ahead. Oh, and there's a luncheon after the meeting, so eat without me."
"But still—"
"See you later!"
I quickly slung my briefcase over my shoulder, hopped on my bicycle, and rode out into the street.
Sure, taking the car would be more comfortable.
'But there's no way I'm getting in a car with Resa...'
She drives a 2000 Chevy Impala and pulls the handbrake to drift. How am I supposed to survive that?
If there were a women's racing Grand Prix, Resa would be a serious contender for the championship.
Whoooosh!
After pedaling hard for a while, I could see the full panorama of Libertad, the capital of San Marcos.
It's kind of funny that a dictatorship would name its capital after freedom, but the city's mornings were breathtakingly beautiful.
Fine sand stretched across the wide coastline, embraced by emerald waters, and the faded but colorful Portuguese-style buildings lining both sides of the street glowed in the morning sunlight.
At first glance, it looked like a romantic Caribbean tourist destination. But that was where the charm ended.
Weeds grew wild between the paving stones that looked like they'd been laid at least thirty years ago. Drunks lay passed out next to piles of garbage someone had dumped the night before. At the harbor, there wasn't a single ship in sight, and the lone crane stood rusted and looking like it might collapse at any moment.
'No progress whatsoever...!'
This was exactly the problem. This was why I hated going to work.
For the past three years, I'd worked like a madman as minister.
I'd brought in a global hotel chain to build a beautiful resort on the beach. I'd developed package tours for foreign tourists.
With President Juan's full support, I'd doubled the budget for tourism infrastructure.
But the results were disastrous.
The road to the resort construction site was still unpaved, so construction hadn't even broken ground. When I sent down the budget for road construction, it came back as a beautifully botched job.
Turns out the officials in charge had pocketed more than half of it.
This country wasn't rotten from the top. It was diseased at its very roots.
Then again, what could be more futile than telling people to take ownership of their nation when half of them can't even read?
The state had never done anything for them.
"The moment my term ends, I'm running straight back to Korea."
No way I was renewing my contract.
I'd saved about a million dollars. Wasn't that enough to join the FIRE movement? (TL: FIRE = Financial Independence, Retire Early)
After about twenty more minutes of riding, I spotted the Presidential Palace on a hill in the distance.
They'd repurposed the old governor's building from the Portuguese colonial era, so it was worn down, but that actually made it look like an ancient palace.
As I entered the approach road, I came upon a massive iron gate emblazoned with the eagle crest, the symbol of San Marcos.
Armed guards stood on either side of the gate. Among them, a large man greeted me familiarly.
"You're here."
"How've you been? Is Anna doing better?"
"Thanks to your concern, Minister. She's being discharged next week."
"That's great news. Send her my congratulations. But why are you sweating so much? Are you feeling sick?"
"Just feeling a bit under the weather..."
"Tsk, if you're sick, you should rest."
His name was Javier. Rumor had it he was a former US Navy SEAL who'd gotten tangled up in some incident after leaving the service, ended up on a gang's hit list, and fled with his younger sister to San Marcos, where they couldn't reach him.
Whether it was true or not, I couldn't say.
But he was definitely American.
His accent was unmistakably Texan.
'Both him and me... They must really be desperate for talent if they're hiring based on ability alone.'
Admirable, San Marcos.
Truly impressive, San Marcos.
"You brought your bag today."
"It's a cabinet meeting. Got to bring my reports."
I handed him my briefcase. Normally, they wouldn't search the belongings of someone at my level, but Javier was the embodiment of going by the book. He carefully inspected every part of the bag.
"All clear. Please go in."
"Thanks. Keep up the good work."
I waved and entered the Presidential Palace. After passing through the creaky old corridor, the sight of the imposing door to the Cabinet Room made me sigh before I'd even entered.
'I wonder how frustrating it'll be today.'
As I stepped inside with a sigh, the ministers who had been chatting amongst themselves all fell silent at once.
It was always like this. The corrupt always fear the clean. Especially someone like me, who was close to the next leader.
'These idiots, acting like this.'
A moment later, the heavy door opened again and the Prime Minister's secretary entered.
"The Prime Minister is entering."
All the ministers rose from their seats as if on cue, and in walked Ian Marcos, the next-in-line who was presiding over today's cabinet meeting.
Once he took his seat as the regent of royal power, the other ministers finally sat down.
"Let us begin the cabinet meeting."
A low, powerful voice filled the room.
"Minister of Agriculture, what is the status of this year's drought countermeasures?"
Minister Sanchez of the Ministry of Agriculture shot up from his seat at the question and began his report in a stiff posture.
"Currently, our Ministry of Agriculture is mobilizing all departmental resources to implement a nationwide campaign to increase agricultural production through the strengthening of national spirit and the promotion of patriotism! Ministry staff are visiting farms across the country to encourage the farmers..."
Ian squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head.
"...Thank you. Please submit the rest in writing."
"Yes, yes!"
Just look at this incompetence.
'What, do crops grow faster when you cheer them on from the sidelines?'
This wasn't some kind of black magic.
The only reason Minister Sanchez still held his position was that he'd served as President Juan's adjutant during the independence war.
The other ministers were no different.
"To replenish the depleted treasury, I propose the establishment of a special purpose tax!"
"Who are you going to collect it from, and what will you spend it on? More importantly, the national income is rock bottom. Will raising taxes even produce meaningful results?"
"Well, that's... we'll figure out a method starting now."
"......"
The Minister of Finance, a former colonel in the independence army, kept proposing to just raise taxes with no plan whatsoever.
"If we distribute soap to every household and maintain hygiene, it will greatly improve the health of our citizens!"
"First of all, there's hardly any household without soap. And how do you plan to get all that soap anyway?"
"My brother-in-law happens to own a soap factory..."
The Minister of Health, who'd been the supply commander during the independence war, was openly trying to line his own pockets.
"We'll build 10,000 homes in the capital Libertad and distribute them to the common people!"
"As far as I know, there are already more empty houses than we know what to do with?"
And the Minister of Housing, who happened to be President Juan's brother-in-law, was just spouting complete nonsense.
"Haa."
Facing this endless stream of frustration, Ian didn't even bother responding anymore and just let out a deep sigh.
Honestly, I couldn't blame him. I was the only sane person in this room.
'What did they expect, filling the cabinet with nothing but military men?'
Some of them couldn't even read.
I let out my own sigh, and Ian turned to look at me.
"Minister of Natural Resources and Tourism, I hear you're developing an oil field?"
"Yes, I'm planning to survey the offshore field in the northern waters."
"But didn't Chevron pull out, saying there was no potential there?"
"I believe Chevron's withdrawal was a negotiating tactic to gain leverage, not because there's actually no potential."
"What's your basis for that?"
"After they withdrew, I requested contract termination. Their response was to ask for more time. And it was the vice president himself who called. It seems they were bluffing to gain the upper hand in negotiations."
"That does sound promising. So how do you plan to develop the oil field? Will you continue with Chevron?"
"I don't think we can continue doing business with a partner who's already broken our trust. For now, we'll conduct our own survey, and once the exploration contract expires, we'll look for other options."
"Good. Understood. I'll make sure you get full support, so go ahead with it."
"Thank you."
With my report complete, Ian declared the cabinet meeting adjourned.
Amid the obligatory applause, the ministers rose from their seats, stretching their stiff shoulders.
"Good work, my friend."
Ian approached and whispered in my ear. I chuckled and replied.
"You're the one who has it rough."
We began walking down the long corridor toward the annex's banquet hall, where the luncheon was being prepared, along with the other ministers.
"Once my father passes, I'm going to fire them all and bring in competent people. I already have his approval."
"I hope that day comes soon."
I didn't tell him I was planning to quit when my term ended.
He was already having a hard enough time. No need to slap him in the face.
'I'll just tell him I'm going to Korea for vacation and then ghost him.'
Breakup by ghosting wasn't the only option. If I submitted my resignation, they'd obviously ban me from leaving the country.
'Guess I'll have to ghost-quit.'
Just as I was perfecting my plan in my head, I heard it.
Click, click.
The sound of high heels approaching from the far end of the corridor rang out with unusual clarity.
The owner of those footsteps parted the crowd with her unwavering stride, heading directly toward me.
Isabella Sheira, the Presidential Chief of Staff.
I'd crossed paths with her dozens of times, but she was the kind of beauty that made me swallow hard every time I saw her.
Her perfectly fitted black dress suit revealed her curvaceous yet slender, almost unreal figure without reservation, and her face beneath her neatly tied hair was a perfect demonstration of Latin American beauty.
And she was brilliant too. The late Prime Minister's only daughter, she'd graduated at the top of her class in Political Science and Diplomacy from the University of São Paulo, Brazil's most prestigious institution.
As she drew closer, my heart started pounding.
"His Excellency would like to see you privately, Minister."
"M-me?"
"Yes."
"May I ask why..."
"He didn't give specifics. He only asked me to tell you to wait in the garden."
"Father probably wants to ask about the gold mine. Go ahead. I'll wait for you at the luncheon."
Ian pushed me along with a sly smile.
Following her, I arrived at the President's private garden.
"Please wait here. His Excellency will be with you shortly."
Isabella stood beside me with an unreadable, expressionless face, not moving an inch.
I sat on a bench by the fountain and tried to guess why he'd called me.
'Maybe he wants to give me a nice bonus if the oil field development succeeds?'
As I was lost in thought, I spotted President Juan at the far end of the corridor.
He was walking toward the garden with slow but dignified steps.
"Your Excel—?"
Just as I was about to greet him, I noticed Javier right behind the President.
'Why is he there?'
When our eyes met, Javier's expression turned anxious.
A look that said, why the hell are you here? A chill ran down my spine, and every hair on my body stood on end.
Most of all, that black bag in his hand.
It was obviously wrong!
"Get down!"
I instinctively tackled Isabella beside me.
Flash—!
The world turned completely white, a blinding light consuming everything, making it impossible to open my eyes.
And then, the next instant.
BOOOOOOM—!
A thunderous roar that seemed to shake my entire body made the earth tremble.
I was swept up by the shockwave that hit like a storm and thrown onto the grass.
A sharp ringing pierced my ears. When I came to my senses and lifted my head, what I saw was beyond belief.
"Wh-what the..."
Everything before my eyes had collapsed.
The President, the Presidential Palace, and everyone inside.