TL: Skye
In the end, the SIA Director and Deputy Director were not executed by firing squad.
Thanks to my persistent objection, they were instead legitimately sent to the coal mines to work off the money they had embezzled.
'That worked out well.'
No matter how shamelessly those two had lined their pockets, execution by firing squad in 2025? Absolutely unacceptable.
They should be given the chance to work hard and pay it back. That way, we could recover the money and still respect human rights.
'This isn't North Korea, after all.'
Well... according to Isabella, after seizing all their remaining assets and offsetting what they owed, each of them would need to work in the labor camp for roughly 275 years to fully repay what they'd stolen. But that didn't seem like a particularly important detail, so I figured I could let it slide.
"Yep, exactly right."
"What's exactly right?"
"Oh, just that things seem to be going well lately. We went through something huge, but the government's still running without major problems, isn't it?"
"It's all thanks to Your Excellency."
"Oh, please. What did I even do? Isabella worked much harder. By the way, how's the SIA work going? No territorial issues?"
"No, everyone already knew each other, and since we're becoming an agency directly under the Presidential Office, the mood has been welcoming."
"That's good to hear... I just hope Isabella's workload doesn't get too heavy."
At my genuine concern, Isabella's expression stiffened.
"...I will do my utmost to ensure there are no disruptions to my duties as Chief of Staff."
"No, that's not what I meant. I'm worried about you getting worn out. You're not a machine. If you're buried in work all the time, won't you eventually collapse?"
"Ah."
She nodded and replied.
"I appreciate the consideration."
"Anyway, let's push through just a little longer. Let's get this country back on track as soon as possible."
"Yes."
"Now then, what's today's schedule?"
"First, there's an emergency cabinet meeting at 9 AM. At 1 PM, an inspection of the Port of Libertad. At 4 PM, a visit to the naval base. At 7 PM, you'll head to the broadcasting station for a special address to the nation..."
"......"
At this rate, I was going to die before I could worry about anyone else.
*
Just as Isabella had described, that day's schedule was absolutely murderous.
The schedule itself was packed, but the difficulty level was equally brutal.
First, the cabinet meeting that started at 9 AM and ran for about an hour and twenty minutes turned my stomach inside out.
The vice ministers in attendance demonstrated the pinnacle of incompetence. When I asked about current issues, most of them couldn't answer and said they'd find out by tomorrow.
I was disappointed yet again by their pathetic work capabilities, but I didn't criticize them.
'It wouldn't change anything anyway.'
This wasn't their fault. The problem was a system that only recruited former military personnel as civil servants.
'What does military service have to do with public administration anyway?'
On top of that, promotion to senior positions like deputy director and above was only available to those who had been field-grade officers or higher.
I wanted nothing more than to tear the whole system apart right now, but...
"...Good work, everyone. Let's wrap up here for today."
Since I'd be going home soon anyway, it didn't feel right for me to change things, and it would take significant time and money. So I gave up.
'I'll just have to endure the frustration.'
But the cabinet meeting wasn't even the worst part of that day.
After lunch, I headed out on schedule to inspect the Port of Libertad.
"Current cargo volume is just over 47,000 TEU..."
Screeeech—
A grinding noise came from the port's only crane.
CRASH!
And it collapsed right there.
"......"
The dust cloud that billowed up settled to reveal the rusted crane, now broken into pieces.
If we had walked just 50 meters further, everyone including myself could have been hit by the debris. All I could do was stare blankly at this near-catastrophe.
"What the..."
After a moment of silence, I asked.
"When was that crane purchased?"
"Th-th-th-that would be..."
"...I know this was an unavoidable accident. I won't hold anyone responsible, so give me a proper answer."
"I-i-it was purchased in... eighty... three, I believe."
"That's quite old. Why wasn't it replaced all this time?"
The Port of Libertad director squeezed his eyes shut as he answered.
"Cargo volume was low, and we were strapped for budget, so we didn't replace it. It was... it was still operational..."
"Haah."
I already knew this was our reality, but now that it was my problem to deal with, the sigh escaped automatically.
'If that thing breaks down, how are we supposed to import food?'
On top of that, our coffee bean exports would obviously be disrupted too.
We could use manual labor for loading and unloading, but efficiency would drop catastrophically.
"Contact crane companies immediately and get one installed as fast as possible, whatever they charge."
"But the budget..."
"Do you not understand the situation? People are about to starve, and you're worried about the budget?!"
"I-I'm sorry! I'll get on it right away!"
And this harsh reality continued to torment me at the next stop.
When I arrived at the naval base...
Vroom... sputter sputter.
Two of San Marcos's only four patrol boats wouldn't start.
"Wh-why is this happening...?"
After numerous attempts, they finally got the engines running, but Isabella warned me it was too dangerous. So I ended the inspection without boarding the patrol boats.
On the way back after finishing the national address...
Thunk!
Riding down the asphalt road, which felt bumpier than usual that day, I thought to myself.
'This country has no future...!'
As a minister, I'd only handled the Ministry of Resources and Tourism, so I'd only had a vague idea. But becoming Acting President and looking closer made one thing crystal clear.
San Marcos was a sinking ship.
The people had no drive, and the civil servants were incompetent and corrupt.
The biggest problem was that even if I wanted to change something, the country had no money.
You need at least a scrap of firewood to start a fire.
And borrowing wasn't an option either.
San Marcos was an internationally blacklisted debtor nation. They had borrowed 300 million dollars from the Soviet Union in the late '80s, and when the USSR collapsed, they used that as an excuse to never pay it back.
In the end, we had no choice but to run the country on the money earned from selling coffee beans...
'You can't run a nation on pocket change.'
Honestly, part of me wondered if we should just have a communist revolution and start from zero.
'President Juan Marcos... what kind of battle have you been fighting all this time?'
Should I just console myself with the thought that at least we're better off than North Korea?
"You seem very frustrated."
"Well... yes."
"The SIA has traced the accounts and assets of the former Director and Deputy Director and recovered 13 million dollars. Would you like to use that first to address the immediate needs?"
"No, no. The SIA should use that money. I heard the agents have been paying for their own business trips and meals out of pocket all this time?"
"Everyone will understand. The SIA can only exist if the nation exists."
"Hmm... let's look at the fiscal situation in detail first. If it really comes down to it, we'll do that."
"Yes, understood."
*
The next day, Isabella and I assembled a task force by bringing in agents with strong numbers skills from the SIA to thoroughly examine the national fiscal situation.
Normally I should have used secretarial staff, but...
'The only manpower I can freely use right now is the SIA.'
The previous staff had all died in the terrorist attack, and even if I hired new people, there was no time to verify their capabilities. So the SIA it was.
Fortunately...
"Of the budget allocated to the Ministry of Internal Affairs, approximately 1.7 million dollars remains unused." "We've confirmed the Ministry of Construction and Housing overpaid a construction company by 4.3 million dollars. We'll begin recovery procedures immediately." "We found 2.2 million dollars in unpaid subsidies in the Ministry of Agriculture's budget."
The SIA agents were relatively elite, and since the agency had recently become directly subordinate to the Presidential Office, their loyalty was extremely high. They worked with tremendous dedication.
Especially...
"Of the Ministry of Defense's weapons procurement funds, 3.4 million dollars that had already been disbursed flowed into the former Defense Minister's account. Additionally, 4.4 million dollars appears to have been inflated in the transport helicopter purchase. If you look here, the previous purchase cost was just over 8.7 million dollars, but this year's..."
Lucio Carvalho, the Financial Team Leader, was absolutely exceptional.
According to Isabella, he was a military academy graduate who had worked in the Financial Management Corps during his service. After discharge, he worked as a tax officer at the National Tax Service before finding his way to the SIA.
Given his background, he was unmatched when it came to examining financial ledgers.
After 17 days, the SIA had scraped together every last dollar San Marcos had.
"771,438,510 dollars."
The budget secured by squeezing out every last drop.
In the process, several public officials acknowledged their mistakes and voluntarily entered the mines to work off the money they had embezzled.
The amount looked like a substantial sum, but...
"So we still can't avoid a deficit."
With roughly 810 million dollars in projected expenditures, we were looking at approximately negative 30 million dollars.
"Should I renegotiate with Chevron?"
I considered it briefly, then shook my head. If we waited, we could develop the oil fields on much better terms. Initiating negotiations out of desperation would be sucker behavior.
That left only one option.
"We'll have to sell the government-procured coffee beans as soon as they're harvested."
All I could do was pray that international coffee prices would skyrocket.
By the way...
"How did President Juan cover deficits like this?"
No matter how I thought about it, something didn't add up. Tax revenue this year wasn't lower than other years.
And this was the deficit we got after squeezing out every last drop and setting a tight budget at negative 30 million dollars.
That meant normally we'd be looking at deficits well exceeding 30 million, and the only way to cover that would be issuing bonds, but...
"That wasn't happening either."
As I mentioned, San Marcos's national credit rating wasn't at a level where we could issue bonds.
'Even if we borrowed, we'd be paying loan shark-level interest rates.'
So what was it? What was I missing?
'Was there some secret oil operation running without anyone knowing?'
I wanted to ask someone, but everyone who might know was buried underground.
'There's definitely something going on here...'
As I kept turning it over in my mind...
'Wait.'
A hypothesis formed in my head.
Juan Marcos had ruled San Marcos for nearly 50 years until the day he died.
He'd even designated his own son as his successor.
Excluding North Korea, he'd maintained an ironclad regime for an incomparably long time.
'Is that possible just by controlling the military?'
No way. History shows that betrayal can't be prevented just by controlling military power.
'Caesar didn't get stabbed by Brutus for nothing.'
Moreover, the dead ministers had been influential figures in the military themselves. They easily could have banded together for a coup, yet that had never once happened.
And it wasn't like President Juan had brainwashed people or ruled through terror like North Korea's Kim dynasty.
But what if... there was a reason it had to be that way?
What if he provided the ministers with something more valuable than seizing power?
What if everyone knew the country couldn't function without President Juan?
What if he had been covering the national deficit?!
That would explain everything. If that was true, the reason was most likely...
"A slush fund."
There was a high probability that President Juan had hidden money somewhere.
As I reached this rather plausible conclusion, one object surfaced in my mind.
"Could it be...?"
The USB I'd found in the Presidential Palace's secret storage room.
If my hypothesis about a slush fund was correct, that was the most suspicious item.
"......"
On a hunch, I pulled out the USB and plugged it into my laptop. Inside were a few documents and a single notepad file.
The contents weren't much.
https://investor.vanguard.dkfhkekd38.com
ID : juanmarcos1948 PASSWORD : marmar2580!
Just a brokerage HTS address with a login ID, password, and authentication key.
As if drawn by some force, I accessed the site.
"What the... holy shit. What is this?"
I was confronted with a shocking screen.