“Born in ’78, Year of the Horse. Your mother was a shaman, and after she died, you grew up in an orphanage run by a priest, right?”
“......!”
“You went to technical high school there, graduated, then got into a vocational college on scholarship. The scholarship only covered tuition, so while you were in school, you worked every part-time job under the sun. Oh, and in the winter, you said selling roasted sweet potatoes out of a drum barrel paid pretty well.”
“Huh...”
Hearing his own past spill out of someone else’s mouth—especially things from such a long time ago—made Baek Hail feel both amazed and strangely awkward.
“You worked at Samwoo Motors until you got laid off, and after that there wasn’t a place you didn’t work—shipyards, boiler plants, all of it. You said you’d worked construction sites for apartments, semiconductor factories, country houses, all kinds of jobs. That’s why you used to brag there was nothing you couldn’t do, from pouring concrete to plumbing to electrical wiring.”
“This is nuts. Hah hah.”
“After you opened the hardware store, you used your connections to supply materials to job sites around Busan and sometimes went out to help in person too. Oh, and that repair shop next to the hardware store—you said for neighborhood people you practically only charged material costs, and did everything from paint jobs to simple repairs? You worked your ass off, spent a ton of time on it, but didn’t make much money, so your daughter used to give you grief about it all the time.”
“No, hold on. I said all that too?”
“Yeah. There’s more, but this is what I remember right now. Oh, and you told me your nickname too. BaekGyver. The Southeast Asian migrant workers at construction sites who weren’t good at the job kept calling for help—‘Baek Hai, Baek Hai’—all the time. You helped them with everything, and after a few months it turned into BaekGyver.”
“Hah! It’s real, it’s real. Even I forgot that over ten years ago, and you know it. That’s really old stuff. Nobody calls me that these days.”
Now fully convinced, Baek Hail gave an embarrassed laugh.
“You can talk casually, big brother. I’m twenty-nine this year.”
“Oh, really? Then I’ll do that. So I’ll call you Junho... no, wait, can I call you Hoya?”
“That’s what you used to call me.”
Thinking of Baek Hail during the apocalypse, Junho smiled.
Baek Hail had called his son Baek Suho our Hoya, and Junho just Hoya.
“Oh, did I? Anyway, really, thank you. Once the surgery’s over, I’ll have Suho thank you too. You’re his lifesaver.”
“The doctor’s the one doing the surgery, not me. But sure.”
In the apocalypse, Junho had never actually seen Baek Suho in person or spoken with him.
That was because Baek Suho had stayed only in the ward where they kept the patients and ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ the elderly.
“Still...”
After tossing back a shot of soju, Baek Hail glanced around and lowered his voice.
“Does the world really go to hell? Government, military, all of them can’t do a damn thing?”
Junho’s face grew serious too.
“Yes. At least for about three years after it starts—so until around 2027—you can’t expect anything from the government.”
“Huh...”
“The military, well... how do I put it. Independent units? Warlords? Anyway, after a while it splits into a bunch of separate groups. But most of them aren’t much different from raiders. There are some soldiers who aren’t like that, sure, but most of them lean more toward using survivors than protecting them. The rumors were bad.”
“Jesus... and the government ran off to Jeju?”
“Yeah. Jeju was crawling with zombies too, but I guess because it was an island, driving them back or taking control was relatively easier. Even so, from what I heard, they never stabilized the whole island.”
“Useless bastards. Then what about Busan?”
Junho’s expression hardened.
“You have to leave. No question. Along with Seoul, Busan turns into one of the biggest shitshows. All major cities are dangerous.”
“Yeah, makes sense. Then what do we do?”
“What do you mean what do we do? You wrap up your life in Busan and build the shelter with me.”
“The shelter... right. Tell me more about that.”
Something changed in Baek Hail’s eyes.
He had heard the outline, but he still had not been able to picture it concretely.
Junho pulled out his phone, opened the map app, showed him the closed-school site at Haneul Forest Campground, and said,
“I picked the site already. It’s in Namyangju. Mountains on all sides, and only one road in. Groundwater comes out like crazy, and there’s a stream in front, so we won’t have to worry about water. Water’s really important.”
“Hm. Yeah, I guess it would be.”
“Here—on the roofs of the main building and the other annex buildings, I’m going to install solar panels. I ran the rough numbers, and I think we can get at least 140 kilowatts. If we really push it, maybe even 180.”
“Then assume 140. You’re putting automatic cleaning robots on the panels, right? You need to calculate panel area as conservatively as possible.”
Just from a quick look at the satellite map, he was already doing the math in his head.
He really was a mechanic through and through.
“Yes. And here—this restaurant building the old campground operator built separately. I’m thinking of converting it into storage. Split it in half and use it as an ultra-low-temperature freezer warehouse and a fuel storage area.”
“Tsk, tsk. Hoya, guess you really don’t know this side of things too well.”
“I did study up because I was trying to build a shelter, but yeah. Not like you.”
Baek Hail clicked his tongue, but Junho was actually glad to hear it.
The comparison was embarrassing—Baek Hail was a real expert.
“You’re storing food in that freezer warehouse, right? Then you absolutely cannot keep it together with a fuel storage area. If it were me.”
Baek Hail started giving concrete opinions with a grave expression.
As the man went on with focused explanations, Junho looked at him with quiet satisfaction and nodded along absentmindedly.
“...You get it? Do you have any idea how much electricity an ultra-low-temp freezer burns? You have to dig into the mountain behind it and build it there. Why? First off, it won’t even cost that much.”
“Right.”
“And the temperature inside the mountain stays constant year-round, you know? I guarantee it—if you build it that way, even with the same square footage, your power usage drops to less than half. Hoya, are you even listening to me right now?”
“Yes, yes, I’m listening, big brother.”
“Kid, you definitely weren’t listening.”
“I heard all of it. But big brother, instead of explaining it all to me like this...”
When Junho raised his glass, Baek Hail reflexively lifted his own.
After the toast, Junho drained the soju and continued,
“How about this? From the beginning to the end... what do you think about taking responsibility for the shelter construction yourself? Your family’s going to live there too, after all.”
“Cough—!”
***
“Then I’m heading back to the hospital.”
“Okay. Get there safe, big brother.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll call tomorrow morning.”
After talking for about another hour at the pork-belly place, Junho and Baek Hail parted ways.
It had only been a short time, but it was more than enough to share the rough plan and get on the same page.
They would have plenty more time later.
Back at the hotel, Junho delayed checking out and extended his stay.
He had decided to remain in Busan until Monday.
“Hoo...”
After putting his meat-smelling clothes into the clothes-care machine, Junho showered and twisted open a bottle of water.
Then he slowly reviewed his conversation with Baek Hail.
First of all, as proof that he now trusted him completely, Baek Hail had decided to take out a loan with the building he owned as collateral.
At minimum, he said he could probably get 50 percent of the building’s value, maybe as much as 70 percent.
Roughly 900 million to 1.2 billion won.
With that money, Baek Hail was going to watch for the right timing and buy Stella coin.
Han Pro—Han Youngjung—had made it clear that Stella coin would keep rocketing up and crashing down like a roller coaster until before summer.
And a few times in there, he had said, it would go over 100,000 won.
So all Baek Hail had to do was buy in around the 70,000 to 80,000 won range and sell near 100,000 won to lock in the profit.
From Junho’s perspective, he was already managing more than ten billion won in capital, and he also had to stay aware of the financial authorities watching him.
He had already made a fortune off crypto.
If he kept doing things that were basically gambling after that and wound up on the radar of the National Tax Service or somewhere similar, that would be a problem.
But Baek Hail was different.
And he needed some capital too.
So the plan was for him to make around a 20 to 30 percent profit off Stella coin first, then move the money into NVIDIA the same way Junho had.
“A workshop on the level of a Class-1 auto shop? Industrial 3D printers, even metal 3D printers too, the kind of place that could make guns? Machines and equipment won’t be hard to get—there are plenty of factories getting crushed because of COVID. The problem is materials and permits.”
“There’s some equipment you can’t run without permits. And materials—especially metal—aren’t usually sold by the kilo. But who am I? I’ll figure something out somehow. No, I can definitely make it happen.”
“It’ll be out in the mountains anyway, and you said it just can’t get caught for about two years, right? Then we run it as quietly as possible. And even if it does get caught, like you said, that lawyer should be able to smooth it over. Besides, at worst it’ll probably just mean a fine or something. I know—I dealt with that kind of thing at a factory I used to work at.”
“You want to hire a construction company from Busan and send them up there? Why? Ah... because if we use a capital-region company, after the apocalypse starts they might crawl their way to the shelter. Then that means we’d have to hire laborers down here too, and that’ll probably make labor costs insanely— ah, right, 15 billion. Fine. Let’s do it your way, Hoya.”
“I’ll start tomorrow—meeting design firms and construction company candidates right away. What? Weekend or no weekend, who gives a damn. Because of COVID, everybody’s starving for work right now, so it should go easy.”
Once Junho’s ideas met Baek Hail’s outstanding skill and experience, the shelter construction plan accelerated fast.
As expected, once the money was ready and an expert was added to the mix, the speed and execution were on a different level.
“Now then...”
Before coming down to Busan, Junho had already saved the number in his phone.
He tapped it.
After the line rang a few times, a tired voice came through the receiver.
“Hello?”
“Hello. Is this Attorney Lee Dongcheol?”
“Yes, this is Attorney Lee Dongcheol. Who is this?”
Though his voice had been somewhat loose from it being a weekend evening, it quickly shifted back into business mode.
“My name is Lee Junho. There’s something I’d like to hire you for.”
“Yes, yes. Go ahead.”
“I’m trying to win a bid on a property that’s up for auction. I need legal advice related to using the site, and a lawyer who can respond to any problems that might arise.”
“......”
After a short silence, a voice tinged with disappointment came through.
“I’m sorry, but if it’s an auction matter, you’d be better off looking into a real-estate-focused law firm, or an attorney familiar with that side of practice. I handle civil litigation, especially corporate—”
“The property is in Namyangju. You worked there as a prosecutor, right? I happened to hear about you through someone who knew someone. That’s why I contacted you.”
“...Go on.”
“It’s called Haneul Forest Campground. It’s a former closed-school site that was remodeled and run as a campground. A private operator ran it with proper permits, but it went under because of the pandemic. Other than tax delinquency issues, there aren’t any major legal issues. I’m planning to win the bid on the site and use it as a country house, a pension, or maybe reopen it as a campground.”
“Like I said, I don’t really do real estate—”
“I need a legal professional who can handle issues that may arise throughout the business as a whole. Someone who can take care of administrative coordination and risk management too. In other words, a dedicated attorney.”
“...So legal advisory work. A retained counsel contract. But you understand that costs a fair amount, don’t you?”
“Yes. To start, I’m thinking a retainer of 400 million won on a one-year contract. Paid at 100 million per quarter. After that, starting at 100 million a year, renewed annually with a 10 percent increase for the time being. I’d like you to focus on this side of things for about one year, and then starting next year we can separately coordinate the advisory hours and scope. I’m not going to ask you to do only my work to the point of absurdity. What do you think?”
Junho finished the line he had practically memorized from studying online, without making any real mistakes.
“...!”
Listening to the unmistakably startled breath on the other end, Junho went on in an easy tone.
“Attorney Lee, I live in the capital region, but I’m in Busan right now. Whenever you have time—”
“How about tomorrow at lunch? Where are you staying right now—”
“I’m in Hadan, but I can come to you. Your office is in Seomyeon, right?”
“Yes, yes, that would be appreciated. Then call me when you head out. I’ll be waiting.”
“Okay. Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yes, see you tomorrow.”
The call ended on a voice that sounded like it was trying hard to stay calm.
After setting his phone down, Junho let out a short laugh.
Four hundred million won was not a small amount for an attorney at a Busan legal office that was not some famous giant law firm.
And according to what Junho had found when he searched, despite what Lee Dongcheol had said during the apocalypse before the regression, he was actually in a position where he was practically renting space inside a law office headed by a senior attorney.
It might be called a solo practice, but in reality, it was a structure where he kept getting cases under the shadow of his senior’s reputation.
After paying the salaries of the junior attorney, office manager, and other staff he had hired himself, how much could really be left over?
For a man like that, 400 million won in the first year and more than 100 million every year after that was the kind of deal that would make his mouth water.
“If I turn a blind eye to however much he skims off the top and toss him a little extra here and there... I can probably keep a leash on him for about two years.”
After that, he might become dangerous.
The Lee Dongcheol Junho had seen and dealt with was exactly the kind of man who, once he got comfortable and decided you were an easy mark, would stab you in the back without hesitation.
Then again, maybe he already thought some sucker had fallen into his lap.
But Junho, who knew exactly what kind of person Lee Dongcheol was, had already prepared countermeasures for him too.
