The one who came looking for Jinseong was an ordinary-looking white man.
Not particularly handsome or ugly, with well-groomed blonde hair, a protruding belly just like many middle-aged men, and clad in a well-tailored suit.
He was the type of average middle-aged man you would often see in the West.
He approached Jinseong with a friendly smile, as if he were an amicable person.
“Do you like cola?”
“Not many people dislike it.”
“Haha. You really are the very definition of a shaman, aren’t you?”
The man burst into hearty laughter and reached into the bag he brought along.
He pulled out two bottles of cola, placing one in front of himself and the other in front of Jinseong.
A 16.9 oz PET bottle of cola.
It was a size that could easily be held and drank with one hand.
The man smiled, holding the cola as if it were an invitation to chat, and after popping the cap, he guzzled it down. It was almost as if he wanted to prove that this cola was safe.
‘Hmm.’
As the man poured the cola down his throat, Jinseong quietly picked up his own.
He tilted it left and right casually, squeezing it gently in his hand.
So that any kind of drug injected into the cola would be immediately evident.
If foul play had indeed been committed, cola would start seeping out of the PET bottle and become obvious right away.
But fortunately, the cola remained intact, despite Jinseong’s squeezing.
At least it meant that no foul play was involved with a syringe.
After confirming that, Jinseong nodded and casually set the cola back down before him.
It was as if he had no intention of drinking it right now.
‘There’s really no need to drink it.’
The point wasn’t that he ruled out foul play with a syringe; it was that there could be other types of foul play at work.
Perhaps the cap had been tampered with, or the contents might be contaminated.
Triggering something while opening the cola or drinking it could lead to unexpected events.
So, the best option was not to drink it from the start.
Even considering the risks of showing he was on guard.
‘Showing a sign of vigilance can also change the course of the situation. Ego, what business do I have here?’
Without drinking the cola, Jinseong silently stared at the man.
“Hmm. I didn’t expect Koreans to like ‘ppalli-ppalli’ so much, wanting to get straight to the point this quickly. You’re even more straightforward than an American armed with a frontier spirit.”
The man smiled brightly at Jinseong’s demeanor.
As if to convey that he held no malicious intent and that he was safe.
With that smile, it seemed he wanted to show that he knew a thing or two about Koreans, mentioning something about Korea, and then reminding Jinseong that he was American and that they were in America.
A manner of speaking that naturally put pressure on the other party.
Particularly, considering the person he was conversing with was in captivity, it was akin to issuing polite threats.
He reminded Jinseong of his confined situation and inevitably made him recall the power of the country that held him captive.
Moreover, he hadn’t even introduced himself, yet he casually referred to Park Jinseong by his surname, as if to assert the hierarchy between them.
He was subconsciously trying to apply pressure, signifying that he was clearly in a superior position.
‘Let’s see…’
And look at that smile.
Though it appeared friendly, it was evidently honed through training.
A smile commonly used by agents.
Trained smiles reveal themselves.
If you only see a few, you might not notice, but after seeing countless agents, it’s easy to tell.
They must have learned from the same textbook.
They must have trained under the same instructor.
Once, a mercenary remarked,
“Those damn bastards have similar smiles. But even in those similar smiles, there are differences. If you can just recognize that, you’ll know where they belong. Heh heh heh.”
The mercenary said that his smile was practically his secret weapon, and that if he ever gave up mercenary work to become an instructor, he’d have to make a living with it.
Of course, his wishes never came to pass.
After all, how easy is it for a mercenary to retire quietly?
Especially in a world where a third world war had erupted.
He was used as cannon fodder, and he didn’t even leave behind an intact corpse.
Achieving the feat of dying from a bunker buster, his body was shredded into pieces, and even the remains were buried deep underground with the bunker.
Considering that there was no need to even construct a grave, his death could be viewed as horrifically efficient. The grave was brutally extravagant, far too large for just one person.
Thus the mercenary died, and the “secret” he spoke of vanished along with him.
Without being passed down to anyone.
However, just because it wasn’t passed down doesn’t mean it can’t be used.
Although he never dug in quite as deeply as that mercenary, one can still pick up on patterns after meeting several people.
It’s human nature to find similarities in similar things, and the creation of those secrets lies in information.
Thus, when information accumulates, imitation becomes possible.
‘Hmm. He doesn’t seem like FBI or CIA material.’
Jinseong gathered a lot from the man’s smile.
It was a smile curiously different from those he had seen on FBI and CIA agents.
Though he seemed friendly, he also radiated an overwhelming pride.
And he showed no inclination to hide his own arrogance.
‘Confidence, huh?’
Confidence?
What makes him so proud?
What gives him that confidence?
What could possibly make him so bold in front of Jinseong?
Is it confidence in his armed forces?
No, it’s not.
His escorts must be laid out around him, and there ought to be measures for his safety—
Looking at that man, Jinseong saw he was not a capable person and didn’t seem to possess excellent fighting skills.
He appeared unarmed, so he was not drawing confidence from that either.
Then if his pride doesn’t stem from fundamental military power—
Even with a shaman in captivity before him, this confidence he shows—
What makes this undistinguished middle-aged man appear so triumphant?
‘Patriotism for his country…?’
That must be it.
Supported by the world’s strongest country, America, he could afford to carry himself like that.
And it wasn’t merely an ordinary sense of nationalism that stems from just being part of that country, rather, it was the type of pride that comes when one could wield some power over it.
‘I can guess what he’s going to say.’
Jinseong could predict what the man would say next.
And the reason for his captivity as well.
“First of all, I’d like to ask you this question. Mr. Park, did you enjoy your time in America?”
“It was a country filled with countless people, as vast as its land. After all, culture comes from people, and variety arises from people. It’s hardly surprising that, in a place with so many people, there was much to see.”
Jinseong smiled brightly in response to the man’s question.
“And among those many people, I was able to forge a special bond with certain individuals, which can undoubtedly be called a blessing granted by my Lord.”
“Blessing granted by your Lord… So Mr. Park believes in the Lord too?”
The man raised an intrigued eyebrow at Jinseong’s words.
As the word “Lord” came from the mouth of a shaman from the East, it piqued his interest.
And in that demeanor, Jinseong felt a degree of certainty.
‘Well would you look at that.’
The man in front of him was a neocon.
‘He really has that familiar vibe to him… It’s almost drawn like a character…’
The neocons Jinseong had encountered all shared similar traits.
They overflowed with pride for their own country, often thinking they could live perfectly fine even if they shut their borders and isolated themselves. In addition, their understanding of foreign countries often reached catastrophic levels.
Indeed.
Just like the man standing before him.
‘Those foolish ones who believe they’re not ignorant tend to be a bigger problem.’
Catastrophic levels of misunderstanding don’t simply reflect ignorance.
If one knows nothing, they can learn—if there is a void, they can fill it.
But these people tended to harbor incorrect beliefs in abundance.
Sometimes they try to “understand” other countries with their own standards.
Of course, judging the world by one’s own standards is common enough.
But for neocons… it tends to be a bit excessive.
Very excessive.
Even in the midst of severe distortions, they cling firmly to their beliefs, unwilling to compromise their “perfect conclusions,” often seeing their own biases as common sense.
And combined with the typical neocon’s air of superiority…
‘It’s no surprise that I was shocked at hearing such words come from my mouth. When I speak, I not only look at a person’s face, but I also examine their skin color with my gaze as I first evaluate the color of their skin. Moreover, upon hearing the question of whether I believe in the Lord, I felt an unexpected surprise mixed with a hint of disgust, as if viewing a shaman as a pagan…’
A devout Christian.
A “devout” Christian who despises ‘idol-worshiping pagans.’
One who loves the ‘American-centric Western civilization’ and harbors a slight aversion towards Eastern cultures that threaten to contaminate it.
Jinseong stared intently at the man.
Then, with a smile, he asked:
“Do you know Lucas Metathronius Goldsmith?”
