November 5th, 10:30 a.m. — a wooded hill near Changbau Village in Yongdae-ri, Buk-myeon, Inje County, Gangwon Province.
As the bitter cold wind slashed through the sharply dropping temperatures, a unit of soldiers in camouflage gear climbed a steep hillside, cautiously advancing while using natural cover, their automatic rifles at the ready.
They were Special Forces Regiment troops and Special Warfare Command soldiers pursuing remnants of North Korean armed infiltrators, who had vanished for more than two weeks and then engaged in a firefight with friendly forces at dawn before fleeing.
Corporal Won Ki-hoon of the Eulji Unit's Reconnaissance Company was gasping for breath as he tried to scale the rugged slope while also keeping a watchful eye on all directions.
"Damn these bastard infiltrators."
A curse escaped his mouth involuntarily from the sheer exertion.
Even in such a grueling situation, he never once let his guard down, keeping his finger on the trigger, ready to shoot at any moment.
Earlier in the morning, officers from the military intelligence unit had been ambushed and shot, causing multiple casualties. And just two to three hours ago, six friendly soldiers had been wounded and evacuated. Tension was unavoidable.
It would've been a lie to say he wasn't scared of getting killed or wounded himself. But more than fear, it was the looming thought that if they lost the infiltrators again—this close to the DMZ—they might never be able to avenge the comrades who had already fallen. That was enough to keep their nerves razor-sharp.
Won Ki-hoon was no different. Especially after his comrade, a fellow recruit from the same training batch, had been shot in the thigh during the last engagement, his desire for revenge was burning even hotter.
As they slowly pushed forward with rifles raised between the leafless trees, their branches laid bare—
Something dark shifted beneath a thorn bush beside a nearby rock.
"What the—?!"
The moment Corporal Won Ki-hoon's eyes widened and he opened his mouth to shout, a North Korean infiltrator hidden under the bramble fired an M-16.
Tat-tat-tat!
"Gah!"
The first two bullets struck a pine tree beside him, but the last round pierced straight through Won Ki-hoon's chest.
Reeling from the brutal impact, he let out a painful groan and collapsed backward.
"Contact!"
"Fire!"
Tat! Tat-tat-tat! Tat! Bang!
The startled ROK soldiers swiftly took cover and returned fire without hesitation.
"Shit! Corporal Won's hit!"
"Eleven o'clock! Near that bush by the tree! Don't let them get away—kill every last one of 'em!"
Seeing their comrade go down right in front of them, the soldiers snapped. Their eyes wide with rage, they unloaded automatic fire in a fury.
Gunfire crackled like popcorn, grenades exploded with earth-shaking booms, and the once-quiet valley erupted into chaos.
Fwhizz! Fwhizz! Tat-tat-tat! Bang! Bang!
KA-BOOM!
As bullets screamed through the air with a terrifying whistle, Corporal Won Ki-hoon lay sprawled on the dirt, gasping for breath.
"Huuhh... huff…"
Agonizing pain pierced his chest with every breath, and his face twisted in torment. A dreadful feeling crept over him—he might actually die here.
In that moment, faces flashed before his eyes like a slideshow of memories—his beloved parents... and the girlfriend who had promised to wait for him faithfully until his discharge.
His chest swelled with emotion, boiling over.
"Goddammit!"
It felt unbearably unfair to die like this.
Curses spilled from his mouth as hot tears streamed from both of his eyes.
Of all days, the sky was especially clear and sunny without a single cloud—a perfect, beautiful day—which only made his desire to live all the more desperate.
Just then, a shadow fell over Corporal Won Ki-hoon's head where he lay on the ground. It was the company's senior medic, who leaned in close to check on him.
"Ki-hoon, you okay? Where were you hit?"
He felt a surge of irritation—wasn't the blood obvious enough?—but this was someone who'd come to help him, so he forced himself to speak through gritted teeth.
"M-my chest... I think I was hit in the chest."
The medic, keeping his upper body low to avoid the bullets still whizzing overhead, deftly unfastened Won's body armor with practiced hands.
He peeled off the outer camouflage field jacket and undershirt—and then froze, his expression shifting to one of surprise.
"Wait, what?!"
"Is... is it that bad?" Won asked weakly, his voice trembling as he lay there.
The medic turned his head, saw the tear-streaked face staring up at him, and let out a soft chuckle.
"Well, damn. I was gonna say you'd have a nice, long break in the military hospital, but with a wound like this, you're not gonna get off that easy."
Won Ki-hoon clenched his jaw in frustration. The guy was laughing while he was on death's doorstep?
"I'm dying here, and you think now's a good time for jokes?!"
"You've got enough energy to snap at me, so you're clearly not dying."
The medic chuckled again and continued examining the wound.
"You've got some nasty bruising, and I think you cracked or fractured your sternum. But it's not a penetrating wound, so don't freak out."
"Wait, what? B-but I got shot. How...?"
Still dazed, Won glanced over at the medic, who gestured with his chin toward the body armor lying beside them.
"That thing saved your ass. If you'd gone out today wearing the old vests we had in the company, you'd be in serious condition right now. Consider yourself lucky."
Come to think of it, just before the operation, there'd been a sudden equipment switch. Someone had said new gear had arrived, and their old Vietnam-era vests were replaced with the latest U.S. military body armor—complete with ballistic plates.
He never imagined that would end up saving his life.
"S-so... I'm not gonna die? I get to see Mi-hye again?"
"Mi-hye? Who's that? Your girlfriend?"
"Sniff... Yes."
Sniffling, Ki-hoon nodded. The medic couldn't help teasing him, even in the midst of chaos.
"Still thinking about your girl in a situation like this, huh?"
"Yeah."
"You might've cracked a rib or two. Don't move—just lie still."
Gunfire and explosions still rang out fiercely around them, echoing through the valley. But Corporal Won Ki-hoon, who had truly thought he was going to die just moments ago, now wept tears of relief knowing he was going to live.
[The Joint Chiefs of Staff announced that as of 5 p.m. yesterday, all combat units deployed in the operation to eliminate the North Korean armed infiltrators who entered the Gangneung region on September 18 have been ordered to return to their home bases and resume normal duties.
This brings the infiltration incident—which began with the discovery of a North Korean shark-class submarine—to a de facto end after 51 days.
During the operation, 13 North Korean infiltrators were killed, 11 were found dead, and one was captured alive. On the South Korean side, five personnel were killed—including two officers (one a colonel), a noncommissioned officer, and two enlisted soldiers—and 19 others were injured.
Meanwhile, the Joint Chiefs noted that one infiltrator remains unaccounted for…]
While adjusting his tie for work, Seok-won caught the news on TV and turned up the volume with the remote. A sense of relief washed over his face.
"The operation is finally over."
One of the 13 infiltrators aboard the grounded submarine was still on the loose, but considering the national inconvenience and economic toll the prolonged operation had caused, this was probably the right time to wrap things up.
As the report moved on to the casualty figures, he muttered to himself.
"I was worried whether it would really help, but… I'm glad we were able to save two more lives than in the original timeline."
He'd spent tens of millions of dollars to purchase and airlift the latest body armor into Korea, so by a purely financial measure, saving just two soldiers might seem like a poor return on investment.
But human lives weren't something you measured in dollars.
Through Executive Director Yoon Ki-hoon, the Ministry of National Defense had sent its thanks, saying several soldiers were saved thanks to the new armor. That was all the reassurance Seok-won needed—it had absolutely been worth it.
"Now that the operation's over, I can head back to the U.S. with a much lighter heart."
Just as he muttered that, the phone on the table rang.
He glanced at the caller ID and picked up. Landon's voice came through immediately.
[Good morning, boss.]
"It's night over there in New York, isn't it?"
[True, but it's morning in Seoul.]
Seok-won chuckled at the cheeky reply.
"From your cheerful voice, I'm guessing the Apple deal went well?"
[Yes. We finalized a deal with Steve Jobs to issue $200 million in convertible bonds at 8% interest over five years.]
Steve Jobs, having regained the CEO position at Apple thanks to Seok-won's support, had recently ousted Jeff Collier at a board meeting. As promised, Seok-won helped shore up the struggling company's finances by loaning it $200 million, giving Jobs a powerful foundation for his comeback.
"What's the conversion price for the stock at maturity?"
Convertible bonds (CBs) were debt instruments that could be converted into shares at the holder's discretion. Knowing full well how dramatically Apple would rise from the ashes, Seok-won had always planned to convert them into stock rather than collect the interest.
So for him, the conversion price was far more important than the interest rate.
[You can convert to stock at $7 per share after five years.]
Apple's share price, which Jobs had once sold to Seok-won for $15 a share, had continued to nosedive amid financial trouble—eventually falling as low as $8 and pushing the company to the brink of bankruptcy.
To his eyes, it felt as if he were buying bars of gold at the price of toilet paper.
Once Steve Jobs finished restructuring the company and launched the new Apple computer, the stock price was bound to soar—riding the crest of the soon-to-come IT bubble.
If they release that secret weapon—the MP3 player—the stock's going to absolutely explode.
Holding the phone to his ear, Seok-won smiled in satisfaction. He'd just secured the right to convert his investment into Apple stock—stock that would be worth hundreds of percent more in five years—for a mere $7 per share.
"You've done well."
[Not at all. Considering Apple's desperate financial state, we probably could've pushed for even better terms. But I wrapped it up at a fair point, just as you instructed.]
Landon sounded just a touch regretful.
"We're in this for the long haul. No good comes from souring the relationship with a company we're going to grow alongside. And honestly, these terms are more than satisfactory."
[I'm glad you think so.]
Landon brightened again, his tone lighter as he asked,
[So, will you be arriving in New York this week as planned?]
"That's right. I'll be staying for quite a while this time."
[Great news for me—I won't have to keep missing sleep just to talk to you.]
Landon joked, and Seok-won chuckled in return.
"Oh, and you remember I'm bringing some staff with me, right?"
[Of course. Just as you requested, I've arranged housing for them. I've also told Andrew to show them the ropes—how Wall Street really works.]
"These are the people who'll be leading our trading operations in Korea, so make sure they get top-notch training."
[Understood.]
"Then I'll see you in New York."
After ending the call, Seok-won lowered the phone from his ear and his gaze drifted to the desk calendar—showing that just one month remained in 1996.
His eyes darkened slightly as he stared at the calendar, his thoughts growing heavier. He murmured quietly, almost to himself.
"Only a little time left… before the massive tsunami hits Asia."