Chapter 2: If a Chaebol has regressed, what can't he do?

The backlash of the Chaebol family's prodigal son has been converted to a paid series.

In a Vietnamese village square.

The Vietnamese civilians gathered in one place are still trembling. And some of them are looking at the South Korean soldiers with eyes full of hatred.

"Are there any hidden Viet Cong bastards?"

The squad leader asked.

"No, sir."

All the squad members answered.

"Then let's withdraw as quickly as possible."

Bang!

At that moment, a gunshot rang out.

"Ugh!"

At the same time, Squad Leader Jang Chul-soo let out a scream, a bullet pierced the back of his head, and his face was completely gone, blood splattered on my face, and he collapsed on the spot.

And instinctively, following combat doctrine, I fell to the ground and aimed my rifle in the direction of the gunfire.

Bang, Bang, Bang!

Ratta-tat-tat!

Gunfire erupted from the forest.

The South Korean squad was taken down by the North Vietnamese regular army before they could even counterattack.

It was an ambush.

'Just like that!'

The attack by the North Vietnamese regular army was as precise as if they had designated targets.

I have lost my will to fight and am now lying on the ground.

At that moment, the North Vietnamese regular army soldiers entered the village and found a wounded South Korean soldier.

"It's a wounded South Korean soldier."

A North Vietnamese regular army soldier shouted to his squad leader.

"Kill him."

The North Vietnamese commander showed no hesitation.

Bang!

A gunshot rang out.

The wounded South Korean soldier died on the spot.

'You bastards!'

As the North Vietnamese regular army entered the village, the Vietnamese civilians finally felt relieved and rushed to me, taking away my rifle and beating me before making me kneel on the ground.

"There's another South Korean soldier here!"

At that moment, an old man who seemed to be the village chief shouted.

"Squad leader, there's another South Korean here."

The village chief ran to the North Vietnamese squad leader and pointed at me.

Thud, thud!

The North Vietnamese squad leader is approaching me.

He is walking towards me, who is kneeling on the ground, as if a god of death is approaching.

Thud!

The North Vietnamese squad leader pointed his gun at my head.

"Do you have any value to live?"

The North Vietnamese squad leader muttered to himself.

"That's for you to decide."

When I spoke fluently in Vietnamese, the North Vietnamese squad leader's expression twisted even more.

My life is now in the hands of the enemy.

'Damn situation!'

I am terrified, fearing that the North Vietnamese squad leader will pull the trigger at any moment.

"South Vietnamese origin?"

My skin is so tanned that I can't be distinguished from the Vietnamese.

"I'm a South Korean soldier."

"Then you must die."

The North Vietnamese squad leader is about to pull the trigger.

"Wait a moment."

At that moment, a girl's voice was heard.

I opened my tightly closed eyes and saw a girl coming out of a house.

The child's mouth was full of the chocolate I had given her, and the two children who couldn't understand the situation were waving at me.

"Ching!"

Surprisingly, the North Vietnamese squad leader recognized the girl I had saved.

"Dad!"

The child holding the girl's hand called the North Vietnamese squad leader 'Dad'.

'I just hid his son.'

My chances of survival have increased slightly.

"Big brother, that uncle found us but still hid us."

The girl said, and the North Vietnamese squad leader's eyes changed slightly.

He looked thoughtful.

"Now, do I have any value to live?"

I asked the North Vietnamese squad leader with a trembling heart.

"You are still a South Korean soldier."

The North Vietnamese squad leader's eyes remained cold.

"But your son is smiling at me."

I want to survive at all costs.

No.

I must survive.

"Do you want to live?"

The North Vietnamese squad leader, still pointing his gun at my head, stared at me intently before putting his gun back in its holster.

"I'll take you to the base for now."

In the end, I became a prisoner of the North Vietnamese regular army.

'But tomorrow will be even more brutal than today.'

Anyway, that girl saved me.

No.

My choices saved me.

* * *

A few days later, in a North Vietnamese prisoner-of-war camp.

I was surprised to find out that I was the only South Korean prisoner in this camp, which was run by the North Vietnamese regular army.

Most of the prisoners were American and Australian.

Occasionally, there were prisoners from the Republic of China who had been driven out to Taiwan, as well as Thai and Laotian prisoners, but I was the only South Korean.

And they were all emaciated.

Their eyes showed they had given up on life.

'In short.'

The North Vietnamese regular army and the Viet Cong do not take South Korean soldiers as prisoners. The South Korean soldiers were so formidable and ruthless that the North Vietnamese army was terrified of them.

The South Koreans were also ruthless.

The Viet Cong were also ruthless, which is why they often avoided engaging with South Korean soldiers.

'I can see the coordinates of this place.'

When I first discovered this ability, I was surprised, but now I know that these coordinates, visible on a semi-transparent map, are the only way to save me.

I know I need to somehow inform the Americans or South Koreans about this secret prisoner-of-war camp to be rescued.

But I have no way to communicate these coordinates right now.

Still, I need to find a way.

'The problem is.'

The Republic of Korea officially states that there are zero South Korean prisoners of war in the Vietnam War. They label those who went missing in battle as either dead or defectors.

Is that really the truth?

The Republic of Korea is sending its young men to fight in a foreign war and then turning a blind eye to them.

Why?

'Is it about compensation?'

If it's about money, it's too petty.

"What are you looking at?"

An American prisoner reacted irritably when he noticed I was looking at him.

'I wasn't trying to look.'

I was just staring blankly, having lost my focus, and when they noticed I was looking their way, they reacted like this.

'The really frustrating thing is.'

The American and Australian prisoners see me, a fellow prisoner, as no different from the Viet Cong.

"..."

I don't even have the energy to speak.

I was dragged away by the Vietnamese in the morning and tortured under the guise of interrogation until the evening.

The Vietnamese torturing me, who are from the same part of Asia, treated me more harshly because they saw South Koreans as lackeys of the Americans in their unification war.

The North Vietnamese communists viewed the Koreans of the past as similar to the imperialist Japanese of the past.

Thud, thud! Thud, thud!

The questions were always the same.

During the torture and interrogation, they persistently asked about civilian massacres.

For the first time, I screamed at the interrogators who were torturing me.

"You look like a Vietnamese bastard."

The irony is that the Americans, who dragged South Korean soldiers into this war, now treat me, a prisoner of the North Vietnamese regular army, with suspicion and call me a Viet Cong.

"Brown sergeant, isn't it possible that the Viet Cong are trying to deceive us and put this guy here to spy on us?"

Suspicion can create even ghosts.

'And I see a gray ghost in my eyes.'

I felt a surge of frustration, but strangely, I just laughed.

"Hehehe, hehehe!"

"Hey, Viet Cong, why are you laughing?"

The American prisoner now openly called me a Viet Cong.

"Why are you laughing?"

Some of the American prisoners got excited.

"It's your Yankees who dragged us into this hell."

"Yankees?"

A few American prisoners surrounded me with the look of someone who wants to take out their frustrations on me.

I am about to be lynched by the American prisoners.

"What the hell, you Yankee bastards, you dragged us here and now you're acting like this!"

Anger welled up inside me, and I shouted.

In fact, I'm hoping the North Vietnamese guards will come running when they hear me shouting.

"Stomp him!"

A guy named Brown sergeant ordered the American prisoners, and three of them rushed at me.

"Stop."

At that moment, a white officer prisoner sitting in the corner shouted with a tense expression.

All the American prisoners looked at him.

'He looks pale.'

He looks like he's about to vomit.

'How can he vomit when we barely get one meal a day?'

It could be from drinking contaminated water.

"Smith lieutenant."

American prisoners still show respect to officers and leaders, even in captivity, because they believe they will eventually be exchanged or released and return to their country.

"Don't project your misfortune onto others. Don't suspect each other. We are in the same situation."

"Isn't it suspicious?"

"What, what is so suspicious?"

"I've never seen the North Vietnamese take South Korean soldiers as prisoners."

That's right.

I also know that I am the only South Korean prisoner here.

"Brown sergeant, take off this guy's shirt."

I looked at the Yankee, Lieutenant Smith, who gave the order, and as always, his personal information appeared semi-transparently above his head.

-Age: 26

-Occupation: US Army Lieutenant

-Ability: Eye for recognizing geniuses

-Current Coordinates: X: 126.9821581, Y: 37.5525564

-Notable: Son of a New York State senator, with the potential to become a significant figure in American politics.

'Son of a New York State senator?'

I was surprised.

'South Korean soldiers are only the sons of poor fathers who are dragged into this hell.'

America is indeed different.

Of course, this Lieutenant Smith probably joined the US Military Academy to follow an elite path and joined the Vietnam War to build a shining career.

'Let's get along.'

He could be a valuable connection if I escape.

"Yes?"

"Take it off and see."

Lieutenant Smith is getting paler.

"Ugh."

He is now letting out short, weak groans. One of the American prisoners stripped off my shirt at Lieutenant Smith's order and was shocked by what he saw.

"With those marks, even if this Korean guy shouted 'Long live Ho Chi Minh,' he's still our comrade. Everyone, calm down."

He said this because he saw the unhealed wounds on my body.

"Sorry."

The American prisoner who stripped me immediately apologized to me.

* * *