戰爭商人

Because I am an extroverted person, I genuinely love people. Yet, seeing how comfortably I handle being completely alone, it seems to be a behavioral pattern ingrained since my childhood. In a way, it was a form of early education.

I grew up with very little of what one would typically call early education. If I had to pick something, it would be the fact that despite being naturally left-handed, I learned to write and use chopsticks with my right hand. To this day, my left hand remains more natural for everything, but because I trained my right hand, I have come to live as an ambidextrous person. Half innate, half acquired.

Living as an ambidextrous person grants the obvious advantage of using both hands with relative freedom, but it also feels as though my brain switches between both hemispheres with equal agility. Because I utilize both hands across various situations, I suspect my brainstem has become highly developed. I have evolved to accommodate two extreme coexisting states: there are days when I am ruthlessly rational, yet on the flip side, I am also a deeply emotional individual. This duality can be an advantage in certain scenarios, but a distinct disadvantage in others.

The same applies to the way I confront the world. On one hand, I deeply treasure peaceful music, cute cats, and quality time spent with my family. Yet, on the other hand, I have steadily marched toward a diametrically opposed life. A merchant of war. A person who trades in the necessities of combat. A war merchant who provides weapons or armor depending entirely on the buyer’s demands. Dreaming of a peaceful life in one hand, while desiring war in the other. I want a war that is just as intense as the profound peace I seek.

Whether it is my ambition to establish a defense enterprise that trades in weaponry, or my conviction that I must leave South Korea to handle arms—all of these conclusions were reached through countless agonizing thoughts. But it seems that half of my inner self had always desired that exact path. Half desire, half vision. It feels like a mix of exceptionally high-proof whiskey and pure, gentle water that refuse to blend. A vividly white path, and a vividly black one.

I harbor a deep desire. I possess a desire to witness the utter ruin of those I detest. The individuals I despise are clearly defined: those who sustain their own lives by sucking the lifeblood out of others. I despise them immensely. Rather than mere blind hatred, it is a personal desire to watch them collapse.

There is no sense of justice in this desire. Nor do I have any urge to brand myself as a righteous person. It is closer to a craving—the anticipation that if the day of their downfall brings joy to the masses, participating in that shared exhilaration will be profoundly gratifying. How can absolute peace ever arrive without first eliminating the enemy? Because I desire peace, I required a war that would sever their breath.

Looking back at my school days, it was always the same. Whether for their own amusement, simply because they were in a foul mood, or for no reason at all, the strong and malicious students would relentlessly bully the weak. Even though the weaker ones could have won if they had banded together, a coalition of the weak somehow never materialized. The only moment the bullies ceased their harassment was when a genuine threat loomed over them. Will a day ever come when they morally reform themselves? I have zero faith in such naive optimism. They must atone through death, not through the convenient illusion of moral reformation. We must never allow them to compromise and escape the damage they have inflicted upon the world under the guise of an apology.

In its war against Iran, Israel assassinated the leadership in a single, swift stroke. As a consequence, with their generals eliminated all at once, Iran suffered defeat before they could even properly wage war. Ironically, through Israel's sheer intelligence and overwhelming power, the lives of countless Iranian soldiers were spared, and the conflict was brought to an end.

Massive devastation occurs only when opposing forces possess comparable strength. When the disparity in power is absolute, a fight cannot even begin. To protect civilians, overwhelming power is mandatory. If you neutralize the leadership entirely with that absolute force, the game concludes very swiftly.

Since the partition, South Korea has suffered for seventy years under countless systemic evils. But what if a scenario like this were to unfold? What if the nuclear weapons they so meticulously crafted fell directly upon their own heads in Pyongyang, resulting in self-destruction? What if, to safeguard the civilians residing in Pyongyang, those nuclear missiles were hacked to simply plunge harmlessly into the ocean? Or what if they were rendered entirely defective upon hitting the ground? A war can be won before it even properly commences. Because all wars are ultimately determined by the will of the leader. If you break that leader—the King—and sever the leadership entirely, the nation loses all centralized control, like a body paralyzed by a severed spine, and the conflict ends before a proper fight can even be mounted.

Peace is maintained thanks to those who fight in places hidden from view. If an invisible war is continuously waged, one must win that battle. Furthermore, winning by a narrow margin is not enough. The victory must be absolute, and the enemy's will to counterattack must be utterly crushed. Peace is a proposition that only the strong can offer. The weak cannot propose peace; they have no choice but to submit to the terms dictated by the strong.

What shall I live for? Becoming a doctor to save lives one by one is one path of salvation; becoming a warrior to liberate tens of millions of people living like slaves is also a path of saving lives. Preventing mass casualties with a minimum threshold of death to protect ordinary people is, fundamentally, a way of rescuing humanity. Not every step of the process needs to be a pristine, spotless path. Just as a doctor saving a life must inevitably get blood on their hands and occasionally handle filth. Those who live in paradise remain oblivious to the grim reality of the sewers, but someone must quietly do their job down there.

What shall I hold as I open both of my hands wide? One is a sword, and the other is a shield.