3 PM.
News arrived about Escobar’s side holding a press conference.
“How is it?”
Lee Jun-hyuk asked Carlos.
A strange tension hung in the air inside the farm office.
“Just as expected.”
Carlos spoke while looking over his notes.
His hand held a paper densely filled with the details he had just written down.
“They claim that an Asian is threatening Cuba and must be expelled immediately. The Spanish-language newspapers are already echoing this.”
“Specifically, who is leading this?”
Judge Mendoza asked.
“It’s a man named Marcos Delgado. He’s Escobar’s right-hand man…”
“Ah, that guy.”
The judge nodded, a knowing expression on his face.
“A greedy yet loyal subordinate. It seems he’s trying to expand his influence while Escobar is down.”
“How is the reaction?”
“Fortunately, the American newspapers are skeptical.”
Carlos delivered the hopeful news.
“There are also critiques saying there’s no evidence.”
Not all public opinion sided with Escobar.
It was a small hope, but an important difference.
“Will the reporters come?”
Jose asked anxiously.
Sweat beaded on his forehead as he finished tidying the farm.
“They will.”
Judge Mendoza was confident.
“The bigger the controversy, the better the story. Besides…”
He smiled meaningfully.
“When the rumor spreads that I’ll be attending, even more will show up.”
Time passed quickly.
At 4 PM, a message came from Leonardo.
Carlos ran over holding a telegram.
“This is from Leonardo.”
“What did it say?”
“That Delgado acted unilaterally. He said he had no involvement at all.”
Lee Jun-hyuk read the telegram.
Though brief, the message carried important information.
< Internal division in the organization. Respond cautiously. Will contact again this evening.>
“So the power struggle has started.”
Lee Jun-hyuk put the telegram down.
“We have to stay calm at times like this.”
At 5 PM, the first carriage arrived.
“This is the New York Times special correspondent.”
Carlos confirmed and returned.
“They’re coming this early. Seems like there’s a lot of interest.”
Lee Jun-hyuk went out personally to greet them.
First impressions mattered.
“Welcome. Thank you for coming all this way.”
“Not at all. I came early because this looks like a big story.”
The middle-aged American journalist extended his hand for a shake.
“Could you comment in advance on Escobar’s claims?”
“I will make an official statement shortly.”
Lee Jun-hyuk politely declined.
Preliminary comments might be twisted or taken out of context.
“I understand. We will wait.”
More reporters arrived one after another.
Havana Post, Cuba Daily, La Prensa.
More than expected.
The Chinese community also began to arrive.
Chairman Wang Xiaoming walked in at the forefront.
Behind him followed the Chinese merchants.
All dressed formally, their expressions serious.
“Chairman Wang.”
Lee Jun-hyuk greeted him.
“Thank you for coming.”
“Of course.”
Chairman Wang firmly grasped Lee Jun-hyuk’s hand.
“Aren’t we a community bound by fate?”
“Ha ha.”
***
5:30 PM.
Chairs were placed in the yard in front of the farm.
A temporary stage was also set up.
Reporters began settling in.
They took out pens and notebooks, prepared cameras.
“Ready?”
Judge Mendoza asked Lee Jun-hyuk.
Dressed in his judicial robes, he looked dignified.
“Yes.”
Lee Jun-hyuk took a deep breath.
Black suit with a white shirt.
His tie was a deep navy blue.
The watch Katherine Morgan had gifted him ticked heavily on his wrist.
Time is the master of future.
He recalled the phrase engraved on the watch.
The one who makes the future is this very moment.
At exactly 6 PM.
Lee Jun-hyuk stepped onto the stage.
Dozens of eyes focused on him.
Flashes exploded.
The dazzling light momentarily blinded him.
“Good evening.”
Lee Jun-hyuk calmly began to speak.
“I am Lee Jun-hyuk of the American Sugar Trading Company.”
The reporters all raised their pens simultaneously.
Only the sound of scribbling paper was heard.
“First, I would like to explain what happened this morning.”
He started clearly and slowly.
The government raid.
The misunderstanding of Chinese merchants’ salt as opium.
And then—
“Someone placed a fabricated letter in my safe.”
Lee Jun-hyuk held up the letter.
“It is a fake document written under the name ‘Cuban Liberation Front,’ a group that does not even exist.”
There was a stir of disbelief.
“Do you have proof?”
One reporter asked.
He looked like he was from a Spanish-language newspaper.
“No question about it.”
Judge Mendoza stepped forward.
He took the letter and showed it to the reporters.
“Look at the paper. It’s far too new.”
The judge held the letter up to the light.
“And this ink hasn’t even fully dried yet. At best, this document was made just a few days ago.”
“But what about the content?”
Another reporter pressed.
“Requesting funds for anti-American activities…”
“How can a non-existent group request money now?”
Lee Jun-hyuk replied.
“Carlos personally confirmed. There is no Cuban Liberation Front anywhere.”
Carlos nodded.
“I checked all government records and newspaper archives. No such group has ever existed.”
Murmurs rose among the reporters.
“Then who do you think did this?”
A direct question.
Lee Jun-hyuk paused.
He wanted to point the finger directly at Escobar.
“That will come out through investigation.”
He gave a principled answer instead.
“But it is clear someone wants to hinder my success.”
“Escobar’s side claims you bought the farm with illegal funds.”
Another attack.
“That’s a baseless accusation.”
Lee Jun-hyuk took out prepared documents.
“All the evidence is here.”
Bank statements.
Investment contracts.
Tax payment certificates.
“It’s a formal investment contract with the Rockefeller Group. All funds were legally transferred through banks in New York.”
The reporters examined the papers.
The evidence was indisputable.
“What about the treatment of workers?”
A young reporter asked.
“There are rumors of exploitation.”
“Ask them directly.”
Lee Jun-hyuk turned around.
“Jose, Miguel, please come forward.”
The farm’s core staff stepped up.
Their expressions were tense but confident.
“These are the people who work on my farm.”
Lee Jun-hyuk introduced them.
“Please listen to them directly and judge what kind of employer I am.”
Jose spoke first.
“I’ve worked on several farms for 20 years.”
His voice trembled but was clear.
“But Mr. Lee is the first employer to treat us like humans.”
“What exactly is different?”
A reporter asked.
“Wages are double.”
Miguel answered.
“At other farms, we earned less than one dollar a day, but here we get two. Thanks to that, I can send my kids to school.”
“That’s not all.”
Ramon added.
“The lodgings are clean, and if we’re sick, they call a doctor. This kind of treatment is… something we only dreamed about.”
It was a genuine voice.
Testimony that came from the heart, not a prepared script.
“This is the management style I pursue.”
Lee Jun-hyuk took the microphone again.
“To treat people as people. To pay fair wages for fair labor.”
He looked around at the reporters.
“Is that such a special thing? Isn’t it the right thing to do?”
A heavy silence fell.
In 1919 Cuba, saying such things was revolutionary itself.
The colonial legacy still lingered everywhere.
“But is it economically sustainable? Isn’t this just a superficial act to cover up the truth?”
One reporter posed a pragmatic question.
“If not, how can you make a profit by doubling wages?”
“Good question.”
Lee Jun-hyuk smiled.
“When you double wages, productivity rises. Satisfied workers work harder, and turnover decreases. In the long run, it’s more profitable.”
“That’s just theory, isn’t it?”
“No. There are real results.”
He pulled out another document.
“Production at my farm has increased by 30% since acquisition. We’re producing more sugar on the same land.”
Numbers don’t lie.
“Then what do you think about Escobar’s claims?”
The reporter returned to the main topic.
“That Asians threaten Cuba’s economy…”
“That’s heartbreaking.”
Lee Jun-hyuk’s expression turned serious.
“To discriminate against someone because of their race is a sign of the times being mistaken. The war ended less than a year ago. We need to create a new era now.”
He paused for a moment.
Then continued with words that came from his heart.
“I love Cuba. This land, these people. That’s why I invest here and want to grow together.”
“Sounds nice, but…”
A Spanish-language reporter sneered.
“In the end, you just want to make money, right?”
“Of course, I seek profit as a businessman.”
Lee Jun-hyuk admitted confidently.
“But I don’t want to prosper alone. I want everyone to prosper together.”
At that moment, Chairman Wang Xiaoming stood up.
“May I say a few words?”
The old man’s voice was rough but carried weight.
“I speak on behalf of the Chinese Merchants’ Association.”
Chairman Wang looked around at the reporters.
“Our community has lived in Cuba for 30 years. We’ve given birth to children here, paid taxes, and stood together with the Cuban people.”
He took a breath and continued.
“So why are we suddenly seen as a threat? Because we succeed? Is this jealousy?”
A sharp critique.
“Mr. Lee trades with us honestly. He keeps his promises and treats us fairly. That’s why all 300 of us support him.”
Chairman Wang turned back.
Dozens of Chinese merchants nodded.
A silent vote of confidence.
“Any more questions?”
Lee Jun-hyuk asked again.
Several hands shot up.
“What are your future plans?”
“Do you have any thoughts of leaving Cuba?”
“Any intention to reconcile with Escobar?”
Questions poured in.
Lee Jun-hyuk raised his hand, asking for silence.
“Let me make one thing clear.”
His voice grew firm.
“I will not leave Cuba. On the contrary, I plan to invest more aggressively.”
“Specifically?”
“I plan to build a sugar refinery next year.”
It was a bombshell announcement.
The reporters stirred.
“It won’t be just raw sugar production, but refined sugar using the latest equipment. It will create hundreds of jobs.”
“Have you secured the funding?”
“I have already reached agreements with investors.”
Lee Jun-hyuk answered confidently.
“I will do my best to make Cuba the sugar hub of the Caribbean Sea.”
“Anything to say to Mr. Escobar?”
One reporter threw a provocative question.
Everyone watched closely.
Curious how Lee Jun-hyuk would respond.
There was a long silence.
“I do.”
Lee Jun-hyuk spoke slowly.
His voice was calm but resolute.
“I sincerely hope Escobar recovers his health.”
An unexpected reply.
The reporters showed surprised expressions.
“And one more thing.”
Lee Jun-hyuk continued.
“I welcome competition. But I hope it will be fair and just. If we recognize and respect each other while competing, the entire Cuban sugar industry can develop.”
“That’s too idealistic, isn’t it?”
The Spanish-language reporter sneered again.
“Reality isn’t like that. Business is war.”
“War…”
Lee Jun-hyuk gave a wry smile.
“Do you know what real war is? I’ve seen the people returning from Europe—missing arms and legs, broken in spirit…”
“I hope the fighting stops now. Must we have war even in business?”
A heavy silence followed.
It was less than a year since World War I had ended.
The wounds of war were still fresh.
“That’s all. Thank you.”
Lee Jun-hyuk bowed his head.
Flashes popped again.
Reporters asked follow-up questions, but Lee Jun-hyuk politely declined.
He had said all he needed to say.
One by one, the reporters began to leave.
Their expressions were complicated.
The outcome was different from what they had expected.
“Well done.”
Judge Mendoza patted Lee Jun-hyuk’s shoulder.
“Especially the last part about the war.”
“It was sincere.”
“That’s why it was better.”
Chairman Wang also showed a satisfied look.
“Now let’s see how public opinion moves.”
“Tomorrow’s newspapers are crucial.”
Carlos said.
“What tone they take in their articles…”
At that moment, Cheo came running, out of breath.
“Chairman! Mister Lee!”
“What is it?”
“Escobar… Escobar has regained consciousness!”
Everyone was shocked.
“Really?”
“We just got the call from the hospital. He can’t speak yet, but his eyes are open.”
It was complicated news.
No one could predict how the situation would change once Escobar woke.
“Does Leonardo know?”
Judge Mendoza asked.
“Probably he was the first to know.”
Lee Jun-hyuk answered.
“He must have been at the hospital.”
The sun was setting.
The red glow painted the farm.
The press conference was over.
But the real battle was just beginning.
“Thank you all for your hard work today.”
Lee Jun-hyuk said.
“I need to prepare for tomorrow.”
The Chinese merchants began to leave.
Chairman Wang shook Lee Jun-hyuk’s hand one last time.
“Well done. If your father were here, he’d be proud.”
It was a warm word.
Lee Jun-hyuk smiled in return.
But deep in his heart, unease remained.
Escobar had awakened.
What would happen next?
***
The next morning.
Lee Jun-hyuk woke earlier than expected.
A faint light was coming through the window.
“What will happen today…”
He got out of bed and walked to the window.
The morning scene on the farm was peaceful.
“Mister Lee.”
Carlos’s voice came with a knock.
“Come in.”
Carlos entered holding a stack of newspapers.
His expression was bright.
“Good news.”
“How does it look?”
Lee Jun-hyuk took the newspapers.
The front page of the New York Times Cuba edition.
The headline read: ‘A Young Businessman Seeking Justice through Competition.’
“Most American newspapers are favorable.”
Carlos spread out other papers.
“They especially praised the part about improved treatment of workers.”
The Spanish-language newspapers were not as aggressive as expected.
Many took a neutral stance.
“Judge Mendoza’s influence seems significant.”
“Probably.”
Lee Jun-hyuk put down the newspapers.
“Any news from Leonardo?”
“Not yet. But…”
Carlos lowered his voice.
“The hospital informant says Escobar is refusing visitors.”
“Refusing visitors?”
“Yes. Only letting Leonardo in, turning away everyone else.”
It was strange.
Usually, when a powerful figure falls, subordinates flock to their side.
“Maybe he’s preparing something?”
Lee Jun-hyuk expressed concern.
“Could be. But…”
Carlos hesitated.
Nurses say Escobar has changed a lot. He stares out the window all day.”
Those who return from death often change their perspective on life.
10 AM.
An unexpected visitor arrived.
“Leonardo is here.”
Jose informed.
“Please let him in.”
Leonardo entered.
His expression was different from yesterday.
Still tired, but there was a strange sense of relief.
“Mister Lee.”
“Please sit. Would you like some coffee?”
“Thank you.”
They drank coffee in silence for a moment.
“Escobar wants to meet you.”
Leonardo brought unexpected news.
“Me?”
“Yes. He asked you to come to the hospital this afternoon.”
Lee Jun-hyuk exchanged a glance with Carlos.
It could be a trap.
“Did he say to come alone?”
“No. Judge Mendoza is to come with you.”
“The judge too?”
That was even more unexpected.
“Do you know what it’s about?”
“No, I don’t.”
Leonardo shook his head.
“But…”
He paused.
“He’s changed a lot. He’s not the same Escobar as before.”
“How has he changed?”
“He’s gentle. How should I put it…”
Leonardo searched for the right words.
“He seemed calm and peaceful. Like someone who’s laid down a heavy burden.”