The calm after the storm.
The atmosphere in the office was different from usual.
Everyone sat cross-legged on their cushions, but no one smiled.
A sense of exhaustion lingered after a great battle, and a vague anxiety about the unknown tomorrow hung in the air.
Lee Jun-hyuk broke the silence.
“So, now… it’s time for me to leave Cuba for a while and start business in New York as well.”
His voice was calm, but what he said instantly froze the air in the office.
Everyone stared at him, shocked.
Only the peaceful sound of birdsong outside the window filled the strange silence.
“Leaving Cuba… You mean, you’re really leaving, Mr. Lee?”
Jose was the first to ask, his voice almost breaking.
His hands trembled ever so slightly.
He’d worked on the plantation for twenty years and seen countless owners, but never had his heart dropped like this.
“No, Mr. Jose. I’m not leaving completely.”
Lee Jun-hyuk explained softly, as if to soothe his anxiety.
He continued, tidying up the documents on the table.
He felt that if he didn’t keep his hands busy, his voice might start to shake.
“The Cuba business will continue. But now, I intend to expand in earnest into the United States as well. I’ll travel back and forth between New York and Cuba regularly and manage both sides.”
At that, the frozen air in the room thawed just a little.
Delgado lit a cigar.
With a crackle, acrid smoke began to rise slowly.
His expression was complicated and unreadable.
“So… you’re not leaving us for good, then.”
“Of course not.”
Lee Jun-hyuk nodded.
“Cuba is the root of my business. It’s where everything began. How could I abandon my roots?”
It was true.
Without Cuba, there would be no Lee Jun-hyuk now.
It was the land where he started with $50,000 and created a miraculous fortune of $26.8 million.
The place where he fought and defeated the giant, Escobar, and overcame the massive wave of the Sugar Crash.
Judge Mendoza tapped his cane on the floor, tap, tap, with a steady rhythm that reassured everyone.
“A wise decision. With $26.8 million in capital, you can build an even bigger enterprise in the United States.”
“Yes. And I believe all of you will keep things running well here while I’m away.”
Lee Jun-hyuk looked at Jose.
The loyal manager’s eyes were still full of worry.
“Mr. Jose, I’m appointing you as General Manager of the Cuba business while I’m away.”
“M-me? But I’m just a mere plantation manager…”
Jose’s eyes wavered as if hit by a quake.
“Yes. You’ve worked on the plantation for over twenty years, and you know this land and its people better than anyone. There’s no one else.”
Jose opened his mouth, then closed it again.
He didn’t seem to know what to say, showing only a mix of emotion and a sense of responsibility on his face.
“And Mr. Delgado, please continue as Head of Sales.”
“Understood.”
Delgado gave a short reply, the cigar still in his mouth.
Smoke hid his face.
“But… how often will you come back?”
It was the question everyone wanted to ask.
Even Lee Jun-hyuk hadn’t decided yet.
There was a mountain of things to do in New York.
The Radio Station, Film Company, and several factories.
“I’ll come at least once every three months.”
“Three months.”
Regret flashed across Jose’s face.
“Three months feels too long…”
“At first, that’s probably how it will be. But once the New York business is stable, I’ll be able to visit more often.”
Carlos brought over the documents he had organized.
They were operational guidelines for while Lee Jun-hyuk was away.
“I’ve set a few principles that must be maintained in my absence. First, the wages and welfare of the laborers are to be maintained at their current level, or increased.”
“Even with the sugar price crash?”
Delgado asked with a businessman’s sharpness.
“Yes. We’ve already earned more money than we could spend in a lifetime. Cutting workers’ wages for a few extra coins… in the long run, it only harms all of us.”
Jose’s eyes reddened once again.
“The laborers… they’ll be truly happy, Mr. Lee.”
“And please send detailed monthly reports to New York. Mr. Carlos, you’ll be responsible for compiling them.”
“Of course. I’ll make sure to organize everything—production, sales, financial status—thoroughly.”
At that moment, Judge Mendoza stood up.
His cane struck the floor sharply.
“Now, let’s have a farewell party.”
“Oh, Judge, there’s really no need for that.”
“Don’t refuse.”
The Judge spoke firmly.
“Considering what Mr. Lee has accomplished in Cuba over the past year, this is the least we can do.”
February 25.
At the suggestion of Chairman Wang Xiaoming, a grand farewell party was held.
“We can’t just quietly send off a benefactor and friend of the Cuban Chinese community.”
Chairman Wang laughed heartily, his wrinkled face bright.
The venue was the largest and oldest Chinese restaurant in central Havana.
‘Fuk Man Lou’. The signboard read ‘Blessed Pavilion’ in red.
Even before the doors opened, the exotic aroma of star anise and cloves drifted out into the street.
“I didn’t expect so many people would come…”
Lee Jun-hyuk was amazed at the crowd filling the restaurant.
The plantation’s executives, members of the Chinese Merchants’ Association, even Cuban Government officials.
At a glance, there were over fifty people.
“Of course.”
Zhen Hao spoke.
At some point, he had come to carry the aura of a future leader following his father.
“What Mr. Lee achieved in Cuba wasn’t just business success.”
Lee Jun-hyuk understood the meaning behind his words.
An Asian, a young man at that, had risen to the top in the white man’s world, relying only on his ability and fair means.
It became a symbol, a hope, to all outsiders and the weak on this land.
“Come, a toast!”
Chairman Wang raised a small glass filled with strong baijiu.
“To the new Sugar King of Cuba, our friend, Mr. Lee Jun-hyuk’s future!”
“Cheers!”
“Ganbei!”
The clinking of glasses erupted loudly.
The over-50-proof baijiu burned the nose.
Lee Jun-hyuk had no choice but to empty his glass.
A ball of fire rolled down his throat.
“Ugh…”
As he grimaced, Delgado laughed heartily beside him.
“Haha! Even the great Mr. Lee has something he can’t handle!”
He found it strange how, before he knew it, they’d become close enough to joke with each other.
The food began to come out.
Peking Oil Peanuts and cucumber salad as starters, then crispy Beijing Duck, numbing Mapo Tofu, and sweet and sour Tangsuyuk.
The Chinese chef’s skills were truly as renowned as their reputation.
But Lee Jun-hyuk couldn’t eat much.
The fact that he was leaving.
The fact that he was parting from these people.
It weighed on his heart, dulling the taste of the food.
A government official stood up.
A middle-aged man with a beard.
It was Gonzalez from the Ministry of Finance, the same person Judge Mendoza had spoken of recently.
She was the very one who had led the Special Sugar Tax Act.
“If I may say a few words?”
The restaurant quieted.
“I’m Gonzalez from the Ministry of Finance. When I first met Mr. Lee… to be honest, I was suspicious.”
Gonzalez looked Lee Jun-hyuk straight in the eye.
“I wondered if you were just another exploiter. An imperialist in Asian clothing. But I was wrong.”
She raised her glass.
“You have shown Cuba a new hope. The hope that we can prosper together. Please, don’t forget that.”
Applause broke out.
Lee Jun-hyuk bowed his head modestly.
But inwardly, he smiled.
“A fine thing for the person who made the Special Tax to say.”
How many faces did a politician have?
As time passed, the atmosphere became even more festive.
Jose, his face red from drink, sat next to him.
“Mr. Lee…”
“Yes, Mr. Jose?”
“I… I remember the first time we met.”
Jose’s eyes grew moist.
“A young Asian said he was going to run the plantation… Everyone laughed, saying you’d be gone in a few days.”
“That’s true.”
“But Mr. Lee… you were the first to treat us like people.”
In the end, Jose wiped away tears with the back of his hand.
“I’ve worked for more than twenty years… but I’ve never had an owner like you. So you must come back. This place is your home now, Mr. Lee.”
Lee Jun-hyuk felt his chest warm.
He had spent barely over a year in Cuba.
But the time he had spent fighting, laughing, and worrying with these people felt much longer and deeper.
Night grew late.
The sadness of parting and blessings for a new beginning, mixed with strong liquor and rich food, filled the night at Fuk Man Lou.
March 1, 1920.
Havana Port was bustling from early morning.
People had come to see Lee Jun-hyuk off.
“I didn’t expect so many would come.”
Lee Jun-hyuk muttered in surprise.
It seemed almost everyone from the plantation had come.
Jose, Delgado, and Carlos, of course, and laborers like Miguel, Pablo, and Ramon, wiping their eyes with callused hands.
“Of course we came!”
Miguel beamed, his face darkened by the sun.
“How could we just sleep at home when our boss is leaving?”
“My kids wanted to come, too. But with school…”
“I’ll be sure to visit them next time I come.”
“Really?”
“Of course.”
Farewells came from all sides.
Handshakes and hugs.
Some slipped him a crumpled Cuban Cigar as a parting gift from their pocket.
“This is strange.”
Lee Jun-hyuk thought.
“I’ve only been with them for a little over a year… why am I so attached?”
But he knew the reason.
They weren’t just employees.
They were comrades who fought together, a family who grew together.
Judge Mendoza came over.
He was in casual dress today.
“Are you all set?”
“Yes, Judge.”
“This.”
The Judge handed him a thick envelope.
“It’s a list of my old friends in the New York legal circles. If you run into trouble, use my name and ask for help.”
“Thank you so much.”
“And… don’t forget the Special Tax case. By the end of March, the government will draw its knife as promised.”
All the stock had already been disposed of, so it didn’t matter, but he was still grateful for the Judge’s consideration.
Chairman Wang Xiaoming also came, with a few Chinese merchants.
“Mr. Lee. Take this, too.”
Another envelope.
“It’s a letter of introduction to Chairman Lin, the influential figure in New York’s Chinatown. I’ve already contacted him, so if you go to him, he’ll be a great help.”
Network. That was the power of the Chinese Network. Compatriots everywhere in the world. Helping and connecting one another in a vast web.
Leonardo came up last.
“Mr. Lee.”
“Leonardo.”
“I wish you success. Even in New York.”
“You too. May you become Havana’s best broker.”
The two shook hands firmly.
Bwooooooom.
The ship’s horn blared long and loud.
It was almost time to depart.
“Then… everyone, stay healthy.”
Lee Jun-hyuk looked around at everyone and gave his final farewell.
“Mr. Lee too!”
“You must come back!”
“I’ll write to you!”
Lee Jun-hyuk slowly climbed the gangway.
Step by step.
His steps felt strangely heavy.
He reached the deck and grasped the railing.
Below, everyone was waving.
Jose finally broke down in tears like a child. Delgado forced a smile and kept waving.
“Thank you.”
Lee Jun-hyuk murmured inside.
“All of you… truly, thank you.”
The ship began to slowly leave the harbor.
The wharf grew more distant.
People shrank into tiny dots.
But he could still see them waving.
The sea breeze struck his face.
With its salty scent, his eyes stung.
“I shouldn’t cry…”
Lee Jun-hyuk wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.
But he couldn’t help it.
A year ago, he had arrived in Cuba with $50,000, full of anxiety.
Now, he was leaving with $26.8 million, but he had gained something far greater than money.
People.
Bonds.
And a new family.
Cuba grew smaller and smaller, until it became a tiny dot on the blue horizon.
Lee Jun-hyuk stood there until the very end.
The sun climbed high in the sky.
Hot sunlight scorched the back of his neck.
At last, Lee Jun-hyuk let go of the railing and returned to his cabin.
He opened the door to the first-class suite and was greeted by a rush of cool air.
“So luxurious…”
Mahogany Table, gold leaf decorations, a thick Persian Carpet.
He thought back to a year ago, when he’d had to squeeze himself into a smelly, cramped third-class berth—what a change.
He sat on the bed.
The Spring Mattress comfortably supported his body.
It was incomparable to the cheap mattress from a year ago.
He opened his bag.
Amid the documents, he noticed a strange envelope.
It was from Chairman Wang Xiaoming.
Inside was a letter, and a Jade Pendant finely engraved with a Dragon.
“The Dragon symbolizes the Emperor, but also a person with a great destiny. Mr. Lee, I believe you are someone with the spirit of the Dragon. I hope you will achieve great things in New York as well.”
He hung it around his neck.
The cool touch of jade pressed against his heart.
There was also Jose’s trembling handwriting, and Delgado’s rough message of support.
Reading them one by one, his eyes grew warm again.
“Goodness, am I getting sentimental with age?”
In his previous life, he’d never been this emotional.
Knock, knock.
The voice of a steward announced dinner.
It was already 6 o’clock.
The dining room was dazzling.
Crystal chandeliers rained down brilliant light, and an orchestra played gentle classical music.
Gentlemen in tuxedos and ladies adorned in jeweled dresses.
Lee Jun-hyuk took a seat at an empty table and ordered Steak.
The waiter recommended Red Wine, but he chose water.
“The atmosphere is almost frightening.”
All the diners were white.
In their gazes, there was open curiosity and a hint of contempt.
For them, a young Asian man dining in first-class on this ship was something strange.
- An era when racial discrimination was as natural as the air.
“I’ll just prove myself.”
Lee Jun-hyuk didn’t care.
With money and skill, he would shatter their prejudices.
The food arrived.
The Steak was excellent.
Juices gleamed pink in the medium-rare meat. Tender texture, rich flavor.
But…
“Something’s missing.”
It wasn’t that it tasted bad.
It was just that eating alone was boring.
In Cuba, he had always shared meals with someone.
Jose, Delgado, Carlos… he missed those lively, noisy gatherings.
“Hah…”
He let out a sigh.
“If I’m already like this, how will I manage?”
From far away, he heard a family laughing at another table.
Suddenly, an old thought came to mind.
“The original owner of this body… must have had a family too.”
Other than being from Pyongyang in the Korean Empire, he knew nothing.
He didn’t know if his parents were alive, or if he had siblings.
He remembered nothing.
Of course.
“Someday, I’ll have to look for them.”
But how?
There were so few clues.
“For now, it’s time to keep moving forward.”
He finished his meal and went out to the deck.
The night sea was calm, and the sky was studded with stars.
Only the sound of the waves broke the silence.
“Tomorrow, it’ll be New York.”
A new battlefield.
A new challenge awaited him.
Radio Station. Film Company. Canning Factory.
And…
“Katherine.”
Would she be well?
Would their reunion after a year be awkward?
He suddenly remembered the Wristwatch.
He pulled it from his pocket and opened the lid.
“Time is the master of future.”
The engraved words sparkled in the moonlight.
“The master of time is the master of the future…”
Lee Jun-hyuk murmured softly.
It was true.
And now, it was time to move toward that future once again.
Toward New York.