Chapter 121
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ace
Chapter: 121
Chapter Title: Tokyo's Collapse (1)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
“Kuhahaha!”
It was just as I expected.
Applications were pouring in endlessly from all over Joseon and Japan.
Until recently, most of the people who wanted to meet me were just curious to see my face. But now, high-ranking officials and nobles were lining up, begging me to help their kids study in America.
“General King! It's about my son—”
“My nephew is awfully smart—”
“These fellows are the finest talents in our prefecture. They're the pillars who will shoulder the Empire—any help you could give would be much appreciated.”
Of course. Is America just America for nothing? The land of freedom and opportunity, right?
A good number of them were from wealthy families, so they could probably go on their own. But parents always want to send their kids off with solid connections in place.
Even if the elite class in Japan that’s tasted America grows, it won’t change the big picture.
The top intellectuals of Japan, having escaped that stifling island nation and savored the vast continent, return to an archipelago gone mad with fascist frenzy? Good luck adjusting. They’d be lucky not to get killed by their fellow countrymen.
And the Koreans? No need to even mention.
Aside from those ready to burn their lives for independence, who would go back to Joseon under this mad Japanese empire? Even if they did, I’d have to grab their pant legs and beg them to wait just a little longer.
After liberation?
Assuming liberation in '45, that’s about 22 years. A young man who crossed the Pacific at twenty would be forty-four.
Those who’d cross back to the new homeland would either be true patriots on fire for their country or folks sick to death of America. Just look at Yun Chi-ho—he’s turned into a bitter, race-hating mess from all the discrimination.
Right now, I’m a farmer cultivating talent.
And from an education standpoint, since there’s a limit to how many people I can take, I have to cram in as many as possible first and sort it out later.
Out of 17 million Koreans, fewer than 2,000 are studying in Japan—the near-only path to higher education. If I bring over even 1,000 in ten years, I can call it a smashing success.
In this mad era, how many can I save to become the foundation of the new Republic of Korea in twenty years?
Considering the long road where they might die abroad, settle in America, or get dyed red, I have to bring as many as I can.
If they return home, great. If they settle in America, it strengthens Asian influence. Win-win.
Now that things have come to this, maybe I should expand the education fund a bit. Including Chinese would boost the potential massively.
I can’t predict the Chinese Civil War, but if Mao wins like in original history, nudging them toward Korea instead of Taiwan might just take hold.
Meanwhile, the naval treaty wrapped up successfully too.
I faithfully played messenger, the Japanese Navy got their precious battleship Mutsu as wished, and they even added a clause banning further fortification in Asia-Pacific.
Of course, in exchange for allowing Japan’s Mutsu, Britain and America could build two more battleships each… but that wasn’t an issue right now.
Because the future war the Japanese brass envisioned was [Anglo-Japanese Alliance vs. America], not [Deranged Japan vs. Anglo-American Alliance].
‘While the British Empire clashes with America in the Atlantic, our Empire with Nagato and Mutsu takes on America’s Asian fleet alongside the British Far East Squadron!’
‘This way, the Empire can clinch victory on the Pacific front.’
‘America would need years to launch a 16-inch gun battleship to match Mutsu. We’ll have the edge in the Pacific power struggle for at least a decade.’
Yeah. Japan did pretty well with this treaty, in their own way.
The tragedy is, the brass signing it never imagined their own country would lose all sense and charge like rabid dogs.
After that, I spent my time leisurely in Ninano, harvesting talent in Japan, and bid farewell to 1922.
Of course, I was the only one playing—the global crisis that started in 1922 showed no signs of dying down as 1923 New Year approached.
The interwar period.
Temporary peace? I wanna punch whoever said that in the gut. Where’s the peace? It’s fireworks next to a gas station.
Over the corpse of the fallen Ottoman Turkey from World War I, cannons still roared.
Atatürk’s Turkish independence forces, backed by Soviet aid, crushed the Greeks and seized momentum. This sparked a coup in Greece, ousting the king.
If that were it, it’d just be distant foreign news. But in this mad era, you can’t assume that.
- If the Turks want more, British troops will intervene.
Tensions worldwide spiked accordingly.
“Prime minister or not, why drag us into war on your own!”
“Hey, let’s have an election! See if the people really want another war—vote on it!!”
British PM Lloyd George, who’d unilaterally hinted at intervention, lost power over this. But with the Great War’s end barely three years past, talk of another war was shock and horror enough for the world.
France recoiled at nearly stumbling into war blindly, and the Canadian Dominion strengthened its independence, saying, ‘You guys play with fire, we’re sitting it out now.’
And if you think it was quiet elsewhere? No.
Newly born Weimar Republic in Germany collapsed under hyperinflation, and to top it off, France marched in and occupied the Ruhr, refusing reparations. Britain and France—same breed. Touching.
Soviet troops finally entered Vladivostok, and the bold Japanese army that crawled into Siberia got their pants pulled down everywhere but Sakhalin.
In this thrilling era of Tutankhamun’s tomb discovery, America’s first female senator, and BBC radio starting up.
Behind it: Polish president assassinated five days after inauguration, Lithuania annexing Memel, colonial wars everywhere, and rage building to flip this dog-eat-dog world.
The era still craves blood.
As if 20 million World War I dead weren’t enough, the spirit of the times demanded fiercer human sacrifices.
Even in my second life, this era felt too heavy.
***
August 31, 1923, Tokyo.
“You’ve worked so hard for so long.”
“General King, on behalf of the Empire, thank you once more!”
“Aw, come on. What did I even do? It was just Ford’s rational business decision.”
“But whites are always irrational about colored folks’ issues. This is all thanks to your efforts, General. Thank you!”
At last, the long negotiations ended.
The Ford inspection team toured not just Japan but up north to Pyongyang and Uiju. Considering ‘various circumstances,’ they decided on a Tokyo factory.
Of course, those circumstances included Japan’s endless overtures and lobbying.
For Ford, wanting to sell tractors to China, building on the continent made more sense, but various eyes were watching.
“Today marks the strengthening of US-Japan cooperation! Let’s drink!”
“Waaaaah!!”
Lively music.
Delicious booze.
And women too. Wait, skip the women. Don’t stick to me. I don’t wanna get shotgunned right after heading home!
“Are you heading back to America now?”
“Core issues are done, so I’ll wait for my next assignment.”
“We’ll miss you terribly. Before you go, please visit my home?”
The one chattering beside me now was Colonel Terauci Hisaichi, staff officer of the Guards Division.
Ring a bell? Right—he’s the eldest son of Terauci Masatake, key figure in the Joseon annexation and first Governor-General.
“My father always wanted to meet you before he passed. It’d be the honor of my life if you’d come.”
“Haha, honor? You’ll be the Empire’s war hero someday, visiting America like Admiral Togo.”
“You flatter me too much.”
“I’m an outsider, so I don’t know details, but I hear you lead with virtue, earning even lowly soldiers’ admiration. Japan’s army has brave generals aplenty, but virtuous ones? Only your name rings out. Hero material, surely.”
“Kuhahaha! I’m deeply moved by your recognition, General King!”
Yeah. So, can we end it with lip service?
I’m scared I’ll really get shot if I cross the Terauci threshold.
The heartily laughing Terauci suddenly sobered and leaned to my ear.
“Word is the seal-clubbers are badmouthing you lately, ignoring all decency. Watch your back.”
“Eh, they’ve got reason. That’s why they’re seal-clubbers.”
“Ignorant fools who know nothing of diplomacy, scared now that Britain’s protection is gone. The Empire’s pillar—the Army—always supports you, so rest easy.”
One outcome of the Washington Naval Treaty.
End of the Anglo-Japanese Alliance.
The Army took it in stride, surprisingly. The Navy? Full five stages of grief, like a bolt from the blue.
“Britain abandoning the Empire? Impossible! Anglo-Japanese Alliance is eternal!”
Denial.
“Damn Anglo-Americans are in cahoots! Only the Imperial Navy can protect Asia’s seas!”
Anger.
“What’s the Foreign Ministry doing after meals? Hurry, pressure them for something alliance-like. Quick!”
Bargaining.
“Without Britain, where do we get advanced tech? What about the Empire’s next decade as it rises?”
Depression.
“What can we do? It’s done. Let’s think ahead.”
Acceptance.
And some stuck in anger, not reaching acceptance, targeted me to vent.
“Spy from the start! Came to stab the Empire in the back!!”
“What’d you expect from a Joseon-jing? Plotting our ruin, no doubt.”
Wow, spooky accurate. How’d they know?!
But one thing wrong: I don’t stab backs like a coward. I face front and put bullets in the gut. Nice guy, see?
We partied hard, boozing till dawn.
And the next day.
September 1.
“Wat... er...”
“You could’ve eased up on the drinking.”
“Look at your face, buddy. Check a mirror first.”
Haji and I both looked like total wrecks from the hangover.
I rushed a wash and flipped through my notebook for a final schedule check.
“Head to the hotel later, pick up the Ford folks, sign, photo op—done.”
“And after?”
“Nothing. Armored tactics stuff’s mostly wrapped. Maybe travel like Ambassador Warren? Wanna join?”
“Not calling your family?”
“Alice is pretty grown now... Can she handle a ship?”
“Kids adapt faster, actually.”
Really? If ships are okay, calling the family isn’t bad.
Years abroad have me missing them. Sniff. Wanna see ‘em.
Joseon might be tough, but China’s fine. Shanghai trip sounds good.
We donned our crisply ironed uniforms and headed straight to the hotel.
“Long time no see, Eugene!”
“Whoa, boss graces us.”
“Cold, aren’t ya? I crossed the Pacific myself, no welcome?”
“You told me not to come—company business.”
“Didn’t think you’d actually skip.”
Edsel Ford climbed in, bantering.
“Anyway, just signing and leaving?”
“Nah, gonna probe the China market. If Model T demand’s that high, time to consider relocating factories.”
“Hmm.”
Even in 2020, China had as many billionaires as Korea’s population—so 1923 won’t differ much. Vast continent, gotta have rich folks.
As we discussed Ford’s future Asia business potential—
Rumble rumble GROOOAR!!
“Wh-what’s that?!”
“Earthquake again?”
“This one’s big... really big!!”
Rumble rumble GROOOAR!!
The world started shaking.