Chapter 97
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ace
Chapter: 97
Chapter Title: The Magician of Leavenworth (1)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The sun rises in the east, the Earth keeps spinning, and a new day dawns at Leavenworth.
And a new day starting means I have to face Major General Drum's desk again.
"Your popularity is absolutely exploding."
"I've always been popular."
Back in the day, whenever I stepped out to a party, women would... scatter like roaches. Yellow Monkey rampage. Thank you for taking me in, Lady Dorothy. Loyalty, loyalty.
"I see. How's the battle honors analysis coming along?"
"We're in the stage of compiling veteran testimonies. We're planning to publish them separately as a casebook and formally implement it starting next year."
"Good, good. Speed is key above all, so let's get it rolling."
I gave it just a little nudge, but Drum soared off like an albatross that had been waiting for that push.
This guy.
He's seriously gearing up for a showdown with MacArthur.
Stop! Hey, that's hell up ahead!
I egged him on, but seeing him charge in so valiantly is starting to make me uneasy. He seems to think that with the denture-clacking traditionalists ganging up, he can take down MacArthur or anyone else...
I'm starting to get scared now.
What if Drum actually wins?
At first, I thought it was just Chaffee's drunken bar banter level, but even a rotten bonito has its strengths—Drum's skill at setting up the board was no joke.
If MacArthur wins, it's business as usual.
He'd probably strut around, grabbing every ego boost in the book, spouting lines like, "See that, junior? Incompetents always flock like crows." Then he'd bask in the aura of "Hurry up and worship the victorious MacArthur!"
But if MacArthur gets truly crushed?
He had a paranoid meltdown once before, and if it's not just delusion but a real gang-up where he loses the power struggle?
Our senior Douglas, who's been chewing on humiliation daily, would evolve into Mac-the-Bastard and unleash bloody revenge later. Whether Drum strips naked or not isn't my business, but imagining a bloodshot-eyed Mac launching purges and vengeance is fucking terrifying.
"Oh, and."
"Yes."
"Please convey my congratulations to Mrs. Kim. I'll pray for her to have a healthy child."
"Thank you. Please make sure I don't get transferred until the baby's born."
"Don't worry about it."
And so, the Henry-little-brother project was underway.
One more reason I absolutely can't be pushed out of Leavenworth.
In this era, where medicine hasn't advanced to 21st-century levels.
Human life can vanish in an instant.
One more young life I have to protect.
Right now, as I tightrope through politics, where one slip could send me to Panama or the Philippines.
A pregnant woman can't travel far, so if orders come, I'd have to go alone.
Then Dorothy would give birth without me again.
But I couldn't say it.
If I suggested waiting a bit longer to have the baby, with her sharp instincts, she'd notice right away. Knowing her, she'd smack my back and say, "Why worry about something so pointless?"
A relationship where we hate burdening each other. In a way, we're perfect for one another.
Just the fact that I wasn't there for Henry's birth gives me no room to argue, even if I had a hundred mouths.
If it happens again? I'd thank her if she grabbed a shotgun. Making my wife think, "Sigh, I knew marrying a soldier would be like this," already marks me as an irredeemable husband and dad.
And honestly, though it's a tiny bit unfair, I hadn't expected the kid to come so soon.
But it happened anyway.
As long as I hold out, it'll all work out. This time, I'll see the baby's face before any transfers.
Unlike my past life, the people I need to protect are growing in number.
My shoulders feel heavy, but not burdensome—rather, it ignited my fighting spirit.
But fighting spirit or not, that's all outside stuff.
Even beasts don't growl at home.
"Go wash up and change first."
"Nooo~ Eugene got socks~ Eugene is free now~"
"Daddy foot stink."
"Son, this is the smell of labor— Ow! Ow!"
"No bad words in front of baby."
Dorothy's gaze toward me is getting more and more like the one she gives Henry. Must be my imagination.
"Daddy. Baby brother in here."
"Yeah, yeah. If Henry behaves and is a good boy, baby brother will come soon."
"Then Daddy be good too? If baby smells Daddy feet and no come, what do?"
"......"
Dorothy chokes back laughter.
This is how a father's authority crumbles. And this dad once led tens of thousands of soldiers, holding a blade to the Kaiser and Ludendorff's necks!
I need a tank for sure. Seeing his dad handle that badass, badass steel beast without flinching would make Henry swell with respect and admiration for how awesome his father is.
I guarantee no boy in the world hates tanks. It's like how few kids hate big, beautiful weapons, trains, or dinosaurs.
As I came out of the shower, Dorothy jumped in like she'd been waiting.
"Oh, right. Big bro's coming this weekend."
"Really? About time I met him."
Charles Curtis Jr.
He's my brother-in-law, so it's time to hear his story.
After Henry fell asleep, she slowly unraveled the old Curtis family tales.
In summary, it was the kind of story any family might have.
A father who wants his son to inherit the family business.
A son who hates that idea.
Listening made me realize family is never quite what you want.
Even he, a solidly entrenched politician who seemed like a master key, had family issues.
Of course, I'm a bit different.
I have no intention of passing this damned soldier gig down as a family trade.
I think I've never done anything shameful as a soldier.
Never harshly suppressed colonial subjects as part of an imperialist army, never served a criminal regime like the Nazis or Japanese military. I can proudly say I fought for freedom in both world wars, the peaks of military life—no need to blush.
But Henry becoming a soldier?
Worst case, he'd taste Vietnam.
What if Henry throws a tantrum and enlists? Block him or not?
If I block him and he runs off to West Point anyway? Then what?
Damn, just thinking about it makes my head throb. Driving me crazy.
"Pleased to meet you. Charles Curtis Jr."
"Eugene Kim. You're my brother-in-law, so make yourself at home."
"Will do. I was worried if any hero could tame that wild filly, but you're a godsend. Any family trouble, just say the word. Can't help much, but I can coach you on dodging punches."
"Bro!!"
"Oof, did you boil a train whistle? See? She's no joke."
"Haha. That's my precious wife. Hahaha."
Soon, our cute Henry greeted his new uncle for the first time, and we shared a meal with chit-chat.
Naturally, the main topic was Dorothy.
After stuffing ourselves, we finally sat alone in the study.
"Did Dorothy talk much about me?"
"Not really. Just that you left home because you didn't see eye-to-eye with Senator Curtis."
"I didn't leave home. She was young, so she doesn't know the details. I love Kansas plains, but my curiosity for the world across the sea outweighed that love by far."
A classic wanderlust type.
"Dad wanted to hand me the district, but... honestly, I don't jive with the Republicans."
"I thought Senator Curtis was pretty progressive?"
"Progressive my ass. The party's rotten to the core now. Republican progressives? Like Teddy Roosevelt? Those guys were just imperialists."
"So, are you actually a, uh, socialist—"
"I'm no red. Absolutely not. If I were, would I have married off my sister to you? I don't have a hobby of blocking her future."
Good to hear.
In this era, Republicans are clearly more progressive, while Democrats reek of white power redneck vibes. If even they don't appeal, what does?
"As soon as I could think straight, I jumped into shipping. Not exactly running away like Dorothy said—just got busy traveling for work and hardly came home. Hard for a sailor to trek to Kansas, right? At least D.C.'s near the sea, so I saw Dad now and then."
"That's a relief. I was a bit worried."
"Yeah. I rode Dad's coattails indirectly, and now I can strut on my own."
We spent a while swapping war stories and business tales.
I shared battlefield exploits; he recounted shipping adventures. Naturally, we dove deep into Asia-Pacific trade.
"Just as I heard."
He set down his nearly empty teacup with a sly smile.
"Actually, dirt dog... ahem, sorry. Hearing about the Army's war hero, my shallow imagination pictured a Sherman or Grant type."
That's just Patton's prequel. Stop lumping a dignified, intellectual guy like me with those brutes.
"But rumors about you keep reaching me, and since you're my brother-in-law, how could I resist the curiosity?"
"Even outside the Army?"
"Shipping means ties to the Navy and State Department everywhere. They wouldn't buzz about some Army officer, yet your name pops up constantly."
That report again.
Fair enough. It was my masterpiece, made to really stand out.
Doubt I'll ever craft another monster like that, but my stock's rising—no complaints.
"Just checking, but no thoughts on State Department work?"
"Of course not. What would I even do there?"
"State guys were terrified of you. Even if the War Secretary sent a duel challenge, it wouldn't have stirred more chaos. Weird no scout offer yet."
"Well... embarrassing to say, but a guy loaded with medals going to State? Kinda awkward."
"True enough."
He nodded vigorously.
"Any interest in Democrats?"
"None."
"No, no. Not politics. Hmm. Soldiers need channels to politics for advancement, right? Democrats are likely opposition forever, but having a line or two couldn't hurt."
Sigh. Hell yeah, if you're offering.
Post-Depression, Republicans crash.
Then FDR holds the White House over a decade, Truman follows—Democrat era stretches on.
Curtis's backing is warm now, but it's no thousand-year Reich. Better a communication channel with Democrats than none.
"Got a friend who really gets me. Not like those Southern rednecks scrambling for black slaves—guy's got broad vision and sharp judgment.
Issue is, he took a hit from this Wilson retirement mess, but I judge he won't crash over it. He'll hold his spot as a minority in the Democrats at least."
"If you're praising him that highly, I'd love to connect. Who is he?"
"Oh, haven't said the name. Franklin. He's the Democrats' VP pick this time. Throwaway card for the election anyway— you okay?"
Fuck.
Oh fuck.
Truly, no one is fated to die!