Sofiya's Solution

Honestly, this much seemed bearable enough?

"Has the Duke of Novgorod also agreed to this matter?"

"I haven't spoken to him yet. But he won't refuse my proposal either."

Thankfully, Father-in-law ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠isn't deeply involved in this.

"Understood. Then I'll think it over a bit more and give you my answer."

The Tsar, apparently not expecting a contract to be sealed in a single meeting, obediently sent me on my way.

When I returned to the Duke of Novgorod's mansion, Father-in-law—still not free of his hangover—greeted me.

"Son-in-law! Yesterday I forgot to mention that I'd overdone the aperitif! In that spirit, how about we properly test our mettle against each other today?"

"Ah, Father-in-law. I actually wanted to talk with you, so this is perfect timing. Might we speak for a moment?"

"A talk! Excellent! Shall we start with wine today, then?"

"No. Let's save the drinks for a little later."

Reading the seriousness on my face, Father-in-law's expression turned equally grave.

"Hmm... the resource development rights for Eastern Siberia. Well, of course the Tsar would be tempted. The imperial finances have plenty of problems, after all."

"Problems? From what I heard, they undergo regular tax audits."

"Ah, no. It's not some dark tale of the imperial estate cooking the books. Simply that there's no money. Whenever they invest somewhere, they tend to lose the lot, so the imperial fortune isn't exactly overflowing. I hate to sound like I'm bragging, but my own investment returns are easily double the imperial family's."

"Then the Tsar's desire for the development rights is driven more by economic motives than political ones."

"Well, as a rule the imperial family and any noble of ducal rank or higher consider it a virtue never to utter a word about politics. But lately I've heard he has met with opposition figures a few times. It won't be purely about the money. He'll be thinking of using these resource rights as a pretext to help overturn the current government."

"What do you think, Father-in-law? Do you believe accepting the Tsar's proposal would be the better course?"

"Personally, I hate watching the imperial family limp along penniless, so I'd like to tell you to accept. But do as you wish, Son-in-law."

"You're saying it would also be fine to hand the development rights over to the current government?"

In truth, after seeing that side of the Tsar, I had been seriously considering simply returning the rights to the Russian government with a clear conscience. It wasn't as though I was so hard up for cash that I needed laundered money.

"Ah. Now that you mention it, if you refuse, that is what happens, isn't it? Hmm..."

After a moment of thought, Father-in-law pulled out his phone and checked a few things.

"Ah. Here it is. The friend sitting on my left in this photo is Sergei, chairman of RusGas—Russia's unshakable number-one conglomerate—and the one on my right is Dmitry, Minister of Natural Resources."

In the photograph the three of them sat together, thoroughly flushed with drink.

"And you're showing me this photo because...?"

"If you hand the development rights to the government, Sergei will almost certainly monopolize Eastern Siberian oil. If you like, I can arrange a meeting with him. I've invested heavily in RusGas myself, so if my son-in-law turns the rights over to the government, my fortune will swell even further.

"Ah—don't misunderstand. This photo is from a genuine chance encounter at some event, and I'm nothing more than a pure stock investor who put money in. Bought at market price, even."

Just now Father-in-law had claimed there was no connection between himself and RusGas. That much was probably true. But the relationship between the Minister of Natural Resources and the RusGas chairman sitting right beside him? That, no doubt, was one of the pieces of "corruption" the Tsar had mentioned.

"Heh. It sounds as though no matter where I invest, nothing much will change."

"In the end it's only a question of whose pocket the money ends up in. Even if the government changes, the difference won't be large. A few people will be made examples of and that will be that."

"..."

"If you truly can't decide, why not ask Sofiya? That girl might come up with a good answer."

"I understand."

"So basically, you're worried that if you hand it to the government the corrupt government will gobble it all up, and if you hand it to the imperial family it'll feel like taking dirty money that could become a liability later, so you don't want to accept it?"

"That's right."

"Simple. Hand it to the imperial family, and I'll take the money."

"What on earth are you talking about all of a sudden?"

"In the end the problem is that the Tsar's hush money would go to you, right? So tell the Tsar to put my name on the documents. Then even if the papers surface later, the amount of mud that sticks to you will be limited. The Tsar greasing noble palms is everyday business, after all."

"What?"

"Of course I'm not doing this because I enjoy being insulted. The money I receive will go straight into a welfare foundation. A Russian donating for the sake of Russians—people will grumble less."

"Huh... indeed..."

It was a plan that actually made sense. The Emperor of the Korean Empire receiving black-money kickbacks from the Tsar could be used as a fatal blow against me, but a Tsar and a Russian noble exchanging under-the-table money was simply ordinary Russian politics. And if that money were immediately donated, people would be more likely to conclude, "At least it's better than going into politicians' pockets."

"Well? Isn't that a decent enough solution?"

"As expected of Sofiya. Come here!"

Heh heh. With that worry resolved, I feel great.

The next day, when I laid out "Sofiya's solution" during my meeting with the Tsar, he readily agreed.

"May I announce the fact as soon as you leave? The ruling-party bastards keep shouting that they'll bring the resource rights home any day now and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠begging people to vote for them. I can't wait to see their faces crumple."

"Yes. Please do so."

I still have to take a few more photos with the Russian Prime Minister after this, yet he talks so freely.

Sure enough, the Prime Minister casually asked whether I had handed the resource development rights to the Tsar, and I said nothing. He no doubt took the silence as unspoken affirmation.

Not my problem. I'm heading back to Korea now—good luck with that.

Frankly, if the ruling party couldn't hold on over a single resource-rights issue, they ought to start packing their bags.

Only after escaping that unexpected nest of vipers could I finally connect to the internet in peace aboard the imperial private jet.

The Tsar must have been champing at the bit; the moment the imperial aircraft left Russian airspace, he announced the transfer of the resource development rights.

It took a little time to parse the Russian news, but the comment reactions were roughly split down the middle. Some argued that "the Tsar wrung a major concession out of the Emperor of Korea, so it should be viewed positively," while many others insisted that "the Tsar meddling in national politics must be viewed negatively." Of course, most people still regarded the early recovery of the development rights itself as a good thing.

"Was it really that big an issue? Inside the Korean Empire it wasn't such a huge deal."

Eastern Siberian oil still existed, true, but the days when it gushed like the Middle East or North America were long past.

"A lot of people simply think that granting such a special privilege as resource development rights was a foolish decision by the Tsar. Among them, not many actually care how much oil is left in Eastern Siberia."

"Ah. If that's the case, I can understand."

Pride mattered, after all.

"There's praise for you, too. It says the young Emperor made a shrewd choice."

"I expected to be cursed for handling everything behind the scenes however I liked, but apparently not."

"Well, you did give Russia what it wanted, so they have no real reason to paint you as the villain."

Chatting idly with Sofiya, I opened the comment section of the web-novel site for the first time in ages and found it overflowing with notification alerts, just as expected.

I had scheduled everything before leaving for Russia, so I hadn't paid attention to the novel's reception. And since the content itself had been rather uneventful, the comments had been limited to mild complaints that the pace had gotten loose.

The chapter going up today was the one where King Heonjong dies, wasn't it?

After escaping the regency, the young King Heonjong had begun checking the powerful clans and building royal authority in textbook fashion; readers had started hoping that even this Joseon might finally turn hopeful. On top of that, for the readers' "fun" I had emphasized Heonjong's competence more than history warranted.

The reaction this time is going to be something else.

"What are you smiling so creepily about?"

"Come on, Sofiya. Creepy? What are you talking about?"

"Just now you had the exact smile of a villain drawn in a picture book."