The KKK's Demise
As James Serget had predicted, the atmosphere in Joseon was far from pleasant.
In fact, it had gone well beyond unpleasant and now felt like a house of mourning.
At Huijeongdang Hall in Changdeok Palace, the conference was steeped in heavy silence. Queen Dowager Shinjeong, who was acting as regent for the young King Gojong, the regent Heungseon Daewongun who held actual power over state affairs, and the high-ranking officials of the State Council had all gathered.
“Your Majesty, and Your Excellency the Daewongun. According to the report from Dongnae, the final words left by those Westerners are rather ominous.”
“What did they say?”
“They shouted that they would contact their home country and send an army to wipe us out… before they drew their last breath.”
The faces around the room turned ashen.
Rumors that Western barbarians were so savage they would sail over with warships and open fire over the slightest dispute had already spread widely through the envoys who had visited Qing.
“Surely they would not start a war over the deaths of two mere drunkards?”
“Nonsense! Did Qing not face catastrophe over a few opium chests? Those men are like wolves that pounce at the slightest excuse.”
After all, the lunatics who had invaded simply because they were told they could not sell opium were precisely these Western barbarians. Even the Khitans or Mongols of old would not have behaved so.
“Then what are we to do? Should we reinforce Dongnae with troops at once…?”
The Daewongun’s brow furrowed deeply as he listened to the officials’ heated debate.
Of course, Joseon had never directly experienced Western military power, so some clung to the baseless confidence that they could repel any attack if they fought with everything they had.
But even if they succeeded in fighting them off, the aftermath would be the real problem.
‘There will surely be those who claim I failed to properly assist the young king and caused this disaster. How am I to handle the consequences?’
This was only the first year of the young king’s reign. Crushing the power of the Andong Kim clan and strengthening royal authority would require vast funds and time. Yet before the wounds of the Imsul-year peasant uprising had even healed, they now faced the prospect of war.
If they exhausted the national treasury fighting the barbarians, the people would fall into misery and all reforms would come to nothing.
“Huu… Damn it all.”
Unable to contain his rising anger, the Daewongun muttered a curse under his breath beside the throne, low enough that no one else could hear.
“Why must these barbarians come to another man’s house and piss all over it?”
If they had violated the border or insulted the royal family, there would at least be some justification for conflict. But to risk the fate of the entire nation because a few men were beaten to death for urinating in rice bowls? Was there anything more lamentable?
Yet cursing would solve nothing. They had to prepare for the worst.
“If they truly come, negotiation would be best. But should they attempt a show of force, we must have capable military men ready.”
“Whom do you recommend?”
“I believe Shin Heon, former Naval Commander of the Three Provinces, would be suitable as overall commander. He is skilled in military strategy and possesses great courage, so he will not be intimidated by the barbarians’ bluster.”
Shin Heon. The military officer the Daewongun trusted most, a loyal subordinate he could rely on in times of crisis.
“For the negotiations, I recommend Park Gyu-su. Having served as an envoy to Qing, he is well-versed in Western affairs and possesses the wisdom to see through their schemes.”
Shin Heon as overall commander and Park Gyu-su for negotiations. It was the best hand the court could play, and no objections were raised.
“So be it. But make this clear: our goal is not war, but to placate them and send them home. However… if they make unreasonable demands, we must demonstrate our resolve to fight to the end.”
And so, in the autumn of 1864, at Dongnae.
The reality that American warships had arrived in the waters off Busan ahead of any European vessels came to pass.
“Eek! The sea, a monster has appeared on the sea!”
“Heavens… How can a ship be so enormous… It is a monster, a monster ship!”
The Joseon people’s minds fled to distant lands at the sight of the massive vessel with its pitch-black hull belching thick black smoke.
“D-don’t panic! That is a Western ship! A barbarian vessel!”
“Western ships have appeared! Inform the court at once—no, first prepare for battle…!”
The panokseon ships commonly used by the Joseon navy displaced roughly 140 tons. While weight alone did not determine combat power, to the eyes of contemporary Joseon people, a Western flagship of three thousand tons was nothing short of shock and terror.
Even Dongnae, already thrown into chaos by the white-hooded mad Westerners, fell into panic at the sight of the foreign ships.
“The barbarians have come for revenge!”
“Aigoo, aigoo, this is an omen that Joseon will fall.”
“Those despicable, two-faced creatures! After causing such trouble themselves, what revenge do they speak of…!”
The American fleet, which had plunged the waters off Busan into fear merely by its appearance, calmly approached the harbor and signaled its intent to negotiate.
Joseon accepted.
More precisely, it had no choice but to accept.
* * *
The journey to Busan.
I had visited a few times on business in my previous life, but I had never had the leisure to enjoy a proper trip because life had been too hectic. This time, too, it was essentially a business meeting, yet I had never expected to reach Joseon so quickly.
Frankly speaking, from a business perspective Joseon was less attractive than Qing or Japan. But thanks to that, I had managed to bury the KKK, proving once again that one never knows the true value of something until the lid is lifted.
Thank you, my Joseon friends. Because of you, an organization like the KKK will never rise again in America.
Standing on the deck of the Hartford anchored off Busan, I greeted the Joseon chief negotiator.
Then, without the slightest hesitation, I addressed him fluently in Korean.
“I am James Serget, East Asia Trade Advisor appointed by the United States Department of State.”
The middle-aged military officer, startled by my fluent speech, quickly composed his expression and spoke with undisguised curiosity.
“I am Shin Heon, Naval Commander of the Three Provinces, granted full authority for these negotiations. Your accent is unusual, yet you speak the language of Joseon.”
“Not only Joseon’s language, but those of Qing and Japan as well. That is why I was appointed East Asia Trade Advisor.”
“…Qing and Japan too? My word…”
Shin Heon looked skeptical, but when I introduced myself in Chinese and Japanese, both he and the interpreter beside him stood with mouths agape. After seeing the Black men lined up like bodyguards beside me, he appeared half-dazed.
“I… I see. I had doubted that someone so young could be in charge, but now I understand. Then, regarding the negotiations…”
“You may call me Sodaesin. That is how they addressed me in Qing.”
“Sodaesin… Very well. Then I shall ask you, Sodaesin.”
Instead of the flustered Shin Heon, a lean and sharp-featured civil official stepped forward.
Park Gyu-su.
The Joseon intellectual who had visited Qing as an envoy and was well-informed about international affairs. He maintained proper courtesy while his eyes shone with clear determination not to yield.
“First, we express our deepest condolences for the unfortunate incident your countrymen suffered here in Dongnae last month.”
“We also deeply apologize that our citizens failed to observe proper decorum and caused excessive disturbance.”
The opening exchange, with both sides bowing their heads, was quite satisfactory.
But the real discussion began now.
“However, the fact that two United States citizens were beaten to death in broad daylight cannot be overlooked, no matter the circumstances.”
Of course, inwardly I thought, “Those bastards pissed in rice bowls, so it is a miracle they were not killed,” but outwardly I wore the solemn mask of a diplomat.
And honestly, beating someone to death on the spot for urinating in a rice bowl was a bit excessive, was it not? The incident itself was distasteful, yet our side was not entirely in the wrong.
“To die a violent death in a foreign land for no capital crime… Public opinion back home is extremely volatile. The admiral behind me is polishing his cannons precisely to calm that sentiment.”
I discreetly pointed behind me with a finger.
On the deck, Admiral Henry Bell was running his hands over the barrel of a nine-inch Dahlgren gun with an expression of utmost gravity. In reality the cannon must never be fired, but to the Joseon observers it would appear as though he were ready to give the order at any moment.
Park Gyu-su and Shin Heon’s faces turned ashen.
“The court is also deeply aware of this matter. We are prepared to offer generous compensation to the bereaved families.”
“Money cannot bring back the dead, but we appreciate Joseon’s sincerity. Still, what do you believe was the root cause of this tragedy?”
“……”
“Is it not because we know too little about each other? Ignorance breeds misunderstanding, and misunderstanding breeds tragedy. If we wish to prevent such incidents in the future, would it not be wise to learn more about one another?”
Dialogue is the cornerstone of progress, after all.
It was a polite suggestion to advance to a higher stage through conversation, but Park Gyu-su naturally shook his head.
“We do not engage in foreign trade. It is strictly forbidden by national law.”
“I am not proposing anything as grand as full trade. I merely suggest limited barter, confined to this area of Dongnae, much like the Japanese trading post.”
“Even if limited to minor exchanges…”
“Qing has already signed a treaty with us and is building factories. Japan is doing the same.”
I took two documents from my coat and waved them.
Copies of the treaties signed with Qing and Japan.
“You may compare them if you wish. What we demand of Joseon is far less than what we asked of them. Tariffs? Set them however Joseon desires. Foreign settlements? The area around Busan Port will suffice. Missionaries? Absolutely not.”
The terms were so modest that, if accepted, they would have little practical significance.
Park Gyu-su scanned the documents with suspicious eyes.
“Is this… truly all?”
“It is. We simply wish to become friends.”
Of course, should they refuse… right on cue, the Hartford’s steam valve let out a loud “Fwoooosh!” and belched black smoke.
Shin Heon flinched and gripped his sword hilt.
Damn, I had not intended to threaten them, yet that sound had to happen now.
Fortunately, my sincerity seemed to have gotten through. After a brief whispered discussion, Park Gyu-su and Shin Heon offered a far more conciliatory reply than before.
“…We would need the court’s approval, but if your proposal is as stated, we could consider it positively. Of course, this is not approval, merely that we are willing to discuss it.”
“A wise decision. Naturally, we are not demanding an immediate conclusion.”
After all, my true goal was not to plunder Joseon right now. Through Prince Gong of Qing I planned to push cotton goods, so the appropriate moment would come within ten years, or as little as five.
For now, I was merely opening a channel through which we could legally enter when the time came.
The White House would be satisfied with the mere achievement of opening Joseon, so this was more than enough.
“Then let us set the negotiations aside for now. Are our foolish citizens who were detained doing well?”
“Yes. Aside from the two who died in the unfortunate incident, the others are under the protection of the local authorities.”
“Please hand their custody over to us. We will take them home and discipline them strictly.”
Joseon had no reason to refuse the removal of such troublesome burdens.
A short while later.
Nathan Bedford Forrest and the Grand Worms appeared at the pier, limping as they were released from the Dongnae magistrate’s office.
Their appearance was wretched.
Their white robes were filthy with excrement and dirt, reduced to rags, and they walked unsteadily, as though their backsides had been torn open.
Yet their eyes still burned with murderous intent and hatred.
“Mr. Serget! You have come! Those damned monkey bastards, they…!”
“Revenge! We must have revenge! Fire the cannons and reduce this barbaric village to ashes…!”
Admiral Henry Bell, unable to watch any longer, spat on the ground and retreated into the bridge. His glare said he could not endure the realization that he had crossed the Pacific because of men like these.
I clicked my tongue and approached them.
“Calm yourselves. First, change out of those rag-like clothes.”
“How can we calm down! Two of our comrades are dead! We cannot simply withdraw like this!”
Forrest shouted with veins bulging, but I quietly took a bundle of newspapers from my coat and tossed it to him.
“Revenge? Certainly. But public opinion back home is not very favorable at the moment.”
International Disgrace: KKK Causes Outrage in Asia, Meets Tragic End
Urinating in Rice Bowls and Dying? The South’s Shame!
London Times: “Is America a Country That Exports Clowns?”
Forrest’s hands trembled as he picked up the newspapers.
They had believed themselves crusaders and heroes, yet now the entire world, not merely their homeland, regarded them as “urine-soaked imbeciles.” The shock was overwhelming.
“Th-this… what on earth…”
“Public opinion is extremely poor. Even in the South, people spit at the mere mention of your names.”
They must now understand that revenge was impossible.
Anger turned to fear, and the desire for vengeance gave way to the instinct for survival.
I did not miss the opening and made my final offer.
“It seems you must make a choice. Will you return home, or remain here and attempt to wash away your disgrace? If you travel between Dongnae and Japan and devote yourselves sincerely to business, you might yet redeem your honor.”
It was no joke. If they truly repented and swore to live honestly, I had no intention of denying them the opportunity.
Should they return to the United States without causing further trouble and work to atone for their mistakes, I had no reason to refuse.
Forrest and his beloved KKK comrades whispered among themselves.
As expected… or rather, to my great disappointment, they chose the same path Breckinridge had taken.
“W-we will return. We no longer wish to remain in this idiotic place even a moment longer.”
“Is that so. You wish to return.”
“E-even if we return, you will look after us from behind, won’t you, Chairman? You sent us here, after all!”
Their eyes pleaded desperately.
Instead of answering, I gave them the kindest, most benevolent smile in the world and patted their backs.
Very well. I shall assist you.
With a grand funeral report that cannot be read without tears.
—In 1864, Nathan Bedford Forrest and the KKK executives collapsed from orange sickness… or rather, from a long-standing case of middle-school syndrome.
Remarkably, the men who had grandly styled themselves Grand Wizard and Grand Dragon were all well past the age of forty.