Fear Lays Bare Weakness (1)

Cheongsugwan.

Late at night, with moonlight for a lantern, we arrived before the Japanese Consulate. Between the walls and the iron gates, barricades had been thrown up, and a handful of Japanese policemen stood rigid watch at the main entrance, tension carved plainly across their faces.

Unlike our previous visit, we were admitted this time without any particular resistance.

"Aigoo!"

The clerk receiving food supplies at the gate happened to be the same man who had greeted us on the day the mutiny first erupted.

"We've been waiting for you! Open the gate at once! In a crisis like this, what sort of rudeness is this toward the benefactors who have come to our aid?"

He flung aside even the sack of potatoes he had been taking through the bars and waved frantically at the policemen on watch to let us in. Presently the tightly shut main gate widened enough for two men to pass. As we stepped through, the clerk threw his arms wide in welcome.

"Come in, come in! Thanks to that red flag you left behind last time, we've managed to stay unharmed. Just as you promised, the mutinous soldiers haven't so much as glanced this way! The Consul? This way, please — I'll show you."

"Very well."

He greeted us with genuine delight, and there was a reason for it. Upon hearing from Second Lieutenant Reizo that the consulate, cut off from the outside world, had run dry of food and water and was sliding toward starvation, I had sent a cart laden with provisions every night.

Of course, the people surrounding the consulate are my people too.

It was I, after all, who had stationed Yu Bok-man and Kim Jang-son's soldiers around the compound under the pretext of protecting it, ensuring the Japanese Consulate remained thoroughly isolated from the outside.

"I'm glad my help reached you in time."

"Indeed it did!"

I played the innocent and inquired, with a show of concern, after the situation inside.

"Is there enough food? I heard more people took refuge here than expected. A hundred, was it?"

"Ah, yes! When you sent that cart yesterday at dawn, we were in a desperate spot — everyone was astonished. At first the guards mistook it for an attack by the rebels and nearly opened fire."

"Well, we can hardly go wandering about in daylight, can we?"

"That's true enough."

The clerk, still leading the way, leaned in with a face full of curiosity and whispered.

"What's actually happening out there? Thanks to the food and water you've been supplying, the unrest among our nationals who fled here has settled — but it's already been three days."

"Huh. The way you put that, it almost sounds as though we Joseon people are expected to answer for every loss you've suffered in this upheaval. Is that any way to speak to the man who saved your lives?"

At my displeased tone, the clerk stammered.

"N-no, not at all! I'm merely a consulate clerk, and I've been absorbing every complaint from the people sheltering here — I was so frustrated I misspoke, that's all…"

"Ahem. Still, it leaves a rather peculiar taste."

"Aigoo!"

I twitched an eyebrow to make my displeasure plain, and the startled clerk waved his hands in frantic denial.

"You've been bringing us food, and even scraps of news from outside, while we're cut off like this — how could we possibly complain…"

"Well. So long as you understand."

They know perfectly well what a weak position they're in.

Watching the clerk bow his head, I smiled inwardly. In the first hours of the mutiny, these Japanese had chosen isolation — the worst option — over escape, the best one, and they had chosen it because of me. Now, in a capital reduced to a temporary anarchy, they were earnestly craving the cooperation of the one man still friendly to Japan.

Cut them off from the outside. Control the food. Those two levers alone are enough to keep them in hand for a while.

Besides, armed soldiers and rioters occupied the streets inside and out. Any Japanese whose appearance looked even slightly suspicious, or whose speech stumbled, could be seized and butchered without anyone batting an eye. So long as the consulate remained a temporary sanctuary, none of them dared even contemplate stepping beyond its walls. Adventure, after all, is bad for the health.

The atmosphere is ripe enough.

All that footwork I had put in, even in the midst of everything else, to keep the Japanese Consul and his nationals from fleeing Hanseong — it had been worth every step.

"Ah…"

The clerk, anxious that he might have already offended me, hurried to add something more.

"At first even the Consul was skeptical, but these past few days the protection you and your associates have given us, in every way you could, has been enough to move everyone trapped here as they sank deeper into despair by the day. Even the language students sleeping rough in the courtyard — young as they are — speak of you as a man of such brilliance, just like—"

"That's enough flattery. It's embarrassing."

"Yes, sir."

Then it happened. I sensed a sharp killing intent and ducked at once.

"…There! A Joseon man!"

Someone's shout, and dozens of pairs of eyes swinging toward us. Before I knew it I had slipped between the clerk and Woo Beom-seon. The rest of the party stared in bewilderment.

"…Why, exactly, are you hiding behind me?"

"Seung-man?"

"Ahaha…"

I shot a desperate look past the clerk, who had turned back at me with a face of pure inconvenience. A cluster of Japanese students who had taken refuge at the consulate and were camping in the courtyard — if one could call it camping — had begun crowding toward us as we made for the office, asking whether the upheaval was over yet.

"Oh, for heaven's sake."

The clerk saw them and let out a deep, weary sigh.

"Ha. This is going to be a problem."

He looked from me to the refugees ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and finally stepped forward; Woo Beom-seon, serving as escort, stepped forward with him. Woo Beom-seon had come not in the shabby clothes of before but in his old Byeolgigun uniform, and the effect was considerably intimidating.

"Stand back. These are the Consul's guests."

The crowd, taking in the clerk and Woo Beom-seon, gave a single step of ground. Their voices, however, only grew louder.

"Sir! Sir!"

"Please, save us!"

In that instant I took their measure. As I had expected, conditions inside the isolated consulate were wretched; their appearance was scarcely different from the commoners sitting in at Gwanghwamun, staging a sit-in against the court. From aging merchants to baby-faced Army language students, every one of them looked at the end of their rope.

The Japanese shouted over one another.

"Is Hanseong safe now?"

"When can we go home, sir?"

"Has the rebellion been put down? What about the Daewongun?"

"Has there been no word at all from home? What's actually happening—"

"Everyone, please, remain calm!"

They looked like terrified animals that had scented an opening and gone wild. Woo Beom-seon had no choice but to pull me behind his back and rest a hand on his belt. The clerk kept shouting them down, insisting there was urgent business with the Consul.

"We have an important matter that must be discussed with your Consul at once. All of you — when there is time, I will answer your questions one by one."

"Now, now, fellow nationals! These righteous men who have come to our aid — do you think they won't be dismayed if you carry on in this disorder? Please, observe some courtesy! You there, get down off that wall! Ah — food has arrived at the main gate, everyone! Is there anyone who will help me bring the cart inside? Volunteers!"

The trouble was that neither the clerk's attempt to change the subject nor whatever trust he had previously enjoyed was worth much; the refugees' looks were far from kind. In the end, with the younger language students at the center, the clamor boiled over.

"You think we're doing this just because we're hungry!?"

"Stop changing the subject and tell us what's going on outside!"

"Do you even have a plan?"

"We just want to go home!"

"Come up with something, you idiots!"

"Seppuku! Commit seppuku!"

"That's right! Take responsibility and cut your bellies open!"

"Good God…!"

As the crowd's temper grew uglier, the clerk — visibly stung by the word seppuku — whispered urgently toward us.

"Th-this is bad! Leave this to us and go see the Consul first. Quickly!"

"Where do you think you're running? Seppuku, I said!"

There were only a few dozen of them, but when one recalled that the consulate's entire staff and police guard together numbered fewer than ten, their explosion could not simply be ignored. The clerk hurriedly threw himself forward to draw their attention and jerked his chin at us to get to the office. In the distance, the policemen who had been holding the main gate came running.

"Bar the door!"

This place, too, was reaching its limit.

"…Go in. He's waiting for you inside."

We passed Second Lieutenant Reizo, who stood fingering his rifle, the rims of his eyes raw and bloodshot as though he had gone several nights without sleep. As we entered the office, Consul Yoshimoto sprang from his seat as if he had been expecting us.

"I heard the commotion outside. I knew it would be you."

"We're honored."

At that moment a shattering crash rang through the office as a windowpane exploded inward.

"Everyone's patience appears to have reached its limit."

"…Damn it. Get away from the windows first. Further in. And you — yes, you! Put up the shutters or draw the curtains, I don't care which, just block it! We have guests, and this is a disgrace!"

At my remark the Consul frowned, ordered the clerk to draw the curtains, then gestured us toward the inner seats and spoke.

"If the two of you have come together at this hour of the night, I assume it means you have a plan."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Look here. Let's not waste each other's time."

When I played dumb, the Consul shifted in his chair with evident irritation, as if determined to settle the matter then and there, and drew several thick envelopes from beneath the table. He had not even opened them, yet the smell of money rolled off them in waves.

"Operating funds for the consulate. It should be more than enough to get all of us out."

"You mean to abandon the consulate?"

"Why do you imagine I would stay here otherwise?"

"Abandon it for what? And as a practical matter, a party of nearly a hundred cannot all escape Hanseong unharmed."

When I asked, by a roundabout route, whether they meant to flee by themselves, the Consul folded his arms and was silent for a time.

Oh. So they really had been planning to run on their own.

Even if they made it out of here alive, they'd have to commit seppuku once they got home.

I had no choice. I decided to feed the Consul a little news from outside.

"And besides — there's no need for that. Not anymore."

At those words he cocked his head, momentarily at a loss — then grasped my meaning and brightened enormously.

"…What do you mean by that? Ah! Don't tell me the Joseon government has already put the whole affair down? Then what of communications with home? Has our government sent any word?"

"There's been no word yet from Incheon Prefecture, but I can tell you the situation has entered a lull. The likelihood is high that your own government has not even properly grasped what is happening. The Daewongun has sealed the Four Great Gates and cut off all communication with the outside."

"A lull? Cut off?"

"To put it simply: the man behind this entire affair is His Highness the Daewongun."

To be struck with the truth while knowing nothing is a rather painful experience. Consul Yoshimoto, frozen solid before my eyes, was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a powerful illustration of the principle.

"I see. I understand now. And it isn't good. It isn't good at all…"

The Consul, who knew perfectly well that the Daewongun was a fierce isolationist, rolled his eyes this way and that, as though racing through every possible means of weathering the storm. Seven years of Japanese policy toward Joseon — vast sums of money, men, and time invested in the pro-Japanese faction at court — now stood in danger of being ripped out by the roots at the mere reappearance of this one formidable figure.

I smiled brightly at him. The Consul asked, looking distinctly displeased,

"What's so amusing?"

"Because it is."

"Because what is?"

"You have a habit, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Consul, of taking the simplest principles and thinking about them in the most complicated way."

"What?"

"If you'll permit me, I'll tell you what I think."

At my impertinence the Consul's mood soured a fraction; he unfolded his arms.

"Hm. Let's hear it, then."

"There's nothing lengthy to say. Simply join the winning side."

"What on earth — no. Wait. I don't follow."

"I mean exactly what I said. Stand with the Daewongun."

"I beg your pardon?"

I began to explain, slowly, to a man who could no longer find his bearings.

"His Highness is not an isolationist."

"…Are you one of the Daewongun's men?"

The Consul's eyes went from my face to the document I held out, and back again, his expression one of utter bewilderment. I paid it no mind.

"Come now, what a strange thing to say. I am no one's man. I merely have an eye for the way the wind is blowing."

"…"

"And I like money, too."

At my joke the Consul's face hardened.

"I'm joking. In any case, His Highness is a feudal Machiavellian who identifies the royal house with Joseon itself — the dynasty and the nation as one and the same. Put simply, he is a devotee of The Prince. Isolation or enlightenment, he doesn't care a whit about either. What matters to him is only this: does it serve the royal house, here and now?"

"…And the point of all this?"

Before I knew it the Consul had straightened his back, as though he were now prepared to listen in earnest.

"Ah. Now I have your proper attention."

At that subtle shift in his manner I cleared my throat. It was time to come to the point — and to persuade this difficult man. Beyond him, the Japanese government itself, which had yet to find its bearings in its policy toward Joseon.

"Prove to His Highness that you can be of use to him."

"What do you mean by that…?"

"From this moment, take what I say exactly as I say it. I am not your enemy."

I put force into my eyes, trying to press a look of trust upon the startled man.

"Prove it to His Highness. Prove your usefulness. Prove in what respects cooperation between Joseon and Japan can work to his advantage. Prove who the real enemy is. That is what I mean."

"We've been getting along perfectly well with the Joseon government as it is."

"I am not asking for excuses! Nor am I telling you to revise, this instant, the unequal diplomatic treaties you forced upon us. I am telling you this and only this: cooperate unconditionally with the policies His Highness intends to pursue in order to quiet the chaos across the capital."

"…"

"The commanders and garrisons throughout Hanseong and the whole ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of Gyeonggi Province have already sworn loyalty to His Highness. The troops he can mobilize, even temporarily, number well over thirty thousand. Before you even begin to weigh which way the current runs, the current is already flowing from his hand. Do not dare to sit in judgment of him, or try to calculate his measure. If you have climbed onto a tiger's back, you go where the tiger goes — or do you mean to try putting a leash around its neck?"

As I poured it out, the Consul lowered his head for a moment, lost in thought. He was plainly trying to judge which course would serve his own government better.

After much deliberation, the Consul played a losing hand.

"…What would you have me do?"

And that was the answer I had wanted most of all. Hiding my smile, I whispered in a grave tone.

"…I will attach a man to you. At once, by official document, divert the Japanese merchant vessels that have put in at Busan and send them to Gunsan. Applying a measure of force is itself a part of success. I have His Highness's letter of commission; you have steamships. The point is simple. The rice locked up in the three southern provinces — and, further, the goods already contracted for shipment to your own country — supply those to Hanseong first. The new cabinet will stand surety for payment. And if you wish to win the hearts of the people of Hanseong, consider a free distribution as well. It is a golden opportunity to change how our people look upon the Japanese. Resolve Hanseong's famine, prove your capability to His Highness, and then, further…"

That day, I succeeded in forging a point of contact between Unhyeongung Palace and Japan.

It was around the hour the east began to pale.