Strange Worries

March, taut as the eve of a storm, slouched its way past, and the calendar turned to April of 1885.

It was the hour when a republican revolution had been proclaimed in Joseon, and when, at the Palace of Versailles in France, Korea, the United States, and France had raised an anti-Qing alliance beneath the banner of Free Republics! For Korea and Japan alike, that day held a significance — though not, by any means, the same one.

"Well, now."

Hanabusa Yoshimoto, the Japanese Minister to Joseon — no, the country's name had changed, so the Japanese Minister to Korea — sat before a distinguished guest and clicked his tongue, bringing up the war story that had claimed the front page of the Yokohama Mainichi Shimbun.

"Looks like a real war might actually break out."

"I see."

The guest's reply to the minister's fussing was lukewarm at best.

Leaving the minister absorbed in his paper, the guest unfolded a copy of his own from among those laid out in the office — and his eyelid twitched.

Beneath that sensational headline, the Mainichi had conducted a remarkably thorough investigation of the current military capabilities and economic gap between Qing China and Korea, and of the web of supporting nations behind each — covering far more substantial ground than one might have expected.

Unlike the Osaka Asahi Shimbun, which cherry-picked only the lurid bits and sold them like a tabloid.

Reds.

The guest's mood soured as he recalled the old days when so-called journalists — liberals on the surface, dyed-in-the-wool Reds underneath — had stalked him in and out of government offices. He opened his mouth.

"You said there has been no contact at all since the New Year's greetings?"

"Ah, that is correct, Mr. Mutsu. We did receive a dispatch from the Foreign Ministry at home stating that a special envoy would be sent, but the Korean government has been so occupied with war preparations that arranging an appointment has proven… difficult."

"Even if not the Tongnyeong himself? The Foreign Ministry expected that at the very least we could meet with the Foreign Minister."

"Yes. Both, they say, are unavailable."

"Unavailable."

Sensing Mutsu Munemitsu's displeasure, the minister quietly set the newspaper aside and explained the situation.

"His Excellency the Tongnyeong, currently the head of the Korean government, is entirely consumed by the visit of Admiral Amédée Courbet, commander of the French Far East Squadron. The Foreign Ministry, for its part, has no spare capacity — occupied as it is with preparations for the working-level negotiations."

"They're not deliberately avoiding us, are they? Granted, they may be preoccupied with the coming war against Qing, but the Joseon people have always been rather exclusive toward other races, have they not?"

"What kind of nonsense is that—"

At the envoy's probing question — was this perhaps a diplomatic disaster in the making? — Yoshimoto firmly denied it, his face saying this was the most outlandish thing he had ever heard.

"This comes from sources friendly to our side, and they conveyed it early. There is no room for doubt."

"Is that so."

"From the beginning, His Excellency the Tongnyeong has been a figure well-disposed toward our Japan. Even after the revolution erupted and the government was overturned, our Japanese residents have continued to live perfectly well in the settlement — unlike the Qing Chinese. That alone should tell you something."

Yoshimoto went on to mention a more recent fact: that Qing merchants, who had come trailing after the Qing army during the Imo Incident, had spread their mats in the wrong places and been driven out without so much as a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠bone to take home. He then brought up Lieutenant Horimoto Reizo, the legation's military attaché — promoted for his apt handling of that Imo-year disaster.

"Moreover, Lieutenant Horimoto continues to report diligently to the Military Training Bureau without the slightest trouble."

"That stiff fellow, you mean?"

"Yes."

Horimoto Reizo — wasn't that the insolent one who had ignored the home government's diplomatic directives and insisted that, as an employee, he ought to serve his employers, the Joseon government and royal house, with complete sincerity?

And he wasn't purged…?

More than that, Mutsu's eyes widened at the news that a Japanese military attaché was cooperating, unmolested, with the revolutionary government's military reorganization.

Watching the new government that had risen on the peninsula after the revolution pursue a consistently anti-Qing course, Mutsu had assumed that Korean nationalism had been properly ignited — and that the anti-Qing arrow would soon be aimed at Japan as well.

Mutsu was not being strange. Nationalism and exclusivity: to the people living in this era, those two things were as good as common sense.

Mutsu let out a low groan.

But having witnessed with his own two eyes that neither Minister Yoshimoto nor Lieutenant Reizo had been subjected to any pressure whatsoever, Mutsu could not help but change his thinking. If one saw the truth with one's own eyes — a truth previously encountered only on paper — and still refused to believe it, that would be nothing but pointless obstinacy.

I had assumed it would be an exclusive regime at the very least. But according to the legation reports, is it a pro-Japanese one?

And even if it weren't a pro-Japanese regime, it didn't matter. So long as both countries simply went about their own affairs, bland as water mixed with water, liquor mixed with liquor — that was enough.

For Japan, it was sufficient that Korea continue to exist as a grain-exporting nation, as it always had. And for Korea, it was fortune enough that Japan simply kept quiet, as it was doing now.

Well, if I — who'd just gone tearing off to Jemulpo to receive Admiral Courbet — or Choe Ik-hyeon, swallowing hard in the Wolf's Lair as he stared at a map of Manchuria and muttered about what a waste it all was, had overheard this, we'd have hit the roof. But what of it?

The man in question hadn't the faintest idea.

Meanwhile, Minister Yoshimoto — who had endured every manner of hardship in Korea and grown considerably more mature for it — answered Mutsu's disparagement of Lieutenant Reizo with a sour look.

"He's not so much stiff as he is honest, really."

"Isn't that the same thing?"

"Come now. A man like that has earned the Korean government's trust. We should observe the situation first. If we go lighting fires in our eyes looking for some angle to exploit, the Korean government will be just delighted, I'm sure."

Yoshimoto asked once more that Mutsu please not view every situation in the most extreme terms, then swallowed a sigh and continued.

"And having flown here straight from London, it seems you haven't properly received news from home. I say this because of the tinted glasses through which you seem to be looking at the Korean situation."

"What do you mean by that?"

"The war boom, sir. The war boom."

To Mutsu's puzzled expression, Yoshimoto unfolded the Mainichi front page he had folded in half earlier, pointed to a particular sentence with his finger, and smiled.

There, an editorial had been printed concerning Korea's arms imports, the ammunition-compatibility problem, and the hope that the war would be a protracted one.

"Do you know which country is currently Japan's largest export market and largest import source? Korea. Korea."

"Korea?"

Mutsu had known of the mainlanders' love of Joseon rice since well before he was packed off to London, and the title of largest import source held little interest. But the title of largest export market made his eyes gleam.

Is there anything Japanese that would even sell in Joseon?

Reading Mutsu's thoughts from the pondering look on his face, Yoshimoto gave a bitter smile and explained.

"Where else are the Koreans supposed to get the weapons and ammunition they lack? That includes even France and the United States, who are supporting them."

"Ah — surely not…?"

"You don't suppose they'd purchase them from enemy Qing's Shanghai and Hong Kong, do you? Naturally, the only place they can obtain them immediately is our Japan. Japan, which has an arms market with an annual transaction volume of a hundred and seventy thousand firearms."

"Heavens."

Startled by the news that a considerable portion of that enormous volume was currently being sucked into Joseon, Mutsu's expression soon grew grave.

"This cannot be thought of in ordinary terms."

And then he grew gloomy.

"What?"

The one thrown off by this reaction was Minister Yoshimoto himself, the man who had delivered this astonishing news.

"Mr. Mutsu? Why the sudden…?"

Wasn't this a good thing? The Koreans becoming Japan's largest trading partner meant a trade surplus for Japan, and the Koreans getting weapons to stand against Qing — wasn't that good for everyone? And as a bonus, it would flatten the nose of Qing China, which had been swaggering about the Orient.

But Mutsu Munemitsu — Ito Hirobumi's confidant, the practical theorist of the Seikanron — thought differently.

"Joseon's rearmament and modernization are proceeding far too quickly. If this continues, our Japan's opportunity to advance onto the continent will be gone for—"

Forever.

If Joseon, borrowing the prestige of France and the United States, actually won a victory over Qing China, their government and their revolution would be granted a powerful legitimacy, and on the foundation of that national popularity, Korea would surely make an enormous leap forward.

And what made Mutsu himself even more depressed and wretched was the fact that Minister Yoshimoto sitting right in front of him, along with the newspapers and trading houses of the home country, were all blinded by the small profits immediately before their eyes, unable to face the true great cause.

Mutsu had not even spoken the true intent of the Seikanron aloud, yet Yoshimoto made a show of checking whether anyone was eavesdropping in the corridor, fussing about, and scolded him for the slip.

"Good heavens, Mr. Mutsu! Don't tell me you're one of those outdated Seikanron advocates?!"

Look at that. The Seikanron, which, though never quite mainstream in political circles in its day, had been cited on multiple occasions for reasonably sound reasons, was now being treated as lunacy by the current minister to Joseon.

As Mutsu fell silent, disappointed that the opportunity might already have passed, Yoshimoto misunderstood and tried to console him.

"Haha. Having studied in London and spent so long abroad, I had privately expected you to possess a keen diplomatic sensibility. How foolish of me. Ah — or perhaps Mr. Mutsu simply hasn't seen the Korean situation clearly, and that's why your thinking has grown so narrow. Korea is not the Joseon of old. It is, rather, a new nation that has greeted a new era."

To Mutsu, who had somehow become a "foolish scholar" locked away in distant Europe, ignorant of current affairs, Yoshimoto whispered.

"And that's not all. Korea is importing enormous quantities of leather goods, including the military boots they lack, and as for the cloth to manufacture uniforms — we've completely driven Qing products out of the market! When Enfield rifles bought for twenty-four dollars were being dumped for six dollars after the civil war ended, and people were weeping tears of blood — do you know who wiped those tears? The Koreans, sir. The Koreans!"

And Yoshimoto gradually raised his voice, determined to awaken Mutsu from his narrow thinking with thoroughly reasonable statistics.

"What's more, the cannon imports received through Nagasaki are a major affair. Compared to rifles that fetch ten dollars if you're lucky, selling two-pounder and four-pounder cannons yields profits dozens of times greater! That's why Mitsui & Co. and all the small trading houses and enterprises of the home country are staking their lives on Korean exports."

"To that extent…?"

"They've staked the very survival of their companies — more than that! The steamships they bought on heavy loans have all gone down to Kumamoto to load cargo."

Mitsui. That great Mitsui, staking their lives on it?

Mutsu's eyes widened at the news of Mitsui, which in Japan had made a name for itself as an arms manufacturer researching ammunition and new rifles. Yoshimoto's eyes shone as he looked at him.

"Go down to Busan right now and see for yourself! Real estate prices in the settlement there have tripled this year alone. Everyone's in an uproar — dispatching resident agents, founding companies!"

"Our businessmen are probably hoping Korea holds out against Qing for as long as possible. That way this unexpected boom will last, won't it? There are likely even some trading houses that privately hope Korea wins. Then Qing, its stomach turned inside out, will buy our weapons too, won't they? Heh heh."

Mutsu had been listening in silence to Yoshimoto's easy talk, the man insisting that this was the truly rosy life — when a thought suddenly struck him, and he posed a question.

He understood well enough that they were grateful the Koreans were buying Japanese goods in enormous quantities.

But.

"How are they paying? Surely our companies aren't putting their faith in the new government's bonds or promissory notes."

The bonds and notes of a newborn government were no better than fallen leaves. If the revolutionary government were destroyed by Qing China, every export firm in the home country that had signed arms contracts on that faith would go under.

But the answer that came from Yoshimoto — to Mutsu, who had thought he'd struck a sharp point and was beginning to recover his momentum — was unexpected.

"Rice, of course."

With a calm expression, the minister confirmed it, repeating "rice" a second time.

Mutsu froze, then asked again, his voice trembling.

"Rice…? Wh-what about the Joseon people — no, the Korean people? Are they levying wartime requisitions?"

The arms-import payments alone would run to hundreds of thousands of sacks of rice, wouldn't they? Wasn't Korea going to have a peasant rebellion?

But Yoshimoto's expression, as he answered Mutsu's curiosity, was perfectly at ease. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠He now explained the situation as if he had become a full spokesman for the Korean government, advertising the new regime's competence and integrity.

"No. From what I hear, under the guidance of the French Far East Squadron and the United States' provisional fleet, they're importing Annam rice and distributing it to the peasants at dirt-cheap prices. There was quite an uproar about how bad it tasted, but it's cheap, so they eat it well enough."

"Ah. I see. Let me collect my thoughts."

So, to summarize: the current Korean government was importing enormous quantities from Japan, entirely for war preparations. The cost, naturally, was being paid in "rice," of which the home country was short.

And the Japanese steamship companies and marine insurers transporting it through the strait must be making enormous profits! The arms business isn't the main body — the tightly interlocked trade between Japan and Korea itself is the trunk!

Moreover, Japanese companies that had scooped up the emptied settlement commercial districts for free, thanks to the Qing merchants being driven out penniless, were heaping enormous praise upon the Korean government. To them, the new Korean government that had come to power through revolution was clearly a far more rational, pro-business regime than the old monarchy.

Furthermore — though Mutsu himself, having flown straight from London to Hanseong at Ito's request, did not yet know it — this unexpected war boom was having an enormous influence on how the home government and political circles viewed Korea, and that view was growing increasingly positive.

Reading ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠from Mutsu's expression that his thinking was gradually changing, Yoshimoto quietly lowered his voice and delivered the next piece.

"How much hardship and adversity did our Japan endure to enter civilized society through the Restoration? Do you know that this year is the first time our companies and enterprises have actually turned a surplus through exports?"

Yes. Minister Yoshimoto was right. What good was it for Japan to raise a fuss about industrialization and modernization, building factories left and right? Someone had to buy the goods so they could repay the loans, expand the army, or build warships.

It might be better than I thought…

As Mutsu felt his consciousness gradually shifting at the news of Korean exports — the first meaningful surplus since the Restoration of Imperial Rule — Yoshimoto continued.

"However, the newspapers and economic journals are predicting this war will last at least a year. Unfortunately, the Korean government is operating with a goal of six months."

"Why?!"

Why? The war ending that quickly? Why?

Mutsu glared resentfully at Yoshimoto, who was informing him that the festival called the "war boom" had barely a month left — and the minister let out a hollow laugh as he answered.

"Is that something to be disappointed about? It's the rational course, if anything. The Koreans are not the irrational, conservative monarchy of old. They know their own circumstances and their own level very well. The new government's goal is genuine independence from Qing. Nothing more."

"What about Liaodong and Manchuria!? Territorial expansion — or at the very least, war indemnities on the scale of several years of the national budget? And they've got France and the United States as their backers, so they're in a position to be greedier! Yes — wouldn't they at least want to plant their flag in the Forbidden City in Beijing?"

Mutsu had a fit, his face saying he simply could not understand the new government's passive course. They had painstakingly won an alliance and a golden opportunity. They ought to seize that opportunity and leap even further — and they were going to be satisfied, bound to those two words, independence?

"This is why you can't trust Joseon people!"

And from behind Mutsu's head, a strange, youthful voice rang out, thick ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with incredulity.

It was the Tongnyeong of Korea.