Drawing Up Blueprints
The time had come. I summoned the likes of Beria, excluding the portion of the Ohrana that had been dispatched to America. They still hadn’t found Trotsky, apparently. Well, finding Trotsky had always been a matter of “if possible.” It couldn’t be helped that we’d lost track of him after he crossed the Atlantic early due to the whims of history.
“You couldn’t find Trotsky?”
“No, Your Majesty. We failed to locate him. My deepest apologies.”
Beria bowed his head. What a truly hypocritical bastard. Of course he must have searched for Trotsky in earnest, but wasn’t he laying on the theatrics a bit too thick in front of me? I see. He simply wanted to stay firmly on my leash.
“I can attest to how hard this man worked. He even went so far as to round up communists inside America and nearly got caught for it.”
“Was there nothing suspicious at all? Not even anyone who resembled him?”
Trotsky had fled Petrograd of his own will or otherwise, desperate to survive. He would have disguised himself to evade the Ohrana. In that case, we needed to find anyone even remotely similar.
“We did see someone who resembled Trotsky, but we never met him in person.”
What the hell did that mean? They saw someone similar but never actually met him. Had they only seen a photograph or something? He didn’t need to make excuses—I’d have let it slide. This was starting to annoy me.
“You never met him?”
“There was a statue of an old man frying chicken, and it looked remarkably like Trotsky. So much so that one of our agents said he wanted to meet the man himself.”
The Ohrana agent standing beside Beria handed me a photograph. It was a statue in front of some fast-food restaurant. What the—? This guy looked exactly like the KFC colonel. Trotsky, plump and smiling benignly while holding up a chicken leg. But didn’t KFC come out decades from now?
“Hmm. This is literally the KFC colonel statue.”
“Pardon?”
Ah, it slipped out. It really did look exactly like that old man, so I’d had a momentary lapse. KFC wouldn’t exist yet, so this couldn’t possibly be that.
“Never mind. You’re saying you never actually met this person?”
Probably not. Judging by how Beria was acting, it seemed he’d only seen Trotsky from a distance many times. Whether he learned that from the Bolsheviks’ desperate harassment of the people or something else, I didn’t know. But if he’d met him face-to-face, he would have recognized him immediately.
“Yes. Could this man possibly be Trotsky?”
Beria was asking me as if I were some kind of prophet. Yes. It’s Trotsky. Unless Harland Sanders had somehow traveled back in time like me and decided, “I’ll fry chicken even faster!” and started mass-producing it decades early, this had to be Trotsky.
To think that revolutionary Trotsky was out there frying chicken. Who knew what he might be plotting behind the scenes? Trotsky, frying chicken? Fried chicken. Honestly, I couldn’t deny it sounded tempting. There was that theory that fried chicken originated with Black slaves, wasn’t there? Around this time, Black people were still suffering under severe racial discrimination.
For some reason, the image of Trotsky secretly rallying Black people while frying chicken and stirring up trouble kept flashing through my mind. Hmm. If my hypothesis was correct, this could actually become a money-making opportunity.
Imagine Trotsky inciting Black people into revolution. Of course, America’s sheer size meant the country wouldn’t collapse overnight, but if he managed to unite Blacks and communists effectively, he could at least spark a civil war. Rather than capturing him now, it might be better to watch and see what he unleashes. If I could intervene at just the right moment… couldn’t I squeeze some cash out of the Yankees?
Patton was there too, so I could send him back. If the other agents hadn’t stopped him, Beria probably would have found this Trotsky eventually. In that case, was there any need to capture him right now? America might be modern Korea’s ally and the land of the heavenly mandate, but I had no particular reason to solve their problems for them out of consideration for my past life. It would be better to let this Trotsky cancer grow a little more and intervene later.
“How would I know? If you poke around too long and get exposed as Ohrana, it could become a diplomatic issue. For now, limit yourselves to establishing a branch in America.”
By creating an Ohrana branch and monitoring periodically… Yes. For convenience, let’s just call it TFC. It seemed necessary to keep an eye on Trotsky’s TFC. Somehow, I had a feeling TFC would cause a proper explosion in America one day.
“Then… what should I do now?”
While I was lost in thought, Beria carefully watched my expression and asked. Ah, yes. The slave mentality was deeply ingrained in him. An excellent attitude. He must have been afraid I would punish him for failing to catch Trotsky. So he struck first with “What shall I do?”—essentially declaring, I am Tsarina Charina’s slave. Command me in anything.
Keeping him as an Ohrana agent for now wouldn’t be a bad idea.
“Beria. I hereby appoint you as a formal Ohrana agent. For the time being, keep watch over the movements of Grand Duke Kirill in Finland.”
He wasn’t a grand duke anymore, of course. But I had to call him that with a mocking tone. No matter what he did in Finland, I was still the Tsar! That was the only message worth sending. I needed to apply periodic pressure so he wouldn’t try anything foolish.
“What if he makes suspicious moves?”
“For example?”
This bastard’s eyes were gleaming viciously. Alright, let’s hear what he has to say. It might be entertaining.
“Couldn’t he claim to be the true heir to the Tsar and infringe upon Your Majesty’s authority?”
Not bad. For a named character, he was quite sharp. After all, the man was indeed asserting his right to the Tsar’s position. He wasn’t wrong. Our Beria really knew how to use his head.
“That won’t happen, but… hmm. Yes. If it does, simply issue an appropriate warning. After all, he is still Vladimir’s father. We cannot kill him.”
No matter how much of a backstabber he was, killing him was out of the question. Even if he suddenly declared “I am the Tsar!” now, in the original history the Romanov family had already treated him like an idiot. If he tried that now, wouldn’t people simply call him insane? I had already mocked Kirill when he boldly demanded power, but he wasn’t the kind of man who lacked basic judgment. Not when the hierarchy between superior and subordinate was this clear.
“Understood, Your Majesty.”
Beria and the Ohrana agents withdrew. I hoped this wouldn’t prevent KFC from appearing. It would be nice if a real Black civil war broke out.
I rose from my seat and walked to the window. Spring had arrived, the weather had warmed considerably, and it was a fine day with bright sunlight pouring down. Since I didn’t have any grading to do for once, I decided to put my mind to work.
Good. Let’s sketch out the future. I mustn’t let my guard down. I needed to consider every possible variable.
First, Germany would use Poland as a hunting dog to bite at others while continuing weapons development. That side was proceeding according to plan. Which meant the focus inevitably returned to America. How would Trotsky act? Let’s assume my guess was correct and he began agitating Black people and other people of color.
Since launching a communist revolution in America right away would be nearly impossible, Trotsky would definitely try to recruit Black Americans, who suffered discrimination in American society. Suppose Trotsky successfully incites Black people and communists, grabs them by the collar, and drags them into a full civil war. America’s second civil war would become a Black-and-White civil war. A war between Black and White Americans.
Realistically, even if civil war broke out, it was impossible to say whether America would split neatly in two like the North and South. Perhaps Trotsky would bide his time and strike during the Great Depression? If the civil war erupted properly and intensely, America would have no choice but to seek foreign assistance. War-torn France was out of the question, and Britain—considering the original history—had far too many problems of its own to get involved. They might not even have troops to spare. Communist Germany or communist Italy weren’t even worth mentioning.
The only remaining option was the Russian United States, which loathed communists to the extreme and had been practically born from drinking their blood—an infantry powerhouse. It was obvious who they would turn to, wasn’t it?
Of course, the world wouldn’t necessarily turn exactly as I imagined. America was a vast country. Trotsky could suddenly drop dead, or his little Black chicken club might fizzle out. Maybe his mind would flip and he’d create a Black civil rights association instead. But if things went my way?
How about demanding the return of Alaska? Depending on how the civil war unfolded, I could even fantasize about reclaiming all the former Russian territory in America. That would include northern California. When Russia had advanced into America, the Spanish in California had apparently been horrified to see Russian fur traders approaching their colonies. I’d heard they even built Fort Ross near San Francisco. They had pushed so far that they established outposts on parts of the Hawaiian islands before receiving protests.
Of course, this was all pure fantasy assuming everything went perfectly. If none of it worked out… well, keeping an eye on Trotsky the chicken shop owner and arresting him whenever convenient would be fine too. If he proved incapable of starting a communist revolution, leaving him alive wouldn’t be so bad. Besides, it would be troublesome if the White House learned that the Ohrana had expanded into America. If that killed any chance of making money off them, then I’d simply have to sweep in cash using Russia’s abundant resources. Grab them by the collar and use Russian capital to build at least one nuclear weapon. One for testing. One to drop on Germany.
Let’s draw up a proper blueprint.
Sell resources to Japan. I wasn’t sure whether Chen Jiongming’s federal provincial autonomy China would fight Japan as fiercely as in the original history, but if I supported Japan moderately, they would bleed each other dry alongside China and America. Ah, wait. What if I gave them oil and they didn’t go to war with America? The reasons for attacking America were complex, but I couldn’t predict exactly how my snowball would roll. Moreover, I didn’t know whether the Axis alliance would even form. I needed to observe the situation. It was uncertain whether the attack on Pearl Harbor would even occur.
In that case, I should only provide limited support. It would be ideal if America, China, and Japan exhausted each other in a frenzy of bloodshed. For now, let’s leave it at that.
Look outside that window. The reconstruction of Moscow had progressed considerably. It wasn’t perfect, but at least it had been rebuilt well enough that if German troops invaded and started shelling again, I wouldn’t be pounding the ground and wailing, “My city!” The scars of the civil war had mostly faded as well.
It was time to settle the capital issue. More precisely, to officially resolve the capital question while also dealing with the remains of the Tsar’s family, which still lay haphazardly in the cemetery in Yekaterinburg. To do that, I would need to present some opinions to the State Duma. After all, I was the one grading the papers. At the very least, I believed this particular problem should be solved by Anastasia, daughter of Nicholas II.
Georgy Lvov was probably teaching Vladimir right about now. I decided to summon him.
“You called for me, Your Majesty?”
Georgy Lvov arrived remarkably quickly. It seemed he had just finished teaching Vladimir and was on his way back.
“Is Vladimir learning well?”
“He is still young, so his future is uncertain, but he is quite intelligent at present. At the very least, it does not seem he will walk the same path as Grand Duke Kirill.”
Good. It would be troublesome if he became an opportunist greedy for power like Kirill. It was fortunate I had attached Lvov to him from a young age to provide proper education.
“That is a relief.”
“Are you perhaps dreaming of restoring autocracy, Your Majesty?”
As if. There was no way I would dream of autocracy.
“The imperial family must serve only as the focal point for the Russian people. Power must come solely from the State Duma and from the citizens who support the Duma.”
“I see.”
This principle had not changed. I was a free person, and I was not a fool. I had originally been Korean. While I wasn’t entirely without monarchical fantasies, a constitutional monarchy was more than sufficient. In any case, for the Romanovs to survive after my death, they must be sustained by the State Duma. If I dreamed of autocracy, even some within the White Army faction would disapprove. Therefore, I would never entertain such thoughts.
“Once he passes the middle of his teens, I intend to have him serve in the military with the White Army as well.”
At the very least, I needed to cultivate a support base for the next generation so that the State Duma would treat the Tsar with proper respect.
“Hmm. With the position of Tsar secured, you are also considering the support of the military.”
Georgy Lvov said this while gently stroking his bearded chin. Yes. Most people would think that way.