Secret Society #5: Confessions of a Talentless Leader
I don't know much about modern Korean history—not South Korea's, or the Korean Empire's. I never dreamed of becoming a civil servant, and I wasn't part of the entrenched elite holding the reins there either. Hell, even before that. There's an old saying: no steady livelihood, no steady heart. When I bought Korean stocks or busted my ass working in Korea, the country had to give something back for me to develop any affection for it. In that regard, I was truly an unlucky bastard. Sure, I lived well enough on my own terms to the end, but every time I mustered some love for Korea, that hope came crashing back as betrayal. A life where nothing else fits but calling it tragic.
Living in a country you don't love is misfortune in itself. That's why I cut ties with Joseon in this life from the start, but with my parents dying and me sold off to Japan, maybe it was fate. With my decent Japanese skills, even a kid like me could scrape by there. My body was young, but my mind was sharp enough. And once I learned the brothel owner who took me in was Ito, I figured I'd bury my bones in Japan. At least until Harbin, with my guardian still alive.
Thinking back, writing that half-assed letter from Japan to Joseon about stopping the Imo Incident was so unlike me. Maybe that's why I'm in this position now, bearing the consequences. Right? That's exactly why Kim Ok-gyun kidnapped me.
It's almost clichéd: "For me, it's just 'good enough,' but brushing it off always triggers a dramatic reaction from the other side." In that sense, Lee Wan-yong's advice—show some consideration to Arab society and smooth things over—was spot on. What if they reacted more explosively than I thought?
"I really have no talent."
The Korean Empire's progress wasn't my doing; it was my comrades'. I'm the type who knows about the Titanic sinking and still lets it happen. The whole world on fire? So what if a few Westerners become fish food? But someone better than me might've seen an opportunity there—saving people, earning positive reactions from the West... I'm useless to the world, but that guy might see it differently.
In my view, even if we saved the Westerners, they'd flip the script with media play like "they opposed us anyway when their interests were at stake," and invade us. But that person might spot something else. And me? I'm the idiot who insisted on extracting MSG from kelp. Just sell the kelp, right? But no, I made a fuss about MSG for oyster sauce. I figured kelp had no edge since Japan was already dumping it in China. Extract MSG, make sauces. But my comrades said, "Sell it first; think later if it flops." And they cut a deal with Japan to flood China with kelp—turns out Japan was short on it themselves. Against that, yeah, I'm definitely talentless.
All my failures so far? Comrades covered them. I get the big picture direction, but the execution? I'm prone to dumb slips. One wrong move, and I'd spark something like the Righteous Army Rebellion, leaving them in tears. Hasn't happened yet, but I always have to watch myself.
Luckily, mistakes usually stem from missing info, and I know that well. The intel from around the world that Lee Wan-yong brought back from the Soviet Union—and took more when he left again. Just as China plants restaurants worldwide for spies, we planted fried chicken joints, juicers, and washing machines—everyday neighborhood spots—for our agents. Domestic counterintelligence? Kinda gave up on that. But we poured cash and time into overseas ops.
No preaching, no schools—just sales to locals. Targeting grannies and moms. Womanpower. People underestimate it, but amid wars, this is also the age of home appliances. Most just can't access them. In advanced nations, it's not women thrown into factories as labor; it's women freed from housework, becoming home rulers and societal pillars.
With women drafted as low-wage workers, someone had to handle housework. Wars don't erase it. Next stage: appliances fully replace it, shoving women out entirely—but that's distant. Right now, with less drudgery, more leisure, and social access? Peak era for women. Doors open both ways. After this, daughters and sisters will eye moms and aunts, wondering, "Why aren't they happy like us?" when both can't coexist. It's just a brief historical blip.
20th, 21st, 22nd century—men escaping society for home get scorned. Women too. It's not joining society; it's hogging home power too. That's where I come in: wielding the oppressed like a blade. Soviets swing workers and colonists; mine's broader. I know the world drowns in that violence. We're fish in a violent sea. We don't know peace. Probably never will. Since single-cells became multi, or before—we've lived in violence.
That 21st-20th-19th century gap feels unnatural to me: violence. Locals might not see it, but I do. 22nd-century folks would call our 21st violent too. So beyond my body as a weapon, the whole world is mine to swing.
And the Arab world? Basically no women's rights.
Normally fine. Problem: Britain rules Arabia now. And Britain's noisy on women's rights—suffrage riots. They ignore Christian missions but meddled in India's sati like it was theirs. Why? Women's issues are economic.
Women entering society benefits colonizers. Low-value female labor creates huge extra demand. Housebound women don't spend; wage-earners do—earn 100, spend 90. Colonizers just push "liberation," colonies photocopy their markets. No wonder America demands it. Thrifty housewives cut profits; liberated ones get exploited, demand flows to advanced capitalists.
Someday cheap female self-exploitation shines, but distant. Even Korea ran factories on it—profits went to Britain, not us. No shipping freedom meant no market access anyway. Backward women "liberated"? Advanced nations win. They reach our markets; we can't theirs.
So I'll whip the Arab world with their women—via Britain. They'll crunch numbers and jump in. Other timelines' Iran got pressured into it. Me? Separate motives. Cede some perfume shares to Arabs, but skyrocket demand first. Tech, capital invested... gotta squeeze the dope. Bedouins facing disaster? Secondary. Their traditions, order, exploitation of women... not my concern. Factories matter more. Maybe more than their Islam.
"Gotta make concessions to the Bedouins like Wan-yong said."
I'll concede—to them. But they'll concede back. Korea demanded oil shares from locals; they took Korean Perfume Company shares as trade. Oil resources for stakes in a massively invested firm. Tech and industry for wells? No-brainer win. They thanked us, partied.
But before mastering business or demanding management, others came.
"We're taking over now."
"Pardon?"
Britons swallowing Arabia. Korea offloaded Perfume Company shares (with Iraq oil stakes) via London OTC. Exchange closed, but OTC boomed. Prime blue-chip dump.
Perfume Company's nothing to Brits; Iraq oil stakes inside? Gold. They snapped shares, now bully local tribes. Sought Korea? Too late—we'd hit other chiefs.
Company to Britain? No loss. Synergy for them? Nah. Value's zero; oil's the prize. Korea double-contracted early: dump shares, snag stock options. Britain drills Iraq; Korea skims growing company.
Tribes bitch to Korea, not Britain. Britain grabs oil; Korea grabs British-boosted company—with one condition: hire women above quota.
Brits saw feminist agitators' pitch work on Arabs? Surprisingly marketable. Women's movement hot in Britain; pro-feminist Arab perfume sells in London.
Knew to borrow British hands for headaches—Korea's nose for money is killer.
Perfect score.
Britain couldn't deny Korea's A+.