Spring of the Korean Empire #6: Kidnapped to Joseon
It was winter in Joseon back then. A brutal, bone-chilling winter. Every mountain was barren, stripped bare, and the people huddled under straw mats, looking utterly pitiful. So, unofficially, when I finally got the chance to speak with Gojong, I brought up the briquette business. Coal was already pretty mainstream in Japan by that point. Gojong—and more precisely, Gojong and his lackeys—accepted the idea.
My briquette venture boomed. Too much, in fact. It became a problem because it ended up as the king's property. Lucky or unlucky, I surrendered it without much fuss and actually got promoted for it. I was put in charge of building up Gojong's secret funds and his privy purse. I even got an official rank. Just because I looked like a Joseon native, was one, and was young but spoke foreign languages well enough to meet the king of a nation—I rocketed up the ladder.
The issue was that while my briquette business thrived, the other ventures Gojong later saddled me with all had major flaws. Existing local power blocs pushed back hard. Even though we weren't forcing it with royal decrees but buying their cooperation with money, they were stubbornly exclusive. They saw me—and the king behind me—as rivals.
Some doomed projects succeeded under me; others I thought were sure bets failed. What I realized was that Joseon wasn't as dirt-poor as I'd imagined. Their tech level was decent for a pre-modern state. In the end, the problem with Joseon was the people—Joseonites themselves.
Now I get it. They were all slaves to the king. But back then, I didn't fully grasp that. I chalked it up to a lack of education. Arrogant of me, like any punk kid. I used to think they were too uneducated to prioritize grand causes over their petty affairs, and that's why they crumbled under Japan's invasion. But now I know better. What good is baking pizzas all day while preaching about great enterprises? You have to secure your own livelihood first.
As long as the nation wasn't theirs, as long as it hadn't earned their loyalty, the very premise of "do this big thing together and get rewarded" couldn't function. Grand causes were impossible. Joseon as a nation back then couldn't lead any great undertaking. I only realized this after meeting the Daewongun. That Joseon mafioso told me he was the reason for all my failures so far and proposed we join hands now. Since I wanted to pursue a great cause too, let's do it together, he said.
And in the end, I betrayed both Gojong and the Daewongun. Looking back, it was the move of a total madman, nothing less. Even if it was necessary and there were no other options. After escorting the king to Pyongyang and imprisoning him, I manipulated the eight provinces of Joseon using his name and the Daewongun's behind-the-scenes power. Talk about a rebel—no one topped that.
Later, when Empress Myeongseong tried scheming with foreign powers through back channels, I had her killed too. The funny part? Back then, everyone saw me as Joseon and Gojong's one true loyalist, believing I did it all for the king. Now that a bit of truth has leaked, they view it as me oppressing Gojong but making the tough, essential decisions for Joseon's salvation.
Thinking about it, that's when the nation of Daehan boarded a runaway train. 'Maybe becoming lifelong dictator among my comrades was just the next station down the line.' If I hadn't, perhaps the Qing wouldn't have pressured Joseon diplomatically. Naturally, I wouldn't have crossed the Yiwalu River as a reverse Yi Seong-gye—or Caesar of Rome.
So yeah, I bore some responsibility. For turning Daehan into a somewhat stable nation. For putting smiles back on people's faces.
I slowly turned my eyes away.
"What's wrong?"
"Does the Soviet Union treat this like hospitality?"
"Of course not—they're all comrades who came to see you in person, Your Excellency."
"I acknowledge the fame?"
"Naturally."
The uniforms looked stunning. I forcibly pulled my gaze away from my wandering eyes.
"I'd like you to leave now."
"Too bad for the comrades."
She left for another car, sounding genuinely disappointed. I shook my head to shake off the irritation.
At least Trotsky hadn't pulled any utterly ridiculous stunts. Or had he? Maybe he already had, and I was the only one in the dark.
For instance, Britain was still nagging Daehan about restoring the Russian monarchy—reinstating Nikolai or any other Romanov. Following Germany's precedent of keeping the Kaiser. They figured Daehan could meddle in Soviet politics. Utterly baffling. Impossible, obviously. And even more baffling that Britain would ask Daehan to do it.
Sure, a constitutional monarchy would be nice. Especially under British lead. But did that really serve Britain's interests? Enough to pick a fight with the Soviets? The rewards were laughably vague. Royal relatives? So what? That'd just please the British royals. To Britain, the royals were symbolic. 'Symbolic.'
I smelled a plot here. Maybe Daehan's pro-British tilt irked someone in the Soviet ranks, and they were using Britain's mouth to make Daehan demand the impossible from the Soviets.
Sorry, but I had zero intention of breaking my promises to the Soviet Union and its people, no matter who thought otherwise. The Soviet Union belonged to the Soviet people, not the Romanov dynasty. And why should Daehan do Britain's bidding anyway?
If this was truly a Russian ploy, it meant Russia knew Daehan held an equal footing with Britain in this Atlantic-Pacific community. They wouldn't mistake Britain's schemes for Daehan's outright, but it was enough to claim discomfort with Britain's meddling.
And I was willing to bet my neck—not just my hand—that Britain was scheming in the Soviet Union. It was a risk I'd accepted, but not exactly welcome news for Daehan.
Trotsky's pressure had eased, but I knew how absurdly communists pressured their foes. The Trotsky sleeping in that train car was probably just a scout. To get real talk, they'd need to bring Stalin, who still evaded my detection nets.
I had no idea what alias he was using or where he lurked in the shadows. Adolf was living a new life as a famous American architect thanks to my offers and orders, but this steel secretary-general, as dangerous as Adolf, stayed invisible. I even knew his name—Dzhugashvili—but finding him was tough. He was probably deep in silence, shrouded in darkness.
'Tough gig. Architects get famous just taking big commissions and stay far from politics, but Stalin—was he a priest?'
Who knows. I knew Earth-3's Adolf got rejected from Vienna art school, though.
But this was another problem. My efforts to fascism globally, oust Stalinism, and turn Maoism into a relic—to erase World War II and the era itself from the map—could backfire into imperialism's extension. Not fun for Daehan.
Europe, especially Central Europe, still peddled conspiracy theories blaming Jews and "yellow races." They attributed their defeat to suspiciously adept sabotage and scorched-earth tactics they knew too well geographically.
'With America's mediation secured, blaming them was tricky. France was always the enemy, and Britain cheered their own own goals.'
Yeah, Daehan fit perfectly as the conspiracy target. We'd been a quiet dog so far. And this vibe persisted even in today's somewhat democratized Daehan. State- and party-run media leaned solemn and restrained.
But Europe was different. The Jew-yellow peril theory might become reality—by their own hands. If Daehan weakened, they might gang up, even send battleships. Unknowable. But without the Soviet Union, the odds skyrocketed.
'Another world war? If they gang up on us, that's world war.'
I tucked the agreement with Trotsky—the broad framework deal—securely into my inner pocket. Not a full alliance, but a commitment to cooperative party-to-party ties for the era.
"What does that agreement mean, Comrade?"
Lenin's prized disciple—no, adopted daughter—showed Trotsky the document. She hadn't come here, or put him in charge of this op, just for that scrap of paper. It sounded like business as usual, nothing more.
She'd stayed silent only because both he and the comrade had exchanged meaningfully loaded glances.
"Meaning... Well, we have this paper now."
He fluttered it.
"Isn't it blank?"
"What are you saying? That's exactly why it matters."
Trotsky fluttered the paper meaningfully.
"It's a blank check. Between us."
Obviously, they couldn't scribble absurd demands and force Daehan to comply—Daehan had the original blank too. But if a third party infringed on either nation's interests, they could immediately fill in agreed clauses and intervene on that basis. With dates and signatures already in place.
As long as both nations kept quiet, who would know?
She gaped at the absurdity.
"Now, in truly critical moments, no third party can use excuses to block our deals."
How could they block a treaty signed ages ago? Simply put, if the Soviets mobilized a revolutionary front against Germany, the two nations could exchange what was truly needed. Even if Britain or America objected, Daehan could just flash the pre-signed treaty.
Thus, Daehan couldn't use Anglo-American opposition as an excuse against vital Soviet proposals. They could object, but it would just mean Daehan's situation was more urgent than the Soviets'.
Curiosity overrode her anger.
"Is that really such a big deal?"
"Meaning... You're not listening."
Trotsky stared incredulously, started explaining step-by-step, then simplified.
"If a Briton or American saw this paper, what would they think?"
"..."
Soviets and Daehan holding secret protocols. In Trotsky's view, it was more dangerous than an alliance in some ways. Alliances had to advertise themselves; this didn't even do that.
"Everyone except the Soviets and Daehan would see it as a visible threat worth uniting against."
For example, if the Soviets launched a revolutionary front against Britain and France, and Daehan suddenly appeared—slipping seamlessly into a homeland invasion of London (if possible)—Britain's reaction to such a scenario existing was predictable: shock. And action.
They'd try to burn the two original copies by any means necessary. Any means.
"I figured you'd go for an alliance, or at least mutual defense pact... This is puzzling."
He wouldn't ignore the risks of such a secret protocol. But ignoring it didn't fit him.
'Does he sense some threat I don't?'
Communism was at its peak. The world teetered on total upheaval toward communism. What other threat could Daehan pose besides the Soviets?
'What the hell?'
He couldn't fathom it. His mind couldn't grasp capitalism self-destructing for reasons beyond their control. Let alone blaming communism for it and cracking down.
He believed capitalism would eventually collapse from internal limits—but not like this, not while communism peaked, and not by pinning it on communism to justify the purge. Too big a leap for a minor communist's brain.