War Doesn't Change #5: The Fall of the Great Japanese Empire
All the powers of the Pacific—the Emperor, the Supreme Leader, the President, the Tsar, Southeast Asian revolutionaries, and even British secret agents—had formed an anti-state alliance to hunt down this monster. The preemptive strike against Britain and Japan's ambitions in Southeast Asia had been that shocking.
But what was the state of that great Japanese Empire? On the brink of collapse.
"Britain has already broken through the strait. They're garrisoned in the Philippines and building bases."
"They've reoccupied Hong Kong from the south and issued warnings to Korea."
"America has promised Britain non-interference except for a ceasefire, and Britain is detaining our people in China."
"No sea is safe anymore, Prime Minister."
They passed the draconian Military Minister Active Duty Officer System Law, and Yamagata resigned. Officially, as prime minister, he was taking responsibility for the Navy's blunder in this Anglo-Japanese War. But that was just lip service—it was also a way of saying the Japanese Army never agreed with the Navy's madness.
And all that shit got dumped on the prime minister. Ito.
Ito couldn't even remember when he'd resigned. He was pretty sure he had, though. He muttered softly.
"If Korea... if Korea at least stays friendly neutral like before, things might turn out okay."
Saionji, feeling the weight of his duty to tell the truth, hesitated before speaking to Ito. "Your Excellency Prime Minister... Korea, the Supreme Leader of the Korean Empire..."
"He surrendered yesterday. He expressed his intent to join Britain's trade sanctions against Japan."
"Cargo might stop, but tourists can still come and go—for now. But agreeing to the embargo means even that could end anytime."
"Wishful thinking."
"That's exactly it, Prime Minister."
Ito took off the glasses he'd started wearing recently. "Everyone out except Saionji."
As if they'd been waiting for those words, everyone cleared out.
The Navy. Ito himself had raised them up. But for some reason, those bastards had declared war on Britain without a formal declaration—fired the first cannon. And when they came back, their nonsense was, "We got an ultimatum too, so we have to declare war." The cabinet figured, well, at least they smashed the Eastern Fleet, so no choice but to ride this Navy-made big wave.
Hand Hong Kong back to the Republic of China, build military bases in the Philippines, blockade the Malacca Strait, maneuver America, then negotiate! It was the kind of hopeful delusion that could short-circuit your brain, but in that moment, with the Navy charging ahead, they had to cobble together some plan.
"They really repay kindness with enmity."
"Outrageous. After all we've done for Korea."
"Not them."
"Pardon?"
"That guy's always been like that. A master calculator on par with the gods."
"I never banked on his goodwill. I banked on his calculations. And it worked out, didn't it? Relations with Japan were smooth sailing."
Sure, he'd arbitrarily reduced reparations to the Qing, forgiven sums owed by the Republic of China, and pulled other stunts like that. But to Ito, they all had perfectly reasonable explanations. He was secretly afraid of stoking Chinese hatred himself. Forgiving some immediate reparations in exchange for long-term market access? That was the better deal. Comparing Korea and Japan's current predicaments, even Ito let out a hollow chuckle.
"If I'd known it'd come to this, I wouldn't have sent Ok-gyun back to Joseon with him. I thought it'd benefit Japan more. Who knew we'd be the ones acting rashly? How could I have known?"
"If it came down to choosing between Korea and Britain, I'd pick Britain too. You think he's any different? But that's not the point right now."
"Saionji."
"Yes, Prime Minister Ito."
"Let's break the fixed deposit."
"The fixed deposit?"
"Didn't we put one in Korea?"
"Ah, yes. That fixed deposit."
"If we can drag Korea to the front lines against Britain, what wouldn't we do?"
"The Supreme Leader won't like that."
"We've been the uncomfortable ones because of him. That damn brat."
Japan began its anti-British mobilization. While powers including Korea brewed a massive storm in the teacup of Busan Port, a certain nation's Supreme Leader was suffering as usual.
"Comrade Secretary-General! This is too humiliating! The Japs are rising up—why can't the Korean Empire?"
Come to think of it, right now he was Comrade Secretary-General, not Supreme Leader.
"Don't you know I made those Japs rise up so resolutely?"
"If we rise with Japan, Britain will immediately ally with America. America takes Japan, Britain takes Korea. Is that what you want? Is that in our interest?"
"Why does Comrade Secretary-General always talk about interests? What did Mencius say?"
What a headache. Thanks to me, they weren't getting beaten as badly, so they seemed to have lost any sense of proportion. Britain was a nation that practiced divide-and-rule and colonial domination so obsessively it made France or America look like amateurs. Did they even grasp what opposing such a country meant? The Chinese would go berserk—hell, conspiracy theories like "the puppet master is Chinese" would erupt, and they wouldn't listen to a word. Kick out the Chinese, and you'd have a Xin Hai Revolution or some other mess on your hands.
With the Queen's mourning over, the new king was eyeing the Korean Empire as his next jewel in the crown after the Indian Empire. Who knew? And those Asianists—or pro-Japanese factions—were clamoring to join Japan. Everywhere was boiling over. Everywhere full of pro-Japanese traitors, you say? Are you watching this, Teacher Kim Gu? ...Or maybe you're still alive?
"It's not about interests—it's about the lifeline."
Against the West, use Japan as the counterweight. In Asia, use China. In the Pacific, use America. That's how the Korean Empire has avoided war so far. These fools were going mad wanting one.
"Don't we have what Comrade Secretary-General prepared for us?"
"You mean that thing you idiots named the Juche Torpedo on your own?"
"Yes."
"It's for national defense, not provocation."
"Why not, Comrade?"
"Our navy can't do blue-water operations."
"Comrade Secretary-General, I still don't get it. How long do we have to bow to Japan, Britain, and America?"
"America too?"
"You bowed to Japan, now to Britain—next it'll be America."
"Buying warships from America later means exactly that."
Oh. Spot on. Sharp.
"If it's just a lack of warships, work an extra hour. If that's not enough, two hours. What's the problem?"
"Why couldn't we have warships before? Didn't Britain offer to sell last time?"
"The very fact that we have them—or that Britain recommends it."
"That's the problem?"
"Germany, Russia, America. What's their common thread?"
"They have warships?"
"More precisely, they got ostracized after getting them. Details differ, but..."
"At least with Britain's backing, we could get or build warships when they offer. And I hate Britain."
"Us taking their backing? Not blackmail?"
"We're still alive, aren't we? Still a nation."
"Be grateful we're alive, huh, Comrade."
"Surprisingly."
"Oh, and their offer to sell warships? Just reject it. None of their proposals are ever genuine."
I lit a cigarette.
"Want one?"
"Cough cough, no thanks, Comrade."
"Hold out another 10—no, 20 years. You think those bastards will last? Did Mencius teach that?"
"The sun shines brightest just before sunset. This is the time to buy low—if you don't want to be the firewood burning it out."
"But Comrade, if we just breathe quietly for decades like you say, Japan will die."
"Were you pro-Japanese?"
"Is being pro-Japanese so bad? Aren't you pro-Japanese too, Comrade?"
"Sure, I'm pro-Japanese."
Pro-Japanese enough to suggest yen for currency. Right now, I was just a bit pro-British for the next decade or two. But with currency as Korean pounds, couldn't I be a little pro-British? Didn't make sense.
"Your Excellency!"
Your Excellency?
"The Japs in Busan Port are dumping tea into the sea!"
"...? Just because they can't sell to Japan?"
"Dumping tea in the sea?"
Something was nagging at me.
"We don't drink tea, do we? Tea in Busan was only for selling to Japan, right?"
"No, the problem isn't that."
Britain tightening its grip on Korea... and dumping tea in the sea?
This was...
"Your Excellency! Your Excellency!"
"Consul Thomas is heading here now."
"Without a scheduled visit?"
"Yes. He asked where the Supreme Leader was and said he's coming here."
"So where is he now?"
Knock knock.
"Consul Thomas is waiting in the VIP room."
Come now, basically. Why was I always getting reverse-summoned by diplomats? In my own home, no less.
"Tell him I'm coming right away."
I finished saying that and sat back on the sofa.
"Don't look at me like that."
"I know."
The world was in this state. A summons was still an attempt at dialogue first—positive, in a way?
Consul Thomas was a gentleman. He sat silently, greeted me, and as I took my seat, handed over two steaming sheets of paper fresh from his pocket.
"Japan is stirring up trouble in Daihan."
Oh, that was somewhat fortunate. If domestic pro-Japanese factions suddenly went anti-British and boiled seawater for tea, Britain would've seen it as rebellion. But since the real rebels—those Japanese—were causing the ruckus, they'd overlook it once.
But could they really overlook it? I looked at the Japanese schemes, then the next paper.
A certain Supreme Leader's asset list. The smile vanished from his lips.
"Japan's rampage in East Asia caused a massive drop in our London stock market. Regrettable."
There, in detail: my fallen stocks, slush funds, overseas assets.
Hmm. No mercy at all.
I met the consul's eyes. Deep abyss.
Seems this tea riot had firmly triggered someone's trauma. Even if the Japanese were stirring trouble, if this country's citizens were truly pro-British, this wouldn't have happened. Britain had glimpsed the Korean heart. The rose-tinted glasses were off.
Time to buy more, then. Without a word or reason about my exposed assets, I pulled another issue from my chest.
"I regret what happened in Hong Kong."
"Which regret?"
I averted my eyes from anything like 'Say it—who were you thinking of?' and continued.
"I think it's because the Chinese can't let go of their barbaric longings."
"Ah, yes? I agree."
Smiling, but not smiling at all, this consul. His eyes said he wouldn't settle for this after I'd brought out the big guns—quite refreshing.
"But I have a question."
"What is it?"
"Why doesn't Korea have a place like Hong Kong?"
"To prevent misunderstandings like this, more exchanges between our peoples would be good."
Feeling self-loathing at the consul's earnest expression, I pressed on.
"Personally, if Korea had an international exchange port, it could reduce misunderstandings between our countries."
"Is that so? I'll send a directive to the home country. But where would be good?"
I had to go that far? The Supreme Leader gritted his teeth, trying not to say it, but the consul just stared silently.
Not Busan, not Dalian, not Geoje, not Jindo, not Shanghai, not Tianjin. The answer was set.
The consul was relaxed. With my massive slush funds in their grip, the Supreme Leader's mouth would open eventually.
Not a method to overuse—efficacy would fade. But at this critical juncture, making Korea publicly confess pro- or anti-British sentiments? No loss for the consul.
To make Korea beg Britain against Japan's threat. It's good for Korea too.
Consul Thomas thought that. He'd wait gentlemanly for the Supreme Leader's mouth to open.
"Ganghwa Island seems best, doesn't it?"
Say it—who's your master?
Britain had finally gotten its answer—and showed its satisfaction.