Wings of Freedom #3
From the moment the front lines stretched from Korea to America, and then from America to Britain, the British had been scrutinizing this nation called Daehan with utmost thoroughness—truly exhaustive scrutiny. Their conclusion? "We have no idea."
Daehan was, quite simply, baffling to the British mind. For starters, every man in the country had to serve five years in the military, spending half the year there—no exceptions. And during the harshest seasons, no less. The disabled? They were repurposed as training dummies for comrades nursing injuries in some corner. Astonishing, really.
But was this some run-of-the-mill garrison state? Hardly. The citizens looked half-dead, scraping by as if tomorrow might be their last. Day-wage earners living paycheck to paycheck. Yet they wolfed down three square meals a day, got sloshed, and passed out carefree—the picture of a life utterly divorced from the "poverty" Britain recognized.
"All Koreans gather in the town square at 6 a.m. for assembly, much like Christians heading to church at dawn. Rich or poor, child or adult—they do morning exercises and share simple bread and alcohol."
"After breakfast, they reconvene in the square to express gratitude for the Supreme Leader's guidance that permitted today's meal, receive the daily bulletin, hear a comrade's confession of wrongdoing, and collectively forgive them."
"Those with jobs grab a simple lunch and head to work on the spot; the jobless linger, waiting for openings. They don't seem hung up on unemployment."
"Whether employed steadily or not, they earn daily wages—not salaries tied to rank or seniority, but pay based on the job at hand. Rates vary by cooperative but generally settle around 70% of the top wage for that profession. 'Dividends from cooperatives are mostly paid in kind—goods or rights they handle.'
"Since dividends come in goods, major shareholders often double as salespeople."
This was straight-up Christianity. Were these heretics? Anyone could see they worshipped the General Secretary and his Twelve Supreme Leaders. Local autonomy? What a joke! No wonder the British couldn't fathom why these people followed the Supreme Leader—no, the General Secretary—with such fanatical zeal. Life was decent enough; shouldn't they loosen up a bit? Why be content with forced conscription into the army? It was tantamount to slave labor.
But such cultural misunderstandings were secondary. The British weren't fixated on some racial propensity for Eastern submission—that had been "proven" by phrenology and social Darwinism ages ago. What truly puzzled them, what they couldn't grasp, wasn't the people of Daehan or the "General Secretary and Comrades"—it was the Supreme Leader himself.
What the hell had this man done in this far-eastern backwater to transform Daehan so radically? Why did it reinvent itself every few years, surging forward? That's what they wanted to know—and couldn't comprehend.
So Britain zeroed in on the Supreme Leader's every public appearance, telegraphing even his slightest gesture back home.
"The Supreme Leader has created CDS on CDO."
"CDS?"
"Credit default swaps on the debt-backed securities (CDO) bundled from cooperatives' real estate debts."
"As I recall, Daehan's assets only trade at five-day markets, and even then through cooperative heads or agents, right?"
"Seems designed to smooth exactly those trades."
"Just to be sure—has any cooperative in Daehan ever gone bust?"
"None on record. Does the Prime Minister think a 'profession' like doctors could fail?"
"So he's created a way to profit if cooperatives collapse, assets fire-sold, and total value plummets?"
"If that's true, cooperatives would never dump assets in a panic—CDS would be a joke in Daehan."
He was convinced. "He's selling it to us."
"To us?"
"A strong but poor nation, politically stable—which way do you see its asset values trending long-term? Down or up?"
"Up, probably."
"What if CDOs backed by that real estate were released in limited batches yearly?"
"Buy?"
"Even if CDS prices—betting on CDO failure—crawl along the floor?"
"I'd buy the CDO."
"We know cooperatives won't fail, but will outside investors? Having CDS might even boost CDO credibility."
"Then Daehan's cranking out those damn CDOs big-time. No wonder they're pouring national strength into construction."
"Desperate to escape our meddling. Tired of dancing to London's tune."
"Probably got serious after that China mess."
"Just sit back and watch?"
"Like hell!"
"But this way, gold will flood into Daehan—thanks to their CDOs and CDS."
"You think so? I see capital draining from Britain too."
At present, his CDOs weren't exactly alluring investments—low yields. But bundle safe assets even safer? Different story. And those "low-yield" CDOs still beat other safe havens under the gold standard's tight money supply. Big players saw value. Investments follow whales long-term; high-risk, high-reward stuff sprouts in their wake.
"Right now, with Europe tensing up, whales will park cash in distant Asia. Irresistible."
"Agreed. Daehan looks plenty safe now—maybe safer than expansionist America lately."
Proof was in China rights falling into Daehan's lap—asset values skyrocketed. Simple: people deemed it safe. Everyone saw, everyone knew. Even London muttering drew some consideration for speculators' interests. The Kaiser's yellow peril cries? The world viewed Korea separately: defensively focused, internally expanding, shrugging off meddling. Those vaunted torpedo boat fleets from the yellow peril screed? Vanished post-Japan war—no sightings. Eyewitnesses aside, their existence was dubious. Southeast Asia seas, prophesied as torpedo playgrounds? Dead calm. Daehan's lone fixation? Taiwan, maybe—handled via diplomacy, not guns. The U.S., stung in Philippines via same playbook, would rage at the "nonsense." Britain? Anticlimactic as hell.
Yes, the Supreme Leader was an imperialist—but an odd breed. Eerily quiet for one. Forget swallowing half of China overnight; you might mistake him for a pacifist. Spine-chillingly risk-averse. Concessions on concessions, compromises stacked high—yet he seized what mattered. Result: abroad, he was the ultimate defender. Just holding ground let him devour rivals, growing relentlessly.
Like... that German chap.
Building submarines to neuter battleship projection power? Only the blind missed it. Public clamor for expansion? Crushed under his pinky.
"Once markets fully open, whales will pour in."
"Solving Daehan's chronic money shortage pronto."
"And saddling us with it."
"Joking, right?"
"Does it sound like it?"
Yeah. "If the Supreme Leader floods markets with CDOs, the first buzz will be his investment prowess, that gold tower he's built. Rumors solidify."
Buyers resell? Nah—before that—
"Wait... rumor has it the young Supreme Leader built a sundial in Japan?"
"Officially, the Obelisk."
"And insisted no taller buildings nearby?"
"Yes."
"What if—and just if—the kid already envisioned CDOs back then?"
"You're joking, Prime Minister?"
"What would he worry most about?"
"...Investor psychology, for investments."
"Right. Wallets open even in downturns—if real estate holds."
"Ideally, no fire sales in any slump."
And "cooperatives" fixed that. Firms hoard cash? Buy land first. Consumer sentiment? Nonexistent. Profits pile? Wages second—land nearby first. Recession? Cut pay, snag cheap dirt. No drops needed.
"Maybe that's why he's neurotically curbed urbanization, threading rails everywhere..."
Infinite construction demanded vast hinterlands, low-rises, cheap labor.
"Stop joking, Prime Minister. How long ago did he dream this up? Kinda scary."
"Think I'm kidding? I see his Obelisk and height caps as strokes from his blueprint."
"Ganghwa Island too—he rebought auctioned land at full price from cooperatives. What does that mean?"
"Sorry."
"He might bleed us dry with our own gold standard invention."
"What's his angle?"
"Maybe... factoring in our Great Depression too..."
"Respect from us?"
"Too early to judge. Just possibilities. Could be mere currency supply. His track record favors that. Dig deeper."
The Prime Minister hung up, lost in thought after venting. Midway, an unspeakable notion had teased his lips. Voicing it? Blasphemous lunacy. If gold standard crumbled externally, the empire rebuilds. Internally self-sabotaged? Maybe never again.
"If war erupts among money-starved nations? Would the gold standard shatter—or hold...?"
He pondered. Perhaps the Supreme Leader faced not Britain or its gold standard—but the ideology dominating world order itself.
Maybe he sought no "respect" under it, but hurled questions at it.
And if no satisfying answer came?
Blasphemy. He stopped thinking.