Prelude #3: The Reincarnated Leader from the 21st Century Understands Britain
Even if they didn't know the Korea of the 20th century, the reincarnated Supreme Leader from the 21st century understood Britain all too well. Did they really think Britain would tolerate Korea—an ally—pursuing expansionist policies in the oil fields? No way in hell.
That was it. The Strait of Hormuz. That was Britain's territory. Whether Korea pumped oil from Trucial Oman during the truce, or from Iraq, or anywhere else in the Persian Gulf, when it came to Arabia, Korea couldn't even breathe without Britain's permission to ship that oil back home. And that wasn't hyperbole.
Stick a ship to the Trucial Oman coast to load up oil? Forget it. The waters were too shallow. To haul oil from Arabia, you pretty much had to swing around to the Persian side at least once for a drift maneuver—and southern Persia was Britain's turf right now. That was what the end of the Great Game meant: Russia and Britain slicing Persia in half. The north with the Baku fields went to Russia; the Persian Gulf oil zone went to Britain.
Sadly, that was the fate of oil states in this era. The Supreme Leader, who knew world history inside out even if Korean modern history was fuzzy, knew exactly how Mossadegh got screwed for nationalizing oil and calling out the shady deals. Hell, if Korea had been an oil state, the Russians would've taken the north in the Joseon era, and Britain the south. Japan wouldn't have even gotten a bite.
"Is that Britain over there?"
That's why, before invading Iraq—the oil-rich prize—the Supreme Leader had no choice but to secure Britain's blessing. Getting landing permission for Iraq and having Trucial Oman in the truce didn't mean you could just send ships willy-nilly. That kind of thinking didn't fly in this era. If a few oil wells exploding was the worst of it, you'd be lucky. That was just a light warning.
"You're planning to carve Iraq out of the Ottoman Empire?"
"Yes, the former Sultan—now current Prime Minister—practically begged me to do it."
This bastard...
Yeah, Britain had its eyes on Iraq too. It was the corridor linking the Persia-Arabia spheres and an oil zone. They'd just been leaving it alone to keep the Ottomans from tilting too far toward Germany. Deep down, they hoped a smart Prime Minister would hand it over to them on a platter.
But this idiot had misread his audience. He wasn't offering it to the British Empire—he'd handed it to the Korean Empire. Iraq.
"..."
"After landing in Iraq, you'll head straight for the Balkans?"
"Yes. Other than that, I don't know much, but there's plenty of oil, so I figured we'd practice some mobile warfare."
"Mobile warfare?"
"Watch. Mobile warfare is the real deal. I'll show you how movement itself is the operation."
"...OK."
Truth be told, Britain was annoyed with the Ottomans, but they weren't thrilled with the Balkan states expanding aggressively under the guise of securing "living space" either. How much had Britain invested in the Ottomans? They allied with Russia because of Germany—not because they loved Russia or its lackeys.
In that light, Korea joining the fray? It irked them that Korea was dipping into their oil, but on the flip side, Britain had no other options. So, until they could team up with Germany, they'd tolerate it.
"Shall we show you what we're made of, then?"
Operation Desert Storm. Britain was a naval powerhouse; Korea was an undisputed land army juggernaut. Britain figured this was their chance to size up the army they'd throw at Germany.
"Ah, fighting a nation that can muster a million for a military parade... that's a bit much."
"We'll stop here."
"Hey! What am I supposed to do? I said give up your land—not get the hell out?!"
Unlike Bulgaria, Greece and Serbia backed off the moment Korea unpacked in Iraq, calling a truce and pulling out. They'd already gotten what they wanted without tangling with Korea. Both nations had swollen their territories by tens of percent. Greece was even setting up autonomous governments because they couldn't digest it all.
"No way, is it just today?"
Megali Idea or Greater Serbia—they knew when to pick their fights. The Supreme Leader, who'd been gunning for a nation-state while riding full throttle, would've nodded vigorously if he'd heard their inner thoughts. Spot on.
Especially the intellectuals.
"Pull out now or we're all dead!"
"No one's gonna help an independent state!"
"Russia fighting Korea for us?! They're just sitting there quietly! Get your heads straight!"
To those with a broader worldview, London's lukewarm advisories and Russia's uncharacteristic silence reeked of suspicion. Especially London—it looked like they wanted someone to pick a fight with Korea. Not their usual strong-arm "recommendations," but more like "go wild." And yeah, you should fight at least once, right?
That gave them a burning conviction: you absolutely cannot fight even once. So they sued for truce and bailed. The Ottomans agreed readily—they'd wanted this all along.
The problem was Bulgaria. The Third Empire, a mere kingdom that seized Adrianople, got crushed, then lost it again. They needed to regain momentum somehow, or the truce would force them to cough up their gains. Unlike Serbia and Greece, who kept their conquests, Bulgaria's Tsar had to fight on—against the Ottomans or Korea. Otherwise, they'd spit out everything and become just another Balkan also-ran, like Greece or Serbia.
Greater Bulgaria would remain a pipe dream. That's what they believed.
"I won't be lumped in with those weak-ass Serbian hicks or Greek fags."
Bulgaria, a regional power in the Balkans, treated like has-beens? Unacceptable. Adrianople? Hell, push to Tsargrad—what they called Constantinople.
To Bulgaria and its Tsar, this wasn't a choice. It was survival.
"If we take that, Bulgaria can 'talk' with Russia and 'mock' Romania."
If they seized Wallachia and its oil from Romania too? And booted the Greek fags and Serbian hicks? They'd be an empire for real. The Tsar could become a true Tsar—an Emperor.
That's why they couldn't stop until the Ottomans begged for truce. They absolutely couldn't be the ones begging.
Coastal artillery commander Kemal stared in disbelief. After that insane mobile warfare and landing op, they weren't actually planning to fight again?
At this point, Korea's special mobile "force"—fully motorized, with rubber boats for the Gallipoli surprise landing—had marched straight into Constantinople. And there they hunkered down. They'd pushed this far operationally, but circumstances meant no real fighting per the original plan.
"Yes, that's right. Our Tsar—no, our Comrade Secretary-General—says just hold out like this, and those bastards won't last even if they die trying. From the troop numbers the soldiers saw, even mass conscription has its limits."
"Even so..."
"Winning battles isn't the goal. Winning the war is. Right?"
"Correct."
"We're the ones burning money into thin air, and we're the ones refusing the fights they want. Just sit tight and watch."
"..."
Truth be told, there was another reason. A new one. That's why.
While Korean forces were landing in Iraq full throttle, a telegram arrived for the Secretary-General: the Young Turks were plotting a coup, blaming the Prime Minister for all the defeats.
Considering the Young Turks were the military, it was the height of hypocrisy—but that's how the world worked. The problem? If that happened, the Prime Minister's offer of Iraq would go up in smoke. For Korea, who hadn't secured Iraq yet, that was unacceptable.
Fat chance!
Yeah. With coup plotters in the shadows, Korea had no choice but to drag this war out. But that risked the Young Turks striking anytime in frustration—which is why they'd blitzed straight to the capital like this.
What lunatic coup faction launches with a foreign army in the capital? If they coup'd, it'd have to be after the foreigners left—or lost.
So the Secretary-General had left no room for that from the start. Why fight? Up front: Bulgaria, boasting 30% national conscription. In back: the plotting military watching for weakness. Per orders, just breathe in the capital, and both sides would deflate like balloons.
For them, the moment they'd flown over the desert to seize the capital, the mission was accomplished.
Ottomans be damned—for Korea, as long as they didn't lose, they'd already won. Now the follow-up forces just needed to lock down Iraq completely. After that? Fight or not, whatever.
Dig in moderately; smash Bulgaria like rats if they charged in weakened. Same for a Young Turk coup. To them, it was already whack-a-mole.
In a sense, they were isolated in a den of potential enemies, and they weren't 100% sure they'd crush Bulgaria if it came to war. But they didn't worry a bit.
Because anyone who fretted over that wouldn't be in this spot—the one the Secretary-General, His Excellency the Supreme Leader, trusted most.
They'd heard and learned it in training. The biggest misconception about the Korean military? Thinking they smashed the Qing with defense—trenches, machine guns rattling, artillery booming, Qing bannermen with queues fleeing in terror.
The stories from veteran instructors were the opposite.
Yeah. Sure, they looted later—but at first, the machine guns, artillery, trenches were all Qing's. They were the lunatics who shoved their heads right into those machine gun nests.
Qing was infringing sovereignty diplomatically; no military response meant it stuck. So they trusted the night-eyed sniper comrade to pick off the gunners, mortar comrades to pulverize the trenches, and charged into the dark udada.
Unlike Qing, no horses. No queues. Just comrades behind and faith that death wasn't the end.
Just three times like that—per the Supreme Leader—and those shoddy trench lines were trampled and breached. No Qing dared charge after.
They'd all fled! So they raced to Beijing as ordered. No idea why, but no enemy they met had the guts to engage.
Now with armored cars, trucks? Machine guns, artillery—and even balloons tethered to trucks soaring overhead.
So unless they smashed into a mountain or sea, they couldn't fathom losing. The Secretary-General teared up easily and dodged fights, but they secretly wondered: do we have to skip winnable scraps?
But as His Excellency—not the Secretary-General—said, with the capital taken, you don't pitch "hey, let us shoot a bit" in a won war. He cherished lives too much.
If needed, he'd just order like the veterans: Beijing or bust, Nanjing or Tokyo—live or die.
That was enough.