Chapter 1
Chapter 1
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: I'll Stage a Coup (1)
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“Sigh. My brain’s just not working.”
I was staring blankly at the monitor, but my fingers wouldn’t budge.
I still had a ton of translation work left to submit by tomorrow, but no suitable phrasing came to mind.
Translating foreign languages meant capturing the author’s intent and subtle nuances perfectly—otherwise, it was a failure.
Just last time, I’d gotten chewed out so bad it nearly killed me over that.
“Mr. Kim, you translated this while reading it, right? Right?”
No wonder my confidence and motivation were in the dumps.
Sure, as a pro getting paid, I couldn’t use fatigue as an excuse to delay deadlines.
With nothing but butts in the ashtray, I figured I’d take a break with some web surfing.
Click click.
A few mouse movements brought up the familiar blue window with comics.
When my head wouldn’t turn, intuitive webtoons were perfect for unwinding.
‘They’ve added some new series since last time.’
If Japanese and American print comics dominated the 20th-century market, the 21st was the age of webtoons.
As vast as it was, webtoons covered every genre imaginable, satisfying every reader’s tastes.
‘This one… a new release? Alternate history of the Korean Empire?’
Today, I’d dropped in aimlessly, but something intriguing caught my eye.
It depicted a world where Korea became an imperialist power.
The intro was gripping: Korea, strutting like a great power, provokes a war it can’t handle and meets the same fate as Japan in original history.
“Not your typical nationalism bait—they threw in some curveballs.”
The twisted setup led to fascinating changes in neighboring countries’ fates too.
Before I knew it, I’d binged over 50 episodes of this rare gem.
‘It’s already 2 a.m.?’
Work was piling up, and I’d zoned out.
Regretfully, this wasn’t the time to marathon it.
Clap clap.
‘Whew. Get it together, Sung-jun.’
I rubbed my tired eyes and closed the web tab.
The work went smoother than expected.
Phrasings that had stumped me flowed effortlessly now.
It felt like the muse herself had descended.
‘If only it was always like this.’
After fourteen hours of furious typing, I cleared the backlog.
“Team Leader Lee, here’s the manuscript for review.”
Once I emailed the polished draft to my editor, yawns came pouring out.
Nearly two days without sleep—it was only natural to crash.
No calls or anything now.
I shut down the computer, hit the bed, and heavy sleep crashed over me.
‘Tomorrow, I’ll binge some backlog dramas and chill.’
And a sweet cup of coffee.
Nothing more to ask for.
I buried my face in the pillow and slowly closed my eyes.
*
“Your Excellency. Are you alright? Your Excellency!”
Your Excellency? Your Excellency?
What kind of joke was this?
“Excellency” was a honorific for high-ranking officials, generals, or the president.
These days, even the president was called “Mr. President,” not Excellency.
In this post-authoritarian era, calling a jobless writer like me “Your Excellency”?
I opened my eyes to a total stranger standing before me.
He looked early thirties, with an impressively bushy beard.
But who the hell are you?
How’d you get into my room?
Just as I was about to unleash questions.
‘Uh oh.’
I recognized the man and the place.
He was my aide-de-camp, and this was my official residence.
To confirm the info flooding my mind, I said his name.
“Captain Kim Jeong-gil?”
“Yes, General.”
Just thinking brought the answers popping up.
As if the “memories” were already in my head.
Dumbfounded, I asked Kim Jeong-gil.
“How’d I collapse?”
“We found you collapsed while reading the newspaper in the residence office and carried you to bed.”
No way.
My last memory was begging for sleep in bed.
Wait. Who am I right now?
My head spun into chaos.
“Mirror. Bring me a mirror.”
Kim Jeong-gil fetched a hand mirror from the nearby desk.
I took it and nearly fainted.
Definitely not my face.
But a familiar one from my memories.
‘My name.’
Trying to recall my name brought up two: Kim Sung-jun and Lee Sung-jun.
The first was Earth me; the second, this body’s owner.
Lee Sung-jun.
Mulling it over felt oddly familiar.
‘Where’ve I heard that?’
Ah!
After racking my brain, lightning struck.
‘The webtoon.’
The one I’d read featured a Lee Sung-jun.
As the protagonist, no less.
Coincidence?
But him being an “Army Major General” already felt off.
I sat up.
Dizzy just moments ago, but now I felt fine.
“General, you should rest more.”
“No.”
I shot back curtly at Kim Jeong-gil and startled myself.
I’d consciously commanded for the mirror, but this was thoughtless.
Yet an imperious tone came out.
As if assimilating to this body.
I opened the Goryeo Ilbo on the desk.
The front page had the publication date.
‘January 1, 1936 AD?’
No doubt.
This was the world of the webtoon I’d read, “Empire’s End.”
All the evidence backed my deduction.
Fuck, this couldn’t be real.
A writer possessing into the comic he was reading?
Into the most hellish world, no less?
Ugh.
I groaned and flopped back down.
“Your Excellency! Your Excellency!”
*
One shock improved my tolerance.
I accepted I’d become a character in this godforsaken world.
But I couldn’t stop my limbs shaking or my chest tightening.
The future of the Republic of Korea—no, the Korean Empire I knew—wasn’t rosy.
After World War II, the Empire suffers worse than original Korea: atomic bombs and total annihilation—D/E/S/T/R/O/Y/E/D.
Meaning the empire’s end.
‘Fuck.’
No clue how to handle this.
‘First, sort the info.’
I wrung out the implanted memories for a quick rundown.
Lee Sung-jun: Korean Empire Army Major General and imperial clansman.
No brigadier general in this army, so major general’s the lowest flag rank—but a star’s a star.
This place was practically Prussia: Army Kingdom Korea.
An imperial Army Major General could do more than he couldn’t.
Status was a plus.
Better “Lord” than “peasant,” after all.
2. Timeline: 1936.
One year before Korea starts war with China.
Webtoon-wise, this was the prologue.
Main events were just beginning.
3. Empire’s diplomacy was fucked like Germany’s “four crippled limbs.”
Traditional ally Britain turned potential foe; across the Pacific, America saw the Empire as “archenemy.”
Soviet Union and China, sharing borders? Ongoing border clashes.
Other majors weren’t friendly either.
Italy and France, with China interests, eyed Empire moves warily.
The one friendly? Hitler’s Nazi Germany.
Diplomacy was utter shit.
4. Amid Great Depression aftershocks, Empire tried disarmament, but coup led to military regime.
Now, brain-rotted by military, it’s running a Hitler-style all-in military economy.
Stop it, and the retooling war economy collapses the whole structure.
Quit aggression, implode internally; start the China domino, pave the road to doom.
‘What a country…’
The more I thought, the more absurd.
I’d love to defect to America or South America.
But impossible.
One imperial noble who ditched citizenship for U.S. immigration got labeled “ethnic traitor,” assassinated by extremists.
Even without nationalists, my position blocked it.
A top Empire general defects? This militarist Korea government letting that slide?
They’d order the hit.
Western society would scorn me for shirking “duty” as elite, so no blending in.
No real choices anyway.
No defection, no riding Empire’s fascist doom train.
So, I’d pick the unseen answer.
‘I’ll flip this country myself.’
My answer: coup d’état.