Chapter 164
Chapter 164
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: crow
Chapter Title: Chapter 164 - 안정된 외교의 조건
-----------------------------------------------------------------
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: crow
Chapter 164: Conditions for Stable Diplomacy
-----------------------------------------------------------------
As soon as I returned from the Middle East, I decided to tackle the backlog of work.
‘It’s about time to push for the abolition of the Japanese imperial family.’
Thanks to our steady efforts, the Japanese imperial house had lost nearly all public support.
Scandals and outrageous incidents erupted one after another, to the point where the mere mention of the imperial family made the Japanese public grimace.
Our campaign had been so successful that even the usual cries to defend the throne had died down.
“Central Intelligence Agency Director. Im Ja, it’s time to get started.”
“Understood.”
With the world’s attention fixed on Italy right now, this was the perfect moment to deal with Japan.
We prepared a national referendum on the Tokugawa regime and the abolition of the imperial family.
The Japanese public was stunned when they heard about it, but we couldn’t have cared less.
On December 10, 1950, the referendum that would decide Japan’s fate took place.
The destiny of the imperial house, which claimed an unbroken line of divine emperors, now hung on a single sheet of paper.
“Abolishing the imperial house? What kind of ridiculous nonsense is this? Stop this nonsense right now!”
“Defend the imperial house and repel the schemes of the Western barbarians!”
The imperial loyalists shouted, urging people to support the throne.
Most of them were descendants of fallen samurai clans.
The reason these pseudo-warriors backed the imperial house was simple.
“The Tokugawa sold the country to Korea, and the daimyo clans are too weak to serve as the nation’s unifying force. The only reliable pillar left is the imperial house of the divine line.”
And so, it was the imperial family.
Only the throne could serve as their rallying point.
“If we win this vote, that’s all that matters! Don’t forget—your single vote will protect the imperial house of the divine line and the spirit of the Yamato race!”
They figured that if they could just hold out until next year, the Governor-General’s office would be dissolved and Japan would be freed from protectorate status, so this one vote was all they needed to endure.
But we weren’t the type to overlook even that much.
“They’re the ones spinning calculations that won’t pan out. Why would we push something with no chance of success? We only move when victory is assured.”
The loyalists put up a fight in their own way, but with Korea exerting its full influence on the opposing side, their resistance achieved nothing.
We kept it simple: fewer polling stations in pro-imperial strongholds, more in anti-imperial areas. That crushed their momentum.
The results came in right on cue.
“Abolition of the imperial house: 58%. Preservation: 39.5%. As of today, we declare the abolition of the Japanese imperial family.”
When the results were announced, the loyalists were dumbfounded.
“This... this can’t be. The imperial house... the divine imperial line abolished?!”
The Japanese imperial family made a final stand, rallying its supporters to show some fight, but it couldn’t reverse the tide.
The loyalists exploded in rage.
Various palace clans rose up, raising their voices.
“This is unbelievable! The Koreans rigged the vote!”
Truth be told, they weren’t entirely wrong to suspect foul play.
To be honest, we’d prepared rigged ballot boxes just in case things tipped too far, so we had no ground to deny the accusations.
Refusing to accept the results, the imperial loyalists sparked massive riots.
Major cities like Tokyo, Osaka, Kyoto, and Nagoya saw widespread arson and looting.
“Revere the emperor, expel the traitors! Overthrow the Tokugawa and restore the throne!”
“Drive out the traitors and the peninsula dogs!”
In some areas, hardcore loyalists even kidnapped retainers of the Tokugawa clan, holding them hostage and demanding the vote be annulled.
“We demand strongly: Cancel this vote, or these lives are forfeit. If their lives matter, stop this treason against the throne.”
The standoff was even broadcast live on TV.
‘If they go that extreme, no one’s going to listen no matter how much they scream.’
That’s how the Japanese far-left wrecked themselves in my original timeline.
Unless my memory failed me, they’d botched it with back-to-back disasters like the mountain base incident and the Asama Lodge standoff, turning public opinion against them.
Thrashing around like that wouldn’t overturn a done deal.
On December 21, 1950, the Imperial Household Agency, responsible for the throne, was dissolved.
All imperial assets were seized and transferred to the republic’s ownership.
Every imperial family member was stripped of their status and enrolled as commoners—a descent to ministerial registry.
Even the emperor and crown prince were no exceptions.
The imperial clans were all granted the surname “Kashiwagi.”
With that, the Japanese imperial family was utterly finished.
A few days after the abolition was formalized, I sent a personal telegram to Tokugawa.
“President Tokugawa, you are now the true head of state in name and fact. Congratulations.”
“Thank you, Prime Minister.”
Tokugawa didn’t seem particularly thrilled despite the message.
And who could blame him?
With the imperial house gone, Japan transitioned simultaneously to a republican system.
To dismantle them without sparking backlash, we made Japan a confederation as step one.
This confederation wasn’t a federal state like the United States or the Soviet Union.
It was a union of sovereign nations.
And that was exactly what irked Tokugawa.
The closest real-world parallel to our Japanese Confederation was the post-Soviet Commonwealth of Independent States.
In the original timeline, the CIS was a loose alliance of nine ex-Soviet republics led by Russia, treated more like a security pact than a true nation-state.
The Japanese Confederation that Tokugawa would lead was much the same.
He’d just be a figurehead representing the whole, akin to Russia’s role in the CIS—nothing more.
If anything, Tokugawa lacked even Russia’s clout in the CIS.
Russia commanded over half the CIS population and even more economic power, but Tokugawa had no such leverage.
No ethnic Russian proxies planted abroad like Russia had.
It was a purely ceremonial position.
Give it another decade, and Japan would splinter into 68 independent nations.
Of course, with Yamato nationalism in the mix, constant management was essential.
‘It was quite the long haul.’
I decided to wrap up the Japan division operation with the confederation’s creation.
After all those years dismantling Japan, there was no sense of relief.
My first concern was the fallout this would bring.
A fragmented Japanese market would complicate exports, and trade management would grow far more intricate.
Japan’s political scene would destabilize further, eroding market reliability and appeal.
‘Refugee issues are the real headache.’
Before, we could just ship them back to Japan, but now we’d have to verify which clan-state they belonged to first.
Thinking about it made the whole thing a massive hassle.
On paper, keeping Japan unified would’ve benefited us.
But in the Cold War era, security trumped economics as a nation’s top priority.
Who knew what the future held in this unpredictable world? Nothing mattered more than security.
‘So, splitting Japan is the right call.’
I had no intention of handing my successor a nation hemmed in by rivals, like Korea in the original timeline—sandwiched between China and Japan to the sides, North Russia above, and America across the Pacific.
Suffocating with no room to maneuver? I didn’t want to see that twice.
‘Unless I’m guaranteed an exceptional successor, the answer is to crush all potential rivals now.’
Even if Japan or China had just a one-in-a-hundred-million shot at outmatching my heir, I wouldn’t take the risk.
Any latent threats to my successor needed to be uprooted entirely. Why leave them be?
I wouldn’t burden my heir with a state demanding Bismarck-level diplomatic genius, like Germany.
Hand a middling successor a high-wire act of a nation, and it’d end like Germany.
Lacking Bismarck’s genius, who could manage that diplomatic tightrope? Germany, once eyeing world supremacy, crumbled at the finish line due to foreign policy blunders—then got carved into four pieces.
So, no acrobatic security environment for my heir.
I’d leave a stable empire even a mediocre successor could handle.
That’s the core of my East Asia strategy.
And it hinges on fragmenting Japan and China.
That’s why I didn’t regret splitting Japan.
If anything, I wished I’d chopped it finer.
‘Next up: China.’
China wasn’t some pushover like Japan.
Vast population, and that unique Chinese unity born of Sinocentrism—far thicker than Yamato nationalism.
Even now, split and divided as it seemed, give them a chance and they’d coalesce, unleashing their potential.
Like how the warlord era in the original timeline got swept away overnight by the Communists—impossible? Hardly.
So, the Chinese needed rigorous oversight too.
‘Not much time left for me—can I tear them apart completely?’
Even I wasn’t sure.
But I’d push as far as I could.
If five years wouldn’t do it, invest ten. If not, fifteen.
Still no? Then face reality.
I couldn’t hand over unfinished business.
I sat at my desk and began sketching strategies for China’s division.