No Friends in Europe — The Debt Trap Begins
Europe was no friend of hers.
Four years of construction, from the very first shovel of earth. A total labor force of 4.3 million people. The world's first hydroelectric power station — the Supung Dam — was complete.
Come to think of it, this Supung Dam place? It felt vaguely familiar, like somewhere from that old world of hers.
There were no ultra-powerful electromagnets yet, and the facilities were sorely lacking, so the output probably wouldn't amount to much for its size. Still, it would be plenty to run a handful of factories in Daehan and keep the lightbulbs burning.
"We're almost done, but how are we going to build the next dam? Holding back the water bit by bit while we work — that's going to be a real headache, I could tell."
Watching the process up close, Haneul had realized this was no ordinary construction project.
"Yes, Your Holiness. Rain, especially, is going to be terrifying to deal with."
Exactly right. When Haneul redirected the water back, the sheer force of it pouring down from the suspended space in midair had been far more staggering than she'd expected. The pool filled in moments, water churning into whirlpools — phew.
"Think it through carefully, since we'll be building these all over the place. You've gotten a taste of it firsthand this time."
"Yes, Your Holiness."
Then all that remained was the lighting ceremony — and after that, it was time to go make some money. There was a reason she'd rushed the power plant into existence, after all.
With three refineries now up and running, oil was plentiful — but something else had piled up as well.
Naphtha.
What came out of Baku hadn't even been enough to cover domestic demand, and now there was suddenly a surplus to sell abroad. And if there was a surplus, the factories had to keep running, didn't they? Nobody could power an entire industrial base on steam engines forever.
Wooooong, clack — wooooong, clack.
"Wow, this runs beautifully."
"Electric power really does make all the difference, doesn't it?"
"It does. Less oil stench, and the workers are delighted."
This was a stocking factory — churning out stockings by the tens of thousands. Right next door, they were making clothing too.
"Well then. Time to go squeeze some money out of other countries."
"Eheheheh."
"Heheheh."
Haneul, carrying a brand-new lineup of products, was planning to sweep the world's coffers clean.
Around that time, far away on the Iberian Peninsula, Pedro II of Portugal was enjoying his summer vacation at the Sintra Palace.
The Daehan-made liquor in his hand, along with his pipe and tobacco, had become staples of European life — apparently indispensable now.
"Your Majesty, I believe we must consider abandoning our overseas colonies."
"Hmm? They're hardly numerous enough to abandon, are they?"
At his secretary's words, the king recalled the meager handful of colonies Portugal possessed — above all, that New World territory that had once promised to pour money into his coffers.
"As Your Majesty knows, the New World costs more than it brings in. It is of no use to us."
"Hmm... Still, it feels a waste to simply throw it away..."
There was the investment sunk into it already, and it pained him to let go. Surely they should at least recoup the principal? Who knew — gold might turn up at any moment...
"Then how about transferring it to another nation? Britain or France would be suitable, I should think."
"Really? Look into it for me."
"Yes. I'll make inquiries through the nobility."
Portugal, having learned that its New World colony was a leaking bucket with no bottom, planned to sell it off somewhere — collecting at least the cost of the harbor construction, if nothing else.
Carlos II of Spain had arrived at exactly the same idea.
And they had a fine gathering place for such schemes: Rome, which at some point had become the heart of the European Union. That day, as always, the aristocrats gathered, drinking and smoking and plotting.
"Hmm..."
"What troubles you?"
"N-nothing at all."
The Portuguese representative sat among the crowd, brow furrowed in worried deliberation. He quickly smoothed his face and laughed it off as nothing — but such strained efforts to seem untroubled only deepened everyone's curiosity.
"Heh heh. Here, have a good long drink."
"Thank you."
Glug, glug, glug.
The others filled his cup without hesitation. These days, a single bottle of that liquor would buy a farmer's entire family a month's worth of food...
Gulp, gulp.
"Haah..."
But even after drinking, his face returned to its troubled look — and seeing it, the others began pressing him again.
"Well, you see..."
The Portuguese noble answered as if dragged out of him.
"We haven't enough ships to run the New World colony, and our finances have fallen on hard times, so..."
"How unfortunate..."
"The harbor is fully built. All that's left is to bring back food and gold, but we can't quite manage to finish the job..."
At the sight of him sighing yet again, eyes began to gleam around the table. If the harbor was already constructed, all that remained was to send settlers over and farm the land.
"Is money truly that urgent?"
"Yes... The bankers won't lend even with the colony offered as collateral..."
"Hmm..."
Though greatly diminished since the financial crisis, plenty of men still plied the banking trade across Europe. Everyone knew how much stricter lending had become after that upheaval.
The Portuguese representative kept sighing quietly, while the nobles around him pondered something intently. A brief silence settled over the table.
"Then how does this sound? We'll lend it to you."
"Oh — but surely that's..."
Overseas or not, land was land. Entrusting collateral to foreigners and borrowing their money was, frankly, an uncomfortable proposition.
"You don't trust Britain!?"
"N-no, that's not it, but..."
The Portuguese representative hesitated for a long while.
"I will at least speak with His Majesty."
"Hahaha! Splendid! Another round, then!"
Inside, the Portuguese representative — head bowed in apparent gratitude — was so delighted he wanted to shout for joy on the spot. Handled well, he'd just managed to sell off a useless patch of land for cold, hard cash.
And at a table some distance away, the representatives of Spain and France sat together.
"Spain is in that dire a strait?"
"Yes... Soon we won't be able to pay our mercenaries."
"Heh heh..."
Whatever troubles Spain carried, its representative's face was visibly rotting with worry.
"Then we can extend you a loan."
"Oh! How much?"
"We'll need collateral first, of course..."
"Ah..."
"There! And once the debt's repaid, no harm done, correct?"
"Would a colony serve?"
Spain was in the process of shoving its colonies onto France — without the faintest idea that it was pouring water into a bottomless bucket.
Portugal's New World colonies were sold to Britain, and Spain's to France.
No — "sold" wasn't quite the word. It was closer to a seizure.
"What!? You can't even pay the interest?"
"No, sir... They say they can scarcely repay the principal now..."
"Damn it all!"
Thunder out of a clear sky for Britain and France, who had lent vast sums and were collecting interest hand over fist. The two nations, which had paid dutifully at first, began weaseling — claiming their circumstances had only grown more desperate.
"Then we'll simply take the colony instead!"
"We shall send demand notices and begin foreclosure proceedings."
"Isn't this the better outcome, really?"
A colony with its harbor already built, handed over this easily. Compared to this, the money they'd lent had been a bargain-bin price. Britain and France scrambled to dispatch heralds, issued their ultimatums, and promptly crossed the ocean — in search of gold and new spices.
"What is this?"
"There is a harbor, admittedly..."
"Where's the gold? Why hasn't a single acre been cleared?"
Truly, there was nothing but the harbor — every last field would have to be cleared and planted from scratch. Still, with the port in place, the clearing didn't look like it would be too great a hardship. The land was fertile, after all.
BANG, rat-a-tat, BANG.
"We're under attack!"
"The natives are raiding us!"
And then came the endless raids and ambushes from the surrounding tribes.
"Aaaagh! Spare me!"
"Kyaaaah! Husband!"
That's right. In the New World, it was the Europeans who were being plundered and dragged off as slaves.
They had quite literally passed along a bottomless bucket that sucked money dry — and had even been paid to take it.
"Damn it all! Send more troops!"
"Your Majesty..."
At first they'd thought nothing of it and shipped over more soldiers — but how many men could one cram onto ships crossing an ocean? The natives who had settled that soil for generations vastly outnumbered them, and multiplied far faster.
And so Britain and France kept having their money and their people drained dry by their New World colonies.
"Damn it... We've been played..."
"Our deepest apologies, Your Majesty."
"Grr..."
After several more expeditions vanished without a word, the truth became impossible to miss. Above all, there was the news that Portugal and Spain were busily carving out colonies in Africa — bankrolled, of course, by the very money Britain and France had lent them.
They were taking their creditors' gold and using it to open brand-new colonies.
"One day, we will have our revenge..."
They had only themselves to blame for deciding on a loan after glancing at nothing more than a finished harbor — there was no one to blame, no grievance to press, and so the two nations swallowed their fury in silence.
"We're going to Africa too!"
"We'll prepare the fleet at once, Your Majesty."
After all, the only thing Europe needed was gold. Everything else came from Daehan — even food cost less than half the price of merely shipping it in themselves. Otherwise they'd have to invent or manufacture some extraordinary product of their own, and with so few scientists, technological progress crawled along at a snail's pace.
BANG!
"How can this be!"
"Hmm? Speak plainly, man."
"They keep raiding our African colonies!"
"What on earth are you saying?"
The distant African colonies were being opened up and expanding smoothly — but as their territories grew ever wider, they had inevitably begun to brush up against one another. The agreement had only ever been don't raid and don't seize the harbors. Instead, crossing onto one another's soil to snatch up slaves and plunder gold and crops had become an everyday occurrence.
"Lies!"
"Have you any evidence?"
"Damn you!"
"You're one to talk — why don't you stop your piracy? Shall we have to send an actual fleet?"
From the southeastern coast of Africa all the way around to the west, a cutthroat free-for-all raged among the ships of every nation.
"That's rich, coming from you!"
"They say merchant ships suddenly turn pirate and give chase!"
A vessel you assumed was a merchant fleet, sailing peacefully past — and before you knew it, it had swung around and opened fire. It got so bad that in the waters off Africa, the moment a ship was spotted on the horizon, the invariable rule was to turn away first and ask questions never. Avoiding any chance encounter had long since become law.
"Don't you dare spout such nonsense!"
"Hmph!"
"Hmph!"
Every last one of them was cut from the same rotten cloth. Really, was there even anything worth fighting over?
"Pay back our money this instant!"
"What? You took the land, and now you want money too?"
"How is that valid collateral!?"
"We verified it and everything before accepting it!"
"What!?"
Crash, bang, thud, thud.
On one side of the hall, debtors and debt collectors traded blows.
"Did you see that? He hit him!"
"That he did!"
"Waaaah!"
Thud, thud.
A brawl between aristocrats who had never thrown a punch in their pampered lives was, truth be told, quite the spectacle.
"Gyaahk! Don't bite me! That hurts! Let go!"
"Grrrmmph!"
"Me too! I'm biting too!"
A dog-pile of nobles snapping and tearing at each other with their teeth. The Union's assembly hall these days was nothing short of pandemonium.
"Pwahahaha. What a pack of fools. My, my — good for them."
"Quite entertaining, isn't it? Hahaha."
The nations with no stake in the seas simply watched the brawl and enjoyed their liquor and tobacco.
The nations of Western Europe drifted further and further apart.
"Another round?"
"Yes."
And the nations of Eastern Europe, clinking glasses together, looked cordial enough — but it was all on the surface. At any moment, each was lying in wait for the chance to strip the others of their land.
And there was one great predator eyeing the money of every last one of them...
In Pyeong-an Naru in Portugal, a colossal building was rising into the sky.
"How far along is the department store?"
"Word just arrived that it's nearly complete. You may depart whenever you wish."
"Let's go, then."
The dam, the factories, the flood of new products — all of it had been positioning, groundwork laid for this very moment.
Boarding a ship in Daehan to collect what she was owed, Haneul was returning to Europe for the first time in ages. She'd been away so long that no one would remember her face — which meant it was going to be a very entertaining visit indeed.