Chapter 408
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 408
Chapter Title: For the Revolution...?
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When the forced mobilization order was first issued.
The Russian people were worried.
And suspicious.
Of whether the mad dictator might torment them with yet another harsh policy this time.
But after the mobilization was carried out.
What they felt was an unexpectedly profound sense of relief.
"I was worried when I first heard it was forced labor..., but it's better than I thought?"
"Better than that—it's the best. You get labor points just for hanging out?"
"But I don't get it. Why make us do this? It's not like crops grow just because we farm."
"Eh, the big shots up top must have their reasons. Don't sweat it—just let's have fun."
"Sounds good. Wanna catch a movie this time?"
"Nah, how about the racetrack? I heard from the supervisor—if you hit it big there, your labor points multiply by hundreds..."
Who was it that said it?
Humans are animals of adaptation.
Russians were no exception.
As if they'd never harbored any suspicions about the Great Khan's intentions, they soon plunged headfirst into the forced mobilization.
It was inevitable.
Russia—a nation that had amassed technology and industrial might worthy of being called the world's factory through its labor allocation system.
Thanks to that, it had become the only great power comparable to the United States, but its cultural industries, which received no labor points, were woefully underdeveloped.
Then came the massive influx of cultural products from Tiamat Corporation, the world's largest cultural enterprise.
It was like pouring soda on parched throats.
Of course, there were those who couldn't rejoice over the situation at all.
'What scheme is this?'
'That dictator wouldn't pull something like this without a plan.'
'A trap? A ruse? Or just a whim?'
The revolutionaries were thrown into confusion.
Suddenly holding nationwide sports events, or joyriding tanks through city centers—
Ekaterina's antics to date easily numbered well into the double digits.
But mad as she was, she had proven a more ruthless and thorough dictator than any princess before her, never once losing her grip on the populace.
And now, this cultural opening.
No—cultural revolution.
The revolutionaries, who knew full well how bizarre this was, couldn't help but wonder at Ekaterina's true motives.
"Whoa, what the heck is going on?"
...Unaware that Ekaterina herself was the one most stunned by the whole affair.
"Did I just get backstabbed? By my own sister? In my own country?"
"Looks like it hit you hard."
"How could it not?"
"If you're gonna stab someone in the back, you should be prepared to get stabbed yourself."
Rimon chuckled as he watched Ekaterina mutter in a daze, her usual lighthearted playfulness forgotten—even a blow from Li Chingwei wouldn't have shocked her this much.
"...Yeah, you're right about that, big bro."
The shock finally wearing off.
She nodded once.
Then Ekaterina giggled.
"That kid's really grown up. Never thought she'd use the chance I gave her like this."
He had told her to go along with whatever Kana did to him.
Just to enjoy watching Ainsha flail to get him back.
But the very girl who'd warned her not to covet him had ignored him right by her side and thrown herself into upending the country.
A perfect blindside.
"Pinpointing my country's weaknesses, no less."
"Did you even know they were weaknesses?"
"Don't be ridiculous, bro. You think it's coincidence Tiamat never properly entered this country?"
"Not sure you should say that after handing over the whole nation to Tiamat's owner."
"...Bro, you're such a jerk."
"Not as much as you."
Ekaterina shot him a glare.
He smirked back at her.
Of course, even the world's top cultural giant couldn't swallow the Russian Khanate whole—but it could dominate the cultural market.
How fatal that was to a dictatorship.
Rimon, well aware from his long life, asked mischievously,
"So, what now? Gonna head back?"
"Huh? Why would I?"
"...Not gonna handle the mess?"
"Nah, can't do that."
Rimon unwittingly made a surprised face.
Where Ainsha was.
What mess she was making.
The mistake Ekaterina had made.
To Rimon, who could now guess from this incident, it was a checkmate.
If Ekaterina didn't return immediately to contain it, Tiamat's cultural seeds would spread even more lethally.
Yet she refused to go back. Why?
Puzzled, Rimon got his answer as Ekaterina chirped,
"If I go back now, I lose the game!"
"...You're seriously gonna let that idiot princess trash your country over something that petty?"
"You don't get it, bro. To a duelist, victory is more sacred than life itself."
"Since when are you a duelist?"
"Since a minute ago!"
"..."
Rimon humbly reflected.
That he'd been an idiot to judge this lunatic by common sense.
But unfortunately, Ekaterina wasn't done.
"Besides, sitting back and taking it isn't my style—especially when I can make things even more fun, like now."
Giggle.
As she laughed.
Rimon narrowed his eyes.
Unlike her earlier nonsense, this felt different—instinct told him it wasn't empty talk.
"...What are you planning?"
"Just wait, bro. The real fun starts now."
She didn't answer Rimon's wary question.
Just skipped lightly away.
Toward the revolutionaries—Bachemensky and the others, huddled in a corner of an abandoned factory in the old industrial district, racking their brains over the crisis.
"You mustn't fall for it."
"The Elshar sisters?"
To the baffled revolutionaries turning to her at the out-of-left-field remark, Ekaterina declared boldly,
"This is propaganda."
"Indoctrination... you say?"
"Exactly. A cunning ploy to turn the people into idiot monkeys and brainwash them into easy obedience."
"Well, I know what propaganda is, but..."
Bachemensky trailed off.
Exchanging glances with the others, he said hesitantly,
"Doesn't it feel too open for propaganda?"
"They showed movies toppling dictators."
"I read a manga where revolutionaries were the heroes. Toppling the corrupt emperor, kissing his princess lover, and dying—it was moving."
"Hard to call that propaganda..."
They hadn't ignored the possibility of indoctrination.
The problem was, from movies to books to songs—
No medium praised the Great Khan or dictatorship; if anything, more content toppled them.
It made sense, of course.
Tiamat had been selective from the start.
Which only confused the revolutionaries more.
"That's precisely the dictator's scheme."
Knowing that full well, Ekaterina feigned a straight face and pressed on confidently.
"They start by spreading non-propaganda to hook you. Then gradually slip in pro-dictatorship brainwashing."
"That's..."
"It pacifies the masses too. Over time, discontent fades, revolutionary zeal dies out."
"Hmm."
The revolutionaries groaned.
It had seemed dubious at first, but the more she spoke, the more plausible it sounded.
Ekaterina was exactly the dictator to hatch such a plot.
"Do you think we should stop this?"
"Pointless. The people are already hooked. Trying to block it now would just breed resentment."
"So what do we do?"
"Only one way."
Ekaterina paused.
Then, to the revolutionaries eyeing her with anticipation and anxiety, she clenched her fist and declared,
"We revolt right now!"
"Elshar sisters! We can't decide that lightly."
"We can—and we must."
"...!"
"We're revo... revolutionaries. To bring freedom and equality to all, we must decide and act ourselves."
A stir rippled through them.
Everyone had thought it.
But no one had dared say it—until Ekaterina did, boldly.
As the revolutionaries wavered,
A deep voice rang out.
"The Elshar sisters are right."
"Teacher!"
No telling how long he'd been listening.
The burly man with rust-red beard.
Sergei continued gravely from the railing of the old factory's second floor.
"The people are already wavering. A little more time, and our chance for revolution vanishes."
Just one day.
That alone had people warming to the new policy.
Time would erode fear and anger at the dictator; eventually, even revolutionaries might lose their fire.
They had to move before it was too late.
Bachemensky looked flustered at Sergei's earnest words.
"But Teacher, coordinating with brothers in other regions takes months at least."
"Minimal coordination suffices. Seize Moscow, and the revolution spreads naturally."
"Th-that's even crazier! How do we take Moscow with our strength alone?"
Bachemensky was aghast.
Most revolutionaries were ordinary citizens.
No match for the professionally trained Russian military, armed with the world's top tech.
Even uniting nationwide, slim odds against just the Silver Dragon Clan.
Let alone revolting tomorrow?
Low chance of success, and massive casualties even if they did.
"Worry not—we have our savior."
But Sergei asserted.
With the Sword Duke, success was certain.
"Remember: We've lived for this day, and with the great cause on our side, our revolution will triumph."
As everyone swallowed dryly at his weighty finish,
A cry pierced the air.
"All power to the Soviets!"
"...All power to the Soviets."
Bachemensky, blood already boiling from Sergei's words, echoed it unconsciously.
And that became the spark.
"Kill the dictator and reclaim our freedom!"
"Kill the dictator and reclaim our freedom!"
"For the great revolution!"
"For the great revolution!"
"All power to the Soviets!!!"
As if forgetting their earlier anxiety.
The revolutionaries raised fists one by one, chanting slogans.
Among them, the white-haired girl shouting most fervently caught Rimon's incredulous gaze.
And so, the revolutionaries prepared for the final battle.
To reclaim the freedom and peace long stolen by the dictator.
...Thus, three days later.
A massive uprising erupted across Moscow.