Ho, Ho Chi Minh!
Until now, the primary battlegrounds of the World War had been Europe and the Far East. With war erupting in the two most critical regions on Earth, the peripheral world could not escape its fallout.
In the Middle East, for instance, massive oil exports threw a lifeline to the Ottoman Empire. But the region that suffered the heaviest blow was, without a doubt, Indochina.
Tens of thousands of its people were conscripted as soldiers, never to return. Meanwhile, forced grain requisitions devastated the local economy. And it wasn't just food. Rubber, coal, various ores... resources of every kind were ruthlessly plundered.
To make matters worse, that food was sucked not only into France but also into China.
"The price of rice is skyrocketing in China! Take whatever rice is left after sending France her share and ship it all to China!"
"But master, we cannot! The tenant farmers must have at least enough to survive!"
"What does that have to do with me?"
No matter how ruinous the empire had become or how wildly the warlords rampaged, China still boasted a monstrous weight class. Just as it would absorb the world's manufacturing demand as the global factory in the twenty-first century, in the twentieth century, it was a beast of a nation that devoured supply from every corner of the globe.
No matter how much rice was dumped into its markets, the price refused to budge. Landlords frantically exported grain with utter disregard for the fate of Indochina, and the result was a catastrophic two-year famine spanning 1915 and 1916.
"...The rains were good, and the winds were gentle during the harvest. There was plenty of sunshine. This year... is a bumper crop."
Indeed, the harvests of 1915 and 1916 were the kind of bountiful yields seen only once in fifty years. Yet, a great famine had struck regardless!
Despite the fields ripening into seas of gold, nearly two million people perished in Indochina—primarily in Vietnam—over those two years. Almost fifteen percent of the population had been wiped out.
"This is all because of France!"
"Right now... a living hell is unfolding in our homeland. Is it right for us to live in comfort here in London?"
"We must return home immediately and take action!"
The young Vietnamese man who would one day be known as 'Ho Chi Minh'—real name Nguyen Sinh Cung, alias Wan Aeguk—shook his head, his expression grim and hollow.
"All that remains for the Vietnamese people is a famine worse than hell itself. How can we speak of independence in times like these...?"
"B-but...!"
"It is a tragic truth, but the only way to save our people is through France! If France wins the war, relief supplies will come. Let us endure until then. Just until then."
No matter how perfect this moment seemed for independence...
A literal hell was unfolding where parents sold their own children as 'meat' just to obtain a single kilogram of rice. How could they wage a 'war of independence' with peasants who could barely lift their farming tools?
And so, Wan Aeguk waited, and waited.
But the news that eventually reached him was of France's defeat. As the French currency collapsed and inflation skyrocketed, reports arrived that the French people themselves were starving to death.
Wan Aeguk murmured bitterly.
"...At least the French won't freeze to death. They can always use their banknotes as firewood, can't they?"
"Is that so? Even a great empire like theirs suffers from something akin to famine. But... Comrade Wan Aeguk, what do we do now?"
The dream of receiving relief supplies from France was shattered to pieces.
"Perhaps... we can obtain something from other Great Powers like Great Britain, Germany, or Austria? Let us depart for Warsaw immediately."
And so, Wan Aeguk traveled toward Warsaw, pushing onward day and night. In the third-class carriage of the train, shocking news reached him day after day.
"Germany... has apologized to Namibia for its colonial rule."
"What?!"
"And Germany has promised unlimited support for Namibia's reconstruction."
"My goodness..."
Wan Aeguk felt a spark of hope. But the news that followed from Indochina was even more cruel and cold.
"They say President Wilson of the United States has announced something called the 'Principle of National Self-Determination.'"
"T-then...!"
"Consequently, France is supposedly establishing colonial assemblies in Indochina to seek cooperation on major economic policies through them."
"Then what about the famine?! What about the relief grain?!"
The Vietnamese comrade accompanying Wan Aeguk shook his head.
"They say the famine is an issue each colony must resolve autonomously..."
"Damn it all!"
In truth, it was synonymous with France washing its hands of Indochina entirely. Despite all the grand talk of 'colonial assemblies,' France had completely lost interest in all of its colonies, save for Algeria.
Wan Aeguk hurled the piece of bread he was holding against the wall. If only they could resolve this famine, Vietnam would break free from France. Indochina would achieve complete independence!
Thus, Wan Aeguk arrived in Warsaw. He was astonished by the crowd gathered in the reception room. India, Vietnam, Joseon... they were all Asians.
An Asian man approached Wan Aeguk, speaking in English so fluent he sounded like a native.
"I am Kim Kyu-sik of Joseon. You must have come from Vietnam?"
"I am... Wan Aeguk of Vietnam. And you...?"
"Indeed. I am waiting for an audience with Vice Chairman Shtal."
"S-Shtal? You mean the...!"
"Yes, that very Shtal. Ah, let me speak to the Austrian officials. They will arrange a room for the Vietnamese delegation as well."
Wan Aeguk knew only too well how Europeans viewed colonial subjects. To them, colonial natives were treated as 'above monkeys, but below humans.' Naturally, he had come prepared to sleep on the streets.
Yet... what Shtal provided for the Vietnamese delegation was a magnificent, glittering hotel suite fit for royalty. After waiting a day or two, the time finally came to meet Shtal.
"Has Ho Chi Minh of Vietnam arrived?"
"Ho Chi Minh...? I've never heard that name before... At any rate, there is no one by that name among the visitors. Ah, there is a man named 'Wan Aeguk,' however."
"Hmm..."
I hesitated for a long moment before finally asking.
"And from Joseon, the Japanese colony...?"
"A young man named Kim Kyu-sik has arrived. Though calling him a 'young man' is a bit of a stretch, as he is older than you, Vice Chairman."
I remembered him. Wasn't he the independence activist who attended the Paris Peace Conference in my previous life?
Tense with anticipation, my body stiffened as I waited for Wan Aeguk and Kim Kyu-sik. Before long, they entered my reception room.
I greeted them in German first. They returned the greeting in somewhat awkward German before switching to fluent English. But this man... looking closely at his face...
"By any chance, do you happen to use the alias 'Ho Chi Minh'?"
"Ho Chi Minh? I have never heard that name."
If he just had a few more wrinkles, a slightly gentler impression, and grew out a wispy beard, he would be the spitting image of Ho Chi Minh. Or was he not? Was it someone else?
At any rate...
"I heard that a colonial assembly has been established following France's defeat, Mr. Wan Aeguk. Is that correct?"
"Yes, that is correct."
"Actually, there is no reason for Vietnam to hesitate. Declare your independence immediately. Why bother with declarations or petitions at a conference?"
"...I am well aware of that. However..."
Wan Aeguk laid bare everything that was happening in Vietnam.
Hmm... Do empires just have a passive trait that triggers great famines? If they've ruined Indochina to this extent...
Even without my intervention, Indochina was destined to gain independence naturally.
If a great famine could occur even during a bumper crop, it was safe to say that French hegemony in Vietnam was finished.
"However... there is one problem."
"A problem?"
"...Winter is approaching in Vietnam. Of course, it is warmer than here in Europe, but the dry season is just beginning, which marks the start of the annual farming cycle."
"Do you have any grain reserves?"
"Naturally, we have none."
"...Which means you must starve for at least three months."
A human can die after just one month without food. A mere three months might pass in the blink of an eye under normal circumstances, but during a famine, it was more than enough time for millions to perish.
"Political ideals lose all their strength when faced with starvation. If France were to send relief grain, the Vietnamese people would gladly throw away their sovereignty. And I would do the same."
"...I will send aid immediately. However, the logistics are tricky."
Funding was not the issue. If we spent even a tenth—no, a single percent—of the capital being poured into rebuilding Central Europe, Vietnam could easily weather this crisis. The real obstacle, as always, was politics. Transporting massive amounts of wheat all the way from Europe wasn't impossible, but time was far too tight.
Importing from China was another option, but the Chinese warlords, busy fighting among themselves, were highly unlikely to part with their military rations.
That left only one viable path.
"We could secure the cooperation of Hong Kong to gather grain from the Chinese mainland and ship it to Vietnam."
"Vice Chairman, could we not also source it from India?"
Indeed. Both methods required British cooperation. I frowned.
During the three months leading up to the harvest, hundreds of thousands more would die. Then, holding France responsible for the famine, Indochina would declare independence. That was a certainty. It aligned perfectly with the global blueprint I had drawn up. The only difference was the cost of several hundred thousand lives.
If I go this route, I'll have to make concessions to the British again... Is there no other way?
Yes, it couldn't be helped. Just as I was about to express my regrets with a sorrowful expression...
Wait a minute. There was still one place left to squeeze.
"One moment, Mr. Kim Kyu-sik."
"Yes?"
"The King of Joseon is currently residing in Yanbyan, paying tribute, correct?"
"Y-yes, that is correct. But why do you ask so suddenly?"
Among the Chinese warlords, there was one faction that craved legitimacy so desperately they would gladly let their own people starve to obtain it.
"What is the current situation of the Qing dynasty?"
"Well... they are merely a local warlord faction in Beijing. However, thanks to the Joseon issue, their support in Beijing and Manchuria remains solid."
"And how is Joseon faring under the tribute system?"
"It is rather embarrassing to admit... but at the very least, we do not have to worry about financial troubles."
"How do you view the future of the Qing dynasty?"
Kim Kyu-sik pondered for a moment before answering without hesitation.
"They will collapse within ten years due to internal strife. Zhang Zuolin has already achieved de facto independence, and the three key figures of the cabinet could betray one another at any moment."
Perfect. Since the nation was doomed to fall anyway, there was zero risk.
"Mr. Wan Aeguk, wasn't Vietnam originally a tributary state of China?"
"T-tribute...? Well, that is..."
Wan Aeguk broke into a cold sweat, dodging the question.
For both Joseon and Vietnam, the history of the nineteenth century was essentially a long struggle to break free from the tribute system centered around the Celestial Empire. Moreover, Europeans tended to perceive tributary states as mere 'colonies' or 'vassals.'
"Become a tributary state once more."
"What?! Escaping the clutches of France only to be colonized by the Qing dynasty again is absolutely out of the—"
"Mr. Wan Aeguk, I understand the concept of tributary states. In practice, they are no different from independent nations, are they not?"
The Tribute-Investiture System was, in a way, like the United Nations. All UN member states possessed independent sovereignty. At the same time, they recognized the absolute dominance of the five permanent members of the Security Council. The Tribute-Investiture System was essentially a gathering of East Asian nations centered around China as the permanent member.
"Just tell China that you wish to send tribute. Then, set up any puppet as king and have him bow his head to the Qing Emperor."
"Then... the Qing dynasty will..."
"Exactly. They will be absolutely thrilled and pour all the rice meant for their own citizens straight into Vietnam."
"But you know how Western nations perceive tributary states, do you not?"
I smiled and shook my head.
"Didn't Mr. Kim Kyu-sik just say the Qing dynasty is going to collapse anyway? I give you my word: Indochina will gain its independence. Oh, and Ho... I mean, Mr. Wan Aeguk, you must return to Vietnam immediately and seize power."
"Seize power?"
"You need to set up a puppet king and convince your people about the tribute. Besides, there is no guarantee that the landlords won't hoard the relief grain for themselves. While I cannot give you rice directly, I will provide you with weapons and funding."
"T-thank you!"
Wan Aeguk shook my hand repeatedly, bowing his head. To him, I casually tossed a remark. My suspicion was correct.
"By the way, your name is rather lackluster."
"Pardon?"
"Nguyen Ai Quoc... It lacks a certain flair, doesn't it? It doesn't roll off the tongue easily. Frankly, even Stalin, who works under me, benefits quite a bit from his name. Jughashvili is far too rustic, after all."
Wan Aeguk—no, Ho Chi Minh—stared at me, utterly baffled by what I was saying. Smiling, I tore a page from my notebook, wrote down three Chinese characters, and handed it to him.
胡 志 明
(Ho Chi Minh)
"V-Vice Chairman Shtal...?! You know Hanja?"
"That is not what is important. Let us change your name. Ho, Ho, Ho Chi Minh! Doesn't it have a nice ring to it?"
"T-thank you! Thank you so much!"
But... what if Wan Aeguk isn't actually Ho Chi Minh? Ah, whatever. Mr. Nguyen, you are Ho Chi Minh now.
Having sent Ho Chi Minh on his way, only Kim Kyu-sik and I remained in the reception room.