Chapter 184
Chapter 184
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 184
Chapter Title: The Disaster Approaches Like a Tsunami (6)
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“What the hell are these bureaucrats doing right now! We still haven’t gotten any disaster control reports?”
A thud echoed through the Prime Minister’s Official Residence as his fist slammed down on the wooden desk.
Gone was his usual calm and composed demeanor. The Prime Minister made no effort to hide his boiling rage.
The LDP policy chief, looking thoroughly intimidated by the sharp edge in his voice, replied hesitantly.
“There’s a turf war over jurisdictions… It’s like they’re fighting over their rice bowls. Given that this is an unprecedented mega-disaster…”
“That’s nonsense! What kind of turf war at a time like this!”
Bureaucrats steeped in self-preservationism.
If it were just passive self-protection, that might be one thing—but when it turned aggressive, it devolved into these petty rice-bowl squabbles.
Disaster response naturally took a backseat.
Finally, the Prime Minister spoke, his face hardened as if he’d made a grave decision.
“Let’s yank hard on the bureaucrats’ leashes. They’ll listen when they’re choking for air.”
“Prime Minister, what do you…?”
“That tribute video we got from that Ganeyama yakuza bastard—use it now. Tell them if they don’t want it leaked, they obey Cabinet orders without question.”
A video he’d been saving for a politically critical moment.
The Prime Minister apparently believed now was the time to unsheathe the blade.
“No iron rice bowls for police or fire departments. Remind them that if they screw up the cleanup, they go down with the regime.”
“Understood, Prime Minister.”
“Oh, and one more thing.”
Another entity that needed to shoulder blame alongside police and fire services.
The Prime Minister rubbed his throbbing temples as he named the culprit.
“Tokyo Electric’s Nakamura president is completely unreachable, right? He didn’t get caught up in the accident at Fukushima, did he?”
“No, sir. Our sources say he drank too much yesterday and can’t get out of bed…”
“What a pathetic excuse for a man! What kind of disgraceful behavior in an emergency!”
Unable to contain his fury, the Prime Minister let out a short sigh before issuing orders to the LDP policy chief. It seemed he was determined to crack down hard on his subordinates once and for all.
“Hold him accountable immediately and punish him severely. If it’s true he’s passed out drunk, make sure he pays for it. No exceptions!”
* * * *
“Damn it, damn it, damn it…!”
And here was subordinate number one, the target of that crackdown.
Tokyo Electric president Nakamura finally dragged himself out of bed after the sun was high in the sky.
His phone was buried under a mountain of missed calls and texts. After checking the unfolding situation, hangover be damned, he broke out in a cold sweat, his mind racing.
“The crisis of my life…! Stay calm! Nakamura, man of the Great Japanese Empire—channel your Yamato spirit! Hah!”
Muttering odd phrases to steel himself mentally.
Dousing his head with ice water from the fridge to snap out of it, he seemed to regain his wits and came up with a plausible countermeasure.
“First priority: self-preservation. Push the blame on someone else. Need a good scapegoat…”
Scapegoat.
If public outrage poured onto someone else instead of him, he could survive for now. Then bide his time and make a comeback later.
“Watanabe alone won’t cut it… Need someone bigger, more fitting.”
The easiest fall guy: plant manager Watanabe.
But that wouldn’t suffice. It’d look like a classic underling sacrifice, inviting backlash later.
Chewing on leftover dry snacks from last night, Nakamura racked his brain. His agonizing continued until a lounge staffer opened the door.
“Sir, did you rest well?”
“Ahem, yeah. How do I settle the bill?”
“Han Seo-jun Chairman already covered everything before he left.”
“Han Seo-jun…? That Korean paid the whole tab?”
A bizarre situation where the host footed the bill.
But Nakamura wasn’t one to feel grateful.
“Yeah, that’s right! It’s him!”
A different emotion switched on in his mind—something like pity for a shield that might crumble for his sake.
He pulled out his phone and called his secretary.
“Yeah, it’s me. What’s the situation?”
-Sir! Everyone’s losing it up and down the chain! They’re all asking where you are! Even the Prime Minister’s direct secretariat!
“Ugh… The Prime Minister?”
If the PM was involved, he had to move fast. Botch this, and he could end up in jail for dereliction of duty.
“Ahem, enough! Stop panicking and stay calm! Why are you making such a fuss!”
-Yes…?
“I’ve found the perfect solution. I’ll head to the plant—set up a press conference!”
He bellowed and hung up.
Staring at his reflection in the dark phone screen, Nakamura muttered with steely resolve.
“Whew, damn it. Disaster, cleanup, whatever—screw that. I’m not taking the fall. I have to survive, no matter what.”
* * * *
“Words cannot express my profound grief. What a devastating reality this is!”
In front of the relatively intact city hall amid Fukushima’s earthquake-ravaged ruins, Nakamura unleashed a speech to the press.
Questions flew intermittently.
“I have a question! It’s been three or four hours since the incident—rumor is no safety measures were taken inside the plant.”
He brushed off a few, waiting for the one he wanted.
“There are reports of reactor meltdown risk post-tsunami. Mr. Nakamura, who do you hold responsible?”
Responsibility.
The moment those loaded words left the reporter’s mouth, he suppressed a smirk and feigned deep sorrow.
“As you know… as Tokyo Electric’s president, I’ve done everything in my power to manage the response.”
Murmurs rippled through the reporters at the shameless lie.
“Hey, you buying that? Doesn’t sound believable at all…”
“Nah, Nakamura’s just laying groundwork before blaming others. Classic.”
Crocodile tears barely concealed.
Dabbing at forced tears with a handkerchief, Nakamura balled his fist and raised his voice, fulfilling the reporters’ whispers.
“But! Right before the chain of command activated, reckless actions by certain individuals prevented me from taking further steps!”
Reporters shook their heads with dry laughs, right on cue.
“See? Told you.”
“Man, it’s like a science. That guy’s the embodiment of self-preservationism.”
Ignoring the chatter, Nakamura named his two wronged scapegoats.
“Plant manager Watanabe Sugoi! And… Ammunition Group Chairman Han Seo-jun! I vehemently condemn these two accident-prone heroes blinded by misguided heroism! I condemn them!”
The avatar of self-preservationism even tied on a red headband scripted with a manifesto.
“Ugh.”
“No need to listen more. He’s just gonna keep blaming others… Huh?”
Reporters turned away in disgust.
But… was it fate’s prank?
Among them, one reporter whose beat had dried up got a ping on his phone.
A call from a senior who’d recently jumped to a yakuza-owned media outlet under Ganeyama.
“Hey, senior. What’s up? Princess Hina? Here in Fukushima? Wait, what do you mean?”
The reporter’s instincts twitched.
He knew instinctively from his senior’s words that this was a once-in-a-decade scoop.
“Princess Hina… with plant manager Watanabe? And all the Ammunition Group people too?”
* * * *
At that moment, right behind the Fukushima plant.
Princess Hina grabbed a Western technician by the collar, shaking him wildly.
“You’re insane! Why’d he go in there! This isn’t some cartoon hero!”
“Chaiman say he go. Chaiman real man.”
“Ha! That doesn’t mean you let him! You… worthless blue-eyed bastard who can’t even earn his pay!”
“No fight. Hurt no. Radiation real hate.”
The two traded barbs in clumsy Korean.
Only after Kim Won-cheol intervened did their physical spat wind down.
“Whew, hang on a sec. No need to get worked up. Look, Princess, even if you hate this blue-eyed guy…”
Princess Hina’s cheeks puffed out like balloons with fury.
Kim Won-cheol poked them to deflate the tension and kept soothing her.
“Let’s give him space now. So our Chairman, linked via avatar, can focus a bit.”
“…Big-mouth bald guy.”
“What’d you say? You little brat…!”
Round two of physical dialogue, new contenders.
Baldy vs. spoiled princess. An epic clash. But it fizzled out under Aide Yoo Se-na’s sharp rebuke.
“Quiet down! Both Secretary Kim and Princess Hina!”
“Eek…”
The two shrank like scolded kids.
Aide Yoo Se-na’s phone emitted a voice amid static machine noise.
The voice of a man who’d entered what might be a deathtrap without a word.
-Primary gate cleared. Manager Watanabe, anything unusual ahead on the screen?
“Ah… All clear. Keep going straight. Turn right there for the secondary gate. Then the reactor.
-Understood. Tell the blue-eyed guy to stick close once I say…
Earthquake debris? The voice sounded a bit lost.
But the real issue wasn’t concrete rubble. Radiation seeping out started garbling the signal.
-Manager, this… comms are…?
“Chairman Han?”
-…Seems like it. Probably… emergency mode…
The precarious call deteriorated into heavy noise, words barely intelligible.
Then, the roar.
-KABOOM!
Something inside collapsing? The signal cut with the thud.
Tension silenced the outside. Then Aide Yoo Se-na’s voice pierced the sky, snapping back to reality.
“Chairman…? Chairman Han Seo-jun!”