The Victor's History
"And so, that brings us to the end of Phase Three of the war, when General Jang Sung-kwon's forces marched into Beijing. Everyone following so far?"
A massive map of East Asia dominated the blackboard. The teacher lectured with fervor, but the students' faces grew darker by the minute.
"Whoa, I never even knew that bastard's name was Jang Sung-kwon. We just call him the Devil General and everyone's on the same page... Hey, Chink. What do you guys call him?"
The blonde, big-breasted Japanese girl—Noa—nudged a nearby Chinese student.
"Enemy of the people."
The Chinese girl spoke Korean haltingly, sticking to the bare essentials.
Noa tried chatting up someone else, but Hyun-ah was focused on the lesson, and the others were too far away.
/////
"Let's pause here for a ten-minute break."
The teacher set down her chalk and wiped the board clean. The students' expressions were grim. Even she could tell the material was hard to swallow.
"Fuck my mom, if you're a slave, just spread your legs wide—why the hell do we need history lessons..."
But if everyone agreed, there'd be no need to teach it in the first place.
"This sucks balls. Hey, Hyun-ah. You already know all this shit, right?"
"Uh, yeah... We learned it in school..."
Noa flashed a bitter smile and turned to the Russian girl.
"Hey, White Horse! What do you Russkies call that fucker? Jang whatever?"
The girl from Russia replied without emotion.
"We just used his name. We never fought him."
Noa drummed her pen on the desk, clearly pissed.
"That bastard slaughtered tens of thousands of civilians, and they suck his dick like it's the best thing ever."
The classroom atmosphere turned icy in an instant. Everyone felt it but hadn't dared voice it—until Noa spat it out bluntly.
"If Hitler had won, they'd be slurping his too. Fucking bitches..."
The Japanese and Chinese prospective slaves couldn't agree aloud, but their eyes said otherwise. General Jang Sung-kwon was too brutal and effective to be called by his real name in either country. He'd ignored laws of war when needed, burying evidence. No clear photos or videos existed. But every person in that room had lost family or friends to his army.
"You're right. But wasn't Japan allied with that Hitler?"
A Chinese girl's words made Noa's veins bulge.
"What the fuck does that matter?!"
The conversation heated up fast.
"If we're talking war crimes, Japan doesn't fall short. The international community already recognizes Korea, and there's no reason for the victors to face scrutiny."
"You saying it's all good if you win, you fuck?!"
"Obviously."
"You dictator-ass-licking cockroach scum—your mindset is fucking disgusting! Free Tibet, asshole!"
Tensions escalated. Noa got right in the Chinese girl's face.
"Wasn't Japan the perpetrator too? Did you lot ever take proper responsibility for the Nanjing Massacre?"
The Chinese girl held her ground, speaking firmly. As the mood grew volatile, the teacher slammed her desk to get attention.
"Noa?"
Noa snapped irritably.
"What now?!"
"In your eyes, do I look Korean?"
Noa glared. The teacher brushed it off lightly.
"I got my revenge in the 13th Airborne Brigade. Fought Jang Sung-kwon's forces once and got lucky—survived."
For women her age, war experience was commonplace. "Fought" meant most of her unit died, were ravaged, and trampled into the dirt.
"Then why?!"
"We're here to survive, aren't we? So we have to adopt their perspective."
The teacher smiled faintly. No student mistook it for joy.
"In Korea, antisocial words or actions can get you arrested. Even if not, clashing with your owner's view of history is a huge problem."
"No fucking way—my mom and friends died in that war, and now I have to suck off their killer?!"
"The man who killed your family is the one who'll own you."
The bold, cruel truth left Noa speechless for a moment.
"Plenty under Jang Sung-kwon when he was a company commander. After becoming Marshal, every able-bodied man was essentially his subordinate."
No escape. No innocents. Every surviving man had blood on his hands.
"And that war—Japan struck first, right?"
"Th-that was a Korean government plot..."
"If you don't trust the Korean announcement, check foreign media. Japan attacked Korea first."
No pure victims. Japanese civilians cheered the initial invasion, fueled by peak anti-Korean sentiment—a temporary frenzy. But the war spiraled, leaders starved for real intel. Ordinary people, though, couldn't accept defeat as self-inflicted—especially with bullets flying and comrades dying beside them.
"We can't give our owners even a hint of discomfort. It's not just modern history."
The teacher recalled the past. Many were forced into slavery then, harboring real grudges against men. Only after countless slave deaths—enough to make even those who saw lives as numbers panic—did slave education become mandatory.
"When talking Imjin Waeran, take Joseon's side. Mourn Goguryeo's fall sincerely, cheer Balhae's Manchurian conquest genuinely."
Not the first like Noa. Some raged, others burned with justice. The teacher pitied them but couldn't release them unchanged.
"Our anger won't make them feel guilt or change anything."
Noa sat fuming, silent. Judging good or evil was pointless; she wasn't blameless either.
The lone Korean girl, Hyun-ah, watched terrified and lost, feeling isolated like her first day in class.
/////
"So this is her..."
It had been a while since I'd seen someone bedridden in a hospital. She looked too young to be Hyun-ah's mother. Taller, bustier, more mature face aside, she was the spitting image of Hyun-ah.
"Mature women are your type, Master?"
"C-can you not twist every relationship into something lewd?"
The name tag read Lee Ha-yeon. A pretty name, matching her face.
"How'd someone like her end up in active duty?"
"Couldn't prove she was ill. Rare disease, and her family wasn't well-off—had no choice."
"Enlistment screenings are all like that..."
Her breathing seemed faint. Even lying there looked exhausting.
"Will Master's visit change anything here? I worry it might be a wasted trip."
"Well, I wanted to see who I'm helping, and showing my face should get the hospital to pay more attention, right?"
No reason to linger. As I turned to leave, a middle-schooler stared holes through me.
"Wh-who are you?"
This was a pint-sized, cute version of Hyun-ah. Obviously her little sister.
"Oh, uh... I'm just a friend of Hyun-ah's..."
I fumbled the explanation, but she seemed to get it and bowed politely.
"I'm Lee Hee-ah, third-year at Hanseong Middle School!"
"Uh, h-hi...?"
"You're Seongha, right? Thank you so much for making it possible for Mom to get treatment!"
I nodded awkwardly.
/////
Hee-ah savored her cheap few-thousand-won coffee like fine wine. Sitting on a bench near the hospital, a cool breeze rustled through.
"Come to think of it, did I steal your time? You came to see Mom."
"Nah, visits mean more when they're awake. I left a note for her."
I looked at Hee-ah pityingly. She waved it off.
"For real! Docs say waking her is bad for her, so we just peek and go when she's sleeping."
"Glad to hear it."
Hee-ah slurped fiercely through the straw, sucking up every last drop from the ice.
"So, is my sister going to your house?"
"Probably."
"That'd be great!"
Hee-ah's face mirrored Hyun-ah's but with a distinctly childish innocence. Lining up mom and daughters would make for an amusing photo. What would it feel like to see that family together?
"How's home? Getting along with your sister?"
"Well... I'm high-school age, but stuck in middle school, and rules ban part-time jobs..."
Calculating her age, I sighed deeply, like the ground might swallow me.
Even with labor shortages and no combat role, using kids this young was too much.
"Legally, prospective slaves can't work... so we're burning through sister's savings."
A legal loophole. Slaves were foreigner applicants without labor rights yet, so prospective ones couldn't work either. No one foresaw Koreans volunteering as sex servants when the law passed.
"Want me to... help?"
Hyun-ah seemed averse to pity, but it beat starving.
I waited anxiously for Hee-ah's reply.