Chapter 9
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 009
Chapter Title: Conditions for the Coup. 6 - The Pretext of Disappointment
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Iranian Royal Palace.
In the darkened grand banquet hall.
Yet amid the shadows, dozens of people had gathered, chatting in small clusters.
They were a motley crew.
Mid-level officers from the Iranian military rubbed shoulders with commanders leading the revolutionary forces, editors-in-chief and news directors from pro-monarchy media outlets mingled with professors from Tehran University advocating revolution and spokespeople for anti-government factions.
People who could never mix under normal circumstances were jumbled together here, lost in conversation.
"But it's true—Khomeini's call for a republic grounded in Islamic ethics does have a certain appeal."
"Republic, my foot. Do you really not see through their schemes? Islamic ethics? Who in this day and age talks about ruling by religious law?"
"Exactly. Their revolution is no different—it's not about reform. It's because the king's land reforms forced them to hand their temple lands over to the peasants. That's why the clergy banded together. Their intentions were never about true reform from the start."
"God died back in the 19th century. You want to hand the nation to people who drag up a dead god? Just like in the past, the priests will incite a handful of fanatics to control everything from the shadows."
"Hey, even so—saying God is dead is blasphemy. Sacrilege."
"I agree God lives. But that's in our hearts, in our consciences. God should never lord over us from above."
As opinions flew back and forth,
one door to the banquet hall quietly swung open.
The noisy room fell silent in an instant, as if doused with cold water.
Hassan entered first and called out to the assembly.
"His Highness Prince Sahour Reza Pahlavi III graces us~."
No sooner had he spoken than everyone rose as one and bowed deeply.
The prince walked slowly through their midst, heads bowed in respect.
At the raised dais inside the banquet hall.
He passed through the bowed assembly to his seat,
glanced back at them once,
then spoke quietly.
"Rise and be seated."
The room straightened and sat.
Still shrouded in darkness.
He could feel every eye on him.
He'd overheard some of their talk from outside.
"Everyone's here. From what I heard outside, some among you even seem favorable to launching an Islamic Republic."
Gazes snapped to certain individuals.
Just as accusatory arrows pointed their way,
he defended them first.
"People's thoughts vary widely, and diverse opinions should always be respected, debated openly and freely."
Those who'd looked uncomfortable under the glares breathed quiet sighs of relief.
He knew their minds well enough.
But,
having witnessed the Iranian Revolution's endgame with his own eyes,
he knew precisely what they overlooked or underestimated.
"I agree we should follow God's teachings. But."
He scanned the room.
"That's not the same as God's rule. Especially not if it's fanatics masquerading as God to chase power, greed, and blood. Neither God nor king—nor anyone from above—can lord over fellow humans and rule them."
The abrupt declaration stirred the room.
God aside, the king too? It almost sounded like self-denial.
A question rose from the murmurs.
"Then who can rule over fellow humans?"
"Those who rise from below. Those backed by the people, revered solely by the nation—only they have the right to rule their fellows and stand above them."
He might look just twenty,
but his body had grown up in a nation scarred by two coups and two impeachments, with a proper education.
Though he'd later veered off, wasting the rest of his life lost in games.
Experience didn't vanish.
He declared to the silent room gazing at him.
"That's why I won't inherit my father's legacy. I'll ascend the throne through the people's reverence alone. We must endure and wait until then."
"Ah!"
"As expected of Your Highness Sahour."
"I see. Only those revered from below truly qualify."
"Hearing Your Highness clears everything up."
Then someone countered.
"But Your Highness, our situation is chaos itself—dire and urgent. Countless citizens have already bled, and who knows how many more will fall. Why ask us to endure and wait when you have the power to quell this turmoil?"
Outcries erupted from all sides.
"How dare you speak so irreverently to His Highness!"
"You've heard his grand vision and still spout this?"
"That man's always opposing everything!"
Hassan let the raised voices go for a moment before drawing eyes back.
"Silence~!!"
The room hushed at his command.
He scanned them, then continued.
"I'm not blind to the chaos or the people's suffering. But the nation's heart is fractured, torn. What do you think happens if we act now?"
Silence fell.
No one could voice their thoughts aloud.
"The result? A horrific civil war where the divided people slaughter each other."
The speaker pressed, frustrated.
"Then how long must we wait?"
"Once elections end, the Islamic fundamentalists will lead. But their doctrines and spirit can't be accepted by a people who's tasted freedom, equality, and reason. Their politics will inevitably mean oppression and persecution. Regrettably, our people must witness and endure their tyranny firsthand. When the nation's heart fully turns from them, thirsting for new hope and alternatives—that's when we step in."
He addressed the quiet room.
"Until then, stay silent in your positions, endure, and wait. When the time comes, I'll call you again."
The next morning, March 31, 1979.
The national referendum results were announced.
Hassan, watching TV beside him, spoke up.
"Khomeini's rigged the vote beyond belief."
98.2% in favor of the Islamic Republic.
An absurd margin.
People would sense something was off instinctively.
"Indeed. But this works in our favor. Now suspicion comes before they even see proof."
"Well said, Your Highness."
"The evidence is secure?"
"Yes. Stored in the underground base, and the accomplices imprisoned. Just give the order, and we'll expose it all publicly—evidence and witnesses."
"Good work. Keep it safe for now. We unleash it when their so-called Islamic Republic loses all support. That's when it'll hit hardest."
When the republic forfeits the people's trust,
expose the election fraud and uproot it entirely.
That was the plan.
But Hassan voiced concern.
"They might target Your Highness in the meantime."
"Possible. But Khomeini won't move until he's firmly in control."
Because I hold his weakness.
He had no reason to poke the hornet's nest before dominating the nation completely.
So buy time in the interim.
And.
"Besides, Khomeini isn't the only one we need to clean up."
The revolutionary council pushing the Islamic Republic included religious forces alongside others.
Socialists backed by the Soviets.
Nobles angling to displace the royalists and grab seats.
And assorted opportunists chasing power and perks, all in the council raising their voices.
He turned to Hassan at his side.
"Dealing with that rabble one by one is a hassle. If Khomeini sorts them out for me, all the better, right?"
Hassan bowed his head.
"In the end, all will unfold as Your Highness wills."
With the referendum results, Khomeini took the first step toward establishing the Islamic Republic.
On TV, he delivered a victory speech and proclaimed the republic to the world.
Renaming the council the Republic Establishment Committee, he pushed aggressive Islamic reforms.
The committee, branding Islamic law as the national ideology, led with this:
"All women must wear the hijab in public."
Women who had enjoyed rights and social freedoms—and those who took it for granted—reacted with outrage.
Temples nationwide began reclaiming lands seized by the previous regime bit by bit,
while purges swept through military, police, and administrative leadership.
Revolutionary Guard militia heads filled the vacated posts.
As the mood soured far from initial hopes, with sharia front and center, doubts began piling up in citizens' eyes toward the dawning Islamic Republic.