Chapter 118

Mr. Sunset (5)

After making up my mind, I carefully taught them the essence of mechanized warfare theory—aiming to catch two birds with one stone: satisfying my own interests while also weakening the Japanese military.

In the 20th century, a nation’s military power is ultimately just a part of its national strength, and it is subordinate to economic power.

Only with sufficient population, overwhelming industrial capacity, and all the necessary supporting conditions can a truly solid army be built.

But just because the Japanese military wanted mechanization, did that mean they could pull it off overnight? They’d have to fight the navy over a limited budget right away.

Disarmament was the trend of the times, and Japan was no exception. Trying to allocate that limited pie toward tanks would give them quite the headache.

“I hear you’ve been offering many valuable insights for our Imperial Army, Major Kin. Every report I receive fills me with pride.”

“I’m simply carrying out my assigned duties.”

Even in my meeting with the Army Minister, Yamanashi Hanzō, the friendly atmosphere continued.

He was the Minister of the Army—basically the equivalent of a Secretary of War—but his face looked sly in a way that immediately put me on guard. They say people are responsible for their faces at that age, and just from his eyes, I could tell exactly what kind of slippery life he’d led.

And “Hanzō,” of all names.

Hanzō. Sounds like the kind of guy who’d fire arrows and give his own side cancer. Between the name and the face, nothing about him inspired confidence.

“I understand you have been providing excellent guidance for our army. We are also researching ways to actively utilize tank units, and your advice is more valuable than any other.”

That’s a long introduction.

“I hear you also have close ties with the Ford Motor Company, which manufactures tanks. If possible, what do you think about establishing a factory in Asia?”

“A factory, you say?”

“Yes. Japan is the most industrialized nation in Asia, is it not? If Ford is interested in the Asian market, shouldn’t it establish a base in Japan?”

Seeing my lukewarm reaction, he went on and on, piling up arguments.

“Of course, neither you nor I are businessmen. But the Imperial Army is willing to make significant investments for this opportunity!”

“You would also want technology transfer—and perhaps even licensed production, I assume.”

“Exactly. You know better than anyone how inconvenient it is to rely on imports for weapons.”

During World War I, the U.S. Army had to rely heavily on French artillery due to shortages.

Just thinking about that still makes my teeth grind… so it made sense they wanted domestic production for the same reason.

“That’s a sensitive matter, so it’s not something I can decide. Not just Ford—the U.S. Congress would also need to approve it.”

“Of course, of course, haha. But depending on how you present it locally, wouldn’t that influence Congress’s direction?”

That much was true.

The M1917 production line in the U.S. was something that would have to be shut down eventually anyway.

Better to develop improved tanks going forward. And if we could squeeze more profit out of the existing line by selling it to Japan? Even better.

Thinking further ahead, China—right next to Japan—would be an even better customer.

A chaotic land of warlords running wild across the Chinese mainland.

If I flooded that place with tanks and even threw in crew training as a bonus?

Money. Sweet money.

And if China accumulated armored warfare experience, it would also make things easier when Japan eventually lost its mind and invaded them.

While I was organizing my thoughts, Yamanashi casually pulled out an envelope from his inner pocket and slid it toward me.

“What’s this?”

“Haha. That’s just how business works. No one asks for favors empty-handed. Wherever you go, goodwill must be exchanged for things to proceed smoothly.”

Oh wow, that’s thick. This texture—truly a work of art.

But with my business already booming these days, did he really think a mere envelope like this could buy Yujin Kim?

“Are you trying to buy me with money? Are you insulting me?!”

You’ll need to offer more than this.

This was just enough money for me to scold him over. If you want to buy the greatest war hero, it should at least be a chest or a 007 briefcase, don’t you think?

“My apologies. I have committed a grave offense. It was foolish of me to think I could sway a true samurai with mere money.”

What is this guy even saying?

Don’t look at me with those shining eyes talking about ‘true samurai.’ I said more! Bring more!!

But Yamanashi had already hurriedly taken the envelope back, too busy apologizing.

You… you idiot.

Do you have any idea how much I love money?!

“Soon, Ford employees will be bringing additional tanks. Let’s review them together then.”

“Understood.”

“And one more personal question—surely you wouldn’t deploy tank units across the Japanese home islands?”

“Probably… not, I suppose. Haha.”

“In that case, wouldn’t it be far more advantageous, in terms of production costs and transport, to build them elsewhere?”

His expression changed instantly.

“You mean Korea.”

“I’m no expert in business, but it seems obvious that shipping costs would differ greatly depending on whether transport by sea is required or not.”

“We will review that option.”

Personally, I’d love for the factory to be in Korea.

A sea of M1917 light tank tractors filling Manchuria and China.

Just imagining all that money flowing into my pockets made my chest swell. How much profit would that be? Gulp.

***

As the Ford employees conducting on-site inspections began their work in earnest, my surface-level mission was nearly complete.

Whether the Japanese military would import tanks or take over the production line, how much they would pay—those were now matters for Ford, the U.S. Congress, and the Japanese military to negotiate. Not my concern anymore.

Which meant it was time to move on to the next phase—naval matters.

This would be a long game.

I had no prior connection to the navy, so if I suddenly asked, “What does the Japanese Navy think about this treaty?” there was no way they’d answer me.

So instead, I used the ultimate method for building relationships—

“Straight.”

“Full house.”

“Aaaaaah!!”

There’s nothing faster than gambling when it comes to getting friendly.

Oh my, the precious tax money of Japanese citizens flowing straight into my pocket. What a delightful side income. Thank you very much. Arigatou. Xiexie.

If you think I’m just fooling around, you’re mistaken. This is all part of a grand strategy to promote friendship between the United States and the Empire of Japan.

“Thanks to Major Kim, things have become much easier for me lately.”

“Because I handle all the events you’re summoned to?”

“Exactly. Now I can happily prepare for my travels.”

Ambassador Warren said he was planning a trip to Korea and China soon.

He’d been worried about who would handle daily duties and various ceremonial appearances in his absence, and just at the right time, he’d been gifted Yujin Kim—the walking publicity machine.

“Our embassy carefully selects only the most suitable events for Major Kim to attend. Don’t worry too much—just enjoy your current popularity.”

“Yes, sir…”

Ceremonies, inspections, ceremonies, speeches.

And on my days off, people still came in droves—like subjects lining up for an imperial audience—just to see my face and have a chat. Even these were already filtered multiple times by our Japanese security personnel.

At first, I was shocked to hear they were filtering people who wanted to meet me.

“Wait, why are you arbitrarily screening visitors who came to see me?”

“General Kin, we absolutely have no ill intentions. However, if you meet every insignificant person one by one, it could damage your esteemed reputation—”

“I am not a soldier of the Empire, so I won’t interfere in another country’s methods. However, a soldier of the United States—a democratic nation—must always listen to the voices of its citizens.”

“Then—then at least allow us to filter out dangerous individuals! Even you could be at risk if you meet Reds!”

Hmm… Reds are a bit different.

And after that, I was buried under a flood of applications from people wanting to meet me.

“…How many are there?”

“Including today’s submissions, a total of 4,028 applications have been received.”

“That many?”

“Letters that are not meeting requests have already exceeded 20,000.”

…Damn.

No, seriously—this is ridiculous.

I was a fool.

Aren’t the Japanese basically the nation of New Year’s cards to begin with?

These are people who send letters endlessly as naturally as breathing, and here I was, like an idiot, trying to read each one sincerely.

And it’s not like everyone I met was normal, either.

“General Kin! This Empire is currently in dire straits!”

“Is that so?”

“Since ancient times, the Empire has only known peace when a shogunate existed to assist His Majesty. If you were to rise now and declare yourself Shōgun, then heroes from across the land would gather—”

“You insane bastard!”

“Get him out! Drag this lunatic out immediately!!”

In an instant, soldiers rushed in and dragged out a delusional fanatic.

Then there were people like—

“This tiny archipelago is too narrow-minded to accommodate a man like myself. If you would just invest in me, I will multiply your funds tenfold—”

“Get him out!!”

—who came just to beg.

After dealing with this nonsense over and over again, I eventually settled on only reviewing a pre-filtered list prepared by the security unit. With help from the Japanese and the embassy, I even hired a temporary secretary—and additional staff just to reply to letters.

Formal letters received formal replies.

Important ones were separated out, reviewed by me, and then answered.

…Sigh. Being popular is exhausting.

If this is what it’s like for me, what kind of life did someone like Michael Jackson even live?

You think that means everything was finally under control?

Not a chance.

“Kiiieeeek!!”

“General Kin looked at me! He looked at me!”

“No, he was looking at the sign next to you!”

Those crowds camped out in front of my house.

People constantly trying to talk to me—bold enough to attempt climbing over the walls of a heavily guarded residence.

…Is this really a life?

It’s fun for a day or two, sure—but when someone gets caught scaling the wall at night and whistles start blowing and dogs start barking, I half lose my mind wondering if it’s an assassination attempt.

On my way home after another round of bonding with high-ranking Japanese naval officers over card games—

Once again, someone was causing a commotion in front of my gate.

“Please wait a moment.”

“Yes, sir.”

While my driver stepped out to speak with the guards, the people being held back by soldiers began shouting.

“Why can’t Koreans meet General Kim?!”

“How do we know you won’t stab him?!”

“We are students studying here in Japan! Why would we ever harm General Kim Yujin, the hero of the Korean people? We just want to see him once!”

Koreans, huh.

If I asked myself whether I really needed to meet them at this point… my honest answer would’ve been, “Do I really have to?”

For one, Japan wouldn’t like it. Even the slightest thing I said could trigger panic about a potential independence movement.

I was also afraid of getting shot.

And more importantly, since I was secretly preparing to put Koreans onto ships bound for America, drawing attention by associating openly with them wasn’t exactly a great idea.

But when I heard they were students, my heart softened.

The kind of talent I wanted to send to America had come to me on their own. Thank you very much.

I stepped out of the car and approached them.

“Hold on, hold on.”

“General Kin! It’s dangerous! These Koreans could be plotting an assassination at any moment—”

“We are not assassins!”

“I don’t believe for a second that Koreans would try to kill me. Why would people of the same nation shoot me? Haha.”

“Truly, the bearing of a hero…!”

No, don’t fall for that.

I’m actually scared as hell of getting shot. But if I show that here, you guys would immediately start looking down on me.

“It’s my first time meeting Koreans who have come all the way to Japan to pursue their studies. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Kim Yujin.”

“Y-you speak Korean fluently.”

“Of course. What blood do you think flows in my veins? Even if I live across the Pacific, I would never forget my language.”

As I deliberately took their hands, tears of emotion welled up in their eyes.

“So, what is your name, student?”

“My name is Son Jintae , and I study at Waseda First Higher School.”

Waseda. I don’t know the details, but I’ve heard it’s a prestigious university in Japan. If he studies there, he must be elite. Want to come to America with me?

“And your name?”

“Please don’t speak so formally. I am Bang Jeonghwan , studying at Toyo University. It is an honor to meet you.”

Jackpot.

A massive catch.

I didn’t even dream of this—what kind of luck is this?