Chapter 119

Mr. Sunset (6)

Have you ever seen the drama Rustic Period?

When I was young, that show was legendary. If you didn’t watch it, you couldn’t even hold a conversation at school the next day. My second life is already nearing thirty, and I still remember Kim Du-han vs. Gu Ma-jeok.

If you’ve never argued about who’s stronger—Kim Du-han or Sirasoni—don’t even talk.

The reason I’m rambling like this is because every time I look at Bang Jeonghwan’s face, he keeps reminding me of Kim Mu-ok.

“Hey, you commie bastards! This is a grenade!”

For a moment, I wondered if I was about to lose my manhood like that—but thankfully, Bang Jeonghwan—no, Bang Jeonghwan the student—hadn’t brought a grenade or a gun to blow my balls off. Truly a relief. If I ended up like that, what a terrible loss to society it would be.

“—And so, after crossing mountains and rivers, we finally arrived at this residential area to meet you, General. But those blasted Japanese said, ‘State your names!’ So I quickly replied, ‘Yes, my surname is Bang, and my name is Suhanmu Turtle and Crane, Three Thousand Years—’”

And Bang Jeonghwan was… terrifying.

A demonic tongue.

It’s not that he talks well like a politician. This guy’s storytelling ability is just insane.

I swear, even if he were suddenly dropped into 2020, give him a PC with a webcam and he’d hit a million YouTube subscribers in a month.

I had only asked, casually, how they managed to find their way here—and yet for the past twenty minutes, I’d been standing there, completely mesmerized, listening to this magical storytelling performance.

“And thus, we were finally able to meet you, General!”

“T-that’s… impressive.”

What do I do now?

Bang Jeonghwan is someone every Korean would recognize by name, and while I’d never heard of Son Jintae before, if he’s studying abroad in Japan at this age, he’s bound to become part of the elite after liberation.

Sure, I had plans to scoop up international students like some old sack-carrying goblin and ship them off to America—but Bang Jeonghwan’s name value is on a whole different level.

If I take him to America and Children’s Day disappears, wouldn’t kids all over the country start stabbing voodoo dolls of Yujin Kim every May 5th? …Wait, no—if it never existed in the first place, then there’s nothing to lose. Guess I won’t get cursed after all.

Part of me felt uneasy about twisting history this badly, but at the same time, the “Ford chairman” inside me was already calculating profits at full speed.

What if I dropped Bang Jeonghwan into Hollywood?

If I connected him with Charlie Chaplin, wouldn’t something absurdly brilliant come out of it?

Or… there’s The Walt Disney Company. Since he dedicated his life to children, maybe pairing him with Disney would yield something great.

…I want him.

Rather than just throwing money around in Hollywood and being dismissed as a nouveau riche fool, wouldn’t it be far more effective to package this mesmerizing storyteller into a dazzling celebrity and launch him properly? That’s cultural victory.

After some thought, I finally made my decision.

“Seeing you come all the way across the sea to Japan to pursue your studies fills my heart with warmth as well.”

“Thank you.”

“Have you ever considered going to America?”

At my sudden question, their eyes widened.

“There’s a saying in Korea: send horses to Jeju, and people to Seoul. Because Seoul is the biggest place.”

“That… is true.”

“And the reason you came to Tokyo must be the same—to learn things you couldn’t in Korea.”

I slowly stood up and walked toward the window.

“To you, Tokyo may seem like the most magnificent city in the world. But to someone like me, who has seen New York, Los Angeles, Paris, and London—it still falls short. That’s the difference experience makes.”

“Would we even be able to go?”

“I will help you. If you wish to learn more for the future of the Korean people, I will gladly break down the barriers and open the path for you. There’s nothing to worry about. The only thing you need to consider is whether you have the resolve to learn more in a wider world.”

I asked them to spread the word to other Korean students as well, then added one final remark.

“As far as I know, the Japanese don’t really teach things that are practically useful.”

“That does seem to be the case.”

“The 20th century is the age of machines. In the past, Korea looked down on craftsmen and despised commerce—but now, it is an era where industrialists and merchants rule the world.

Of course, there is no hierarchy in learning. But if you go to America, I would prefer that you study something that can truly help the Korean people.”

To prepare for the post-liberation period, we needed to cultivate high-level talent—administrators, officials—from now on.

Of course, I’m not dismissing the importance of pure academia… but for a newly independent nation just emerging from war, what would be more necessary—great scholars, or capable bureaucrats?

If more people flowed into that path, it would certainly make things easier.

They left, carrying both confusion and excitement.

And the moment they stepped out of the residence, the Japanese officials rushed over to me in a panic.

“General Kin!”

“What is it?”

“Do you know who those men were?”

“No. I was told they were Korean students, so I simply offered some words of encouragement.”

The man who stepped forward was from the police bureau under the Home Ministry.

“While you were speaking with them, I conducted an urgent background check.”

“I see.”

“First, Son Jintae—despite his young age—was imprisoned for participating in the March 1st Movement.”

He participated in the March 1st Movement? A true patriot, then.

“And as for Bang Jeonghwan, he is the son-in-law of Son Byeong-hui, the leader of Cheondoism, an anti-Japanese religion in Korea. Bang Jeonghwan is already a person of interest, and while Son Jintae has quieted down since the uprising, it is difficult to say he has fully reformed.”

I see. Cheondoism—that’s basically Donghak, right? I didn’t realize Bang Jeonghwan had ties to that. No wonder he’s so fiery.

“So please, do not take this the wrong way. We are merely concerned that your reputation might be affected—”

“Ah, I understand.”

I decided to forgive this pitiful bureaucrat, who was clearly torn between his duty and trying to read my mood.

Yeah… work’s tough. I get it. I, Yujin Kim, absolve you of your sins.

“Let’s be honest. Since I’m Korean myself and seem to be associating with so-called ‘troublesome Koreans,’ you must be under quite a bit of pressure from above, right?”

“…My apologies. I have nothing to say.”

“I didn’t realize they were such closely monitored individuals, but in any case, these are exactly the kind of people I had in mind from the start.”

“E-excuse me?!”

“I’m going to take them to America. Most likely, they’ll never return.”

He was initially shocked, but after a moment of thought, he nodded with a satisfied smile.

“I see. Then they’re no different from those troublesome Koreans who fled to Shanghai.”

“What could they possibly accomplish across the ocean in America? They’ll study in a much wider world, escape their narrow perspectives, and once they find jobs and start families, all those misguided ideals will naturally fade.”

“Indeed. That is absolutely correct.”

“I plan to meet many Korean students for the time being. I would appreciate your cooperation.”

“Of course. From now on, Koreans—especially students—will be sorted separately and reported directly to you, General Kim.”

Perfect.

But stopping here wouldn’t be like Yujin Kim. I’m someone who repays those who work hard.

“If you happen to know any promising young men, please let me know. Studying in America isn’t easy, after all. If there are Japanese youths who wish to see a wider world, I would gladly help them as well.”

“Truly?”

“Of course. Someone of your standing in the Police Bureau must know many fine young men.”

No doubt he’d bring in his son, nephew, or some connection for favors.

But that’s even better.

This is how you take hostages in the 20th century.

We exchanged warm handshakes, both wearing bright, friendly smiles.

***

Several months had already passed since I started mingling with my “seal-like” Japanese friends.

During that time, I played plenty of poker, went to theater performances, gave speeches, exchanged pleasantries, played billiards… well, I didn’t get to golf or visit saunas, but I did just about everything else.

And the results were slowly starting to show.

“General Kin, do you happen to know anything about the naval conference being held in Washington? I’ll raise 500.”

“I’m in the army, haha. What would I know? Call.”

It had been quite a while since I’d gotten close to these bright young officers of the Japanese navy.

Their tension had completely disappeared, and once alcohol and cigarettes were involved, all sorts of stories started spilling out—as was human nature.

“From what I’ve heard, the higher-ups are considering giving up the battleship Japanese battleship Mutsu.”

“Is that ship so important? You seem quite concerned.”

“We absolutely cannot give up the Mutsu!”

“Indeed. The finest ship in the Imperial Navy is the famous Japanese battleship Nagato, but a battleship requires at least one or two sister ships for proper operations. Even with disarmament, having only Nagato would be as good as having none!”

The Japanese navy… really wants to keep Mutsu… noted…

“But if they’re giving up Mutsu, there must be a reason. Surely the higher-ups have their considerations.”

“What reason? They simply can’t withstand the pressure from… the Anglo-Americans… ahem, my apologies. From other nations.”

“The construction of Mutsu is practically complete. Yet they’re exploiting loopholes in the treaty, saying ‘it’s not fully completed, so scrap it.’ It’s basically an attempt to break one arm of the Empire.”

“I hear you have connections with many prominent figures in America, General Kin. If such an unfair treaty passes, wouldn’t a treaty meant to preserve peace instead create resentment in one nation?”

Oh? Look at these guys.

This might not just be idle complaints—these lower-ranking officers might be using a separate channel because they don’t trust their superiors.

I don’t know much about naval affairs, but if the Japanese military is going to spiral into this kind of dysfunction, that’s always welcome.

“I understand this naval treaty is meant to ensure lasting peace in Asia. But listening to you now… it almost sounds like Western nations are oppressing Japan.”

“Exactly!”

“It has been over 50 years since the Empire achieved the great work of restoration. We are not their colony—how can we accept such unfair treatment?”

“Please, convey this well. There is no subject of the Empire who would accept such a one-sided treaty. Please deliver our views—”

“Rest assured. I firmly believe that Japan is the only nation capable of representing the position of Asians.”

A lie.

The only one who can represent Asia is Yujin Kim.

“I understand that my mission to Japan is one of friendship for the peace of Asia and the Pacific. But how could I stand by and watch one nation bear a one-sided sacrifice?”

Another lie.

I came here to see mushroom clouds and a burning Tokyo. Making money along the way is just a bonus.

“You can rest easy. As long as Yujin Kim is here, there will always be a bridge of friendship between the Empire of Japan and the United States! Haha!”

Of course, that’s a lie too.

Yujin Kim may be a “bridge,” but the kind that lets the U.S. military land on the Japanese home islands.

Still, perhaps the reputation of this so-called apostle of truth, justice, and peace wasn’t wasted—because my dear Japanese officers, thoroughly delighted, eagerly raised their glasses and drank even more.

The year 1922 passed in thoroughly satisfying fashion.