Chapter 128

Gold Rush Era (4)

Yoo Il-han, president of the food company La Choy, adjusted his clothes one last time in front of the mirror before leaving the hotel.

For some reason, his hair seemed out of place, and even his nose hairs bothered him. He spotted a speck of dust on his clothes and quickly brushed it off, then absentmindedly moved his lips, quietly running through the alphabet.

Ready.

After all, this was an invitation—not from just anyone, but from Kim Yujin.

He thought he had experienced quite a lot while running his business, but Kim Yujin was no ordinary person.

As he got into the taxi, his nerves didn’t settle—instead, his heart pounded even more in rhythm with the engine.

The taxi, however, showed no mercy. The moment it reached the destination, it dropped him off and sped away.

Yoo Il-han slowly approached the gate. It would probably take a moment for someone to come out—

“Are you Mr. Yoo Il-han?”

“Gah!”

A tall young man was looking down at him.

“A-are you General Kim Yujin?”

“I’m no longer a general. Just a major now.”

“You weren’t… waiting here at the gate because of me, were you?”

“I just heard a car and came out for a moment. Don’t stand out here—please, come inside.”

Such astonishing consideration.

It was obvious he had been waiting, yet he deliberately downplayed it. That only made Yoo respect him even more.

Still dazed, he followed him inside, and before he knew it, he was being served warm refreshments.

I need to focus. There were many things he wanted to ask.

He couldn’t believe someone like Kim Yujin had invited him just for pleasantries. With how busy he must be, there was no way he would meet someone who merely sold canned vegetables for no reason.

Yoo Il-han assumed he had been invited as a potential investor, and so he passionately explained his current business.

“—Therefore, we expect this market to continue growing. In particular, as white Americans—the mainstream population—have recently taken an interest in Asian culture, we’ve been benefiting from that trend.

Just look at how Americans have become obsessed with mahjong these past few years. Rather than talking about the ‘Yellow Peril,’ they’re beginning to understand other cultures. We aim to stand at the forefront of food culture and introduce Asia more broadly.”

“I see. That’s an excellent idea, befitting a young entrepreneur. I’m merely a soldier, so I don’t know much about business, but listening to you, I feel optimistic that America will become even more open in the future.”

…Did he just approve of me?

Kim Yujin nodded in satisfaction and took a sip of his coffee. Yoo could feel his tension slowly easing.

“Do you have a goal in your business, Mr. Yoo?”

“A goal, you say?”

“Of course, you’re doing it to make money. But listening to you, I get the impression that money itself isn’t your ultimate purpose—you’re using business as a means to achieve something you truly want.”

As expected of someone called a general at such a young age, Kim Yujin spoke as if he could see straight into a person’s heart.

“I… am not such a great person as you think. I only started this company because I happened to come up with a good business idea.”

“Most people don’t immediately start a business just because they have an idea. You’ve accomplished far more than you give yourself credit for.”

“In that case… may I ask you something?”

It was the question that had been troubling him most recently.

Thinking that perhaps the man before him might have the answer, Yoo Il-han carefully brought up the concern that had been weighing on his mind.

“My father sold off the family assets to send me all the way to America. He always told me to become a great man who could accomplish great things for Joseon.”

“He sounds like a remarkable man.”

“But when he looks at me now, he always clicks his tongue in disappointment. He says that after more than ten years in America, all I’ve become is a bean sprout seller.”

“….”

“So what should someone like me do to contribute to the nation?”

Kim Yujin closed his eyes without answering, then asked if he could smoke. Only after the cigarette had nearly burned down did he finally speak.

“Then… are you considering closing your business and returning to Joseon?”

“In my heart, I believe I should. That’s the reason I came to this distant land to study. But the knowledge I’ve accumulated all these years hesitates at the thought of abandoning a promising business and returning.”

“That’s only natural.”

He acknowledged it calmly.

“Let me share a bit from my experience in war. For soldiers bleeding on the front lines to fight bravely, farmers must harvest food, factories must process it, ships must transport it, and trucks and carts must deliver it—feeding them three meals a day.

Guns, bullets, uniforms—all pass through countless hands. And someone must plan and oversee the long chain of logistics and supply. Are the contributions of those people any less valuable than those who shed blood?”

“They are not.”

“You could go to Shanghai right now, join the independence army, and become a foot soldier. But if you were to send ten thousand dollars earned from selling bean sprouts, wouldn’t that contribute far more to the cause?

Think of it the other way around. There are enough people in Joseon with the will to shoot the Japanese to fill mountains and rivers. But among those with the wealth to feed and clothe them, only a few remain untouched by collaboration and treason. You’re a businessman, aren’t you? Compared to the Japanese, our people are fewer than half in number. We must fight more efficiently than any other nation.”

Yes.

This was the answer he had been seeking.

Something he had understood in his head, yet could never bring himself to say to his father—now spoken by a man hailed as a hero of Joseon, even of Asia.

“If it still troubles you… how about working with me on a business for our nation?”

“What would that be?”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t go into details until you confirm your participation. However, I can assure you—it’s a business that will contribute to the independence and autonomy of our people.”

“If canned vegetables weigh on your mind, perhaps changing your product line would help.”

Kim Yujin’s words struck deeper than ever before.

***

Damn it. Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.

My heart was pounding like crazy.

Every time I talk to people who’ve contributed to the independence movement, I feel like I’m committing some kind of sin.

Just look at this. I’m out here actively persuading the very man who, in the future, will go back to Joseon and found Yuhan Corporation.

I could see the admiration in his eyes, so I had to force myself to act dignified. Hopefully he didn’t notice my hands trembling when I lit the cigarette. If he did, that’d be humiliating.

Mr. Yoo Il-han said he would think about it.

“I’m still nothing more than a humble vegetable seller. I question whether someone like me should even take part in the great cause you speak of, General.”

“Ha ha.”

“In Los Angeles alone, there is Mr. Kim Jong-rim, known as the ‘King of Rice.’ In terms of education, there’s Cho Byung-ok studying at Columbia University, and even Ms. Kim Maria is actively engaged in her work. Compared to them, I’m merely pursuing my own personal success.”

If you put it like that, it makes someone like me—selling liquor and weapons—feel too embarrassed to say anything.

What should I do…? Should I try to persuade him more forcefully?

For now, I decided it was enough that I had established a connection with Mr. Yoo Il-han, and moved on to the next important task.

“Peekaboo—!”

“Eeeek!”

Making sure Alice doesn’t forget her dad.

That dream had seriously traumatized me. I’ve seen too many cases—both in my past life and this one—of soldiers stationed far from home ending up with broken families.

Of course, this era is even more unrestrained. It’s a time when people seriously say “heroes are lovers of women.” And that applies everywhere, East and West.

So you have to do your best while you still can. I absolutely refuse to end up regretting things after it’s too late.

Sorry, sir. I’m not the kind of person who can throw away family and wealth to devote everything solely to Korea’s independence.

Instead, I’ll make sure the Republic of Korea that’s eventually established turns out far better than it did in the original history.

***

“It’s impossible.”

One afternoon.

My modest expectations were instantly crushed when I met my older brother, Charles Curtis Jr.

“Shipbuilding is the culmination of modern capital and technology. It requires enormous capital, highly skilled labor, advanced technology, and massive equipment. Your family has made decent money, sure… but is there really a need to jump into something like that?”

“Is it really that difficult?”

Wait—if you look at World War II history, the U.S. was pumping out transport ships and aircraft carriers like they were flipping burger patties, weren’t they?

“You seem to think it’s as easy as making scrambled eggs. Sure, with enough money, you could enter the industry. But with that kind of capital, you could do plenty of other businesses. It simply doesn’t make economic sense.”

When an expert speaks, you listen. Damn.

Still, it was a shame.

Just look at something like the Liberty ships—once World War II starts, demand for ships explodes. Missing out on that would be incredibly frustrating.

“But why exactly do you want to get into shipbuilding?”

“Well, for one, it requires a lot of labor. That seemed like a strong advantage.”

“That’s certainly good for building a support base. But it doesn’t have to be shipbuilding. What else?”

“From my time in the military, I’ve realized something—the United States Army doesn’t currently have many means to transport troops.”

“What do you mean?”

Now we’re in my territory.

Unless the United States goes to war with Canada or Mexico, any conflict will inevitably require crossing vast oceans—whether the Atlantic or the Pacific.

During the last great war, things were easier. They simply gathered merchant ships from all over the world and used them for transport.

But if you want to land troops on tiny Pacific islands or in a Europe dominated by Nazi Germany, ordinary merchant ships won’t cut it. You need vessels optimized for landing operations.

“So you want to bid for that kind of project, is that it?”

“What do you think?”

“Still impossible. Isn’t that obvious? If such a massive project comes up, existing companies will do whatever it takes to win the contract. Unless you secure patents and earn royalties like you did with that tank you worked on.”

That’s not happening. I don’t know anything about ships.

“But wait—if it’s a landing operation, that means you’re not docking at a port, right?”

“Exactly. Ports would obviously be under enemy control.”

“Then normal ships wouldn’t be able to approach.”

“Y-yeah, that’s right.”

So landing operations would be like… that scene in Saving Private Ryan—

“If your prediction about the future is correct, then I think the real money won’t be in large cargo ships… but in smaller wooden boats.”

“…Now that you mention it, you’re right. Boats, huh. Who makes the best boats right now?”

At that, my brother looked at me the same way I look at Yushin.

That look that clearly said, “You idiot.”

“If you’re talking about the most effective boats for military use, isn’t that actually somewhat related to your line of business?”

“Me?”

“Yeah. The people who use the best boats are liquor smugglers.”

Hey, our business is 100% legal, okay? This is slander. If a government officer like me gets mixed up with smugglers, my career is finished.

“Anyway, if it comes down to a bidding war, do you think you can win?”

“We’ll have to try and see. We don’t even have anything yet. I just found out about the idea of making boats.”

“Wait, wait. I’m no expert on the military, but… wouldn’t that fall under the Navy?”

…Excuse me? Not the Army?

If this is the Navy’s turf, that’s a big problem. The world runs on connections, and if it’s a Navy matter, it’ll probably be handled internally with their own networks.

At this rate, I might not even get started…

But giving up something this lucrative? That’s not an easy decision.