Chapter 23

The Fox and the Tiger

“I’ve always admired you, Chairman.”

“Haha… a mere upstart nouveau riche like me?”

“No one else would have even imagined paying factory workers five dollars a day. I believe your management philosophy is exactly what will defeat the Reds and sustain America as the land of opportunity.”

Desperate flattery.

Was this my true calling?

In my previous life, I spoke blunt truths with my head held high and got myself crushed for it—so why, in this life, am I buttering people up so effortlessly?

It’s honestly depressing how much smoother my tongue moves praising the chairman than when I’m on a date with Dorothy.

“So, a young man wouldn’t spend all this time just to praise me. What is it you want?”

“I want to help the poor Korean immigrants in my hometown of San Francisco who have fallen into poverty.”

“You mean charity? That’s easy enough. A soup kitchen—”

“I want to teach them how to fish, not just give them fish—like you did.”

Only then did they seem to grasp what I was getting at.

“You’re asking me to build a factory? That’s a bit much. I don’t think San Francisco has enough merit for that yet.”

“I’ll build it myself. Just lend me a little support.”

Yes.

Bit by bit, pieces that had gathered almost by coincidence were finally coming together.

After a short—no, not short at all—discussion, a contract was drafted on the spot.

“Yujin Kim shall faithfully respond to requests and consultations from Ford regarding the specifications and required performance of the combat tractor—hereafter referred to as a ‘tank’—”

“Wait. That wording is problematic. Let’s change it to: ‘will respond in good faith to requests and consultations as circumstances permit.’”

“That’s something you’re obligated to do. Consider what you’re receiving in return.”

“Then you’re saying even if this man is deployed to Panama, he’d still be bound to provide consultation to your company. Let’s be reasonable here.”

So much for calling it “short.”

Every sentence was crossed out and rewritten multiple times, until the ink soaked through the paper and nearly tore it apart.

In any case, the agreement was roughly settled:

I would provide conceptual-level ideas for the tank I envisioned. I’m not an engineer, so ideas alone would suffice.

A separate corporation—tentatively called Ford Tank Company—would be established to develop the tank, and patents would be filed under that entity. My father would receive a share in the company, as well as a portion of the patent royalties.

My younger brother would establish a company and build a factory soon. Ford Motor Company would take a 30% stake and assist with construction and operations.

Sorry, little brother.

But I already ran my mouth saying, “Asians naturally see family benefit as their own. I want my younger brother to succeed.”

You’ve already been worked to the bone running that barbed wire business, but… looks like you’ll have to work even harder.

There were countless smaller clauses—legal jargon that looked like it would make your head explode—but the essence was simple.

I had, at last, secured the means to manufacture weapons.

My future father-in-law would handle recruiting firearms experts.
Ford would support production facilities and management—the best in the world when it comes to assembly lines.

Originally, I had planned to do this independently, or with the help of the Korean National Association—but now, with not one but two major figures involved, a strange balance of power had formed.

Now, the hardworking Korean immigrants would labor diligently on conveyor belts for me, earning wages in return—

And look up to my family like tenant farmers gazing at their landlord.

Right.

I must’ve been insane, obsessing over making Thompsons just for style.

All I really need is to mass-produce tools for oiling the gears.

A lot of them.

An absurd amount.

“Come, let’s have a word.”

As soon as I entered alone, someone called out to me as if he had been waiting.

“What is it? I’m technically the host—I shouldn’t be away too long—”

“It’ll only take a moment! Just a moment!”

Syngman Rhee’s eyes were bloodshot.

No—he hadn’t looked this bad before. The name Henry Ford must carry that much weight.

I was practically dragged onto the terrace and forced into a private conversation with him.

“What exactly are you doing? A senator? Ford? You’re making something far bigger than you can handle!”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“You still don’t understand?! They’re monsters! They have immense power and wealth, and they’re always eager to squeeze people like us dry!”

It was almost laughable, hearing that from someone who prowled around Washington, D.C. like a hyena.

The dignity and composure he always wore like armor were now cracking apart. He looked… ugly.

“Listen carefully. The Korean people must rely on their own strength. You’ve seen how Chinese laborers were brought here to build railroads and ended up at the very bottom of American society, haven’t you? And you know it hasn’t even been ten years since the Japanese were being oppressed as well. So why—why would you drag people like them into the Korean community and stir up chaos?!”

“You’re being a bit abrupt. Wasn’t it you who contacted the congressman to get me into West Point in the first place? And now—”

“That’s different! We are outsiders. One day, we must return to our homeland. We must take what we can without indebting ourselves. Yes—Yujin. Why not come with me to Hawaii? Park is building up a militia there. A patriotic young man like you—”

“Mr. Rhee.”

I cut him off mid-speech.

Four years ago, I would never have dared interrupt him.

But now—

With stronger backing than ever before, I could finally see him clearly.

He wasn’t some grand embodiment of power, a master of schemes, or a cold-blooded political being.

He was just a power addict—terrified of even the slightest crack forming in his fragile little kingdom.

The man I had imagined—the ultimate political creature—would take decades more to become.

Right now?

He was just a Cell who hadn’t yet absorbed Android 17 and 18.

Which meant—

He was someone I could fight.

“An outsider? That’s a bit much, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“I am a citizen of the United States, and I have pledged myself to its peace and security. What you just said could make others question my loyalty.”

“You…! Are you saying you would abandon your people?”

“The Irish, the Poles, the Jews—they all remember their roots, yet remain loyal to the United States. You may choose to treat America as something to be used, but forcing that view on me is… difficult.”

“Y-you…! After everything I did to get you into that academy, how dare you speak like this! Woosung has been waiting for your help! And yet—!!”

His spit flew as he shouted, spraying my face.

And yet, the more he raged, the deeper my smile became.

He was already openly opposing Park Yong-man’s theory of armed struggle and working diligently to push him out. And yet here he was, invoking Park Yong-man in front of me—it was almost comical.

“And yet you tried to connect me with a Chinese man, didn’t you?”

“What?!”

“That man you introduced me to—he’s tied to a revolutionary communist. No matter how much you miss your homeland, how could you join hands with a Red? Your ideology seems a bit—”

“You little—!!”

“Mr. Rhee, what are you doing?!”

Ahn Chang-ho forcibly pulled Syngman Rhee away as he grabbed my collar. Even then, Rhee struggled and continued shouting at me.

“Dosan! We’ve been deceived! This man plans to sell out his people for his own success! This man—no, his entire family—are traitors! At least Yi Wan-yong sold an existing country—this one plans to sell a country that doesn’t even exist yet!”

“That’s enough. Calling a young man just starting out a traitor—what kind of disgraceful behavior is this?”

“A young man? Him? Do you know how many vipers fill his head? This insolent brat wrote—”

“Guards! Call the guards!”

His shouting finally stopped when Charles Curtis witnessed the scene.

“C-Congressman, there seems to be some misunderstanding—”

“I don’t know what anger you have toward my future son-in-law, but this is hardly appropriate behavior for this place.”

“He says that after four years of education at West Point, I should abandon the United States—a foreign country—and devote my strength and knowledge to Korea.”

Oh, I’m telling everything. Every last bit.

“…I will pretend I didn’t hear that. But you will leave.”

“Congressman! Please—just a moment. There’s a malicious misunderstanding here. If you give me five minutes—no, just three—you’ll understand. This man is not what you think he is. As for the marriage—perhaps you should reconsider—”

“I said leave.”

He fell silent.

After a moment, he slowly took out a handkerchief, wiped the sweat from his brow, bowed politely—and left.

“Rhee does not act out of malice. His love for the nation is simply too great.”

“Dosan, do you still trust him?”

“Yujin, calm yourself for a moment. I understand you’ve suffered a grave insult, but—”

“This is not about a personal insult.”

This was troublesome.

Rhee still held overwhelming support in Hawaii, and plenty of followers in San Francisco. Even if I had just cause to remove him, those who worshipped him would call me a traitor and want my head.

For now, I would simply do what I must.

Rhee also knew very well that if I were ever shot, he would immediately become the prime suspect and end up in custody.

All the more reason to focus on my work in San Francisco.

Our relationship had collapsed in the most absurd way possible.

And now—

I no longer needed Rhee in San Francisco.

“As for the tank I envision—it’s simple.”

It should run on continuous tracks, capable of traversing even the worst terrain. Speed can be sacrificed—terrain adaptability matters more.

A single turret, capable of rotating 360 degrees. Multiple turrets? That’s just a ridiculous fantasy—like wanting multiple handles on a weapon. If you want that, why not dual-wield swords and hold one in your mouth while you’re at it?

The main gun doesn’t need to be anti-tank. The Germans haven’t even fielded many tanks yet. Since this would be deployed earlier than in original history, it only needs to provide fire support.

Add a machine gun for cutting down infantry, and that’s about it.

There—put it together like that. Easy, right?

Oh, what technologies should be used?

That’s for you to figure out. How would I know?

The only real issue would be if my vision differed from what the Allies wanted. After all, even in actual history, tank development was the result of countless trials and errors.

“If you’re right, then there’s nothing to worry about.”

Henry Ford dismissed my concerns.

His reasoning was simple: once you throw it onto the battlefield, where lives are at stake, the soldiers will figure out what works.

Now that my ideas were accepted, it was his job to turn them into a real machine.

Anyway, I had become a second lieutenant…

“Yujin, go out and buy some radish.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

My new assignment:

Home guard.

Unemployed.

Incredible. Truly incredible, U.S. Army.