Chapter 116
Mr. Sunset (3)
The grand scene of Yujin Kim’s chaotic, crash-filled raid into the Empire of Japan!
Even a dungeon raid on opening day wouldn’t be this messy, you bunch of screw-loose idiots.
We quickly made our way to the embassy, and the moment the heavy doors shut behind us, Hodge—who had been pretending to be a patient—sprang right back up. Yeah, good work.
“Welcome. I am Charles B. Warren, the U.S. Ambassador to Japan. It’s a pleasure to meet the Hero of Amiens in such a distant land.”
“A pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard you played a significant role in the Paris Peace Conference as well.”
“Haha, I’m flattered you’ve heard even of my modest contributions. It makes me feel I should work even harder.”
After exchanging pleasantries, Warren lowered his voice slightly.
“But… what exactly is going on?”
“It seems the Army and Navy haven’t resolved their differences regarding my reception.”
“Ah, protocol. Annoying, but crucial. For organizations, protocol and hierarchy are everything.”
Having served in the war himself—handling administrative duties in the rear—he had retired as a lieutenant colonel. No wonder he seemed so friendly.
“We’ve received a telegram from home.”
“Any special instructions?”
“No, it seems… personal.”
I took the telegram he handed me. Expecting it to be from my family, I checked—and found it was from Marshall.
– I’ll kill you.
Short and to the point.
Terrifying. Even getting stabbed by Frostmourne wouldn’t feel this cold.
Marshall had finally realized why I’d fled to Japan in such a hurry—his dynamite had finally gone off. Well, it’s fine. Give it a few years, he’ll forget all about it. Probably.
I stuffed the murderous death threat into my pocket, brushed it off as nothing, and resumed the discussion with Warren.
“So, given this complete mess on Japan’s side, how should we proceed?”
“Hm. Trying to squeeze some advantage out of this would be short-sighted. The Japanese are sensitive about face. Since this isn’t quite a grave enough offense to exploit, it would be better to show your magnanimity.”
“That makes sense.”
We spent some time chatting idly about events back home.
Before long, an embassy staff member approached to inform us of a visitor.
“Why, if it isn’t Viscount Kaneko!”
“Haha, it’s been a while.”
“This is Viscount Kaneko Kentarō, a senior statesman of Japan who has made great contributions in politics and diplomacy. A Harvard graduate, no less.”
“You flatter me too much. I’m just an old man passing the time now.”
Old man? Kaneko looked so frail and aged that it was almost surprising he wasn’t already in a coffin.
After exchanging a brief greeting with Warren in fluent English, he suddenly bowed deeply—nearly a full ninety degrees—before even taking his seat.
“I must apologize.”
“Please, don’t do this.”
“What happened today was clearly a discourtesy on the part of our Empire. I may not be in a position to represent the Empire formally, but at least here, I wish to apologize as one of its subjects.”
This was uncomfortable. I still had a strong sense of respecting elders, you know?
For a diplomat, he was far more direct than expected. I’d always thought Japanese officials preferred vague phrases like “deep regret,” but here he was speaking plainly—leaving me with little to say.
“It’s alright. More than anything, I simply hope this incident doesn’t cause discomfort among the Empire’s officials.”
“Thank you for your generosity. We have reached a general agreement on our side, and would like to hear your thoughts.”
He handed me what must have been the result of desperate negotiations among various Japanese factions.
- Long-range security will be handled by the police.
- Close protection will be handled by a joint task force composed equally of Army and Navy personnel.
- A residence has been prepared for your stay, and security there will also be jointly managed by the Army, Navy, and police.
The more I heard, the more I wondered if such a system could actually function—but that was Japan’s problem. If anything happened to me, the consequences would be… spectacular.
“And what about the schedule going forward?”
“That can be arranged gradually through further discussions.”
So, nothing’s been decided yet. Their side really is a battlefield of its own.
“I have no particular objections. I fully agree with your proposal.”
“Thank you. Truly, thank you.”
Please stop bowing so much—it’s making me uncomfortable.
“And also…”
As he glanced several times toward Ambassador Warren, the ambassador seemed to understand and stood up, grabbing Hodge by the arm.
“Come along. I’ll show you around the embassy.”
“Is it alright for me to leave now?”
“You’ll need to know the layout to assist Major Kim, won’t you? Just follow me.”
You clueless fool.
They’re clearly trying to give us space for a private conversation. No wonder things went so poorly for you in the occupation government in the original timeline.
With the ambassador practically dragging Hodge away, the two of us were finally left alone. What could this old man possibly want to discuss with me?
As the door clicked shut, Viscount Kaneko calmly took a sip of tea.
“I’ve heard the general outline of the situation from Consul General Oota.”
“I see… yes.”
“While I respect the judgment made on site, this matter is closely tied to the Empire’s national interests. That is why this old man had no choice but to rise from his sickbed.”
Something felt… off.
The frail old man—who had seemed like nothing more than an Automatic Apology Machine Ver. 1.16—suddenly radiated an intense presence. His eyes began to burn.
Damn.
Those eyes—those were the eyes of a duelist standing before a decisive battle.
It reminded me of a game I once played. A skeleton NPC that looked like a joke suddenly ignited blue flames in its eyes and revealed itself as the final boss—the gatekeeper of despair.
An old man on the verge of death? What nonsense. This man was the true final boss—here to determine whether I harbored hostile intent toward the Empire of Japan.
A chill ran down my spine. My breath grew tight.
But if I didn’t settle things with this old man here and now, I wouldn’t be able to sleep peacefully tonight.
“A Korean-American joining hands with the Empire—doesn’t that sound absurd at first glance?”
“Well… the world is full of things that sound absurd but still happen.”
Now the real discussion begins. The invited guest, the salesman Major Kim, no longer exists here.
This was a proper negotiation—between Yujin Kim and one of the great powers, the Empire of Japan. Realizing that, I swallowed hard.
I’d been a fool to laugh at their infighting and factional squabbles.
The Empire of Japan’s fangs were far from dull.
An isolated island nation at the eastern edge of the world. Countless civil wars, two major wars, and decades of relentless determination.
The only non-Western nation to rise into the ranks of the great powers.
This was not going to be easy.
“What is it that you desire?”
“Advancement and glory, of course. Isn’t that the dream of every man in uniform?”
“Oota… that one is ambitious, burning with desire for advancement. But from the perspective of this old man, who has little time left, Major Kim’s actions do not resemble those of someone merely chasing rank and stars.”
That was a heavy opening move.
I could deny it—but then the negotiation would collapse.
And if I started rambling about the rights and interests of Koreans, that would also be the end.
So I had to say what he wanted to hear.
“I truly desire nothing beyond advancement and recognition.”
“Is that so? How unfortunate—”
“And the position of U.S. Army Chief of Staff is merely a stepping stone.”
“!”
What would someone like him think of me—someone who prides himself on reading people well?
I had a recent example to draw from.
Edgar Hoover.
Thank you. Yujin Kim has been leveling up by meeting new characters. After everything I’ve been through, I could hold my own even against this seasoned old man.
“Do you know what Admiral Tōgō said when he saw me?”
“I’m afraid I have not heard.”
“He said I was someone who belonged in Washington, D.C. At the time, I was half-offended and replied that a ‘yellow monkey’ could never go to D.C.”
Weave reality—
into the story they most want to hear.
Add anecdotes, flesh it out, construct a version of Yujin Kim that serves the moment.
“But after meeting my wife, and my father-in-law, I came to a new realization.”
“Congressman Curtis…!”
“That’s right. It’s about time the United States had its first Asian congressman.”
“Not Kansas… you’re thinking of California?”
“If I ran in Kansas, it wouldn’t be my home ground. California is the obvious choice. But I have no intention of remaining a minor local politician.”
I like power. I really, really like it. So I want it all. Naturally.
To this old man, a political soldier must be the most natural thing in the world—after all, the Japanese military is full of them. Why would I be any different?
“I haven’t even turned thirty yet, and I’ve come this far. Chief of Staff, Congressman, Senator, Secretary of War… and beyond. Is that truly impossible?”
“It is… entirely possible.”
“In that regard, the support of the Empire of Japan and Japanese Americans would mean a great deal to me.”
I said nothing more. Any further words would only cheapen it.
As I fell silent and simply sipped my tea, and Viscount Kaneko sank into thought, the room filled with silence.
After what felt like a long time—
“What do you want from the Empire?”
“I don’t particularly want anything. Anything I receive would only become shackles.”
“Without shackles, it is difficult to extend trust.”
“Didn’t Consul Oota tell you? Ours is a relationship where joining hands only leads to losses. And besides… is trust even necessary?”
“…That is true.”
Trust? Please. Unless I start taking regular bribes from them, trust isn’t going to happen—and that would be suicide.
And for someone who clearly understands that placing shackles on me would diminish my value, to say something like that—how irritating. If they truly disliked this deal, they could’ve simply used Oota to reject it outright.
“Then how do you intend to handle immigration laws?”
“I plan to initially advocate full acceptance, then compromise with a quota system. Alternatively, limiting Asian residence to west of the Rocky Mountains is another option.”
“Hmm.”
“And for my part, I will insist that Koreans be counted under a separate quota from the Japanese. That is non-negotiable.”
We need more Koreans. Japanese immigrants aren’t bad either—but the more Koreans, the better.
After exchanging our positions within reasonable bounds, we shook hands in satisfaction.
“As long as you remain in Tokyo, pests will surely gather around you. Take care.”
Pests, huh.
If anything is coming after me, it’s probably independence activists or Korean nationalists. Not exactly pleasant to hear.
“As it happens, I have a hobby of collecting insects. Would it be alright if I catch a few and take them with me?”
“Take them with you?”
“They’ll only cause trouble for your country if left here. I’ll feed them well and keep them properly—so I’ll take a few along.”
“Very well. But you will take responsibility for them.”
That’s right.
Most of those staying in Japan would be intellectuals—especially students.
I’ll take them, raise them well in America, and let them absorb its influence.
And in about twenty years, I’ll release them back onto the Korean Peninsula—after you’ve been driven out.