Unquenchable Flame (2)

This year, the Ministry of Communications set up a wireless department using detectors and antennas, but it’s not yet operational.

Meaning, with current tech, the Tsar in St. Petersburg can’t issue real-time edicts about the Far East or Joseon.

So, naturally, Governor Sergei shoulders Joseon’s mess firsthand.

Ugh… if only he’d cleaned this up two years ago.

It’s not that I don’t get it. The Jinzhou Treaty explicitly declared Joseon an independent nation. If we’d pushed a pro-Russian cabinet then, it’d look like imperialist scheming.

But just let Joseon slide under Japan’s thumb?

“That’s not it either. Damn, it’s messy,” Sergei muttered.

The problem was recognizing Joseon as independent when it’s barely sovereign.

If Joseon had cohesive diplomacy, we could’ve easily helped or drawn a line. Now it’s too tangled.

For Russia, Joseon’s neither edible nor spit-out-able.

What’s that Eastern saying… chicken leg?

Joseon doesn’t even look tasty. Whatever.

Its settlers alone—different races, cultures, even food—make absorption or cooperation a nightmare.

Joseon’s that kind of country. Not an easy ally.

“Governor, Ambassador Waeber’s requesting more warships,” Roman reported.

“Is he Joseon’s diplomat or ours? Why’s he making this harder?” Sergei snapped.

Carl Waeber, helping Gojong’s escape and hosting the Joseon royal family at the legation? Sergei was losing it.

Trying to see it through the Tsar’s eyes from his crown prince days, Sergei thought, He always warned of war’s risks, so he’d likely oppose occupying Joseon.

He probably didn’t want Russia and Japan’s borders closer.

Plus, despite the Siberian Railway’s progress, it’s far from done.

Maybe the Tsar just ditched Joseon entirely.

But flip it—why order the South Manchuria Railway? Doesn’t that mean he saw value here?

So, Joseon could be profitable for the empire.

“Colonel Roman, what’s Admiral Romen saying?” Sergei asked.

“He opposes deploying warships—it’s too aggressive—but he’s prepping at the port just in case,” Roman replied.

“Textbook military,” Sergei said.

Admiral Romen’s right. One cruiser like Admiral Kornilov could wreck Joseon.

So, unless we want more trouble, we can’t send ships per Waeber’s request.

“It’s been four months since Joseon’s king holed up in the legation,” Sergei noted.

How long can he stay? Japan’s bound to react eventually.

“Those island pirates can’t ignore it forever,” Sergei said.

“If we move on Joseon, France and Germany might not back us like before,” Roman warned.

“Blowback’s a concern,” Sergei agreed.

Already drowning in work, the Far East never gets a quiet year.

Stuck, Sergei chose to wait for orders from Europe.

The response was not what he expected.

Summarized to a single line: [Join hands with Japan.]

“…”

“Did we misreport the situation? Miss a detail? Is Joseon so small they mixed it up?” Roman asked.

“No. It’s the Tsar’s seal. The Foreign and Communications Ministries aren’t that sloppy,” Sergei said.

Joseon’s king fled to our legation to escape Japan, and we’re to ally with Japan?

One thing’s clear: the Tsar’s not on Joseon’s side.

What was the Sino-Japanese War’s core pretext?

Joseon’s “voluntary request.”

That let Japan block foreign interference and justify their invasion.

Same here. They jailed their legitimate king and seized power—pro-Japan power.

If Gojong requests, Sergei could send ships to sweep Hanseong, and Japan would have no diplomatic ground to complain.

History backs this.

“It’s a trap,” I muttered.

Sending ships and troops to boost pro-Russian forces, lured by a tempting setup—that was original Russia’s mistake.

That’s not all. Sending military advisors, stationing troops, whether it’s the pro-Japan Eulmi Reforms or pro-Russian Gwangmu Reforms, it’s all the same.

To Joseon, Russia and Japan are just threats.

No matter how much Gojong hates Japan, using us as a spearhead against them? Zero chance. It’d only speed up the Russo-Japanese War.

Even if Joseon declares the Korean Empire, it’s no different.

Until we build real power in the Far East, Joseon’s untouchable.

“Look at original history: Russia sent a finance advisor for a year, squeezed Joseon, then let go,” I said.

Grabbing major concessions in that year was obvious.

“While barely developing the Far East,” I added.

I reminisce about South Korea, not some textbook Joseon.

Knowing Joseon better than anyone in Russia, I’ll ditch it without hesitation.

“Your Majesty, I heard you summoned the Foreign Ministry,” Minister Nikolai Giers said.

“You’ve heard the East Asia updates,” I replied.

“The situation favors us. If we sit tight, Joseon’s ours—” Giers began.

“No. Sign a treaty with Japan. Both pro-Russian and pro-Japan factions step back, making Joseon neutral,” I ordered.

“…”

“Just do it,” I said.

The one area I don’t entertain debate: the Far East.

Even the Foreign Ministry, proud of its expertise, knows to back off.

After a tense pause, Giers didn’t push back.

“Then we’ll secure a few concessions, ensuring most-favored-nation status for all powers,” he said.

“Good,” I replied.

The architect of the Triple Intervention, Giers got my intent: make Joseon a land no one wants to touch.

That’s enough. I held back.

Patience—a trait the original Russian Empire never had.

Even if I’m forcing down my instincts with Tsarist power, I’m satisfied.

As Giers left, I reflected on my feelings about Joseon.

Damn, I’m turning Slavic.

No guilt, no duty.

In this moment, I see no value in that peninsula.

It’s a repeat of two years ago.

“Is this country truly worthless?” Waeber asked.

“No. The Tsar knows East Asia better than anyone, hence this choice,” an aide replied.

“I’m not angry, just disappointed and ashamed,” Waeber said.

Gojong, as king, slightly understood the Tsar’s choice in far-off Europe.

In his eyes, Gojong was a puppet king of a tiny nation, begging for help, unable to stand alone—a lost foal.

In June 1896, when Gojong vanished, the pro-Japan cabinet’s governance collapsed.

But Kim Hong-jip wasn’t beaten to death by pro-Gojong peddlers, nor were cabinet members jailed.

Just nominal punishments.

“For coveting power as a royal elder, akin to seditious politics, Heungseon Daewongun is stripped of his title and banned from Hanseong,” the decree read.

“Kim Su-hong, colluding with Heungseon, committed treason and is exiled,” it continued.

Kim Hong-jip, listening silently, knew his exile wouldn’t last.

The root issue: Russia, answering Joseon’s plea, skipped Joseon and dealt directly with Japan.

Russia intervened but changed nothing.

Fearing Joseon’s fall, Japan jumped at the deal, and some powers woke to find most-favored-nation perks in Joseon.

Gojong’s storm seemed to end.

No one laughed, but no one cried.

A bitter return to the palace for Gojong.

Waeber, ousting the pro-Japan cabinet but no further.

Factions still clinging to foreign backers.

The Amur Governorate, watching keenly, felt déjà vu.

“…Something’s off,” Sergei said.

“Definitely weird,” Roman agreed.

“Absolutely strange,” Admiral Romen added.

One person’s hunch could be a fluke, but three? No coincidence.

“Roman, I thought we’d get troop deployment orders,” Sergei said.

“I worried how big this would get. Who knew they’d ignore Joseon and defuse it?” Roman replied.

“Hell, I was prepping for deployment,” Romen said.

“Exactly,” Sergei nodded.

Why did this awkward resolution feel familiar? Russia and Japan signed a peaceful treaty, yet…

Pondering, Sergei recalled a similar unease.

“…The Duma,” he said.

“The national Duma?” Roman asked.

“That gladiator pit the Tsar made?” Romen added.

Despite the distance, they knew the chaos in St. Petersburg.

The Duma—top advisory body, split into factions, fighting endlessly, eating each other with no progress.

No real decision-making power.

Right or wrong, just endless arguing and division.

And the Tsar just watches.

It’s too similar.

“The Tsar swore war would break out in the Far East. He was ready to start one if it didn’t,” Sergei said.

“Right? That’s why I’ve been stuck with the Pacific Fleet for five years. Admirals usually rotate, but not here,” Romen said.

“Troop buildup—Governor, you’ve been at it,” Roman added.

Joseon’s left in limbo, like the Duma.

“So… isn’t the Duma the same?” Sergei mused.

He didn’t get why the Tsar held elections and summoned Duma members to the capital, but he considered the Duma’s case.

If the Tsar’s right, war hits the Far East, dragging Joseon in.

What about the Duma?

How long can they keep brawling?

The Tsar hides his true intentions better than anyone.

“…Nah, that’s overthinking it,” Roman said.

“What, the Duma’s a guillotine?” Romen laughed.

“See? Ridiculous,” Sergei said.

“Right! I’ve got work!” Roman said, bolting.

“Oh, I forgot something for deployment prep,” Romen added, leaving.

“Go, go!” Sergei urged.

They scattered awkwardly, but the conversation lingered.

The Tsar’s heart is in the Far East. Always has been, since crown prince days.

War-ready nation, peaceful treaty—what’s this bizarre plot twist?

Just paranoia.

But the more they thought of the Tsar, the clearer the Duma’s foggy future seemed.

One silver lining for Sergei: “Veren Volkov’s an independent, just a placeholder. He won’t affect us here.”

“What, causing trouble there?” Roman asked.

“He’s a grunt, clueless grunt,” Romen said.

Whatever the Duma’s future, the Far East is too far to care.