Collision (1)
“The proud Romanov crown prince, bowing his head in greeting?”
Prince Takehito had only offered a polite nod out of courtesy to the esteemed guest, but he couldn’t hide his shock.
As a navy man, Takehito prided himself on knowing more about the Western world than anyone else in the imperial family. He thought he had this guy figured out.
The crown prince, traveling the world to broaden his horizons on the emperor’s orders.
Starting in Vienna, meeting the Queen of Greece, passing through the Suez Canal, crossing India—a grand journey.
Not content with traversing the Indian subcontinent, he’d sailed through Singapore, the Dutch East Indies, Java, Bangkok, and beyond, fulfilling the imperial mandate.
The Far East, including the Empire of Japan, was his final stop.
And as far as Takehito knew, Nikolai Alexandrovich had never once bowed his head to anyone.
The Romanovs didn’t introduce themselves or offer greetings. They saw themselves as the sole heirs of Rome, the one true imperial dynasty—arrogant to the core.
So when Takehito gave a slight, courteous nod, he didn’t expect the crown prince to respond with such deference. It threw him off, leaving him momentarily speechless.
“You must be weary from your travels. Allow me to escort you to a place where you can rest.”
Politeness toward an Asian, of all people, instead of arrogance? Takehito could already see the Tokyo headlines.
This was a good start.
The hotel Prince Takehito arranged was entirely reserved for my comfort.
It gave me plenty of time to process the situation.
Tsesarevich of the Romanov dynasty.
Tsesarevich, in simple terms, means the next emperor. And apparently, that’s me.
In other words, this body is Nikolai Alexandrovich, Russia’s last emperor…
“Is this because I said the empire was screwed from the Tsarist days?”
Before I could even ask how or why, I’m wondering why it had to be Nikolai II, of all people.
The last emperor—what does that mean? No one comes after.
In other words, the Russian Empire ends with me.
Thinking back, that guy I was keyboard-battling with—I thought he’d bailed, but then he left that weird comment.
A few seconds after reading it, I ended up in that situation.
“No way, saying I’d do things differently doesn’t mean I can fix everything in this era!”
Russia’s been digging its own grave for ages. And now I’m supposed to turn it around at the tail end of the empire, when it’s already festering with corruption and rot?
If I’d been dropped into my grandfather’s era, maybe I could’ve made a difference.
Alexander II’s time was full of liberal reforms, a period when things were stirring.
But the seeds planted back then never sprouted in my father’s era.
“Wait, why am I saying ‘my father’s era’? It’s just Alexander II’s era…”
Dammit, the words “my father’s era” slipped out in Russian so naturally, it freaked me out.
Anyway, my father never wanted to be emperor, nor was he seen as emperor material by those around him.
True to that reputation, he was obsessed with the military.
Soldiers were his buddies, warships his girlfriends.
A giant over 190cm tall, he was the epitome of Slavic machismo, 100% proof.
So, naturally, his policies upon taking the throne?
“Endless repression…”
A military mindset.
Beat them until they obey; weakness is a sin—that’s how he ran the country.
His family life wasn’t any better. His parents favored his older brother, and everyone constantly criticized his qualifications.
Forced to part with the woman he loved, with a grandfather who philandered and died in a terrorist attack, he ended up drawing a line between himself and everyone except his inner circle.
“No wonder he wasn’t interested in national progress.”
Not that he was completely incompetent.
Cannon production localized.
Mosin-Nagant rifles distributed.
Standing and reserve armies expanded.
Personally fought in the Russo-Turkish War.
Navy strengthened, ships built.
Yeah, everything he touched was military.
The economy? He left it to capable bureaucrats like Witte and Bunge, so it wasn’t a total disaster.
That’s the state of Russia and its leader right now.
But for me, things are different.
Because from here on out, it’s a straight plunge off a cliff.
“No, not yet. Not quite.”
I’m not Tsar Nikolai II yet—I’m still the Tsesarevich. The empire hasn’t fallen apart.
“More like it’s on the brink.”
My father’s about to die soon. That’s inevitable, beyond my control.
The shadows of doom are creeping in, but it hasn’t collapsed yet. On the surface, it’s still a strong nation.
“I’ll change it. I have to, to survive.”
The weak, traditionalist Nikolai of absolutism won’t make it.
To live, whether I like it or not, I have to change first.
Nikolai Alexandrovich. Yoo Ji-chan. Both are me. It’s confusing, but I can’t afford to be mixed up.
From now on, I can’t just stand around dazed like yesterday.
Knock knock.
“May I enter?”
“Come in.”
“Yes, Your Highness. Prince Yoriyoshi and Prince Takehito are waiting outside.”
“My cousin’s quick on his feet. Alright, I’ll be out soon.”
“Very well.”
Because now, I’ve got to go get a sword to the head.
Some cop named Tsuda Sanzo, right?
“I just found out yesterday, but apparently, my father met the current head of the Arisugawa family.”
“The Tsar met our lord?”
“Yes, at my father’s coronation, I heard. He was in Moscow back then, and now here we are in Japan. Quite the curious connection, isn’t it?”
“Haha! A connection, indeed!”
Prince Takehito, heir to one of the four hereditary imperial families serving the Emperor.
Despite the fancy title, he’s not that impressive.
His main claim to fame is a naval career and some world travel, like me.
After a day of chatting, figuring him out wasn’t hard.
He’s not a brilliant diplomat or soldier—just a nice guy with good lineage.
He’s polite, admires the West, so I can probably lay some groundwork with him easily.
“My father’s a bit uneasy about Japan, but I’m different. Don’t you think we should be partners?”
“Haha… I worry my narrow perspective might lead to a misstep.”
“As a prince, you’re cautious, but that’s exactly when honest words matter. Despite China’s objections, Russia established direct ties with Korea. Because it was the right thing to do.”
“Your thinking is, uh, remarkably clear.”
“Haha! Our people never back down from what we set our minds to.”
A young crown prince friendly to Japan.
What a clean, harmless image.
Add a touch of idealistic, slightly unrealistic rhetoric, and Takehito’s already shifting the topic.
Still, I kept shouting loud enough for everyone around to hear.
“Shouldn’t good and evil take precedence over profit and loss?”
“My father’s a warlord, but I’m different. War is bad! Only peace benefits the people!”
“In that sense, I have high hopes for the Empire of Japan’s role. Asia’s peace is upheld because of Japan, isn’t it? The leased territory issue is a pity, but it’s kept China quiet, creating peace. That deserves applause!”
No diplomatic finesse, just raw, unfiltered thoughts.
If the idealism got too intense, I’d pivot to Prince Yoriyoshi.
“Seeing the mighty flow of Lake Biwa, doesn’t it remind you of the Saronic Gulf in Greece? How can the East have such similar beauty?”
“You’re right, brother. The shape’s so similar, and this huge lake feels like a sea.”
“Lake Biwa’s the largest in Japan. Its size is truly immense!”
For two days, I kept up the same vibe with Takehito.
My father dislikes Japan; I don’t.
My father loves war; I don’t.
My father prioritizes the military; I prioritize diplomacy.
All grounded in truth, maybe a bit unrealistic, but nothing harmful to Japan.
My chats with Takehito will probably make their way up the chain, maybe even hit the papers.
Some of our people might squirm, and even the Japanese might find it a bit much, but I kept the friendliness dialed up.
The roads we passed were lined with police officers standing at intervals.
My mouth, constantly spouting good words and phrases, was starting to dry up.
“Today’s the last day we’re traveling by rickshaw. There are cops everywhere, all with swords.”
I don’t know if this matches the original history exactly.
Our rickshaws are single-seaters, lined up one behind the other, which spreads out the security detail and leaves gaps.
“Maybe that’s why it was possible.”
The Otsu Incident. Tsuda Sanzo, a police officer, attempts to assassinate the Russian crown prince. In other words, it’s about to happen to me.
The problem? Unlike the original history, I might actually die.
I don’t know how Tsuda attacks or how Nikolai survived.
“I’d love to just dodge it…”
The Anglo-Japanese Alliance hasn’t been signed yet, Korea’s still neutral, and Japan’s army and navy are weak.
So I could avoid it, but I shouldn’t. Instead, I need to turn this to my advantage.
Scanning the surroundings, my eyes kept locking onto one guy.
“Is that Tsuda?”
I acted casual but cranked my alertness to max.
Sure enough, the moment I glanced away, a shout in Japanese rang out.
“Die!”
I whipped my head around, and a sword’s shadow loomed over my face.
I leaned back as far as I could, but the blade grazed my forehead.
The rickshaw stopped dead, and everyone around froze in shock.
“Your Highness!”
“It’s an assassination! Assassination!”
The rickshaw puller and Prince Yoriyoshi rushed toward me.
The sword, swung wide and missing, lodged into the rickshaw’s wood. Tsuda tried to yank it free for another swing, but Yoriyoshi and I were faster.
Yoriyoshi swung his cane at Tsuda’s back, making him cry out in pain. I grabbed Tsuda’s hair.
His hand was still on the sword.
Thud!
I drove my fist into his exposed stomach with all my strength.
“Urgh…”
Tsuda Sanzo collapsed forward. My hand, gripping his hair from sheer tension, wouldn’t let go.
A sword stuck in the rickshaw.
A head in my hand.
Blood covering half my face.
Everyone rushed toward the assassination attempt, but as I panted, an indescribable joy surged inside me.
“Holy shit… I’m alive.”
Is this the dopamine rush of winning a high-stakes gamble?
Still, I didn’t hesitate to show my anger outwardly.
Police and security pinned Tsuda to the ground, crushing him.
Yoriyoshi and Takehito approached, frantic.
Anger, not panic, was what I needed to project.
I muttered loud enough for everyone to hear.
“Dammit… Father was right.”
A grimace of pain and rage.
Takehito’s face turned paler than mine.
I didn’t care. Clutching my bleeding head, I turned away.
“Your Highness! Are you alright? We need to treat—”
“Japan’s no longer safe. We’re heading back to the warship!”
A dangerous Japan.
Or rather… a Japan about to become dangerous.
Wonder how that’ll be translated to Takehito.
