Collision (3)
The news of the crown prince getting slashed spread like wildfire. By the time Prince Takehito reported that I’d collapsed, the story had morphed into me being in critical condition by the next morning.
The incident kept snowballing.
Rumors even started swirling that I might actually die, prompting the Japanese government to step in directly.
Foreign Minister Aoki Shuzo met with Dmitri Shevich, Russia’s ambassador to Japan, bypassing the now-hostile travel entourage. But Dmitri’s attitude was… off.
“This incident is beyond my authority as a mere ambassador. I can’t give any official response until I receive orders from above.”
“Ambassador, let’s set aside past grudges for a moment. His Highness has collapsed, and we can’t even see him! Admiral Lomen’s locking down all information!”
“I’ll say it again: I can offer no comment on this matter.”
Aoki, barely containing his frustration, pounded his chest. Dmitri glanced around, then leaned in and whispered.
“…Lomen, that lunatic, is blowing this up. He told me we might need to make a quick exit from Japan. That bastard’s acting like it’s his personal mission, not even consulting me!”
“What do we do? I’ve heard the Tsar will absolutely escalate this!”
“End it as quickly as possible. War… wouldn’t be good for either of us.”
Since the Trans-Siberian Railway construction began, Russia and Japan had been at each other’s throats. The word “war” forced even these two bitter enemies into a serious discussion.
“Lomen, that war hawk, can’t be allowed to head to Vladivostok. The Tsar is wise, but… when it comes to family, he’s different.”
“Thanks for the heads-up.”
If Nikolai died, it’d mean war for sure. But eyewitnesses said the injury wasn’t life-threatening.
He’s got a reputation for being frail and gentle, so the shock probably broke him.
Assuming I survive, what’s the worst-case scenario?
Territorial concessions.
Russia’s expansionist, emotionally charged, and holding both the moral high ground and military advantage.
The worst outcome? Handing over land.
China’s interests? Leased territories? A port or island for a base?
The situation’s too perfect for Russia. No third party can intervene, and if negotiations fail, war’s not out of the question.
“…That can’t happen. If we give in here, our continental ambitions collapse.”
Japan’s barely secured a foothold on the mainland. Losing ground now would sink the empire’s grand plans, or at least let Russia kick the legs out from under Japan.
Through Korea.
That fox Minbi’s been cozying up to Russia nonstop.
In the delicate three-way tug-of-war between China, Russia, and Japan over Korea, getting pushed out would crush Japan’s momentum.
Dmitri’s words might not be fully trustworthy, but one thing’s clear: this can’t drag on.
Settle it before Nikolai leaves.
A sincere apology and compensation.
Apply the imperial law for high treason.
Execute Tsuda Sanzo, have the imperial family apologize directly, and throw in compensation to send him off.
That should prevent war and keep the empire from buckling.
“Contact the prime minister immediately. This goes beyond the government—the imperial family needs to step in.”
The highest level of apology. Surely only someone like His Majesty Emperor Meiji could deliver that.
The seasoned Aoki believed that if the Emperor himself stepped in, Nikolai would see Japan’s sincerity.
Knowing original history doesn’t mean the world bends to my will. That’s just arrogance.
So, holed up in my cabin, refusing to set foot on the deck, I considered worst-case scenarios.
“If this drags on, should I fake a PTSD meltdown in front of everyone and collapse again?”
That’d escalate things beyond a simple apology, but it might tank my reputation and standing.
I’m pretty fond of the rumor that I took down an armed assassin bare-handed, so I’d rather not fall that far.
“Or maybe head to Vladivostok and demand what I want later.”
That’d probably work, but the compensation would likely go to the Russian Empire, not me.
So, scratch that.
“Ugh, why not just call the insurance company and settle on the spot?”
It’s clearly 100:0 fault, so why the delay?
Lying on the bed, I stared at the 1-ruble note in my hand.
The palm-sized bill featured a black-and-white temple, with the issuance year in the center and serial numbers on both sides. Russian Empire currency.
It’s all about money. Russia’s a country that needs money.
Why did Russia’s reforms stall and its military weaken over time?
No money.
The country exports nothing but crops—nothing special.
Meanwhile, it relies heavily on imports, sinking into the mud like a cart in the Rasputitsa while others advance.
So, am I, the crown prince, swimming in cash?
Nope. I’ve got land, art, buildings, imperial businesses—but they’re not exactly mine to sell or liquidate easily.
Can’t exactly peddle titles or offices like some countries, either.
So I just lie here.
It might sound bad, but my forehead’s still stinging.
Five hundred million yen would be nice…
I’m not sure, but I heard Japan’s annual budget is just under 100 million yen.
It’s a lot, but they’re one of the few countries not on the gold standard. If cash is tight, I’m open to other forms of payment.
Germany got 5 billion francs from France after a few months of war. I’m practically a saint.
If war breaks out, 500 million yen wouldn’t cut it—try 5 billion.
And Japan themselves will squeeze seven or eight times that from China in a few years.
“Your Highness, Admiral Lomen says he’ll inform the Japanese tonight that you’ve woken up.”
“Oh, nice.”
Finally, the first round of negotiations.
I’m not asking for much. Ten million yen per centimeter of my forehead.
If they don’t like it, they can talk to my father.
Though his conversation style might be… different.
Tomorrow I turn fifty…
Combat experience: building minefields at the Leni River, shelling Turkish monitors.
Military career: from junior escort ship officer to cruiser admiral—Lomen.
Now, he wondered if this was even right.
But orders are orders, so he’d do his best.
“Two days later, His Highness woke up, and he’s very, very angry.”
“We want to apologize directly—”
“He doesn’t want to see anyone. Only his aides and I have met him.”
“Oh…”
“Why?!”
Lomen paused, rubbed his face as if composing himself, then continued calmly.
“Why would you do this to such a gentle man? Is the Japanese government really uninvolved?”
Even through an interpreter, Aoki Shuzo caught the tone perfectly.
The biggest issue: the crown prince, who was so friendly he bowed at first, turned hostile.
Beyond a simple apology, earning the enmity of a future absolute monarch is a diplomatic disaster.
“He’s a man of firm convictions. He doesn’t easily change what he believes is right. That’s why he chose Japan to see Far Eastern peace with his own eyes.”
“…We appreciated that.”
“What’s the point now? It’s over. We’re leaving in three days.”
As a military man, Lomen’s attitude was more emotional than diplomatic.
Good thing it’s him. Emotions can shift with the situation.
The crown prince, too. Four days since the incident, and no word to the Tsar yet.
There’s no time. Use the apology to keep them here and wrap this up perfectly.
Aoki feigned sympathy for Lomen, looking devastated, but he saw a glimmer of hope.
“Since he refuses to meet, I’m stepping in. That’s all—”
“His Majesty the Emperor!”
“…What?”
“His Majesty will come to Kyoto himself. Please, don’t leave until then.”
Checkmate. Refuse this, and it looks like you’re rejecting our apology.
“Phew, Foreign Minister, I just said His Highness is avoiding meetings.”
“That’s why we need your help, Admiral. Honestly, His Majesty’s visit shows we’re willing to offer any apology, compensation, or proposal.”
“…You’re serious.”
“We can’t just sit on a spilled bucket.”
So I’m dealing with a mere admiral. Spill it.
If this were a Vladivostok rep or even Dmitri, they’d tie it to territorial issues.
End it here, cleanly, without lingering bad blood or major damage.
“Talking to me about this—”
“With all due respect, with His Highness absent, you’re the highest authority.”
“Hm, true. Then, something worthy of His Highness…”
Struggling with the complexity, Lomen finally offered one idea.
“The Tsar loves ships. So does His Highness Nikolai. He loves them most.”
“Is that so?”
“How about funding a massive ship? It’d be a meaningful gift for both, and His Highness would be delighted.”
“Oh, a ship! Brilliant idea!”
A ship? Compared to islands, Korea, or China’s interests?
It’s a thoughtful suggestion, fitting for an aide.
A big ironclad’s costly, but—
“Hey, aide! What’s the biggest ship under construction?”
“Let’s see… Britain’s Majestic-class battleship, 16,000 tons displacement.”
“Then we’d need something bigger, right?”
“Of course. The world’s largest battleship, fully armed, would need over 20,000 tons… In yen, maybe… 50 million? No, we’re not Britain. Building it ourselves would cost more. At least 60 million yen?”
“What?”
The interpreter relayed the numbers in real-time. Aoki thought he’d misheard, but the figures and names stayed consistent.
“Hm, I’ve lived my life on decks, so I don’t have a sense for exact costs. Anyway, about 60 million yen in your currency.”
“…”
“What’s money, though? With His Majesty coming, it’s the sincerity that counts.”
Compensation. They’re clearly demanding a massive sum.
The ball’s back in Aoki Shuzo’s court.
Pay reparations before a war?
Or fight a war and pay reparations after?
He couldn’t answer easily.
