With the grand military band resounding and a barrage of camera flashes pouring over me, I stepped forward to truly bring the Battle of Vladivostok to its conclusion.
The officers following behind me were still unable to hide their curiosity, whispering among themselves about how on earth Joseon had managed to capture Gennady alive.
"I thought we'd have to push all the way into the base. How did this even happen?"
"Well… according to them, Gennady fell off his horse while trying to escape."
"…That's exactly the problem. Why would he suddenly try to escape? Unless he's an idiot, he couldn't have believed he'd break through that encirclement."
Exactly.
That was what everyone was thinking.
Which was why the prevailing theory was that Joseon must have used some kind of stratagem like Qing or Japan—and the officers eagerly began offering their own guesses.
"Maybe they pretended to loosen the encirclement to lure him in?"
"No, Colonel, that's not it. Ever since following His Highness, I've become something of an Asia enthusiast. Their schemes go far beyond that. All kinds of bizarre and astonishing tactics are commonplace."
"Really? And how would you know that?"
"Don't you know Romance of the Three Kingdoms? If you read it, you'll understand what level of strategy qualifies someone as a master tactician in the East. The greatest ones can even summon the southeast wind!"
As one officer pulled out a translated copy he had been carrying around, everyone's attention instantly shifted.
"Control the wind? Seriously? Come on, that's a stretch."
"That part might be exaggerated, but the strategies are real. Look at His Highness! Isn't he practically playing Russia, Qing, Joseon, and Japan in the palm of his hand? The book is full of cases just like that."
"Well… when you put it that way, it does sound plausible. So this is the 'mystery of the East,' huh?"
"I'm telling you."
This was heading in a very strange direction.
But considering Europe's current perception of Asia, the fact that they were even saying this much was already an improvement.
At least no one was claiming that Asian shamans had bewitched Russia with dark sorcery.
Honestly, if I hadn't been here, that might have been taken seriously.
That was how distorted Europe's understanding of Asia still was.
If reading Romance of the Three Kingdoms made them think of Asians as strategists rather than mystics, that was good enough for me—I saw no need to correct them.
As I listened to their chatter, we finally reached the moment that would answer everyone's questions.
"General Lee Beom-gyu, is it?"
"Yes! It is an honor to meet you, Your Highness Gillian!"
A middle-aged man, dressed unmistakably as a Joseon general, rose with a broad smile.
To think I would one day be conversing with a Joseon general in Vladivostok.
Life really did have a way of surprising you.
I hadn't even lived that long yet—but at this rate, who knew what absurd situations I'd encounter in the future?
"I must say, I'm truly impressed by Joseon's performance in this campaign. To be honest, I didn't expect such active participation."
"Joseon is a nation that values trust. When our allies are at war, we cannot simply stand by and watch."
"I see. Truly worthy of being called the Land of Propriety."
"Thank you. It is enough for us that Britain recognizes how earnestly we have fulfilled our obligations as an ally."
"Of course we do. After all, you captured the enemy commander. Speaking of which—what is Commander Gennady doing now?"
If he had escaped, we would have lost the chance to stage a proper symbolic conclusion to this campaign.
Capturing the enemy commander versus merely planting a flag where he fled—those were entirely different levels of impact.
"He was injured when he fell from his horse, so we are tending to him carefully. He is resting over there."
"I've heard he's claiming he was defeated by some underhanded scheme. How exactly was he captured?"
"Your Highness, please hear me out—we are the wronged party here."
"You're… wronged?"
I had expected to hear about some elaborate trick, but Lee Beom-gyu's explanation was completely different.
They had upheld proper etiquette, offered surrender, even pulled their forces back to avoid intimidating the enemy—
And the Russians, charging in that direction, had blundered straight into them, resulting in Gennady falling off his horse and being captured.
At first, it sounded unbelievable.
But Lee Beom-gyu's aggrieved expression was entirely genuine.
"So to summarize… Russia tried to outsmart a nonexistent trap, charged in recklessly, tripped over a rock, hit their head, and got captured?"
"…As unbelievable as it sounds, that is exactly what happened."
"That's… impressive in its own way."
A nation determined to fail would fail no matter what.
Given how badly Russia had been shaken in Asia, it wasn't entirely impossible they had panicked themselves into this.
Still, for Gennady, the sheer absurdity of being captured like this must have been unbearable.
"Then why are the Russians accusing Joseon of using underhanded tactics?"
"They claim we anticipated their actions and set a trap… that we never intended to accept their surrender in the first place."
"That's rich. They offered surrender first, then tried to stab you in the back—and now they're complaining? I see. Fortunately, you didn't resort to anything excessive."
If this had been on Qing's level, I might have had to distance myself.
But this? If anything, it was commendable.
"Then may we firmly assert that we bear no fault?"
"Of course. Though if you want to enhance your merit, you might consider adjusting the narrative slightly. Even if their claim were true, this could be presented not as a coincidence, but as a perfectly executed psychological operation. Simply say you anticipated their reaction and prepared accordingly."
"Ah… I see. That does sound far better."
There was a world of difference between "we got lucky" and "we executed a brilliant strategy."
More importantly, such a grand campaign deserved a fitting conclusion.
"I fully recognize how faithfully Joseon has supported us. You have nothing to worry about. Now, I'd like to speak with Commander Gennady."
"Understood. I will guide you."
After reassuring Lee Beom-gyu, I went to meet the unfortunate man who would go down in history as the first Russian commander captured by Joseon.
Just as described, he lay on a bed, bandages wrapped tightly around his waist, staring blankly into space like a man whose world had ended.
"Greetings. I did not expect we would meet under such circumstances."
"…Are you the commander of the British forces?"
"Nominally, yes. My apologies, but I'll need to take a photograph first. Photographer—take it from this angle, looking down at him."
"Yes, Your Highness. Though perhaps soften your expression slightly—you look a bit too condescending right now. A slight smile would make for a better image."
"That makes sense. Very well."
With one final photograph capturing my "mercy" toward a wounded enemy commander, the Battle of Vladivostok was brought to a perfect close.
All that remained was to deliver this story to Europe as dramatically as possible.
"Well then, Commander Gennady, if you have any discomfort, do let us know and get some rest."
"W-wait! Didn't you come to discuss something?"
"At first, yes. I heard you claimed to have fallen victim to a vile scheme. But after hearing the details, that doesn't seem to be the case. I simply came to check on your condition. Since your life is not in danger, I was about to take my leave."
Of course, I intended to use him for propaganda—
But revealing that too early would be unprofessional.
I could easily imagine what was going through his mind.
To Europe's great powers, Asia had always been nothing more than a convenient target for exploitation.
France, for instance, had once been humiliated over losing a single warship in a mudflat—an incident that caused significant outrage within its military.
And yet, what Gennady had done was far worse.
Ambushed by Japan, betrayed by Qing, and finally captured by Joseon—
A European great power being toyed with by three East Asian nations in succession.
There was no precedent for such a disaster in history.
This wasn't just defeat—it was a record-setting humiliation.
In any army, such a record would end a career permanently.
And in Russia, where pride was everything—
It would mean death.
I was certain that, right now, Gennady believed returning home would be a death sentence.
Sure enough, as I turned to leave, his desperate voice stopped me.
"W-wait! Please—stay a moment longer!"
"Is there something else? If you're worried about mistreatment by Joseon, rest assured—they will care for you until you recover. After that, I will personally ensure your safe return to Russia."
"U-uh…"
The reaction was immediate.
Soldiers were easy to read—everything showed on their faces.
"If you wish to return sooner, I understand. Though communication may be difficult here… very well, I shall arrange immediate transport to Siberia—"
"N-no! Absolutely not!"
"…Why not?"
"It's just… if I return like this, His Majesty will not spare me."
Of course he wouldn't.
If I were Nicholas, I'd have him executed.
"So you'd rather remain here?"
"…Yes."
"That's unfortunate. High-ranking prisoners are typically repatriated. There is little I can do."
"Th-then what about… asylum? If I defect to Britain, I wouldn't have to return, correct?"
"That offers little benefit to my country."
"…I…"
Hopeless.
A battlefield commander through and through—no sense for negotiation.
Did he really expect me to spell it out for him?
"Very well. Here's a proposal. We'll say your injuries require extended treatment before repatriation. During that time, you will hold a formal interview with journalists. You will declare that you refuse to return to Russia—that Russia treats its soldiers as expendable, that you never wanted this war, that countless men were dragged into slaughter by the Emperor's stubbornness."
"…What? Your Highness, that would get me killed! Even if I defect, Russia will send assassins after me!"
"Not to worry. You'll 'die' in an accident first. Russia will assume someone else got to you. After that, you'll live under a new identity—in Canada. No one will recognize you."
If even a provincial commander publicly denounced the Tsar and defected—
What would happen to Russian morale?
Already scraping the bottom, it would plunge even deeper.
It might even become the decisive blow that ends this war.
Europe had yet to experience the true power of propaganda.
Used properly, it could achieve extraordinary results.
A fitting codename might be… superconductive propaganda.
"I'll return in two days. Think it over carefully."
Execution upon return—
Or betrayal, followed by a new life in Canada.
He didn't need me to tell him which was the better choice.
Choose.