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After that day of madness, surprisingly, nothing happened.
There were two major things I had “predicted.”
First, the outbreak of a great war.Second, the so-called Armageddon Report.
Even if I got the first one right, very few believed the report itself would also come true.
“So how is the war going?”
“Looks like France stopped them, for now.”
Naturally, every nation involved had attempted a short, decisive war.
Germany crushed through Belgium and advanced toward Paris, only to fail its strategic objective and usher in the age of trench warfare.
And after that?
They desperately tried to control information.
Young men were enlisting in droves, singing of glory.
If they learned the truth, that the front was nothing but rotting flesh in no man’s land, the war effort might collapse, perhaps even the government itself.
So Europe lied.
Every country exaggerated victories, painted trenches as manageable, even comfortable.
Of course, here at West Point, we studied the Civil War endlessly.
Anyone imagining “comfortable trenches” should be expelled immediately.
Still, no one wanted to believe the hell I described would actually happen.
That evening, I opened letters one by one.
[Dear Eugene Kim.]
The first was from Soong Ching-ling.
I had clearly rejected her father’s offer before.
Yet now, with war breaking out, the businessman had reached out again.
The proposal was similar, but the tone had changed.
This time, it was not about buying me.
My position had risen.
I set it aside for now.
Letters were convenient like that.
No pressure to reply immediately.
The second letter mattered far more.
[To Eugene.]
Of course, Dorothy.
But this time, the letter was thicker.
Inside was another.
[To Cadet Eugene Kim.]
A letter from Senator Charles Curtis.
Both letters carried concern, admiration, and thoughts about my future.
Curtis offered help if needed and described conditions in Washington and New York.
Washington was calmer than expected.
While the public focused on Europe, policymakers were more concerned with Mexico.
Figures like Pancho Villa were still considered more immediate threats than Germany.
New York, however, was in chaos.
Financial markets in London, Paris, and Berlin collapsed together, sending shockwaves across the Atlantic.
The New York Stock Exchange shut down.
Bankers were on the verge of collapse.
After replying to Dorothy, I picked up my pen again.
To Curtis, I suggested exploring the value of barbed wire.
Not through the U.S.
Army.
Just trade samples.
Let the British and French test it themselves in the trenches.
If they could not recognize its value there, they deserved to die.
Once its worth was proven, I could expand production or secure loans using the patent.
As for firearms…
I still hesitated.
This was not just business.
It was pride.
Abandoning it felt like losing face.
But timing was everything.
Let Europe burn first.
Then my value would peak.
Tap.
Tap.
The sound pulled me from my thoughts.
My friends, now jokingly called the Four Horsemen, were scribbling furiously.
“Damn it, there’s no answer.”
“Same here.”
The question I had planted in their minds:
How do you break a trench line?
West Point taught one answer.
Charge forward with courage.
But now they understood.
Barbed wire.
Rifles.
Machine guns.
No solution.
“Do you know the answer?”
“I don’t.”
“Damn it.”
“Well… there is one.”
They leaned in.
“What?”
“Be on defense.”
“…I hate you.”
Of course, that was the truth.
Offense was suicide.
Defense was survival.
“Then what’s the real answer?”
James grinned.
“Let Europeans figure it out by killing each other.”
“…You’ve been corrupted.”
Exactly.
Graduation was approaching.
By then, the value of my report would reach its peak.
The question was…
who to exploit first.
Knock knock.
“Cadet Eugene Kim.”
“Yes.”
“The superintendent requests your presence.”
Right on time.
“Cadet Eugene Kim reporting.”
“Enter.”
We were alone.
Even I felt tense.
“So, how does it feel to have your prophecy come true?”
“I cannot be happy when so many will die.”
“Why not?”
“Because that is what will happen.”
He studied me.
“You still believe many will die.”
“Yes.”
“I never read your report.
I simply handled the situation in my own way.”
His method?
Ignore it.
Perhaps that was better.
After all, what happened had been dangerously close to mutiny.
Collective insubordination.
Disorder.
Insulting superiors.”
“…Yes.”
“I showed mercy by not convening a court-martial.
Do you understand?”
“…Yes, sir.”
Unfair.
I was carried the whole time.
But arguing would be pointless.
“You may leave.
Next time you stand before me, it will be in court.”
“Understood.”
I left.
Honestly, I was grateful.
The report still needed time.
Another year.
Perfect.
I could not help but laugh.
The superintendent had helped me perfectly.
If the report surfaced too early, I might be dragged into Washington.
A staff officer, stuck writing reports forever.
No.
I needed something else.
Future knowledge alone was not enough.
It would only make me a prophet of doom.
Depression.
Fascism.
World War II.
Auschwitz.
The Cold War.
No one likes a man who predicts misery.
I needed more.
Talent.
Persecution.
And finally a war hero.
Only then could I embody the American Dream.
Only then could I stand against this white-dominated world.
The golden calf in the Bible was destroyed.
But this Korean golden calf…
would be worshipped.
Still, one final test remained.
I slipped away into a quiet place.
There was one thing I had not yet confirmed.
If this worked…
everything would change.
I swallowed.
Then spoke.
“Status window.”
Nothing happened.
Damn it.
If I had been hit by a proper truck, maybe I would have gotten one.
“Stats window.”
Still nothing.
No system.
No cheat.
Just me.