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In front of the station, there had to be at least several hundred people gathered, crowding the area.
Judging by the banners, it became clear that they had really come just to see my face.
Rhee Syngman was grinning widely, clearly pleased.
In true American fashion, I felt like planting a clean one-two punch on that smug face, but with hundreds of Koreans watching, I could not exactly perform a live dental operation on a middle-aged man.
“I… this is a bit overwhelming.”
“My apologies.
There were circumstances.
First, you should greet your family.
Come.”
As he cleared the way, I finally saw my family again after a year.
“Eugene!”
“Oh my, Eugene.
You have become so thin.”
Thin?
I had grown taller and built more muscle, yet somehow I was still “thin.”
“I knew we should have packed kimchi.
Living on bread alone, of course he looks like this.
We even have fermented seafood at home.
Should we send some?”
“Ahem.
Dear, the boy looks overwhelmed.”
Thanks to my father stepping in, I escaped.
I embraced each family member, but Rhee Syngman loudly declared, “The pride of Korea has returned to his family,” and the crowd erupted into applause.
When a young girl stepped forward and handed me a bouquet, my mind completely shut down.
It was a feeling difficult to describe.
At the Korean National Association office, Rhee Syngman sipped his coffee and offered an apology that lacked any sincerity.
“So, now that you have used me for your grand event, perhaps you can show me the accounts.”
He laughed.
“As expected of you.
Very sharp.”
“I spent my limited leave playing the clown at your event.
If the results are not satisfactory, I will not be pleased.”
I was irritated.
From the moment I stepped off the train, I had been suppressing the urge to punch him.
“The Japanese.”
“What about them?”
“They are not pleased.
A Korean entered West Point before any Japanese American.
Their pride is wounded.”
“That makes no sense.
They already send students from Japan.”
“Pride is not rational.”
That was true.
“They want to embarrass you.”
I exhaled.
“So that event…”
“It was also a show of support.
There were many Chinese present as well.”
“Chinese?”
“You have become a symbol among Asian immigrants in San Francisco.”
Even the Japanese were twisting logic, claiming I could be considered Japanese for convenience.
It was absurd.
“That image did not form naturally.”
“Of course not.
I helped shape it.”
As expected.
While I was considering how to settle accounts with him, loud footsteps echoed from below.
Bang.
A man burst in, covered in sweat and dust, pointing at Rhee Syngman.
“You tricked me about the date.”
It was Ahn Chang-ho.
He introduced himself, and I greeted him properly.
He smiled warmly.
“You have become a symbol of hope for Koreans here.”
His sincerity made me uncomfortable.
I had never aimed to become a symbol.
I simply chose the best path for survival and success.
Yet hearing such words from him made me uneasy.
“I have only done what I must.”
Each Korean who grows strong here will one day form a forest for our nation.”
They spoke well.
Too well.
I felt as if I was being turned into something greater than myself.
So I changed the topic.
“I have a request.”
“Go ahead.”
“I want to develop firearms.
Could you help me find engineers and factories?”
They hesitated.
“You are a cadet, not a weapons expert.”
“I am willing to invest my own money.”
I had knowledge of future weapons, but only at a conceptual level.
It would take time, but I needed at least a prototype before the war.
“I will look into it,” Ahn Chang-ho said.
Rhee Syngman also agreed, not wanting to lose ground.
They began arguing over who would handle it.
Watching them, I felt drained.
“Let us discuss details later.
I will go see my family.”
I left the office.
I needed rest.
After I left, Ahn Chang-ho lit his pipe despite Rhee Syngman’s protest.
“What do you think of him?”
“He will lead the Korean community in the future.”
Rhee nodded.
“He once said Japan would clash with the great powers in thirty years.”
“Then we must prepare our people.”
They spoke of the future.
Of independence.
Of destiny.
Rhee Syngman believed it was his mission to lead Koreans, like a prophet guiding his people.
And one day, he thought, that role would pass to Kim Eugene.
He never considered me a rival.
“Unless he becomes a war hero,” he muttered to himself.
And dismissed the thought.