“If I’d known this was going to happen, I would’ve gone to England or the United States instead.”
Ah… I let out a deep sigh.
I had been an ordinary young man who enjoyed history games.
History games featured countless countries, but most players generally chose either their homeland or one of the major European powers.
Playing your own country gave you the satisfaction of turning your homeland into a mighty empire, while the European powers usually had richer historical detail, more missions, and more events because they were the main actors on the world stage.
“My contrary nature has ruined my life.”
Unlike most players, I had a strange quirk.
Even in games, rather than choosing one of the great powers, I preferred playing countries that had historically been beaten down and exploited by them.
My friends used to tease me, saying I must have some kind of masochistic streak.
Anyway, the country I had played most often lately was Mexico.
In the modern era, the United States was widely regarded as the most powerful nation in the world.
Mexico, meanwhile, had lost roughly fifty-five percent of its territory to the United States under the banner of Manifest Destiny and eventually declined into a far less influential country.
That history caught my peculiar interest.
I played Mexico again and again, despite its relatively limited events, and each time I built it into a superpower capable of defeating the United States.
Eventually, I developed a strange attachment to Mexico.
One day, I even found myself watching videos about the country online.
Maybe I should visit someday.
Mexico had a reputation for poor public security, but Mexico City was relatively safe.
The moment that thought took root, I couldn’t get rid of it.
In the end, I decided to go.
There was an old saying that seeing something for yourself was worth more than simply hearing about it.
Travel was more enjoyable when you knew something about the place beforehand, so I bought one of the few books on Mexican history available in Korea and read it before leaving.
The trip itself was wonderful.
Prices were inexpensive, my hotel was comfortable, there were plenty of places to visit, and the food was delicious.
If only I’d enjoyed myself, gone back to the hotel, and flown home.
On the night before my return to Korea, nostalgia got the better of me and I went to a nearby bar.
That was my mistake.
I had gone there to try some local tequila when an elderly man struck up a conversation with me.
I was nervous at first, but the kindly old man patiently waited through my clumsy Spanish.
What began as a conversation about my trip to Mexico flowed far more naturally than I expected.
And that friendly Mexican grandfather could really drink.
As the conversation dragged on, I became drunk and started rambling.
“It makes my stomach turn whenever I think about California and Texas.
The Americans took them from Mexico, and now they’re among the richest and most populous states in the United States.”
“Haha… Why are you so upset?
Mexico isn’t even your country.”
“Because it’s unfair!
They have gold, oil, a good climate, fertile farmland… If Mexico had kept those territories…”
“…Haha.”
After that, I launched into a long rant about the mistakes made by Mexico’s leaders after independence.
Of course, I wasn’t a historian or even a history student.
I was merely repeating bits and pieces I had picked up from a book and a handful of online videos.
“Then what do you think Mexico should have done?”
I could hardly believe it.
What a patient old man.
Not only had he listened to my drunken nonsense, he was actually asking questions.
I had never seriously considered what Mexico should have done after independence.
However, I had studied civil engineering and spent several years working for a construction company.
Naturally, I combined my shallow historical knowledge with what I knew about civil engineering and began talking about territorial development.
I spoke passionately, but my argument was simple: Mexico should have used its abundant natural resources as initial capital, then invested that wealth into developing its territory and accelerating industrialization.
Now that I was sober, I realized how recklessly I had been talking.
How could people of that era possibly have known exactly where all that gold was, much less possessed modern extraction methods?
Ah… They say the most dangerous person is someone who has read only one book.
Apparently, I was exactly that kind of person.
Still, my drunken rambling must have left quite an impression on that Mexican grandfather.
I knew because I woke up here.
“…So, who am I?”
“Your Highness is Agustín Jerónimo de Iturbide.”
“Ah… Seriously?”
The maid stared at me as though wondering what kind of lunatic I was.
I couldn’t let her run around telling everyone that the Crown Prince had lost his mind.
“…Why is my room so filthy?
Clean it again!”
The room was actually quite clean, but I blurted out the first excuse that came to mind and hurried away.
Ah… The Mexican Empire.
And not just any Mexican Empire—the First Mexican Empire.
Looking back, that old man had been strange from the beginning.
Maybe he could have approached an Asian tourist and started chatting normally, but throughout the last few days of my trip, I had repeatedly realized that my Spanish wasn’t good enough to hold a fluent conversation with locals.
Yet when I spoke to that grandfather, the words had come effortlessly.
At the time, I blamed the alcohol.
But thinking back, my speaking and listening skills had never been anywhere near that good.
When I spoke with him, Spanish had sounded almost like Korean.
There had been plenty of strange signs.
I simply hadn’t noticed them.
And now, somehow, I could still speak Spanish fluently.
Apparently, whatever ability that old man had given me so we could communicate had remained.
But why this era?
And why this person, old man?
Is this because I behaved badly?
Damn, you’re more vindictive than I thought.
Three hundred years had passed since Hernán Cortés and Spain brought down the Aztec Empire.
The First Mexican Empire held great significance as the first independent Mexican state after centuries of colonial rule, but it did not last long.
Worse, I wasn’t even Agustín I.
I was his eldest son.
Well… if I try to look on the bright side, Mexico is going to be a disaster for the next hundred years anyway.
Considering Mexico’s future—endless revolutions, civil wars, rebellions, and exploitation by foreign powers—perhaps starting here wasn’t actually the worst outcome.
At least it isn’t after the Mexican-American War.
Once Mexico lost roughly fifty-five percent of its territory, including resource-rich and agriculturally valuable lands such as California and Texas, I wasn’t confident I could ever build a country capable of competing with the United States.
If I wanted to change Mexico’s fate, I needed to begin before that happened.
I needed enough influence to calm the political and social chaos that followed independence, develop the country’s territory, and push industrialization forward.
After Agustín I, many people seized power, but none possessed legitimacy comparable to the man who had secured independence and become Mexico’s first emperor with popular support.
In that sense, the original owner of this body’s father, Agustín I, would have been the ideal person.
Unfortunately, he was already approaching middle age.
There was no guarantee he would still be alive by the time of the Mexican-American War.
So you’re telling me that I have to start developing Mexico at this age and eventually stop the United States?
Making a teenager work this hard ought to be illegal.
Illegal or not, I had no choice.
This had to be the will of whatever divine being had shoved me into the body of someone who lived two centuries ago.
If I had been given a choice before coming here, perhaps I would have chosen differently.
But now that I was already here, denying reality and doing nothing would accomplish nothing.
Besides, my parents in my previous life had already passed away, and I had neither a wife nor children.
There was no one waiting for me.
My only concern was what had happened to the original Jerónimo’s soul.
But if some divine being had caused all this, I could only hope it had taken care of that as well.
There’s nothing I can do against supernatural power anyway.
First, I need to understand the current situation.
The maid called me “Your Highness,” which means the empire hasn’t fallen yet.
What matters now is the month.
Normally, the first thing a transmigrator would need to discover was the year.
Fortunately, I didn’t.
Agustín de Iturbide—Agustín I, the father of this body—was proclaimed Emperor of Mexico in May 1822 and would be forced from power in March 1823.
Therefore, if people were still addressing me as “Your Highness,” I had to be somewhere within that brief period.
“The more I think about it, the more ridiculous it sounds.”
How did a hero of national independence, a man who became the first emperor with widespread popular support, manage to fall from power in less than a year?
When it was someone else’s history, I could laugh at it.
Now that I was trapped aboard the same sinking ship and about to be driven out alongside Agustín I, it only made me angry.
Whether I have political power or not, I need to remain in Mexico if I want to develop this country.
Agustín I had several similarities to George Washington, the first President of the United States.
Both were born in colonies and became military officers.
Both married into wealthy families and became major landowners.
Both possessed considerable military ability and achieved great accomplishments during war.
And both became the first leaders of newly independent nations.
Yet there was one crucial difference.
Agustín I was a monarchist.
George Washington was a republican.
Washington rejected suggestions that he become a king and instead became the first President of the United States through an election.
At the time, even many of Europe’s more liberal states still accepted constitutional monarchy, while the word “president” was often used simply to mean the head of an organization.
His decision was extraordinary.
As the hero of American independence and the nation’s first president, Washington could probably have clung to power if he had wanted.
Instead, after his second term, he voluntarily stepped down and retired to his estate, establishing a powerful precedent.
What an incredible man.
Agustín I had originally served as an officer of New Spain.
At the time, metropolitan Spain had been consumed first by the Napoleonic Wars and later by internal political conflict, leaving it unable to devote sufficient attention or resources to New Spain.
Even under those difficult conditions, Agustín displayed considerable military ability and defeated Mexican insurgent forces repeatedly, eventually earning promotion and greater command.
Later, as liberal reforms in Spain threatened the privileges of the monarchy, Church, and conservative elites, Agustín changed course.
He negotiated with independence leader Vicente Guerrero and proclaimed the Plan of Iguala, helping secure Mexican independence before ultimately ascending the throne with popular backing.
Once emperor, however, Agustín I repeatedly clashed with Congress.
He eventually moved against opposition deputies, and the confrontation only intensified.
His worst decision was dissolving Congress.
That poured fuel onto the fire.
As a former military commander, Agustín I probably believed that controlling the army would allow him to overpower Congress.
The problem was that his control over the military was nowhere near as secure as he imagined.
After Congress was dissolved, his popularity collapsed rapidly.
Republican-minded officers in the provinces rallied against him under the Plan of Casa Mata.
Among them was Antonio López de Santa Anna, who would later dominate Mexican politics for decades.
When even forces sent to suppress the rebellion turned against him, Agustín I abdicated and went into exile.
He later attempted to return to Mexico and was arrested and executed.
It was a disastrous precedent for a newborn nation.
Precedents quickly become standards.
Law, politics, institutions—even something as trivial as the first comment beneath an online post can shape everything that follows.
In that sense, George Washington gave the United States an extraordinary gift.
Agustín I left Mexico the opposite.
Thinking about his fate made my first objective obvious.
First, I have to stop my father from doing anything stupid.
Then I’ll change this country’s destiny.
@.
T.
R.
3.
0.
N to get access to 50 additional chapters!
/Meegoatbaa Whether you join as a free or paid member, you’ll also get access to 2 extra chapters.