Gold Rush Era (5)
Let's organize my thoughts.
Wooden boats.
You can't just ram a large ship straight onto a sandy beach, so naturally, soldiers have to board small boats to land.
But if you send wooden boats into a battlefield… they're going to break very easily, right? That means demand would be practically endless.
Take that idea just a bit further, and it might even connect to the famous PT boat business. Boats, huh. Compared to the big, beautiful steel ships I originally wanted, this might actually make more money.
But there's a problem.
The Army has absolutely no way to get involved in this.
If I remember correctly, both the Korean and U.S. Armies did have some landing craft or transport vessels, but if they don't exist right now, then what can I do?
This is the peak era of military downsizing.
Officers who fought bravely in France are lining up to resign, and I had to put on a full-blown circus act in Congress just to keep the tank program alive. If I start meddling in another branch's territory right now, I could seriously get screwed.
It's not just about turf—it's also about timing.
If I barge into the War Department right now and say, "In 20 years, we'll need to drop a million troops into France!", do you think they'll say, "Ah, I see. Then we should build 100,000 boats"?
Or will Marshall look at me with pity and recommend me to a psychiatric hospital?
Impossible is impossible.
The ones currently throwing a tantrum over landing boats—like a three-year-old demanding candy—are none other than the United States Marine Corps.
First, I need to build some magical "friendship" with them.
Then I have to persuade the Navy's notoriously picky procurement officials.
Just thinking about it makes my knees weak.
The only saving grace is that my career is perfectly suited to propose anything related to amphibious operations.
The Philippines.
A place made up of thousands of islands.
Naturally, amphibious needs are overflowing there. I could casually suggest something like, "For the smooth defense and recapture of the Philippines, wouldn't landing craft be necessary?"
Not that I'd take the lead directly.
I'd just… identify what kind of boats the Marines need and offer a few suggestions.
Unofficially.
This will take time. First, I need to figure out who to "negotiate" with.
In the meantime, I also need to look into boat-related engineers and existing manufacturers…
Busy, busy.
With these ambitions for shipbuilding burning in my mind, I headed to San Francisco to say goodbye to Dosan Ahn Chang-ho.
"Are you really leaving?"
"If Syngman Rhee—who would cling to his position no matter what—is calling me, then the situation must be serious. Besides, many strong young men are coming to America now. Losing one old man like me won't matter much."
Calling yourself old before even turning fifty… I'd object, but I don't exactly have clean hands here.
I did make heavy use of Dosan's labor. Still, it was time to let him go.
"I've already handed everything over properly, so don't worry too much."
"Do I look like some kind of exploitative slave owner? You don't need to worry about that."
"Not a slave owner, perhaps—but certainly a ruthless businessman. You dangled the hope of Joseon's future right in front of me. How could I not work?"
He tapped me lightly on the waist as he spoke.
"Ignore the nonsense spouted by those who don't understand anything. You, Yujin, are cultivating a vast and fertile field for the future of our people—far more than any so-called great figures."
"Now that you're leaving, you're really laying it on thick. Even so, I can't buy any more independence bonds, you know?"
"Caught me, have I? Hahaha! I've watched your family business grow day by day. Koreans who once had no nation, no hope, no future—struggling just to survive—are now educating their children and preparing for tomorrow. Whose achievement do you think that is?"
Now this is a problem—if you wrap even my pursuit of personal wealth and comfort in something that noble…
"Well, you'll probably pout and say, 'I'm just doing this for my own prosperity.' The three of you brothers take after your father perfectly. Even when he complained loudly about paying association dues—'What has Joseon ever done for me?'—he always ended up paying anyway.
So just keep doing what you're doing. Everyone making a living thanks to you is a valuable supporter of the Provisional Government. Hahaha!"
And just like that, Ahn Chang-ho departed.
***
"Hyung, you know Mr. Kim Jong-rim, right?"
"Of course. Didn't we always eat rice from his business? I heard he struck it big during the war boom."
"Yeah. He also supported independence activities and even built a school to train pilots, but… it seems things didn't go well."
Yushin is taking a long time to get to the point.
Let's see… the last time he dragged things out like this was about marriage.
I won't make the same mistake again. People learn from experience.
"So?"
"He came to visit a few years ago."
"And me? Why skip me?"
"That was when you were throwing a fit about my marriage—"
Ah… that time.
Yeah. Fair enough. I can see why it was awkward to contact me.
"There was a major flood around here back then, and his rice farming was completely wiped out."
"Get to the point."
"Our family's money is currently keeping his aviation school running. Since you were interested in education anyway, I just absorbed the school into our operations."
"Good call. It's hard to consult me every time anyway—just handle things as you see fit."
This is actually excellent.
I was planning to dip into the aviation industry soon anyway. Compared to Europe, American aviation is still pretty underdeveloped.
If we train capable people as pilots or engineers, they'll become high-value specialists. And specialists are treated well anywhere.
During the last war, colored infantry divisions were treated like garbage—but a colored air unit? That probably wouldn't be the case. That's something we can really leverage.
I've got plenty of connections in the Army Air Service too. Time to start laying the groundwork.
"What else?"
"The students you brought over."
"Ah, that."
"That's not something you just brush off. We're starting by teaching them English. After about six months to a year of practical learning, they should be fluent. Then we'll place them in high schools or universities depending on their age. Those interested in technical fields—we're planning to send them to Ford Motor Company."
"Okay, okay. That's perfect."
Unlike rice farming, cultivating people isn't something you measure in a year.
This is a ten-year plan at minimum.
"But hyung."
"Yeah?"
"I've said this before… shouldn't we start focusing on businesses that actually turn a profit now?"
"Profitability, huh."
"We keep adding money sinks, but there's no new business actually bringing in cash."
…He's not wrong.
Expanding into Japan had opened a path forward, sure—but how long would that last?
My thinking had been simple: if you want to hunt companies during the Great Depression, you need to already have a foothold in the industry beforehand. So I'd been investing accordingly.
But listening to him now, a disturbing thought crept in—
What if, when the Depression hits, we don't go hunting… but get eaten instead?
Cash flow.
Cold, hard cash.
We needed something fresh—something that could pull in money fast.
And so, after being told something I'd never even heard from Dorothy—"Go out and figure out how to make money! There's a hole in our wallet!"—I was kicked out of the house.
Damn it. Of all days, I'm out of cigarettes too.
I walked into a random nearby shop.
"One pack of Fatima, please."
"Sorry, we're out."
"…Really?"
"Not many people smoke Fatima these days. Honestly, we don't even stock it much anymore. Why not try switching brands?"
Switch brands? That's more terrifying than changing religions. Back in my day, if you started with one brand, you stuck with it till death…
"This one's popular these days. Do you like baseball, sir?"
"Yes, I do."
"Then try this. Tastes good—and there's a baseball player card inside. Even kids who don't smoke buy them just to collect the cards."
…Baseball cards?
I bought a pack and opened it.
Sure enough, there was a small card inside—player illustration on the front, basic info on the back.
"Does each pack have a different player?"
"That's right. Some people collect them."
…This is it.
Of course. When it's meant to happen, it happens. The heavens themselves are showing kind-hearted me the path to making money.
In my previous life, I played card games to death. From Magic: The Gathering as a kid, to collecting Pokémon and Digimon cards in school, to playing card games during night duty in the army.
These damned card games could drain your wallet endlessly.
And in this era—where entertainment options are limited—if you introduce something fun, seemingly cheap, and addictive like this… what do you think will happen?
I rushed back home and proudly presented my brilliant idea to Yushin.
"So, you're saying… we make cards like this and sell them as entertainment?"
"Exactly. It's just paper—the production cost will be dirt cheap."
"You know, there have been many times I thought you were talking nonsense… but things somehow worked out every time, so I gave you the benefit of the doubt."
He set the baseball card down.
"But this… yeah, no. I think you've been smoking too much. You might be hallucinating."
"Seriously! This will work!"
Why doesn't he trust me?! Every kid in the '90s spent their allowance at stationery shops for this stuff!
"Baseball cards work because people like baseball. This? It's nothing."
"Fine. Just wait. I'll make a prototype."
A little while later—
I scraped together my memories from my past life and brought a crude, handmade deck.
We played a test game.
"Damn it! Why is my luck so trash?! Again! This stupid, garbage luck-based game—seriously!"
"…Yushin."
"I didn't say it would sell! But this dumb game is pissing me off!"
"Yushin. What if there were stronger cards that increased your chances of winning?"
"…There would be, yeah."
"And what if those stronger cards had a low probability of appearing when you buy packs?"
"…Wouldn't people just use what they have?"
Would they?
…No.
They'd keep buying until they got it.
"This damned game… fine. Let's make it. I can't be the only one suffering. I admit it. I'll handle printing and packaging—just wait."
"If we're commercializing this, we'll need an artist too."
"Obviously. Your drawings are terrible."
You little—
And a few months later—
We struck gold.
READ MORE CHAPTERS HERE : https://beastnovels.com/