Chapter 16: The Russian Civil War - Sleeping with the Enemy (Part 2)
I've been having similar dreams for the past few days.
Dying people. Dying horses. And the endless rattle of machine guns.
And me, just watching it all from behind.
"No... no... no!!!"
I bolt upright in bed, shouting something, relieved to find it was just a dream.
"Um... you're... awake?"
I'm startled to find someone sitting beside the bed.
"Ah. You were here?"
The long-haired girl with black hair nods, flustered. I sigh and sit up.
"Nastya. I told you not to startle me like that every morning. I get up on my own."
The girl, Anastasia Romanova, mumbles a reply.
"I... I... I come to bring you breakfast because you always wake up so late..."
"I told you I'd start waking up on my own. Besides, since I'm already awake, I might as well go eat."
It had been a few weeks since I left Petrograd and settled in this remote Siberian village.
I hadn't heard anything about returning, and frankly, I had no intention of going back to the political intrigue in Petrograd. So, I was content to live here quietly.
Of course, I couldn't be sure if the family I was living with felt the same way.
"Are you awake?"
"Hmm, did Mr. Siyeong sleep well last night? Nastya mentioned you haven't been sleeping well lately."
"Haha... well, yes. The shock from those events still lingers."
After greeting Alexandra Romanova, the former Empress of the Russian Empire, I received a newspaper from a guard.
Having spent several weeks here, I had grown quite close to the Romanov family.
The initial awkwardness gradually faded, and I now felt comfortable chatting with them. At least, that's how I perceived it.
"Mr. Siyeong, did you sleep well last night? I heard some noise earlier."
"Did you sleep well, Mr. Nikolai? I had a nightmare last night."
"Still? That's not good. Make sure you rest properly while you're here. Health comes first."
Even Nikolai Romanov, the former Emperor of the Russian Empire, now worries about my health.
The Emperor, who had been deposed by the February Revolution, was now taking care of the leaders of the October Revolution. I wondered if Lenin would try to have me killed when he heard about this.
The meals weren't lavish, but they weren't lacking either. According to Alexei, before I arrived, the food was only enough for what they distributed to ordinary citizens.
Black bread, tea, and occasionally a cutlet.
The Romanov family might have grown fond of me because the meals improved.
"Mr. Siyeong, is there any interesting news in the paper?"
The former Emperor Nikolai asked about the contents of the Bolshevik newspaper Pravda.
The front page was dominated by a lengthy report on the Fourth All-Russian Soviet Congress, which had concluded on March 16th.
"There's nothing particularly noteworthy. Oh, they're moving the capital to Moscow."
"To Moscow? Why? Has something happened?"
"Probably a security issue. Finland's independence was recognized during the peace treaty with Germany, so Petrograd must be considered unsafe."
"I see. That's a bit disappointing." Nikolai Romanov's voice was filled with a sense of loss.
Come to think of it, I was the one who stormed the Winter Palace, their ancestral home.
"Other than that, there's only dull speeches. Oh, and the Bolsheviks' official stance on President Wilson's Fourteen Points for peace has been released."
"What exactly are these Fourteen Points?" Nikolai asked, showing genuine interest.
I began reciting the principles, which would become a laughingstock in about twenty years. "First: Open diplomacy, abandoning secret treaties and establishing transparent negotiations..."
"...Sixth. Assistance to Russia's reconstruction. Withdraw the troops from Russia. And handle the Russian issue by giving Russia a free opportunity to independently determine its political development and national policy, allowing it to enter the international community under the political system of its choice."
"Withdrawing the troops... does that mean the United States will completely withdraw from Russia?"
"Yes, it's probably aimed at the German troops stationed in Russia. It seems to be telling the German Army, which is entrenched in places like Poland and Courland, to leave."
"Poland? Has the United States recognized Poland as Russian territory?"
"No, actually. The thirteenth point explicitly mentions Polish independence and 'guaranteed access to the sea.' It seems the United States intends to recognize Poland as an independent state."
"...I see. Then, do the Allied Powers and the United States have no intention of intervening in Russian affairs?"
Nikolai asked with lingering disappointment, "That's what it seems like. It also says here that we have a 'free opportunity to independently determine our political development and national policy,' so it looks like they won't intervene for now."
"I see. No intervention... No intervention..."
Suddenly, Nikolai stood up. He hadn't even eaten half of his meal.
"Where are you going?"
"Oh, I've lost my appetite... You all finish eating."
No way... Could he still...?
Does he still believe the Allied Powers will come rescue him?
"Father... he's still so sensitive to these things," Anastasia murmured softly. I pursed my lips.
Does he still think he can be restored as Emperor of All Russia?
Watching Nikolai's retreating figure, I saw a mirror image of Emperor Gojong from history books. My heart churned with conflicting emotions: pity for Nikolai, and fury toward the incompetent emperor who had plunged Russia into ruin.
***
My day was utterly devoid of purpose.
Back in 2021, my laptop and smartphone were filled with endless entertainment options, but here, in the heart of the countryside, there was nothing to do.
In Petrograd, I'd spent my time smoothly debating with Trotsky or sightseeing around the city, but here, there was truly nothing to occupy my mind.
Instead, I spent the entire day idling away. Not just pretending to relax, but genuinely doing nothing.
After all, I'd come here for a vacation, so this was technically the right way to spend it... yet somehow, it felt like I was being forced to experience life in the 1960s or 70s.
Among the children, Alexei and Anastasia were the ones I connected with the most.
Anastasia's three older sisters—Olga, Tatiana, and Maria—were already at an age where they seemed to keep their distance from me.
Well, given that marriage proposals from foreign royal families were a daily occurrence for these children, it's no surprise that an Asian would never catch their eye.
On the other hand, Alexei followed me around like a middle school student trailing his taekwondo instructor. And behind Alexei, Anastasia usually trailed as well.
What did Alexei and I do? Since Alexei couldn't engage in strenuous activities due to his hemophilia, we mostly stayed indoors and played games.
"Check!"
"You're a numbskull, you idiot."
"What do you mean 'numbskull'?"
"You blocked the check! Just move already."
From the traditional and trusted chess to rock-paper-scissors, it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say we played nearly every board game available in this era.
Meanwhile, Anastasia wasn't particularly active.
According to something I read somewhere, Anastasia used to love running around, but now that she's old enough to enter high school by Korean standards, she seems to be taking care of herself more.
Instead, she spends a lot of time talking with me.
She seems curious about the "outside world."
The true face of Russia that unfolds beyond the Winter Palace in St. Petersburg, where she has lived her entire life. And the state of Russia before and after the Revolution.
I explained everything I knew to her.
"And on a Sunday in 1905, the people marched on the Winter Palace to demand an end to the long war and bread. The Emperor ordered his troops to fire on the civilians..."
Why did the Revolution happen? And why the Communist Revolution?
What did the Russian people think of the Tsarist regime then, and what do they think now?
And why are the Bolsheviks winning now?
Anastasia got angry, she cried, and she spent long periods lost in thought.
Then she became even sadder.
She was devastated by the thought that if her father had made even slightly better choices, Russia and her family would be far better off now.
Overcoming her sorrow, Anastasia asked me:
"Then... if we were to repent for our past sins, stand before the people, and apologize for our wrongs... could we still be forgiven?"
I couldn't bring myself to answer. It was a path I hadn't taken.
In actual history, the Romanov family met their end in the cellar of Yekaterinburg, cut down by machine-gun fire. They were never restored to power—at least not during the Soviet era.
But could they truly be forgiven if they publicly repented for their wrongs here? It was a difficult question to answer.
And so, I wrote it down and sent it to Trotsky in Moscow: Is it possible to hold a public trial for the Romanov Imperial Family?
The reply came soon enough.
***
"It's difficult at the moment, Lany."
"Why?"
"Comrade Trotsky sent a full page of reasons, but the main issue is that the Soviet legal system isn't fully established yet."
Later, I heard from the furious Trotsky that this matter had sparked intense debate within the Supreme Soviet.
Lenin argued that even if the Romanov family had committed crimes, they still deserved a fair trial as Soviet citizens.
However, both Trotsky and Stalin opposed even considering the Romanov family as a matter for discussion.
Trotsky claimed that the Romanov family bore responsibility for provoking the Revolution due to their dire circumstances, and thus should be disposed of without a trial.
The logic was simple: the Imperial Family was a nuisance, so they needed to be eliminated.
I couldn't bring myself to tell Anastasia this bluntly, so I softened the message.
"In other words, the Romanov family is responsible for sparking the Revolution. That's why the people rose up and overthrew them. The Revolution itself served as a substitute for a proper trial..."
"So..."
"Uh... it means there's no need for a trial. In other words, they're saying we should just be executed."
"No!"
"Huh?"
Anastasia answered with a voice so loud and clear it pierced my ears.
"Why don't we deserve a trial? Didn't Brother Siyoung say that everyone is born with the same human rights? Why should we be stripped of those rights just because we were born into the Romanov family?"
"..."
When I remained silent, Anastasia suddenly grabbed my hand.
Just as my face was about to flush, she blurted out:
"Brother Siyoung... no, Comrade Siyoung! Please take me to Moscow! I'll personally plead my innocence before Trotsky and Stalin!"
... What have I gotten myself into now?
It felt like I was trying to change history by pounding on someone's throat with my fists.
I came here to treat my PTSD... so why is my to-do list growing longer by the minute?
The sun sank endlessly toward Moscow in the distance.