Chapter 17: The Russian Civil War - The Red Eagle
"Hey."
"Yes, Comrade Trotsky?"
"Are you out of your mind?"
"..."
"Why did you do something I told you not to?!"
Damn it, you're the one who sent me to the Romanovs, you bastard! The words rose to my throat, but I barely managed to restrain them.
March 23, 1918. I traveled to Moscow with two women: Maria Romanova and Anastasia Romanova.
Originally, I intended to take only Anastasia, but Nikolai expressed concern about her traveling alone. Thus, Maria, her closest elder sister, accompanied us.
I concealed the fact that Maria and Anastasia were accompanying me from the Central Committee. I judged that prior knowledge would only complicate matters.
Fearing that the Secret Police might intercept us before we reached Moscow, I simply informed them that I was returning to the capital.
And the Central Committee had become a mess.
"We can't let the relics of the reactionary Tsarist order live! To prove that the newborn Soviet Russia has broken free from the spirits of the past, we need the lives of the Romanov family!"
"But their lives are precious too! I agree with punishing Nicholas and his wife, but what crime have the children committed? We should hold an open, honest trial!"
"Comrade Siyeong, are you satisfied now? This is what you've set in motion," Trotsky retorted sarcastically.
No, this isn't what I set in motion! I wanted to shout. Blame Anastasia instead!
All I did was teach the former princess, who was curious about the outside world, the harsh realities of early 20th-century Russia.
The meeting adjourned without reaching a conclusion. Ignoring the piercing gazes I felt on the back of my neck, I headed to the hotel where they were staying.
"What happened?"
"We didn't reach a conclusion today either. It looks like they'll just let it slide for now."
"What on earth do you mean by that?!"
Anastasia's shrill voice pierced my eardrums. Maria, sitting beside me, shook her head as if this was a daily occurrence.
I wondered if this was really the same Anastasia I'd first met. At first, she'd seemed like a shy, awkward high school freshman, but now she stood confidently, boldly expressing her opinions.
"We've come all the way to Moscow! We can't give up here! Even if the Duma wants to let this slide, I'll stop them!"
"Uh... yeah... good luck with that..."
Exhausted, I collapsed onto the sofa in the room. I'd done all I could.
In the first place, I'd ended up living with the Romanov family because of my PTSD.
It was like trying to remove a mole only to end up with another one. I didn't want to be tied to this mess any longer.
"Comrade Siyoung!"
That damned "Comrade" this, "Comrade" that. Would they just stop?
I wasn't some magnanimous person with the means to support seven family members who were doomed to be executed anyway.
"Um... Siyeong... Brother... Bernie..."
"Hmm?"
Maria, who had been quietly observing us from the side, slowly called out to me.
She hesitated, then sighed and spoke.
"Just once... Just once, please help us... We..."
Suddenly, as if overwhelmed by emotion, she burst into tears.
"I don't want to die!"
"...."
"I'll do anything. Please... please help us..."
Sigh. I turned my gaze out the window. In the distance, the Kremlin and Saint Basil's Cathedral shimmered in the light.
Here in the new capital of Soviet Russia, I found myself with the princesses of Saint Petersburg.
Is it really right to abandon them to the waves of history and pretend I know nothing? I asked myself.
...
At this rate, my stubborn nature will get me killed someday.
"Alright."
"Huh?"
"I said alright. I'll help you."
The anger and tears from earlier vanished, replaced by the bright eyes of two former princesses.
"Thank you, Comrade Siyoung!"
"Thank you so much, Brother Siyoung!"
"But there's a condition."
I'm not a tree that gives without expecting anything in return.
"What is it?"
"The condition is..."
After all, I need to ensure some minimum profit.
***
"So, why should we spare the Romanovs?"
"There are many reasons, but we can use them for propaganda."
The next day, I stormed into Trotsky's office in the Kremlin, Anastasia of the Romanov family by my side, and began explaining their potential utility.
"Support for the Tsarist regime still exists among Russian peasants, and it's clear that they provide a significant claim to legitimacy for the Russian state. If we can make the Romanov Imperial Family support Soviet Russia, it would help stabilize our regime."
"I've considered that as well. But I've concluded that the risks outweigh the benefits."
Trotsky replied with his usual indifferent expression, and I retorted in disbelief.
"What danger are you even talking about?"
"Saving the Romanovs was a betrayal of the Russian proletariat, Comrade Siyoung. Especially the citizens of Petrograd, who haven't forgotten the events of 1905. The people who were betrayed despite their unwavering support for the Tsar—do you think they'll support a Soviet regime that forgave the Tsar?"
"Comrade Trotsky, I've heard a lot about this from Comrade Siyoung."
Anastasia, who had remained silent until then, finally spoke. Trotsky turned to me, startled.
"Did that woman just call us 'Comrades'?"
"Yes, they started calling me that back in Tobolsk."
Trotsky wore a bewildered expression.
"Comrade Siyoung, you truly are... the craziest person in this country."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"Anyway, I know what happened during the Bloody Sunday Incident. And as a member of the Romanov family, I want to apologize for that incident."
Anastasia spoke with pride.
After staring at her for a moment, Trotsky turned back to me and asked.
"Do the other members of your family know... about how this woman has become like this?"
"No, they probably don't."
"Then this will be difficult, Miss Anastasia Romanova."
"Call me 'Comrade'!"
"If that's how you prefer to be addressed, Comrade Anastasia Romanova."
Despite being strangers, Trotsky and Anastasia were locked in a fierce standoff. I sat quietly, watching the intense debate unfold between them.
"Your father, Nikolai Romanov, was solely responsible for the Bloody Sunday Incident. And your mother, Alexandra Romanova, was manipulated by the mad monk Rasputin during the war, leading to the corruption of the government and the infiltration of traitors."
"Even if we concede a hundred times that our parents bear responsibility for the failures of the Revolution and the war, my siblings and I—no, even our parents as citizens of the newly born Soviet government—have the right to a fair trial!"
"No. We're at war now. During wartime, summary executions are permissible. Your parents provided the pretext for the Bolshevik Revolution through their abdication, plunging Russia into a de facto civil war. The only answer to that is execution."
"That's absurd! Moreover, our parents weren't prisoners of war! After their abdication in February, they had no connection to any war whatsoever..."
I was quite surprised that Anastasia could hold her own in a heated argument with Trotsky.
Even though she was still a high school student, a princess trained in imperial studies was different.
"In any case, I cannot accept a trial for your parents, Comrade Anastasia Romanova. Instead, as a courtesy, I will grant you and your siblings freedom."
"I can't accept this! I demand that my parents receive a public trial based on the law!"
"I'm sorry, but we haven't even drafted a constitution yet."
"Then I'll wait until it's completed! Once the legal system is established, please allow them to be tried! Wouldn't that be acceptable?"
"Well, yes, but..."
This was the first time Trotsky had ever been so thoroughly outwitted.
Perhaps Trotsky saw a reflection of himself in Anastasia's determination.
"Sigh. Very well. Then we'll consider the matter of your brother Siyoung and the rest after the constitution is drafted and the current rebel armies are suppressed. Is that agreeable?"
In the end, it was Trotsky who had to back down.
"Thank you, thank you, Comrade Trotsky! I will never forget this kindness!"
Anastasia thanked him repeatedly as she turned to leave.
"Now, Comrade Siyoung, I'd like to hear your thoughts on this. This is the second time you've humiliated me, after the Treaty of Brest-Litovsk. Care to explain?"
I felt my face burning.
"Comrade Trotsky, this was my original intention..."
"Enough. Are you sleeping with that woman? Or have you slept with her? Tell me, why are you being so kind to her and the Romanovs?"
"Nothing like that has ever happened."
You sent me to that family, and I couldn't bear to watch them die like that, riddled with machine-gun fire as if it were real. Isn't that obvious to anyone?
But Trotsky looked genuinely serious.
"Comrade Siyoung, I firmly believe in your abilities and your passion for the Revolution, but the other Members of Parliament do not share that belief. If this matter leaks, it will only be a matter of time before you're labeled as a Royalist reactionary. That would be detrimental to both of us."
"Then... what do you want me to do, Comrade Trotsky?"
"You carry a pistol with you every day, don't you? Ever since Yekaterinodar."
"Y-yes, but..."
"Use that pistol to shoot Nikolai Romanov and Alexandra Romanova."
Trotsky's voice was utterly emotionless and dry as he spoke.
"What?"
"You don't understand? I said, shoot those two and kill them."
"Comrade Trotsky!"
Is this bastard truly insane? Asking me to kill perfectly innocent people?
And you're asking this of someone who was recently diagnosed with PTSD and had to go to a sanatorium?
"You don't want to? Then prove you're not a reactionary through some other means. You want to spare the Romanov siblings? Then you have to pay the price."
"What form must the price take?"
Trotsky paused to think before answering.
"For now, there are two options. First, kill the Romanov couple. Second, return to the battlefield and suppress the Rebel Army. I'll lean toward forgiving the Romanov siblings. If you choose the second option, I might even extend that damned couple's lives a little longer."
A heavy weight seemed to fall from my chest with a thud.
So, it's not possible after all?
I hate going back to the battlefield as much as I hate dying.
But making someone kill with their own hands... That would undoubtedly leave a deeper trauma than watching someone die before my eyes.
"Comrade Trotsky... Do you want to see me suffer?"
"No, quite the opposite. I hate seeing people suffer."
"Then why are you giving me this trial?!" I practically shouted.
Trotsky remained as cold as ice. "Because I don't want to see you face even greater trials later. You've already booked one future trial through the Treaty of Brest-Litovsk. But if you fail to resolve the Romanov issue now? That's one more trial you'll face, Comrade Siyeong."
"...."
"Of course, if you don't want to, you don't have to. But I warn you: the Treaty of Brest-Litovsk and the pardon of the Romanov Imperial Family will make you appear more reactionary than anyone else. And no matter how much you participate in future revolutions or battles, these mistakes will trip you up in the future."
Trotsky's words, as if prophesying his own future, weighed heavily on my mind.
"The choice is yours, Comrade Siyoung. Whether you choose comfort now and hardship later, or hardship now and relative comfort later. There's no easy choice."
He whispered like the devil in Faust. I squeezed my eyes shut and replied.
"...Understood. I've made my decision."
"I hope you don't regret your choice, Comrade Siyoung."
Trotsky chuckled as he left the room. I was left alone in the empty chamber of the Kremlin, utterly alone.