January 13, 1902, Honolulu Harbor Pier, Hawaii, USA.
My father was a devout Christian.
He was deceived by U.S. consul Allen and came to Hawaii, the 'sugar empire' as one of the first official immigrants from the Korean Empire.
At the time, I was 16 years old. On the emigrant ship Gallic that departed from Jemulpo Port in the Korean Empire, I suffered from a high fever and was at death’s door but somehow survived.
[The white men on the ship said they couldn’t keep a corpse onboard and were about to toss you into the sea.]
The Yankees are inherently cruel and selfish like monkeys.
[Is that so?]
[Thank you for not dying and coming back to life.]
Those were the words spoken to me by a middle-aged man when I opened my eyes. That man was my father.
However, after regaining consciousness, it seemed I had been misplaced. A divine error, so to speak.
I was me, but I was not me.
To put it simply! I was a reincarnate.
And now, the reincarnated me stood at the entrance of a vast plantation.
“What’s going on?”
“Are they telling us to line up?”
“Why?”
The 102 Korean laborers who had disembarked from the Gallic began murmuring.
These country folks were gathered here by the plantation owners of the 'sugar empire' Before allowing the laborers into the plantation, they intended to conduct medical examinations.
Cough! Cough!
My father’s coughing was harsh.
“Are you alright?”
“I’m fine. A little cold won’t kill me.”
It was likely that my father would fail the plantation owners' medical examination. But my mother, instead of voicing her concerns, simply looked at him with worried eyes.
"A little cold?"
From my perspective, it looked more like tuberculosis.
The first antibiotic, penicillin, hasn’t even been discovered yet. That would happen about 20 years later, discovered by a Scottish microbiologist. To expedite its discovery?
I’d have to earn a lot of money and fund the research of microbiologists to study blue mold.
“If you fail the medical exam, we might have to return to Korea.”
My father shot me a look as if asking how I could possibly know that.
“After all this? Cough, cough!”
How did we get here?
We were deceived.
For the first generation of Korean immigrants, the Hawaiian sugar plantations were hell.
“That’s true.”
“Cough, cough. Just trust me, son. They’ll send you to school here. At least you, as the eldest son, must get an education.”
Education?
As a reincarnate, what more could I possibly learn? I already know the future!
The history of the Korean Empire, Japanese history, and even the future of the United States, there’s nothing I don’t know. But first, my father needed to pass the medical exam.
“Next!”
The voice of a white plantation owner called out, and it was now my father’s turn.
But the white man had already noticed my father’s pale complexion and heard his rough coughing. He frowned, but when his eyes fell on me, his expression changed to one of surprise.
Why?
Was he shocked to see me?
I found myself wondering.
'If we’re sent back to Korea, to that hell?' Would there be anything I could do? Join the independence movement? Or perhaps become a pro-Japanese collaborator? It would be one or the other. Whatever it was, I was confident I’d excel at it.
'No.'
After glancing at my father’s documents, the plantation owner shook his head and muttered under his breath.
"For me, America is the land of opportunity!"
So I couldn’t afford to return to the crumbling Korean Empire.
"Only four years remain until the Eulsa Treaty."
Even if I returned, there wasn’t much I could do immediately.
This was my moment to act.
“Excuse me.”
When fluent English came out of my mouth, the white plantation owner was visibly startled. My father, too, looked at me with wide eyes, while my mother clasped her hands together as if in prayer.
It was an incredible thing for English to flow so naturally from my lips.
The people around me began to murmur.
“You can speak English?”
The plantation owner asked me in English, though his gaze at me felt peculiar.
I couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was, but there was something there.
“Of course. My father only has a cold. It’s a simple illness, and he’ll recover soon. Besides, I’ll be far more useful to the plantation owner than my father.”
“You really can speak English?”
The plantation owner added a question mark at the end of his words, as if still in disbelief.
“Those men over there can’t speak English. How will you give work instructions to the Korean laborers?”
“Hahaha! Hahaha!”
The plantation owner seemed more amused by my boldness and intelligence than by the fact that I could speak English.
“Also, the plantation likely has Japanese laborers, doesn’t it?”
One of the reasons Koreans were brought to Hawaii was due to the strikes by Japanese sugar plantation workers.
“So what?”
“I also speak Japanese and Chinese.”
His expression suggested he found me insufferable.
“The Japanese and Chinese workers now understand basic English.”
Between the two, the Chinese, with their longer history of immigration to Hawaii, likely had better conversational English skills.
“But the plantation owner doesn’t speak Japanese.”
“So?”
“When there are more workers, there will also be more grievances. If the Japanese workers are planning a strike, I’ll be able to understand their intentions.”
I wasn’t one to lean toward goodness.
“What a clever boy.”
“My salary will be $50.”
At that time, the average salary for Korean laborers was about $15.
Even by American standards, this was below the minimum wage, but $15 was enough to buy white rice for a family of four in Korea for three months.
“Fifty dollars?”
So the $50 I demanded was equivalent to a year’s worth of rice.
“I’ll be worth it. If you find I’m not, you won’t have to pay me. It’s no loss to you.”
The plantation owner seemed entertained.
“Alright, you’re an interesting kid.”
“I’ll be your opportunity.”
This was America. Getting close to wealthy Americans was crucial.
“We’ll see. What’s your name?”
“Call me Peter. A Korean name won’t be necessary anymore.”
Even if I told the white plantation owner my Korean name a hundred times, he wouldn’t be able to pronounce it.
“Alright, Peter, you’re a peculiar one. Your father is approved!”
And just like that, my father was able to sign a labor contract with the plantation owner. From that day onward, the other Koreans began to look at me with amazement.
However, many devout Christians whispered that because I had come back to life, a demon must have possessed me.
‘A demon possessed me?’
In fact, I plan to become a demon from now on.
That’s the quickest way to succeed.
o0o
Eui Chin-wang's San Francisco residence.
“A group of Korean immigrants has arrived in Hawaii, Your Highness”
“When a nation loses its strength, its people scatter, fleeing to places like Gando and Primorsky Krai. And now, even across the ocean to Hawaii. The plight of these poor people is truly pitiful”
Eui Chin-wang spoke while gazing at the overcast sky outside the window.
“Your Highness, the royal family is urging your return to Korea”
“Is that truly His Majesty's will? More likely, it’s Japan’s. I won’t return”
o0o
A few days later, in the Korean settlement.
We arrived here by train.
No, it would be more accurate to say we were transported like cargo, not passengers. However, the plantation owner, Mark, showed some consideration for our family, and instead of riding in third class, we were allowed to sit in second class.
“Is there some land nearby where we could plant something?”
Mark was the owner of the sugarcane plantation, while a separate manager oversaw the Korean workers.
“Looks like the monkey actually speaks English.”
The manager was a racist. Judging by the leaves he was chewing on, it was clear they were coca leaves.
‘Of course.’
Cocaine wasn’t illegal in this era.
‘For now, I’ll hold back.’
Because I lack power.
Someone once said, courage without strength is impotence, and strength without courage is recklessness. I absolutely agree with that statement.
“I’m asking if we can plant something here.”
I repeated my question, this time with irritation.
“Do as you please.”
The manager seemed to be half-listening to me.
“Could you get us some cabbage and chili seeds?”
“Why should I?”
I didn’t expect kindness.
“I’ll tip you one dollar next month.”
“A tip?”
I emphasized the word “tip.”
The manager caught on to my meaning and grew agitated, looking ready to whip me on the spot.
“If you hit this kid on his first day, do you think those men back there will work?”
“You little brat!”
If the manager swung his whip at me, I’d have no choice but to fight.
Do I think I could win?
Of course.
‘I’ve already calculated it!’
I was gauging the distance between myself and the bastard.
The moment he made a decisive move, I planned to spring forward like the wind and drive my knee straight into his jaw.
“You damn brat!”
Swearing doesn’t need translation to be understood.
“You just cursed at me, didn’t you? You little monkey!”
Now we were on the verge of a fight.
The atmosphere had turned dangerous.
Everyone was tense, and the other men seemed to be looking at me, wondering why the eldest son of the Yu family was acting this way. Most of the older men, however, seemed ready to retaliate if the bastard manager laid a hand on me.
‘A riot on the first day at the sugarcane plantation?’
Things were about to spiral out of control.
It seemed there was no way to reverse the situation.
‘Will it work?’
I wondered if the skills I had learned in my previous life would be effective against this guy.
Thud, thud.
Footsteps approached.
Behind the obnoxious manager stood Mark.
“What’s going on here?”
“This brat is insolent. He even cursed at me! If we let this slide, he won’t work like a dog as he should. A lesson needs to be taught.”
The obnoxious manager directed Mark’s attention toward me.
Mark seemed to take in the situation and also noted the looks on the men behind me.
“He’s an amusing kid. Get him what he asked for.”
For some strange reason, Mark was unusually kind to me.
“What?”
“I told you before, don’t cause problems. I’m already fed up with Hawaii.”
Fed up with Hawaii? Why?
“…Yes, sir.” The obnoxious manager backed down immediately.
“Kid.”
Mark addressed me.
“Yes.”
“You’re not exempt either. You’ve already lost points on your first day.”
Mark issued me a warning as well.
“I apologize.” What was clear now was that I needed to earn points with Mark, but I had already started off on the wrong foot.
Thus began life on the sugarcane plantation.
Korean immigrant women in the first generation constantly had to be shocked and scared.
Why?
Hawaiian natives would suddenly visit the Korean settlement out of curiosity.
While the Hawaiians found us fascinating because of how different we were from them, Korean women found their appearance and demeanor intimidating.
‘But they’re quite innocent.’
The Hawaiians had personalities that were surprisingly similar to Koreans.
‘They say Hawaiian natives are descended from Taiwanese aborigines.’
Koreans and Hawaiians were indeed very different—though, naturally, they were bound to be.
o0o
One month later, in the parlor of Mark’s mansion.
“Peter.”
It had been a month since I was hired as Mark’s interpreter. Today was the first time I was being evaluated by Mark. Since arriving at the plantation, I had cut off my braided hair and adopted a Western hairstyle. Because of this, I had been slapped by my father on the day I cut my hair.
‘Even though he converted to Christianity…’
He still believed that every part of the body was a gift from one’s parents and should not be altered.
“You think what you suggested to me last time is really possible?”
Two weeks ago, I made a proposal to Mark, who was drinking whiskey at the time.
"Grass doesn't grow in banana groves, does it? With the workforce from the sugarcane plantation, we could manage a banana plantation too."
"Bananas? "
"There are only sugarcane and pineapple plantations in Hawaii. Bananas could be exported to the mainland."
"Bananas are also produced in Cuba."
As far as I know, no one has ventured into banana plantation farming yet.
"Don't underestimate bananas."
If the banana plantation business succeeds, it will exceed imagination. To my knowledge, no other fruit sells as much as bananas.
"I know that."
"Then the price competition won't work."
"Bananas need to be processed further."
Mark, the plantation owner, looked surprised that I even knew the meaning of the term "secondary processing."
"Secondary processing?"
Bananas can be used to make ketchup.
They can also be dried and turned into chips.
"Yes. Now, Mark, evaluate me. I'll tell you about a truly profitable business after my worth has been assessed."
"Haha, you're definitely an interesting one."
Mark reached into his pocket and pulled out a heavy envelope.
"From now on, don't pitch me dreamy ideas. Bring me realistic ones that make money."
Thud!
He tossed the heavy envelope in front of me.
"Thank you."
I immediately opened the envelope and counted the dollars.
Precision is essential.
"$55?"
The agreed monthly salary was $50.
Mark was supposed to decide whether to pay me that salary after a month, but surprisingly, he added an extra $5.
"He's got a way with money."
More precisely, Mark knows how to manage people.
o0o
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