Ch.306The Guest from South America (4)

* * *

Yes. At such a young age she became First Lady, and she seems quite ambitious.

This Eva Perón woman I’ve met in person is quite a remarkable figure.

Not someone to be taken lightly.

“I’ve heard you’re quite good at prophecies. Do you perhaps see anything about me?”

Is she asking about prophecies now? So that’s what she was curious about.

There are only a few things I know about Eva Perón.

“Well, when I first saw the First Lady, there was something that immediately came to me.”

“Perhaps about our position in South America?”

That’s not it. Does she think my prophecies are all-powerful?

Now even the First Lady of South America thinks highly of my prophecies,

But all I can tell Eva Perón about is the near future, nothing more.

I took a casual sip of tea before speaking.

“I don’t see that far. I mostly see visions about Russia’s future, not other nations. We’ve only just established relations with Argentina.”

In other words, I know nothing about you, so prophecies are out of the question.

That should be enough.

But despite my answer, she seemed unsatisfied, tilting her head and licking her lips.

“Ah, I see.”

“However, I do see things on a personal level. Like a person’s final moments.”

I can see your end! That’s what I’m saying.

Would she really respond to such a rude statement?

At my words, Eva Perón’s eyes glistened with interest.

“Do you perhaps see something about me?”

“Thirty-three years old.”

I said it directly and confidently.

Do you understand what I’m saying? You will die young.

“Are you saying I’ll die at that age?”

She’s taking it rather calmly.

Her reaction was more bland than I expected, making me click my tongue internally.

“It might be a little sooner or later. The cause is illness.”

“Can you tell me more? In detail?”

Is there any need to hide it? Given how things are going, we might get beaten by America later anyway, so why bother?

Eva Perón already has political enemies.

The upper class and the military. The result of her reforms.

While she improved relations with the lower classes and gained popular support, she would later withdraw from the vice-presidential candidacy under military pressure.

And she would be diagnosed with uterine cancer.

That’s what I know kills Eva Perón.

“Uterine cancer.”

“Uterine cancer? Me? How could I possibly…”

“The host might be your husband, Juan Perón.”

I heard Juan Perón’s previous wife also died of uterine cancer.

That’s why some say Juan Perón is the host.

I don’t know for certain, but if I tell her, she can take precautions.

“Ah, is that so?”

“You’re surprisingly calm. Let me tell you more—you’ll eventually have surgery, but that will be the end. Well, this is just my imagination, so feel free to disregard it.”

She gave a bitter smile at my words.

All my prophecies have come true so far, so this must sound ridiculous.

“I should be careful from now on.”

Even if the snowball I’ve set in motion somehow changes the future and Eva Perón doesn’t die, it doesn’t matter.

Once I’ve told her about her end, she’ll be as careful as possible.

That might keep her from dying, so she won’t hold it against me later.

But this woman—perhaps because I told her she would die—is looking me up and down in an unsettling way.

“You really look younger than me.”

Ah, so that’s what it is. If that’s what she means, I’ll accept it.

Yes, I can’t help but look young. I am a saint, after all.

At 50 years old, with the appearance of someone in her 20s. I’m the perfect saint, beyond those self-flattering “wine women” terms that middle-aged women use to comfort themselves.

Even if you live long, Eva Perón, I won’t age.

So I confidently spoke up.

“That’s because I’m a saint blessed by God.”

“Ah. I wish I could be a true saint too.”

Aren’t you already a saint in a different sense? I have eyes to see.

Eva Perón’s policies gain support from the masses but cannot win over the upper class.

Naturally, policies that favor the lower classes won’t benefit the upper class.

So she needs powerful backing that won’t interfere with them.

“If you establish friendly relations with the Rome Treaty, you’ll gain more than just supremacy in South America. Are you and the President planning to use the Rome Treaty as backing to gain support from or check the military and upper class?”

“You certainly have a broad perspective. Indeed, you are a figure in a position no other woman in this era could reach. The position of mother that no leader of the Rome Treaty would dare aspire to. No man could ever challenge Your Majesty’s authority.”

She was known for being quite active in women’s rights, but this sounds somewhat feminist. Probably not.

I wish she wouldn’t act so familiar with me. I don’t want to be caught up in strange controversies later.

It would be best to pretend not to know her if I go to Argentina.

“But is it true that Your Majesty never had any men at your age?”

“Well, there were quite a few marriage proposals, but I refused them.”

Actually, even now, if I were to say “I’m willing to marry, so please find me suitable matches from European countries!” they would probably come flying in from everywhere.

Churchill would likely be at the forefront, trying to connect me with the British royal family. But from my perspective, they would be pushing much younger candidates as potential husbands.

“A woman should still get married. Don’t you feel lonely?”

Well, let me think.

In the Kremlin Palace, I have the Tsar’s Guard, who are as loyal to the Tsar as Hitler’s personal guard. There’s also the Kremlin Maid Corps that Maria prepared for me.

These maids were seriously recruited from the White Army’s female soldiers.

And there’s Maria herself, who is essentially the Tsar’s unofficial power behind the throne. Even without going to the State Duma, I’m not that lonely.

“In the Kremlin Palace, I have my personal guard, Maria who assists me, and maids. Sometimes I even throw parties with all my guards.”

“P-parties too? I-I see. As expected of the Tsar. But don’t you need someone who stays right by your side?”

Her reaction seems quite impressed—is she mocking me? Or maybe there’s some misunderstanding.

She has an impressive president husband. I don’t know if she’s bragging or what, but as for someone by my side, I have Belka II, so it’s fine.

“Well, I have Belka, a gift from the German Kaiser. This one is Belka II. I have many companions around me. They’re always by my side when I call, so there’s no problem.”

I pointed to Belka II playing outside.

That one has grown even larger than his father Belka. Sometimes I can’t even control him. That’s when I get help from Maria.

“A dog? Oh, it’s a very large dog indeed.”

“Yes.”

“Hmm. The Tsar is truly remarkable.”

“Yes, so I don’t really have a reason to marry.”

I casually answered while taking a sip of tea.

To be honest, if someone asked if I’m not lonely at all, that would be a lie.

It’s not like I treat my guards as lovers. Eva Perón seems quite shocked, her mouth hanging open.

Is this really so surprising?

“You’re truly amazing. If it sounds disrespectful, I can’t help it, but may I call you ‘sister’ in private?”

Call me what you want. What’s that supposed to mean? Wait, why should I let this woman call me “sister”?

If I hear such things, it feels like I’m being treated as Eva Perón’s equal.

But if I refuse, who knows what might be said behind my back. It wouldn’t be bad to cultivate a friendship with an influential figure in Argentina.

Politically, it makes sense.

It’s about creating a pro-Tsar figure in Argentina, separate from the issue with America. How nice would it look in future records if it said “Even the First Lady of Argentina worshipped our Mother Tsar”?

It’s a bit annoying, but what can I do?

I decided to be generous and allow it.

“Go ahead. I don’t mind.”

“You truly have a broad mind, just as you unified Europe.”

Why does she keep getting emotional?

“Not particularly? I’m not entirely pure either.”

“Ah, I understand. Everyone has their dark side.”

For example, like how I just ignored the Black genocide in Africa.

Unexpectedly, China drew attention to itself, so everything got buried.

But when this woman talks about my dark side, it feels like we’re being put on the same level, which makes me feel dirty.

“Well, shall we head to the Duma now?”

Haven’t we talked enough?

Whether you call me sister or boast about our friendship, the conclusion will be made in the Duma, and ultimately Rome must approve it.

“I hope you can lend us your strength.”

“You seem quite desperate.”

“Yes. Seeing Your Majesty’s Europe has made me realize something. I want to unify South America.”

Eva Perón clenched her fist.

For a woman who supposedly used her body to advance her career and even after becoming First Lady, she’s overflowing with ambition.

Or perhaps that’s why she’s overflowing with it. At this moment, she seemed to shine quite brightly.

Regardless of her shine, I wouldn’t bat an eye if America took all of the Americas or even if they put a nuclear weapon in Argentina’s capital and forced surrender.

But I can at least give a polite answer.

“I hope things go as you wish.”

The Duma will think in terms of what benefits us anyway.

She can probably expect good news.

After the tea party with Eva Perón ended, the Duma finally reached a conclusion.

The Duma, which again negotiated with the Argentine delegation, came up with a very positive answer.

“Very well. We will support you.”

“Oh, thank you so much!”

“As long as you properly handle the relocation of Black people.”

If they do that, there shouldn’t be any problems.

We just need to send military advisors and handle things in a way that doesn’t put us in conflict with America.

“Yes, we will certainly do so.”

What’s wrong with helping relocate Black people?

“However, regarding the warship issue, we also need to be mindful of America, so it’s difficult right now. Even if we sold Argentina many warships, it would be hard to secure naval supremacy against America.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

Juan Perón licked his lips in disappointment.

Even if we gave them ships, they’d all be destroyed anyway.

They shouldn’t think about gaining naval supremacy against America.

It would be different if Argentina purchased ships themselves, but still.

“Yes.”

“How about buying just enough battleships and destroyers to moderately increase your naval size?”

That much should be fine.

As long as we’re careful not to provoke America, showing that we’re helping you to this extent should be sufficient.

“Would it be possible to purchase missiles as well?”

Missile sales. Well, there’s nothing we can’t sell.

If they pay properly, we can hand over some outdated missiles.

Even now, their will to wage war seems strong.

“We have some outdated decorative materials we no longer use, so those can be sold.”

“Thank you.”

The Rome Treaty and Argentina finalized their coordination on weapons support.

This was immediately reported to the Rome Treaty headquarters in Rome, and the headquarters, already struggling with the Black issue, approved and decided to send a select military advisory group to Argentina.

“Argentina is more serious than we thought.”

“Isn’t it a bit much to build them weapons factories?”

“We just need to build them initially and then back off if America protests.”

There were still complaints within the Rome Treaty, but the judgment was that it wouldn’t be bad to keep America in check.

“Aren’t we giving away too much in exchange for Black relocation?”

“Well, it will probably take Argentina a long time to assimilate the Black population.”

I waved off the Prime Minister’s question.

Look at the future. Are there any properly functioning Black nations? None.

The great powers drew arbitrary borders, mixing Black tribes, but do multi-ethnic countries cause such chaos?

Hitler’s Danube Federation, Manchuria, Japan, and the Balhae Federation with its Jewish population are all running smoothly.

But Black countries don’t last long.

Dictators emerge, civil wars break out. Various kinds of chaos ensue.

Alternatively, bringing Black people from advanced countries like America to develop their homeland wouldn’t be bad either.

It would be best to relocate as many as possible to reduce the number remaining in Africa.

“How many Black people wish to relocate?”

Relocation is also a problem.

What if they refuse to relocate?

These people… I’m doing my best to help the colonial empires clean up their mess, but can’t they cooperate a little?

If they refuse, I’ll have no choice but to use the Hitler card again.

“After the Free Zone incident, many are hoping to relocate.”

“They must be worried about facing the same fate.”

They must be quite afraid.

If they act up like the Black people in the Free Zone, they’ll be beaten like dogs as in colonial times.

That fear must remain, so apart from some African countries where decolonization has been intense, many might want to relocate.

“Otherwise, they seem to be staying in the new Black nations that have received government transfers from colonial powers.”

I’m doing as much as I can.

If something happens amid all this, it’s the Black people’s own problem.

We’ve done enough, and once things settle, we’ll hand it over to Ethiopia. We’ll also draw clear lines for South Africa.

This should be sufficient.

“Still, Argentina is serious. Looking at how they’re even mobilizing transport ships.”

“Argentina?”

They’re bringing transport ships?

When it was discussed in the Duma, there was talk about transporting Black people, but Argentina is bringing transport ships too?

“Yes. Not all of them, but they say they’ll take as many as possible on their own transport ships.”

“Transport ships? Why go to such lengths?”

“Hahaha, they’re extremely enthusiastic. Our weapons must be quite good.”

Even so, why go to such lengths?