A puppet Finance Minister attacked for changing even one tax law or labor law.
An incompetent politician who couldn't do anything freely except tasks assigned by the Tsar.
Bunge now wanted to break free from all that past and those shackles. No, furthermore, he wanted to deny all his failures.
He wanted to shout that he had been right. That all of you who opposed me were wrong.
Through that Far East.
He couldn't die like this. No matter what humiliation he suffered or how much he struggled, he had to go to the Far East.
Otherwise, this old body had no meaning in living on.
After throwing away even his dignity and lying prostrate, the Tsar finally permitted him to leave.
'The previous Tsar wished for me to stay and assist His Majesty Nikolai... but I'm sorry, I cannot.'
Those who once led national reforms with him. Scholars who advocated state-led growth. Those tired of both the corrupt right wing and the left wing that only looked at illusions.
Bunge gathered people indiscriminately and departed for the Far East without a plan.
Though the journey was rough and harsh on an old man, it was never boring. For he was no longer a failure waiting to die, but a reformer who would overturn his entire past at the end of his life.
When they arrived in the Far East after such hardships...
"When are you going to pay the construction costs! We need money upfront to buy equipment, hire workers, and break ground!"
"You think it's easy to set budgets, execute them, supervise, and report afterwards every time? Just wait!"
"If you're going to be like this, why didn't the Governor-General's Office just do it directly instead of calling us? We only came because we heard rumors about money overflowing, sheesh!"
Indeed, there seems to be overflowing work.
"Well, we'll need to establish a bank under the Governor-General first."
Bunge's eyes were gleaming.
==
Looking back at father's rule while handling daily practical affairs, the good and bad deeds become clearly visible.
Various policies and orders that clearly reveal the choices between failure and success, private interest and national interest.
If I had to pick what I'm most grateful to father for among them, I would choose this.
"Okhrana, he left me quite a necessary department."
While it would take years if I were to establish and grow a direct department to use as my hands and feet now, Okhrana has already been established for 30 years.
Starting as a small cases department under the St. Petersburg mayor in '66, it later changed to a secret investigation department and in '81, father officially expanded it into the Department of Public Safety and Order.
A secret police under the Interior Ministry, completely independent unlike before when it was just a police department.
'It would be nice if they just played within the area I permit... but how could they?'
Sometimes there are those who need to take visible beatings to learn 'Ah, you get hit if you cross the line.'
"Director Pyotr Vasilyevich Sekherinsky."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"I'll give you budget and authority, so grow the guardian agency."
"Understood, Your Majesty."
This is my first preparation for establishing parliament.
Sekherinsky departed with a bow, his face carefully composed to mask the surge of ambition that coursed through him. The Tsar's words were clear—the Okhrana would expand under his leadership, becoming an even more formidable instrument of state power. As he walked through the palace corridors, he mentally cataloged the files that would need immediate attention, the agents who would require new directives, the