Building a Conglomerate in Another World-Chapter 296: Day of Gratitude

March 10, 1899Seoul, Korean Empire — Veterans' Rehabilitation Center

The air was still cool and crisp in Seoul, the city waking up slowly under the soft rays of the morning sun. Despite the growing bustle of everyday life—markets opening, children running through the streets, and the steady rhythm of horses' hooves on cobblestones—Matthew Hesh walked with purpose through the gates of the Veterans' Rehabilitation Center. freёnovelkiss.com

The center was newly established, and it felt almost like a symbol of the post-war recovery—physically, mentally, and emotionally—for both Amerathian and Korean soldiers who had fought alongside each other during the long months of conflict. Inside, the center was a mix of medical clinics, therapy rooms, and common areas where veterans gathered, some to talk, others simply to rest.

The building itself was modest but well-kept, with thick wooden beams and wide windows that let in ample light. Outside, a garden had begun to bloom, with cherry blossoms starting to bud and patches of freshly planted grass sprouting where battle had once left only dust.

Matthew walked through the large hallway lined with framed photographs from the war: images of soldiers, both familiar and unknown, proudly standing together, their faces a mix of determination and exhaustion. He recognized many of the names beneath the photographs, some of whom he had met in the thick of battle.

His footsteps echoed down the hallway as he approached the main gathering room. Inside, soldiers from Amerathia, Japan, and Korea sat or stood in small clusters, talking quietly, some of them lost in their thoughts, others laughing softly. The room was filled with the hum of conversation and the occasional creak of chairs.

A young attendant greeted him with a respectful bow. "President Hesh, we've prepared the stage for your speech. They've all been looking forward to this."

Matthew nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Thank you."

He stepped forward, his eyes scanning the room. It had been a long journey for many of these men. The horrors of war were still fresh for some—his own memories felt like a constant echo in his mind—but here, they had found solace. They had been through something together. He didn't need to say much; the presence of the veterans and the weight of their experiences spoke volumes.

As he ascended the small wooden platform, a hush fell over the room. Everyone turned toward him, their gazes steady, expectant. It was an odd feeling for him—being on the other side of the podium. He had spent so many months giving speeches to galvanize a nation for war, but this felt different. This was about gratitude, not victory. Healing, not conquest.

"Gentlemen," he began, his voice clear but soft, "I stand before you today with nothing but respect and admiration. You are not just heroes. You are the backbone of our future."

He paused, looking out over the sea of faces in front of him. Some were young, others older—many still wore the marks of their sacrifices. Some had scars, some walked with the aid of crutches or leaned on canes. But they all shared one thing: their resolve. The same resolve that had carried them through the horrors of war.

Matthew cleared his throat before continuing. "This war has been a heavy burden for all of us. Not just on the battlefield, but here, among our people, our families, and our communities. The work of peace is never easy, and the wounds of war don't heal overnight. I know this. But what I see in this room today are the men who made it possible for us to move forward."

He stepped closer to the edge of the platform. "You fought not for glory, but for each other. For your families. For freedom. For the future of nations that were once divided, now united. Without your bravery, your sacrifice, we would not be here."

He paused again, letting the weight of his words settle.

"I want you to know that your efforts have not gone unnoticed. Every person in Amerathia, in Korea, in Japan, owes you more than can ever be repaid. But we will try. We will build a future where your sacrifices are honored, where you have the care and the respect you deserve."

A few soldiers in the crowd nodded, others looked down at their hands, the weight of his words settling into their hearts.

"Your service is not over," Matthew said. "You are the foundation on which we will rebuild. We will not forget what you've given. And we will ensure that your lives after war are just as valuable as the lives you defended during it."

He stepped back slightly, a smile tugging at his lips. "And finally, I'll leave you with this: the peace we have now is yours. You fought for it, you earned it. This is your victory too."

There was a long pause before the room erupted into applause—gentle at first, but growing louder as the veterans clapped and cheered. It was heartfelt. It was real. The applause wasn't for him—it was for them. For each other.

Matthew stepped down from the platform, shaking hands with a few of the soldiers as they congratulated him. One older man, his hair mostly grey and his uniform worn, clapped Matthew on the shoulder. "You did good, President Hesh," he said, his voice raspy. "But don't forget us now."

"I won't," Matthew replied, looking the man in the eye. "You'll always be remembered."

As the crowd began to disperse, Matthew walked over to a group of young soldiers sitting near the window. They looked up at him, their faces a mix of curiosity and respect.

"How are you all holding up?" Matthew asked, sitting down beside them.

One of the soldiers, a young man in his late teens, looked at him. "We're all right, sir. It's just… sometimes hard, you know? To forget."

"I do know," Matthew replied quietly. "But you don't have to forget. You just have to learn to live with it. You're not alone in this."

The young soldier smiled faintly. "Thank you, sir. That means a lot."

As Matthew stood to leave, his eyes scanned the room one more time. The veterans were mingling, speaking quietly among themselves. Some were already planning their futures. Some were still grappling with the loss, the trauma, and the struggle of what had come before.

But they were healing. They were survivors.

"Thank you," Matthew whispered softly to no one in particular.

Before he left the center, he stood for a moment at the doorway, looking back at the men who had fought for peace—not just on the battlefield, but in their very lives. A part of him wished he could stay longer, to offer more words of encouragement, but he knew he had done what was needed.

And now, it was time for them to begin their next journey. One of healing. One of rebuilding.

—

March 10, 1899Washington, D.C. — Hesh Residence, East Capitol Hill

The soft murmur of voices filled the air as Matthew sat on the couch in the living room, his wife, Amber, and their children nearby. The weight of the day's speech still lingered on his mind, but here, in the comfort of his own home, he could momentarily push it aside.

Amber was playing a game of checkers with Arthur, their four-year-old son, who was enthusiastically telling his mother about a new game he'd learned from one of his friends at school.

"You're cheating!" Arthur giggled as Amber made a clever move, smiling mischievously.

"I'm just playing smarter than you, that's all," Amber replied, raising an eyebrow.

Sophia, their two-year-old daughter, toddled around the living room, her small feet pattering softly on the wooden floors. She stopped to tug at her father's sleeve, holding up a crumpled piece of paper with a crayon drawing on it.

"What is it, Sophia?" Matthew asked, smiling at her.

"Wook, Papa!" Sophia said, her words a little slurred but filled with excitement.

Matthew took the drawing from her tiny hands. It was a child's scribbled attempt at a house, a tree, and what looked like a sun with too many rays. "That's beautiful, sweetheart. Thank you."

Sophia beamed and then ran off, no doubt to find something else to occupy her energy.

Matthew leaned back in his chair, looking over at Amber. "I'll take Arthur's side next round," he said, taking a long breath.

"Sure, but you'll lose," Amber teased, her smile warm and full of affection.

"I think I'm more focused on getting them both ready for school tomorrow," Matthew said, watching Arthur's concentration as he studied the board.

Amber nodded thoughtfully. "It's a strange feeling, isn't it? The quiet."

Matthew nodded, his gaze softening as he watched their children play. "It is. I'm just trying to make the most of it."

With the peace now signed and the war behind them, he had an entire future to plan—one with Amber, Arthur, and Sophia. For the first time in a long time, he wasn't looking over his shoulder, waiting for the next crisis to emerge.

He was simply living in the moment. And it felt like the beginning of something new.