CHAPTER 284: CHAPTER 283: ASIA

The map pulsed once more. The glowing web of the Middle East faded, and the lines slid eastward across endless seas. The system’s voice grew colder.

"Now... Asia."

Rex smiled bitterly, it seemed like the system was hell bent on showing him the true face of the world, but it’s like he was complaining.

Finally reaching what seemed like above Asia, Rex looked down.

Here he had expected the old empires to be long dead here. After all, the history books were filled with revolutions, independence movements, and the fall of kings.

The system disagreed.

"Crowns are never destroyed," it said, as the map zoomed in. "They’re recycled."

The first stop — China.

Images flashed of the Forbidden City, its scarlet walls towering over empty courtyards. A ghost of the dragon throne shimmered and vanished. The Qing dynasty had fallen in 1912... or so the world was told.

"The dynasty fell publicly," the system said, "but privately... its veins still run."

Photographs of modern Chinese tycoons appeared... real estate moguls, shipping magnates, media owners... faces Rex had seen in news articles about billion-dollar projects and charity galas. Under each, their true family name glowed: descendants of Qing princes, Song-era scholar-officials, or even imperial concubines. The family crests had been erased, but the blood was untouched.

"They became bankers. Industrialists. Political advisors hiding behind red banners and Communist slogans. They learned the new language of power... capital, not crowns."

Most were educated not in Beijing, but in Oxford, Harvard, or the Sorbonne, sitting quietly beside Rothschild heirs, Rockefeller interns, and European aristocrats at formal dinners. On paper, they were patriots of the People’s Republic. In reality, they were the bridge between Beijing’s old nobility and the world’s oldest money.

In Hong Kong, Rex saw ties between old European banks and Chinese tycoons whose ancestry traced to ancient warlords and scholars.

The map shifted.

Japan.

Here, Rex expected a clean break. After all, the Emperor was supposed to be only symbolic after WWII. But the lineage charts told another story.

Lines connected the Imperial House of Japan to German nobility, even to ancient Korean royal blood. The post-war constitution might have stripped the Emperor of political authority, but post-war deals had kept his family untouched. Not for honor. Not for heritage. But for genetic politics, the same quiet obsession that had ruled European marriage alliances for centuries.

Major zaibatsu families... Mitsubishi, Mitsui, Sumitomo, emerged on screen. Some had origins in samurai clans or feudal lords who sided with the Meiji Restoration. They didn’t vanish after Japan’s surrender. They simply shifted into corporate boardrooms, dominating industries from steel to finance. Even today, Rex could see their grip, disguised as modern capitalism.

Korea was a wound split in two, a scar that never healed. In the North, power wore no mask... rule was absolute, its dynasty unbroken, the leader’s portrait staring down from every wall. There, the old model of kingship had simply traded silk robes for military uniforms, and fear was the law’s sharpest blade.

In the South, the crowns were gone, but the thrones remained, disguised as boardrooms and stock exchanges. The chaebols, those sprawling family-owned conglomerates, ruled without needing to declare themselves kings. They did not control the government; they were the government, shaping policy with the quiet weight of their investments. From the moment a child was born, they entered a world branded by these empires... Samsung hospitals, Hyundai schools, Lotte shopping centers, SK energy, LG electronics. Life’s milestones, from the birth certificate to the coffin lid, carried a chaebol’s imprint.

Jobs, marriages, homes, even the food on the table were tied to corporate loyalty. Politicians rose and fell not on public approval, but on whether they pleased the families behind these vast machines. To speak against them was to risk not only career but survival.

One side of Korea ruled with the fist, the other with the ledger. But both ruled absolutely.

...

The map zoomed down to Southeast Asia.

Here, the illusion was thinner. In Brunei, the Sultan didn’t even pretend to be a figurehead. He ruled openly, in gold palaces that glittered under the sun, with over 7,000 luxury cars locked in underground vaults. A living monument to a time when monarchs didn’t answer to anyone.

Nearby, in Thailand, the Chakri dynasty remained untouched despite waves of coups and protests. Officially constitutional, but in reality untouchable... their influence embedded into the military, judiciary, and media. Criticism wasn’t just dangerous, it was a crime.

In Malaysia, old sultanates still rotated the crown among themselves, an arrangement that kept the illusion of democracy while ensuring royal blood never left the throne. Their investments stretched far beyond borders... palm oil, banking, even stakes in London real estate.

Indonesia flashed next, a nation born from revolution but ruled by a different kind of dynasty. Political families here treated elections as a formality. Whether through sons, daughters, in-laws, or trusted allies, the same bloodlines circled power like a closed current. Some had roots in Javanese nobility, their legitimacy carried in whispered family trees.

In Cambodia, Laos, and Malaysia, former kings’ descendants now wore business suits instead of crowns, but their reach was the same... controlling ports, resource rights, and trade corridors.

The map slid northward to South Asia.

In India, the maharajas were stripped of official titles decades ago... but their palaces became hotels, their jewels became political war chests, and their heirs quietly entered parliament. Some became ministers. Others financed campaigns from behind the scenes. Even Bollywood’s elite, untouchable to the average citizen, counted several royal descendants among their producers and financiers.

Pakistan glowed on the map. Feudal families, with estates larger than cities, had simply merged into politics. Some even had literal cities disguised as Housing Societies. Their leaders rank high on global corruption lists, but who cares? Even if the public voted for someone else, they simply destroyed the other party and sat on the Throne.

Some wore military uniforms. Others stood in parliament. They changed parties like coats, but power never left their hands. The public saw elections. The system saw inheritance.

Bangladesh. Sri Lanka. Nepal. Bhutan. Each one bore its own quiet hierarchy... remnants of kings, landlords, and tribal chiefs now dressed in suits, sitting on policy councils, or running international businesses. In Nepal, the Shah dynasty had fallen officially... yet still commanded respect and influence in the shadows. In Bhutan, the monarchy still ruled openly, carefully balancing tradition with modernity.

...

And then came the final layer.

Military bases.

Of course not their own. Foreign ones.

Countries that seemed fiercely independent on paper, with flags waving and leaders giving nationalist speeches, were marked with small, ominous red dots.

Japan. South Korea. The Philippines. Singapore. All hosting American military forces, sometimes in the tens of thousands. Others had Chinese or Russian military agreements quietly written into trade deals.

"They call it sovereignty," the system whispered, "but sovereignty ends where the foreign base begins."

Rex’s chest tightened as the connections expanded. This wasn’t just royalty. This was a continent run by two kinds of rulers, those who had learned to wear the mask of democracy, and those who didn’t need one. The titles had changed, emperor to president, raja to minister, sultan to prime minister, but the families remained.

Everywhere.

(End of Chapter)