Chapter 11
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 011
Chapter Title: The First Wave of Expansive Free Trade
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The Opium War is infamous.
It's just too absurd—a war started to sell opium.
But like most historical events, a tangled web of complex circumstances and figures lay beneath the surface. Even among the somewhat conscienceless British, only someone like Foreign Secretary Lord Palmerston could brazenly shout, "Fuck it, we might as well start a war to sell our opium—it's better for you than booze!" The Qing Dynasty had few outright lunatics yelling, "Let's just chop off all the foreigners' heads anyway!"
So why did war break out?
"These barbarian bastards keep acting up?"
"These savages think we're pushovers?"
Boil it down to the core, and it came down to cultural clashes between East and West.
The Qing viewed every visitor as a barbarian and saw allowing trade as a benevolent gift from the Heavenly Dynasty.
The British, after years of dealings, were increasingly convinced, "You can't do proper business with these Qing pricks until you've grabbed one and beaten him half to death."
Opium is bad for you.
Smuggling is obviously wrong, and cracking down on it is a sovereign right.
But without opium, there was no way to balance the trade deficit.
Just as people lash out when at a loss for words, nations start wars when they run out of arguments.
For the Qing Empire, which fancied itself ruler of the world, this crude beginning marked the start of a long decline and tragedy.
But for the Joseon envoys in Beijing in late 1839 turning into 1840—especially those headed to the capital—such complications were outside their purview.
"Burn this."
"Yes, my lord."
They started by torching the documents on the "English drifter detained in Hanyang."
No one knew it yet.
But at that very moment...
History's tracks had begun to derail.
In the original timeline, the Joseon government had tried to learn about the Opium War's course and outcome.
But their sources were Qing official diplomatic channels and gazettes, so the Qing fed them lines like, "We've suitably placated and sent back the English barbarians."
This time was different.
The young king was summoning a Western boy to the palace every few days.
And that Western boy was English.
"Keep your mouths shut and stay sharp. If word gets out in Beijing that there's an Englishman in the palace—in Hanyang—we're all... You know."
"Yes."
"Tighten up on the servants!"
The envoy delegation had arrived in Beijing expecting to follow the routine protocol without a second thought, plus handle some side task from the Andong Kim Clan, the real power behind the scenes. That was just moments ago.
But the moment they heard the Qing and English were clashing head-on, new lines for future histories began updating in real-time in their minds.
"Because the King of Joseon colluded with the English, the Heavenly Armies advanced, burned Hanyang, and captured the Joseon king."
"The English used their detained youth as a pretext to raid the coasts and burn the grain ships."
Either way, it was fucked.
And in the worst case, both could happen. The English sail in demanding their kid back, you hand him over as requested, and then the Qing show up slyly: "What'd you talk about with those English?!"—cue the beatdown.
The envoys, mid-rant about keeping quiet, suddenly felt utter exhaustion.
"Even if we fuss now, the moment a Qing envoy nears Hanyang, the whole country will buzz with tales of that prodigy English kid?"
"Just buying a few months? It's obvious it'll leak eventually?"
But they couldn't not do it.
If the Qing found out later via rumors and came investigating, it was still the delegation's fault—but if they learned now, it was definitely on them.
Treating it like their necks were on the line, the envoys diligently investigated the clash. Soon, shocking news arrived.
"The Qing army lost?"
"It's not exactly a 'loss'—"
"They sent thirty ships to block two English merchantmen and got wiped out! If that's not a crushing defeat, what is?!"
As Arthur's chats with the young king dragged on, and Arthur started spilling Western knowledge in earnest, one or two court scholars joined the sessions.
And Arthur always boasted his country was mighty—nay, one of the world's strongest.
"The missionaries we caught this time are from France. They just waged war to conquer all Europe."
"A tyrant named Napoleon led a million-man army, but Britain and others banded together and crushed him."
Beijing had Westerners, of course, and their books.
No Westerner anywhere was ignorant of the terrifying Napoleonic Wars.
Soon, they realized Arthur's "million-man army" wasn't some Chinese-style exaggeration—it might really have been a million troops.
"Yi Asul says England is an island nation staking its fate on big ships and a mighty navy. So those two massive vessels that crossed from their lands to here could easily handle our thirty small boats."
"Then if they invade us? How do we fend them off?"
"......"
The Western barbarians' military might was far stronger than expected.
Overwhelming combat power, crossing distant seas to swat Qing naval forces like flies.
The gap between official Qing statements and street rumors sharpened the Joseon envoys' alertness.
And then.
"This is supposed to be that good for men?"
"Just a little taste."
"Oh! Ohhh!! No sleepiness at all! Eyes wide open even at this hour!!"
With caffeine's kick added...
The Joseon men finally opened their eyes to a world beyond the Sinocentric order.
Though mighty Qing next door still terrified them.
1840.
The envoy delegation returned from Beijing.
Utterly unhinged.
"War's broken out! The English—the English barbarians are at war with the Qing!"
"Calm down."
"Barbarians stirring trouble when trade sours for them? Happens all the time in the histories. Difference is, these aren't horse-riding barbarians—they sail ships."
Joseon's officials shrugged off the envoys' frantic reports.
Even those Qing bastards were once "ooga-booga" Manchu steppe-dwellers, haggling horse prices at markets and drawing swords over pennies countless times. Now they're on the receiving end—what's the big deal?
They spent more time savoring the coffee and chocolate the envoys brought back than heeding their foot-stomping pleas.
"Oh, ohoooo!!"
"Power surging! I can finish these books today!"
"What exquisite aroma! Not just talk—it's good for the body!"
Coffee and chocolate.
Any Joseon man could see it plain as day...
"Tonic soup."
"Straight-up tonic."
Tonics. That deep black brew, properly simmered, wafting its subtle fragrance. Definitely medicine.
The young king sipped coffee, gagged "eugh," and promptly ordered it shared with his ministers. The elders, ever keen on health tonics, slurped it down gleefully.
And chocolate.
"Heavens. Such an exotic flavor."
This era saw chocolate shifting from drink to solid form, with fads like hazelnut pairings emerging—a time of massive change for it.
Gulping sugar-laden chocolate drinks per the recipe they'd learned, they all shivered from the sugar rush.
Humans are instinctively drawn to coffee and chocolate.
Like earthlings worldwide succumbing to cats' allure upon first sight, desperate to own one.
Like remote tribes grabbing guns and immediately blasting neighbors' heads, embarking on conquest.
Coffee and chocolate held that seductive magic, bending scholars and gentlemen alike.
Caffeine-jacked and sky-high, they fired up their buzzing brain cells.
"Chance the Qing Emperor picks a fight claiming we're siding with England—"
"Pretty damn high, I'd say."
"If we ship the kid to Qing now and clear the truth—"
"You bastard!!"
"Handing Elementary Learning to Qing barbarians? You call yourself a scholar?!"
"Losing the Four Books is death itself...!"
"Out."
Heonjong and ministers booted the clueless rabble-rouser from court and resumed debate.
No conclusion emerged.
War prep in this dumpster-fire nation? With every army unit rotten, reduced to extortion rackets long ago? Boosting arms now wouldn't stop a determined Qing assault.
As the gloomy young king entered, Arthur—who'd arrived early for lessons—immediately spotted the downcast vibe.
"Your Majesty. Why so troubled?"
"Because of you."
"Me???"
"War between England and Qing."
"They went to war because of me?"
"No, no. What are you, the Greek with the horse?"
Heonjong swiftly quashed Arthur's flight of fancy, fresh off hearing Trojan War tales from him days prior.
A foreign kid being cute and smart enough for favoritism? Nothing special.
For a weak nation, it was dizzying just that a neighboring giant had pretext to gripe.
Having heard the gist from Heonjong, Arthur pondered before speaking.
"Your Majesty."
"Yes?"
"I should head home. Me staying harms Joseon greatly."
"Nonsense. War ends soon—then quietly via Qing to your homeland."
Ironically, this was the hardline Neo-Confucian pitch, like from Yi Hang-ro.
"Stash Yi Asul in the countryside instead of Hanyang, send him back post-war."
"My remote mountain home's perfect for confining... er, raising a boy."
"More time! Even returning home, he needs Four Books and Three Classics mastery to return a true scholar!!"
"Grrr... Can't hold back. Teach him everything, then ship home!"
Like Chinese addicted to opium's pleasure.
British hooked on trade surpluses.
Joseon folk, drunk on nationalism, flailed in grand dreams: "Joseon scholar Yi Asul, master of Four Books, civilizes England." Fully Neo-Confucianized? Good enough as a Joseon man, right?
"Via Japan?"
"Sorry, even rumors of you lingering could spark trouble here. Too risky."
Rejected by Heonjong, Arthur finished lessons meekly and headed to Kim Ja-geun's house.
But near the palace, Andong Kim servants weren't waiting.
"Come here."
"Elder. Where's the usual coachman?"
"That servant? Packing your things at the Kim house now. We're retiring to the countryside immediately."
"Pardon?"
"Don't worry. Word'll spread you died en route—Qing won't hunt you. Now, time to shave that pate? Or...?"
"I-I'm too young—"
"Boy! Fine for studies, but quitting? No!"
"Your Majesty! Majesty!! You tricked me! The king deceived me!!"
As Heonjong muttered from the pavilion afar, "You were a fine friend, but that barbarian blood..." the scholars coveting this prodigy tossed Arthur into a prepared palanquin and fled to the boonies.
As always.
You reap what you sow.
1842.
Opium War ended; Qing and Britain signed the Treaty of Nanking.
Shortly after.
"What? He's alive?"
"The lone boy survivor from the wrecked Clodina? Where?"
"En route to Hong Kong!!"
Tales of it began spreading from Hong Kong across Europe.
Fifty years before Treasure Island and this, a real-life-based story emerged.