Chapter 15
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ace
Chapter: 015
Chapter Title: Those Who Come After Seeing the Stars
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Zipangu, the land of gold.
Just looking at the name, it sounds suspiciously like Japan. It's derived from the Chinese pronunciation of Japan, 'Jipang,' so that's no surprise.
But whatever.
Who cares? Adults demanding evidence from a kid barely into his teens are the real villains here.
I tossed out some light bait.
"Joseon looked like a poor country."
"The people there worship Confucianism. They believe flaunting luxury will send you straight to hell. So they want to show off their wealth as subtly as possible."
"Doesn't sound like a profitable place."
Smooth start.
You can't overhype things carelessly, or you'll get branded a liar later.
"But they say it used to overflow with gold and silver back in the day."
"Oh, right. There was this ancient kingdom that lasted a thousand years. It was so powerful and wealthy it fended off Chinese invasions. It was so rich that the royal family's surname was straight-up 'Gold.'"
"But raiders from the Mongols or China kept coming for the gold, so a wise king declared, 'Mines that only harm the people? We don't need them!' and banned mining forever."
How would the British react to this fairy tale?
"Untapped gold and silver mines just sitting there?"
"How could they not develop gold mines?"
"Sounds like kid talk. Hard to believe."
Then I waited.
Not for them to ask me, but for them to spin their own tales.
"What was the name of the kingdom on old Joseon soil?"
"Silla!"
"Old Arab records say that east of China lies a land called Silla, brimming with gold and silver treasures, with a climate perfect for living."
"Why cherry-pick records? The Arab accounts describe Silla as an island nation. Doesn't that mean Japan?"
"The Arabs must've mixed it up! Even those dim-witted Arab darkies wouldn't botch country names like 'Jipang' and 'Silla.' Geography's way easier to screw up!"
And just like that, a counter-theory to the established 'Zipangu is Japan' doctrine emerged: the upstart minority view that 'Zipangu is Joseon.' It was more cult than proper scholarship, but hey, it wasn't my theory, so no skin off my nose.
"Joseon folks are hardcore Confucians, so their tombs are probably intact like Egyptian pyramids—no grave robbers. Excavate successfully, and out pour mountains of gold, silver, and grave goods!"
"Whoever uncovers this mysterious ancient kingdom first will be immortalized in history!"
"Joseon's royal surnames 'Kim' and 'Lee' are suspicious. Maybe ancient Europeans visited Joseon?"
"I'll sneak over for a big score! Wait for me!!"
"Investors wanted for Joseon tomb-raiding crew!"
- You've gone and awakened the grave-robbing demons. What now?
Hmm...
No matter how I think about it, it's not my fault. Why do they jump straight to 'jackpot' from 'tomb raiding'?
Thankfully, the British Empire isn't entirely populated by lunatics. The government added a disclaimer: 'If you want to dig, get permission from the local authorities first.'
- Think that'll stop them?
Anyone who goes anyway? Not my problem. Let 'em die.
Joseon's no Egypt. I doubt nosy foreigners crawling around digging graves will come out alive. If they get caught and killed? Natural consequences.
Speaking of death, certain folks naturally had questions.
"They worship some guy named Confucius?"
"That's not what Confucianism is! Ignoramuses, sheesh."
"From what I've heard, China, Joseon, and Japan all follow Buddha."
"So, what happened to the missionaries who went there?"
When members of the Paris Foreign Missions Society crossed the Channel to London, it stirred up London's Christian circles too.
No British person would sit idle while the French made moves.
People asking me about Joseon or China fell into predictable categories.
For the genuinely curious scholars, I shared my vast knowledge. For those craving gossip to chew on, I tossed out tales without getting personally involved. They didn't want truth anyway.
Religion was different, though.
You had to tread carefully.
From outspoken atheists denying God outright to Catholic-Protestant schisms—everything mattered.
"The only missionary I met introduced himself as Bishop Imbert."
"That's right! Did you see Bishop Imbert? What was he like?"
I agonized over what to say to these French arrivals.
But whenever I tried to decide, Bishop Imbert's words echoed in my ears.
'The Lord saved you and brought you to this land for a purpose.'
'Child, if you return safely, will you help this land's people?'
'Will you do even something small for these suffering, simple folk?'
Mocking him would make me less human, more British.
- But you are British.
You know what I mean.
- Yeah, that's exactly what I meant. Rolling your head like that? If you're not a fine British lad, what are you?
Damn it, pissing me off. Suddenly itching all over. Wish I could exorcise the bastard.
- Idiot. Exorcise me, and you're done too. Done! Can't do shit, huh? Eh-beh-beh? Eh-beh-beh-beh??
Ignoring the irritating taunt, I decided to speak as glowingly as possible.
"Despite his ordeals, Bishop Imbert worried about Joseon's other faithful—and me—right up to the end."
"Good heavens."
This was just returning the favor in kind.
A proper Englishman hosts, doesn't get hosted by the guest. Even if the guest was a frog-faced Frenchman, could 21st-century future-man Arthur Park In-ho Leigh stoop to such rudeness?
If Imbert had spat, 'Filthy island barbarians! Even the Lord abandons you heathens—burn in hell!' I could've gleefully retorted that he'd begged to live, renounced his faith, and died anyway. The British, who love screwing France, would've howled with laughter.
But that didn't happen.
I had to pay fairly for the advance the customer paid.
"He told me to insult and spit on him. That way, I'd be safe in Joseon."
"A true shepherd indeed."
"I agree. Thanks to him, I carried Christ's devotion and sacrifice in my heart even as I left Joseon."
- Good. You haven't lost your humanity to become a Saxon yet. If that heart grows strong...
Huh? That's where the payment ends.
How much more praise do I owe?
Gratitude for Imbert's sacrifice and bashing Catholicism are separate.
"I'm too young to know much, but at least Bishop Imbert and the Joseon people shouldn't have died like that."
"But the Joseon savages banned Christianity, didn't they?"
"No. They were fascinated by God's word. Christianity was banned in Joseon as 'treason.'"
"Treason?"
Ah, fools. Don't they know?
I launched into another epic tale: the truth about Hwang Sa-young's white paper.
[Joseon people were hugely interested in Catholicism, eager to hear God's word. Even top powerhouses like the Andong Kim Clan had secret converts.]
[But Catholic missionaries forbade ancestral rites and demanded spirit tablets be burned, causing problems.]
"Banning pagan customs is natural, child."
"Rites didn't seem pagan. More like grave worship?"
"You wouldn't understand, but rites are superstitious ghost worship."
"Confucius and Mencius said otherwise."
Why battle me on Confucianism, missionaries? That's why you got chased out of China too, ignoramuses.
Even after excitedly explaining how banning rites and burning tablets was seen in China and Joseon as 'digging up parents' graves to eat corpses,' leading to all Christianity banned—these Catholic clerics' faces stayed stone-cold.
"True, commoners treat it as folk idolatry. You only stayed in the prime minister's house—"
"I stayed long in rural Joseon too. And don't Brits and French do the same? It's just Halloween."
When I asked if they called Halloween revelers heretics, the frogs mumbled excuses, but it was the same thing.
"No need to say more, child. Catholics worshiping Mary and the Pope are violent primitives by nature."
"What are you telling the boy?!"
"So if our Anglican Church spreads the 'true' teachings, don't you think they'll embrace Jesus' words?"
"Yes! I'd love to go to Joseon with you then! Can I?"
"Of course! Hahaha!!"
After that, I had the honor of revealing Europe's first scoop on the Hwang Sa-young incident.
'A Joseon Catholic tried sending a letter to France begging invasion to topple the dynasty, got caught, and Catholicism was deemed treason thereafter.' Sounds bad no matter who hears it.
"That Hwang was a true believer! Joseon has potential for enlightenment!"
"He's dead, but his soul's with God. France must punish Joseon swiftly to honor him!"
Uh...
That's not it.
"Before those frogs burn Joseon, we need to spread the real gospel fast?"
"Just dig some graves, blame the French—good enough?"
Forget the graves, you bastards.
Now Joseon was seen as: 'full of untapped gold mines, tolerant of Christianity and friendly to Europe, but prickly thanks to meddling idiot Catholics.'
And before the French hopped back to Frogland...
I made time to meet them again.
"I hear Joseon converts study theology at the Paris Foreign Missions."
"So?"
The response wasn't warm, naturally.
But business is business.
"I'd love to meet them. I don't care about old church vs. new—I just feel I must tell them about the bishop's final moments."
"Really?"
"Yes."
"We'll see."
I don't know history well, but I know Kim Daegun.
Securing Kim Daegun and the Joseon converts? Endless possibilities.
Worth a shot—no loss if it flops. I conveyed my strong desire to meet them.
I dragged my weary body back to the club lodgings.
Club members were starting to admit this kid was sharp enough to pick his own patron, but separately, sentiment was growing: 'Still a child—shouldn't an adult force-pick one?'
Fair. I'd been freeloading over a month. The thumping from next door wasn't great for a growing boy's education either.
But a monster fish felt imminent—just a bit longer.
"Arthur?"
"Hello, sir!"
"Yes. Another pile of letters today. Take them."
"Sure."
Countless letters from Britain and worldwide.
Europeans—and some Americans—inspired by survivor Arthur Porter Leigh's tale were writing me. Notably, more women than expected. Maternal instincts? Many aunts sent pocket money too. Excellent.
But I needed power.
Solid power.
Or power worth betting the future on.
I sorted envelopes by name, transcribing them for background checks.
Then...
I froze.
Deep breath. Opened the envelope. Past the flowery 'Dear boy' preamble—to the point. The point. The point.
[I'd love to meet the boy. Can you spare a weekend soon?]
- William Ewart Gladstone.
As expected.
God is on my side, no doubt.
The ultimate card had arrived.