Chapter 20
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 020
Chapter Title: The Returning Prodigal
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1850.
The 16th year of King Heonjong's reign.
In the original history, Heonjong died in 1849 at the shockingly young age of just twenty-one. He'd ascended the throne at seven and struggled against the powerful clans for his short life.
But the massive event of Cheoljong's ascension had vanished far into the dustbin of history, thanks to the arrival of that ferocious Anglo-Saxon boy.
No one knew—not even Heonjong himself, nor Arthur from the 21st century, or the Dragon King—that this alteration, where Heonjong lived on, had begun from the tiniest of changes.
"This chocolate and coffee tonic is truly wondrous."
"Even the gods seem invigorated since they started drinking it—sleep flees, and energy surges. It's no ordinary elixir."
It's said that Heonjong had a strong need for vitality boosters from a young age.
He bore the immense weight of being the last survivor of the Samjong bloodline. The pressure to produce an heir quickly had whipped him harder than any minister ever could, even without their prodding.
Maybe that's why. From his mid-teens, he guzzled ginseng, deer antler, and all sorts of tonics like water for years, yet his body held up—proof that humans can be resilient on their own.
Excluding King Yeongjo, the crab-paste tyrant who mastered the Great Absorption Technique and life-force conversion to suck the years from his ministers, brothers, and sons after reaching the 12th zodiac pinnacle, the royal house wasn't exactly known for longevity anyway. Heonjong's early death wasn't all that unusual from a modern medical view.
Doctors say coffee and chocolate are bad for you, but if you had to choose between ginseng and antler decoctions after every meal for nearly a decade versus coffee and chocolate, anyone would pick the latter.
So Heonjong survived by inhaling coffee instead of ginseng.
He even fathered a son that never existed in the original history.
Moreover, compared to the original timeline, these Joseon people now saw the world through far wider eyes.
They would've swallowed Qing propaganda wholesale, viewing the Opium War as "Western sheep causing a ruckus, but the Great Qing wisely sent them packing." But thanks to being saddled with that time bomb named Arthur, they learned the truth much earlier: "The Qing got beaten like dogs and humiliated."
Thus, Heonjong clamored for strengthening national defenses.
The problem was that his royal edicts rang hollow, mere echoes without follow-through.
But is there ever such a thing as a free lunch in this world?
What you gain, you lose elsewhere.
"Your Highness, the Jeolla Governor has submitted a report—"
"Again?"
"Yes, Your Highness. A merchant named Mo from England demands free trade—"
"No need to hear more. Drive him out at once."
As a result of the First Opium War, the Western powers seized Hong Kong as a foothold and forced open several more ports beyond just Canton.
The issue? Even after sparking that utterly sordid war to wring out a treaty on their terms, their trade balance hadn't improved.
Britain still had to import massive quantities of tea from China.
And the only profitable thing Britain had to sell was still opium.
The moment they heard the China market was wide open, merchants from across the nation swarmed there with goods. But the fools trying to peddle pianos, forks, and knives ended up bleeding money and hitting rock bottom.
Then came the gospel.
A brilliant gospel named...
[Joseon is an agricultural nation of about 20 million people, filled with mountains and hills.]
[The Joseon people are curious and eager for learning, showing great interest in Western goods, technology, and scholarship. But due to recent political conspiracies, Catholic rebels, and traitors, they now hide their curiosity thoroughly...]
Those expecting Arthur Leigh to fling open the doors to that mysterious land of Joseon were a dime a dozen.
But adventure-hungry souls believed they could beat Arthur to it and bravely weighed anchor, convinced they could pry open Joseon first.
"Your Excellency!! These insolent Westerners sneaking in lately all claim to be friends of Yi A-seol!"
"Even if a beast learns Confucian virtue, it's still a beast! Would a watchdog understand kindness just because it learns human speech?"
"Anyone can see it's a lie. How could we trust the words of thugs who don't even know what Yi A-seol looks like?"
If it were just merchants slipping in, that'd be manageable.
But a few years back, the Joseon court had directly experienced the Western threat.
[We cannot overlook the Joseon government's unilateral execution of our missionary nationals.]
[This happened due to lack of exchange between Joseon and our French government. Just as we opened protective trade with the Qing, Joseon should open its ports too.]
France sent warships.
Before the stunned court could prepare any countermeasures, the French ships ran aground. The French ended up needing help from local Joseon offices in a massive faceplant, turning their military bluff into a historic humiliation.
Yet the current court—and even the scholars' mood—was far from ordinary.
A powerful, threatening force approached from across the sea.
At this very moment, with the Andong Kim Clan and Pungyang Jo Clan, the king and young reformist officials, plus rural scholars on the brink of clashing head-on over Joseon's future and response...
"An English ship has appeared off Ganghwa Island!"
"Another foreign ship? Which nation's barbarian this time?"
"England. A young man claiming to be Yi A-seol himself has arrived!"
Arthur had come.
England to India.
India to Hong Kong.
Hong Kong to Joseon.
No Suez Canal yet, so rounding the Cape of Good Hope was mandatory for the Far East.
And en route to India...
"Hold on tight! Storm incoming!"
"Sh... fu...!"
Thankfully, the ship didn't wreck, but as the saying goes, once bitten by a turtle, you jump at a pot lid.
The moment we hit India, I offered sacrifices right away.
- No clue on the Six Harmony Directions Rite? No Six Harmony Directions?
No Joseon or Chinese ritual items in sight, but following the jar ghost's instructions, I set up a plausible altar and tossed some pork into the sea.
The crew gossiped a bit, and my faith got mildly questioned—minor issues. But after the sea god rite, no more damn storms hit. Astonishing.
So the sacrifice actually worked, and the local Dragon King bought it?
- Nah... I dunno either...
This guy's clueless.
"So... you performed a pagan ritual, and the storm stopped?"
The guy eyeing me suspiciously was John Coleridge Patteson. A senior who graduated Eton the year I enrolled, then headed to Oxford—top-tier path.
Deeply into faith and linguistics; originally obsessed with Arabic and Hebrew, but after reading my stuff, he caught Far East fever. Gladstone introduced us.
"No way."
"Right?"
"Exactly. Sailors are superstitious as hell. Throw 'em a exotic show, and they eat it up. Plus, I'm the Far East expert, so it looked legit."
"I see."
Patteson's lately fired up about missions. When a chance to the unknown land of Joseon popped up, he jumped aboard quick. Not your average guy. As a 21st-century soul, I can't match that blazing zeal.
More crucial: trade prep.
Strictly speaking, I'm no diplomat, so I can't just stamp treaties in Joseon. But in this demonic 19th-century backwater, merchants often played diplomat brazenly and got retroactive approval on success.
My masterpiece A Fair Trade Scholar's Report is even debated in Parliament, so some MPs have high hopes for my voyage. If I open Joseon, who cares about "minor" procedures?
- This reeks of... cronies in cahoots or whatever.
What's a better way to show expectations than funding? Massive hype. Call it public-private synergy?
My cargo was diverse.
Gifts for the boy king, Andong Kim bigwigs, Heungseon-gun types I owe: fancy dishes, porcelain, tobacco and pipes, telescopes, laudanum, music boxes, books—anything eye-catching.
Top trade picks: sugar, chocolate, coffee. Hard to hate luxuries like those.
Next: cotton cloth. Industrial Revolution mass-production gold; perfect for Joseon.
Dumb British traders whine why Chinese skip cotton and wool. Duh—Guangdong's weather? But Joseon? Cotton sells like crazy. It's practically currency there, so cracking that market means money printer go brrr.
Buffalo horn too.
Bow material, but Joseon ain't some primitive Ugabuga Land with archers as main force.
Still, cavalry prefer bows over guns, and scholars love archery basics. Insider info only a Joseon expert like me knows—pure gold.
Plus promo Brown Bess muskets by the hundreds, Britain's bestseller, plus cheap flints and powder from India.
Loaded with Joseon bait; just trade at fair mutual prices.
Unlike the stereotype, Far East trade isn't just buy in England/India, sell in China. Relay trading from India, Southeast Asia, Far East is way more profitable.
My grand plan: max out Korean ginseng first, then gold or silver. Sell them India powder, horns, horsehair essentials to meet all needs.
Joseon really is small-time.
Won't share this; all mine.
Ganghwa Governor Jo Hyeong-bok naturally knew who I was.
"Greetings. I've returned as promised."
"Good heavens! That little boy has grown so much!"
Even if he didn't, no matter.
What other blue-eyed youth speaks flawless Joseon as a native, decked in gat and durumagi?
"Though the law forbids casual trade with foreigners, you were tutored by fine gentlemen—you're a true scholar. How could the same rules apply to you as other barbarians?"
"Your warm welcome humbles me. This humble gift is my sincerity."
"Oh, no need for this."
Henry Hoe's crew disembarked for hearty meals and borrowed homes for rest. A bit of silver to the governor, but fresh veggies, meat, and lodging? Worth every penny.
Soon after the governor's urgent report, I got orders to head to Hanyang—and straight to the palace.
But then.
"You scoundrel! Do you know your crimes?!"
"Your servant Yi A-seol, warmed and educated by Joseon after washing ashore as a boy, rushed here upon manhood to repay that grace. Why accuse me of crimes?"
"Silence! What strange nonsense did you spread back home that has your barbarians sailing in demanding trade?!"
"The Minister of the Military has a point this time."
Kim Ja-geun, now Minister of War, bellowed louder, veins bulging. He looks more haggard than before.
Actually, all the court officials seem to have darker circles... Nah, imagination.
"Begone! We were fools to think beasts could be civilized by Confucian ways! Out of old sentiment, we spare your neck—sail away now!"
A 21st-century Englishman like me won't flinch at that. Logically, if they truly wanted me gone, they'd issue an expulsion from afar, not summon me to the capital.
I quickly rolled my eyes, scanning the room.
The young king, silent.
Kim Ja-geun, fuming.
Pungyang Jo Clan glaring at Kim in displeasure.
Something's fishy for sure.
Kim Ja-geun's no corrupt tyrant; he wouldn't bulldoze like this.
But not because I'm the bad guy... my Anglo-Saxon blood just thinks differently.
- Hey, punk. What's the scheme now?
No, getting yelled at face-to-face hurts anyone's feelings. Sales is emotional labor, sure, but I'm human too.
If I wanted, I could summon Britain's true export—the world's strongest army, Redcoats—and turn this into a bloodbath...
Endure it?
- You're nuts?
Ahem. No, it's this savage blood whispering, "Just kill and take—why bother with business?" Not my fault. Blame the pirate genes.
But I'm a 21st-century man.
I'll just spice up the deal a bit.