Chapter 27
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 027
Chapter Title: Debut Match (1)
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1851.
The Far East had once again become a battlefield.
I might not know much about history, but could there really be any other war in the world that broke out so haphazardly? No matter how starved they were for a pretext, could they really call this a justification?
- You're saying that so shamelessly.
Me?
Why?
- You told them to do it!
Told them to?
Is the Arrow my ship? No. It was just some money-grubbing Englishman who rented it out without even bothering to check what the other side planned to use it for.
What do Canton pirates have to do with me? Nothing.
"Please, have some."
"Y-Yes. Thank you."
A newly built small mansion in Hong Kong.
Hong Kong land was so cramped, and the island hadn't yet grown into the bustling hub of history, so securing real estate was tough—but managing to build even a modest home here was no small feat in itself.
As the master of the house, I was treating my guests to a meal.
"So, is there any chance we'll get caught?"
"None whatsoever!"
My guest was none other than Wang Pal, the Canton merchant.
He was the man who'd rescued me when I was clinging to a turtle's shell, fed and sheltered me for about a year, even let me sneak in some worship sessions now and then, and later provided a smuggling ship to help me escape Joseon. A true benefactor.
Failing to do business with a benefactor like him would be a grave failure as an Englishman.
Wang Pal and his Seven Seas Pirate crew under him were performing splendidly as our core buyers and local middlemen.
"But now that war has broken out, won't this sea be crawling with warships for a while?"
"Indeed. Your free trading will be tough for the time being."
"Our boys might end up clutching their stomachs and starving at this rate. Heh heh. If the Dragon King could bless us a bit—"
Those fools who dared stick their spoons into my small, cute Joseon without permission were all swept away by the Dragon King's grace. It absolutely wasn't because I tipped Wang Pal off about their predicted routes and he turned them into fish food.
I generously refilled Wang Pal's empty glass with fine port wine, and he gulped it down like water, beaming with delight.
"I'll handle that part myself. In return, I'd appreciate it if you could put a bit more effort into private trade with Joseon."
"Like that last ship deal?"
"Exactly."
Joseon people shout about national isolation from their mouths, but those same mouths are currently stuffed with coffee and chocolate produced by Western powers exploiting Indian laborers.
But how does a country in lockdown afford that? Smuggling, of course. They're turning a blind eye to the magic trick swapping red ginseng for coffee to satisfy their luxury cravings.
And with war breaking out, prices for essentials like rice, beans, and cotton cloth—not to mention key strategic resources like gunpowder—were bound to skyrocket.
Ordinary folks might just think, "Wow, relay trade margins look so pretty here," but Park In-ho, the 21st-century warrior, was always a proactive businessman scouting new buyers.
Time to raise the curtain on Act 2 of the Joseon Improvement Plan.
This Arthur Leigh would become the sole gateway for clueless Joseon people to the world stage, pocketing a modest consulting fee!
- You bastard, if you do the same with those missionaries—
Father Kim Dae-geon? That was pure goodwill. Going there meant a 99% beheading bad end.
But, just one in a thousand, one in ten thousand—what if the Joseon court went mad, shut their eyes, and used a Catholic priest as some kind of temporary diplomat who knew the Western ways?
I played a lot of games as a kid, so I know: a 99% hit rate with a 1% miss drives you insane. And this isn't a game—I'm playing my second life with my soul on the line.
I could push that probability to 100% with a little effort. Why wouldn't I? Are you crazy?
Repaying my Joseon mentor by becoming their Western studies teacher—what could be a finer case of the student surpassing the master?
But my Joseon Improvement Plan needed emergency revisions due to sudden changes in the geopolitical landscape.
In a good way.
The first clashes erupted around Guangzhou.
The Qing had wised up and stopped sending out their fleet stupidly. They knew it'd just get wiped out without firing a shot.
The seas were blockaded by British merchant ships loaded with cannons instead of cargo, and heavy shells rained down on Guangzhou.
And at almost the same time, someone arrived from the homeland.
"Pleased to meet you. You're that famous Far East expert, Arthur Leigh?"
"Yes, sir. It's an honor to meet the renowned Earl."
Earl of Clarendon, George William Frederick Villiers, 4th Earl of Clarendon.
A heavyweight in the Whig Party, diplomat, and former Lord Lieutenant of Ireland. A much bigger fish than I'd expected had been dispatched.
"Her Majesty the Queen and the Cabinet serving her have appointed me as plenipotentiary envoy for this clash with the Qing. I had no desire to leave Europe, but when Her Majesty personally summoned and encouraged me, I had no choice. Can you assist me?"
"Of course. I'll share everything I know."
"The government has decided to grant you a provisional official position. It's not a grand title, but I intend to respect your judgment here in the Far East and listen very positively. How's that? Acceptable?"
Regardless of rank, it meant treating me as a shadow power broker or number two.
The home government seemed to rate me higher than I'd thought.
If they'd planned to sideline me, I'd have tearfully returned to the path of rejecting foreign encroachment. I might've even courted favor with Joseon and Qing, fiercely denouncing this pretext-less war to defend their rights.
But handing me a rice cake like this—how could I turn my back on the British Empire? Sigh. No choice.
"I gladly accept and will devote myself to our country."
"Excellent. Here."
He immediately handed me my appointment letter.
"Arthur Leigh. Effective immediately, you are my aide as plenipotentiary ambassador and senior commissioner, as well as superintendent of trade with China."
"...!"
That's an incredibly high rank.
"And one more thing."
"More?"
"If Joseon or Japan signs a friendly trade treaty with us, you'll serve as acting consul there until a formal official is dispatched. Essentially, chargé d'affaires."
He's giving away too much—it's making my spine tingle.
I could almost hear a voice from some faceless someone in London.
'You boasted you could open Joseon and Japan? We'll give you everything—go prove it.'
My heart pounded.
It thumped so wildly that my head started throbbing.
This is the British Empire for you.
Push hard with no holds barred; if you fail, bury you. What a bold HR strategy—just watching your sprouts grow or wither. Makes you want to serve the nation.
"Normally, for a first post, we'd hold even a modest inauguration, but with physical clashes already underway with the Qing—"
"It's fine. With lives on the line, I don't want any party."
"Thoughtful of you, young friend. Then I'll brief you on Cabinet orders right away."
The Earl pulled out new documents and handed them over, continuing his explanation.
"You know trying to monopolize that vast Far East market alone would backfire spectacularly, right?"
"Of course."
"Plus, we've poured so much into Irish famine relief that public sentiment isn't great. Our deployable forces and war funds are fewer than you'd think. So, what should we do?"
"Pull in other countries."
He nodded.
"France and America have already mobilized fleets."
"!"
"The Americans are eyeing Japan, the French Joseon. The government sees it as a win if they handle the dirty work for us."
That famous most-favored-nation treatment.
Let America or France bust open the doors, then we slip in second or third and reap the sweet rewards.
"Thus, we must cooperate with France, America, and possibly Russia to reshape Far East order and advance our core agenda of free trade."
Bribe them properly and use them as mercenaries.
In return, we take the lion's share.
"Now, your first advice? How should we proceed?"
The Earl of Clarendon looked at me with eager eyes.
This was a test.
Submit an answer satisfying my self-interest, national benefit, and realism. Essay question, 100 points.
My head felt ready to burst.
Not from fear.
Because I'd been waiting.
For this day.
The day a red pepper expert could steer the world's currents, intervene in the British Empire's moves—the balancer of Europe!
"First, we need a solid war justification."
"Elaborate."
"Insult to the Union Jack won't even convince our Parliament. We must present a clear pretext every Far East nation accepts, leaving no hesitation for them to side with us great powers."
I had the pretext ready.
"China has this thing called Sinocentrism. Only China is civilized; everyone else is barbarian."
"Sounds more absurd the more I hear it. So we make them admit they're not the only civilized ones?"
"Exactly."
This might make the Qing explode overnight.
But so what?
If the crumbling Qing, bereft of governing legitimacy, needs an oxygen tank, we'll provide it.
For a price.
"This strips Qing of any leverage over vassals like Joseon, Japan, Vietnam. Preps them for us to cook as we please."
"And then?"
"We guide those new independent nations into the international community. Seeing Qing get pummeled will make them sign treaties easily."
The Earl stroked his chin briefly.
Then nodded.
Pass, for now.
"What about France and America?"
"They don't really need colonies, do they?"
"Probably not. Colonies rarely turn black ink. Even the East India Company couldn't handle Bengal, bled red, and collapsed. France is already sinking fortunes into Indochina; America... if they had spare cash, they'd invest in Central or South America first."
"We secure core rights in Joseon, toss Japan to America. Guarantee France religious freedom and trade rights in both Joseon and Japan?"
"I know you favor Joseon, but—"
"Not favoritism."
I rudely cut him off.
Now came the crucial part.
"Russia is our biggest threat, right?"
"Yes. That big bear covets an outlet to the sea."
"Russia, owning all of Siberia, will inevitably push into the Far East. We must bring at least one of Joseon or Japan under our influence to check their expansion."
"Why Joseon over Japan?"
I plastered a big smile on my face.
"From what I've gathered, nowhere in the Far East can Russia build a base and be self-sufficient in food and supplies."
Vladivostok didn't exist yet.
But at this moment, everyone assumed Russia was hunting for a Far East port.
"If Russia builds a Pacific port city in the near future."
"Their only land-linked food supply is Joseon."
Being choked on food supplies is an utterly miserable position.
Why the uproar over that damn Corn Laws?
Fear of France seizing food sovereignty, right?
In other words.
If Joseon becomes Britain's lapdog, Vladivostok can't break ground without British permission.
The Earl lit his pipe and took a deep draw.
"Gladstone MP sent me a letter."
"Him?"
"Said some kid talked about the potato blight and Irish famine. Curiosity got the better of me, so I took the Far East posting."
It connected like this?
"No need to worry about the future after I die. With such a capable youth at the helm of the Empire."
"You're too kind, my lord."
"Go to Joseon and Japan. Convey our will. Your first mission."
Done.
Joseon is as good as mine now.
That poor, pitiful nation will be sheltered in the warm embrace of the British Empire.