Chapter 45
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 045
Chapter Title: Great Matter of Human Ethics (5)
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Let's sort this out.
Same language, but why can't we communicate? It's frustrating enough to kill me.
First off, it's a fact that I once considered charming Elizabeth. Her family is loaded, right? Hundreds of millions in assets, and no son to inherit? And she's gorgeous? Who could resist? Everyone fantasizes about their favorite celebrity at least once, regardless of gender.
But that's just what went through my mind—I've never once taken direct action to seduce her!
Why? Because this Arthur Park In-ho Leigh isn't some sleazy crook luring beauties for dirty profits! My Englishman's road is paved only with honesty and trust!
"What are you talking about? After putting so much effort into shaking me up."
This is pure slander. Even a midnight knock on the window needs the right volume—don't drum on a feverish invalid like that.
"Me?"
"Yeah."
"When?"
"That unknown land brimming with opportunity, Joseon—let's start a second life there?"
Fabrication.
Total slander.
Pure 100% mudslinging! Jar ghost, say something quick!
- Huh? Um? Uh... .
"Didn't you say let's go to Joseon?"
"Isn't it obvious that for an investment, you shouldn't just look at papers—you've got to see it with your own eyes and judge?"
Not true.
"Didn't you say come with me?"
"Well, you couldn't even enter alone to begin with. You're American. No treaty with the U.S. yet! Of course you need an escort!"
Not true either.
"Second life?"
"Why mash it all into one sentence like that?"
Well... there's a misunderstanding. That "second life" spiel is just a template ad catchphrase.
Invest in Joseon, strike it rich, life-changing jackpot—like those ads everywhere online. And at the end, a shady link: "Enjoy financial freedom and wealth with top partner Park In-ho!!"
- You did stuff like that too?
Like hell I did.
The point is, it's all a misunderstanding. Total patchwork fabrication. She'd be a yellow journalism star on Fleet Street, not Wall Street.
But since it's important, I'll repeat it.
This woman.
Doesn't listen worth a damn.
"So you kept meeting me while harboring those intentions—doesn't that count as seducing me?"
"No!!"
"Then why would a guy with no ulterior motives barge into a lady's room alone and spend the night?"
We did pull an all-nighter. I had to endure endless agony presenting on Joseon's harsh realities and field challenges to this chart-jockey kid over days and nights. Should've spent that time on Nobel instead.
"Handling a young lady so roughly."
Never even held her hand. Only grabbed her collar. Once.
"Yelling so loud."
Screamed till my throat was raw. She wouldn't listen otherwise.
Her brazenness is making my blood boil in reverse. If I were a martial artist, I'd master the Reverse Blood Technique on the spot and become a Demonic Cult master at peak realm.
"Since when?"
"Huh?"
"Since when, I said!"
"Hmm... not from the start, but from midway?"
Baseless nonsense, but Elizabeth got it instantly.
This scary woman understood everything from midway but kept pretending ignorance, poking at me. Not your average foe. She knows exactly how to piss people off.
"But you weren't really chasing me from the beginning like that?"
"No, I wasn't..."
"You didn't talk business and investments day and night because you wanted to get with me? That sounds even more suspicious."
Aah.
That's it.
There's a Chinese idiom, "lute in the belly"—a lighter in your pocket is fine, but a dagger pokes through. Meaning, no matter how hidden, a great man like me will always reveal his brilliance. So—
- Too long a preamble.
This barbaric 19th century.
Where "women belong at home with the kids" isn't an insult—it's common sense. Who'd cheer a woman chasing men's domains like investments or business?
But Arthur Leigh, the finest scholar from the 21st century, never mocked her hobbies as eccentricity or oddity. He treated her with pure sincerity, no hidden motives. How could she resist?
Get it? "Aah, you don't? This is equality—something barbarians can't grasp." That's the devilish temptation from my old rental fantasy novel days!
Heh heh.
It's me after all.
Even unintentionally, heaven and earth resonate with my qi, achieving my desires. This is the Profound Realm.
- This bastard. You're escaping reality too far. Snap out of it!
Ah, no. Snap out of it?
You damn spirit punk. If I snap out, the title awaits.
I refuse reality! Let me stay as future warrior Trunks!
Now, only one path left: full speed ahead.
Pulling back now means earning the title.
"Elizabeth. No, Lizzy. Who cares what others say? What's wrong with burning passion for what you love? To me, that's more beautiful than any—"
"What? Gross. Chicken skin rising. British thing? Did you slather eel oil on your tongue today?"
Damn it.
Play along a bit.
"So honeymoon in Joseon? Somewhere no one dreams of."
"Not exactly a tourist spot, but—"
"Tourism? It's for scouting investments."
"Yes, yes, shareholder. I'll serve you well."
I extended my hand to her.
This time, she didn't play around.
America's famed tycoon Edward Robinson is a master of Yang Heart Technique, profound inner power.
"My wife was often bedridden, so I couldn't raise the kids properly."
"Honestly, seeing how much they take after me warms my heart! Hahaha! I sent them off to find husbands, and hearing they dashed to Wall Street for investments? You can imagine my joy."
"Still, I worried. Could they marry like that? I fretted endlessly. But look—they take after me, handling their own affairs perfectly. No nagging needed; they'll wed just fine!"
Edward, hoping for his daughters' happiness while smugly proud of his capitalist genes, shows me great favor.
But the flip side of Yang Heart Technique—President Robinson is not amicable toward me.
"You came for my daughter's money too!"
"I won't hand it over easily!"
"Whaling ain't for sissies! Weak scholars? No way! Hell no!!"
"Guys chasing rich heiresses are all the same! You approached for your Joseon venture funds! Not a penny till I'm in the grave! She'll inherit, but I'll lock it so only she spends—not you!!"
If it were different people, fine—but one man flip-flopping like Two-Face makes handling him dizzying.
At this point, I decided to sort the traffic.
"I'm not particularly interested in your assets, father-in-law."
"How can I believe that?"
"Let me ask in turn. If I ran to Wall Street shouting 'Joseon's concessions are mine—invest!', think I couldn't raise funds?"
I don't need Robinson's money.
Quite the opposite.
A battle-hardened entrepreneur like him should be itching to invest in me.
"In the City of London alone, people are clamoring to invest in me. I don't particularly need American capital either. But..."
"Offering investment via marriage ties? You cheeky punk?"
"Won't you?"
"How much?"
First trial cleared.
The cold businessman Robinson couldn't ignore the pitch. Sorry, but now you're begging to invest in me.
Second trial was nothing.
"I have no intention of inheriting the whaling business."
"Hmph. Bookworms wouldn't anyway."
"Why am I a bookworm? Haven't you read?"
"......"
"Lost parents in a storm before ten, lived with pirates and savages who don't speak my tongue, even saw war—am I a bookworm?"
"Hm. Not quite a bookworm..."
My life's pretty varied. Even gun-toting American hicks would struggle to claim a harsher one.
"Truth is, whaling's done."
"Pardon?"
"Already preparing to wind it down slowly. Need new investments."
"What sparked this sudden shift?"
"Whales are getting harder to catch."
Overhunting.
Whales were once endangered; with Industrial Revolution fleets ravaging seas, numbers must've plummeted.
"Awkward to pass to a son-in-law. Low liquidity too. On my death, I'll set up a trust so my daughters live comfortably without working."
Joseon investment as portfolio diversification. Fine by me.
We dined several more times with Robinson and Elizabeth; shared interests meant talks always drifted to hot stocks or economic outlooks. A fearsome father-daughter duo.
And finally.
[I'm getting married]
[You too? I'll go first.]
Telegrams flew between Britain and America.
You might've forgotten, but we brothers had a deadline. Gotta return to Joseon to make money.
First, Elizabeth and I wed in America.
Robinson, grinding his teeth—"Watch closely, you who thought my girls unmarriable"—threw a money-drenched extravaganza.
High officials, tycoons, especially Far East traders—all attended. A wedding of the century.
Then back to Britain.
First in Britain: Daniel's wedding. Remarriage, so low-key.
Next: mine again in Britain.
- This a wedding?
If not a wedding, what? Funeral?
- Looks like a company retreat.
"Hurrah for Far East trade!"
"Gospel to Asia!"
"Free trade will save them!"
Yeah.
Rally confirmed.
Robinson as in-law means "we're family"—and Wall Street funds are now viable.
Power balance slowly equalizes.
Not groveling like inventors or venture nuts begging investors—instead, neck stiff as a brace: "I'll take funds only from whom I choose."
That's why they swarmed the wedding: "We're tight, right? East India Company fam forever? Eton bonds eternal?" Chaos.
Post-rally: sorted Joseon goods, chartered ships, raised extra funds, set up joint venture with Nobel.
"Wow. Management's way harder than investing."
"Obviously?"
"But more fun."
Elizabeth was thrilled. Startups' early days are toughest—and most exciting.
Oh, right. Forgot.
Since I'm heading to Joseon anyway, check if the Koreans in Britain need letters or packages sent.
They attended weddings, but you know—brides/grooms are half-dazed, busy greeting endless guests. Can't recall talks; hands swollen from shaking.
So pre-departure, I met the Joseon royals at Eton—sort of enrolled, ambiguous "auditors"—the Ganghwa Brothers.
"Pleased to meet you, Lord Leigh!"
"Not 'lord.' No nobility. Your English improved?"
"Fine teachers; learned quick. No nobility? We wrote letters—His Highness will surely grant titles."
"Haha. Truly grateful."
Ganghwa Brothers looked chipper.
Odd. If it's the Eton I know, they should've endured grueling trials for "Eton spirit."
"No tormentors? Scorn as Asians?"
"Some whispers behind backs, but 'royal' isn't hollow to commoners."
Ah.
Social rank still trumped skin color.
"Seniors bullied a bit, no issue. Frailer than pine saplings."
"...Pines?"
"We lived farming trees. Toss weaklings once."
Right—these brothers rivaled Big-Ears in bottom-barrel royal lives. Eton kids? German suplex fodder.
"But Eton truly a cradle of learning. Learned much."
"Good. His Highness will rejoice at your studies. Any insights?"
"National power lies in invasion."
"...Ears failing lately; misheard."
"For Joseon to prosper like Britain, make Manchuria and Japan like Ireland. Barbarians speaking don't make them human— for Joseon survival—"
No.
Way too fast.