Chapter 46
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 046
Chapter Title: You Reap What You Sow (1)
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The Joseon envoys who first set foot in Europe felt their world crumbling around them, as if the very stones that lined their wells had turned to gravel and eroded away.
An endlessly vast ocean.
Monstrous ships that pressed on for twenty-four hours a day on the power of coal.
Factories that churned out goods automatically, without a single human touch.
Iron horses—trains—racing at incredible speeds over roads made of precious iron and wood.
Telegraphs that could send letters to places far beyond the horizon.
It wasn't that the Western barbarians had bullied other nations into submission with their mighty weapons.
No, they simply outstripped Joseon and the entire East in every conceivable way, and weapons were just a tiny fraction of their countless marvels.
The shock didn't end there.
The first Joseon people to reach European soil weren't them, but the seminary students led by Kim Daegun.
The Ganghwa Island Brothers were still just kids chirping away, so that was one thing, but for Jo Byeong-hyeon—the full envoy plenipotentiary to Britain, duty-bound to learn of Europe and the world and bring that knowledge back to Joseon—and his subordinates, this was a bombshell.
"These traitors! They begged foreign armies to invade and destroy Joseon!"
"What if they've been slandering us everywhere?"
"When King Taejo founded Joseon, vile traitors fled to Ming China and spewed that outrageous lie—'Taejo is the son of the treacherous minister Yi In-im'—and it took centuries to set the record straight. If the same thing happens here in the West, it would be a catastrophe beyond measure."
For the sake of the royal family's safety, they had to communicate with these Westerners as quickly as possible and spread the truth about Joseon far and wide.
It was obvious how much hatred these apostates—who had fled overseas just to preach Jesus—harbored for Joseon. They needed to strip away their influence and spread accurate knowledge about the kingdom without delay!
On top of that, they had to study how the West had grown so strong and figure out what knowledge and tools to bring back to Joseon.
All this left them with no choice but to throw themselves into the work.
They desperately crammed English, gathered as much information as they could, and aimed to rack up achievements worthy of returning home.
But there was a slight difference in perspective between these officials and the Ganghwa Island Brothers.
"Aren't we basically hostages?"
"Brother, what kind of hostage treatment is this under heaven and earth?"
"What are you talking about? We're trapped as frontmen for the English ghosts now... At least we'll be working for the ancestral shrines and the throne. That's something."
The Ganghwa Island Brothers had been living on borrowed time, never sure when death might claim them.
They hadn't received proper educations for long, and by Joseon tradition, royal kin were just supposed to sire heirs—no dreams of state affairs for them.
But now, an exception had appeared.
For the first time in centuries, Prince Heungseon had seized a ministerial post and entered the heart of power. These brothers might just find themselves in important roles too.
So they studied and learned with fervor.
What Eton College taught seemed trivial to them, so they devoured every book they could find, whipping themselves onward.
"Why have these Westerners advanced so far and grown so rich and strong?"
"What makes them different from us?"
The first answers that sprang to mind—"Because Europeans are superior" or "Because Christianity is so great"—were utterly unacceptable.
The Ganghwa Island Brothers' conclusion was straightforward.
"For thousands of years, they've endured endless wars, constantly building ever-stronger armies. With those armies, they conquered that vast new continent of America, gorging themselves on its immense gold, silver, treasures, and slaves."
"No different from Qin Shi Huang's tyranny."
"But look at the results of that tyranny. Why do you think we're here?"
Exactly.
They weren't exactly great scholars to begin with, and as greenhorns who'd been in Britain less than a year, what could they really know?
Sure, they noticed a few standout things—like booming commerce and industry, or governance by some "parliament"—but to these brothers, it still boiled down to "They just got strong through war, didn't they?" That was their limit for now.
Still, they weren't entirely wrong.
"If we don't build up our national strength soon and secure some colonies, we'll end up as the main course on these great powers' table."
"A nation without colonies doesn't even get proper respect. What a mad world. Well, just as we call them Western barbarians, they call us Eastern savages, don't they?"
In the Sinocentric order they knew well, Eastern savages were either appeased or crushed outright.
These Western barbarians were the type who snatched up colonies whenever they could to glorify their own lands. For Joseon to gain recognition, it needed at least one proper colony.
"We must drive out the Jurchens and reclaim the lost lands of old Goguryeo—"
"Subjugate the Japanese devils to open sea routes and become a mighty power like them—"
"We can't even manage the Fengshen Routes—how could we handle that? The northern expedition has been our dream since the Manchu chaos. North first."
"Didn't you study? We need sea trade routes to profit and build a strong army. If we don't strike Japan first, those devils will blockade our seas someday!"
The brothers, already sipping kimchi soup in brotherly harmony.
This was why blind faith killed people.
Before heading back to Joseon, let's take stock of all my assets.
The Ganghwa Island Brothers, rapidly absorbing the Eton spirit.
At first, I panicked thinking they'd start growing mustaches instead of beards upon hearing "national strength comes from invasion," but it was just the classic rich nation, strong army logic.
This was the age of gunboat diplomacy, after all. Having studied the mad 19th century, they were bound to fall for ideas like "win wars—collect reparations—grab colonies—trade corn for diamonds."
But a few more years of study, and they'd reach the conclusion of "So how do you even sweat that out?" For now, stew them good. Hang them at Eton until they're ripe like fermented soybean blocks.
Next, the Paris Foreign Missions Society priests.
With France and America pounding on Joseon's door, they'll sign protective trade treaties soon enough. America might not care, but France will absolutely demand freedom of faith and missionary rights.
France's pattern was all too predictable.
The treaty would limit preaching to open ports, but fanatic missionaries would worm their way inland anyway. One dies, and suddenly it's "Your people murdered ours—pay up!" I could see it clear as day.
So, any countermeasures?
Countermeasures?
What countermeasures? If France pulls that thug routine, it's music to our ears. Evil France versus gentlemanly Britain. Perfect contrast.
But letting Kim Daegun and his crew martyr themselves would be a waste. I need to figure out how to save them and put them to good use.
Next up, the northwest merchants.
No matter how dirt-poor and tiny Joseon is, it's still a country. I can't hog everything myself.
I'll raise those merchants as Joseon's gentry and bourgeoisie, free-thinking liberals to challenge the traditional yangban class.
And what do I get out of it?
What else? Control over logistics networks across all eight provinces of Joseon.
Railroads don't sprout overnight. Even with rails, Joseon's crappy roads mean we'll rely on porters anyway.
Unless Joseon goes Prussian or Russian-style modernization, the British path will naturally empower the merchants. Mold them into good Whigs, and my dream free-trade paradise takes shape.
Plus, those Joseon stragglers I smuggled out during the last war.
Orphans on the surface, but probably Catholics or Hong Gyeong-nae rebel remnants. Likely full of hate for Joseon—nurture them right, and they could be useful poison.
Inventory check: fewer cards than I thought.
Yi Ha-eung is more business partner than puppet, and King Heonjong goes without saying. If I get too reckless or seem like a pushover, they could ditch me.
Joseon needs to grow rich and strong.
Only then will my bean paste multiply.
So, for starters.
Shall we begin development?
Fall 1852.
East Asia was still ablaze.
The Second Opium War, kicked off by Britain and the Western powers, had shockingly entered a new chapter.
"Kill every last Manchu bastard!"
"A new world is coming!!"
The infamous Taiping Rebellion had begun, and two savage hordes were synergizing spectacularly.
British initially approached them warmly, thinking they were "Christians," but soon ditched them upon learning their leader claimed to be the son of Yahweh and Jesus's brother—a total psycho.
No matter how jumbled Britain's Catholics, Anglicans, and Puritans were, they at least started with the Trinity. These guys didn't even have that.
But not exploiting rebels? That wouldn't be British.
"We don't recognize you, but if you guarantee the safety of our nationals and trade in your occupied territories, we won't treat you as enemies."
"Excellent. Could we perhaps purchase some weapons?"
"We said we don't recognize you. But we won't block free trade between individuals."
Even psycho cultist rebels were customers to these capitalist hyenas sniffing out profit.
The Taiping bought arms at premium prices from Europeans—they were just big-spending clients. With the rebellion weakening opium enforcement, business boomed like fish in water.
Japan's situation was similar.
America didn't turn Edo into a sea of flames.
Japan, hearing Joseon had been crushed by Britain, tucked tail the moment the U.S. fleet hinted at a blockade and meekly signed their treaty.
The miraculous year when East Asia's three nations all fell apart!
The heavy duty of lifting their tears and saving them weighed on my shoulders.
As I returned to Joseon.
The whole world was waiting.
"Why are you so late?"
Look at that.
Even Prince Heungseon Yi Ha-eung, Minister of the Office of Special Advisors, had come out to the seas off Incheon to greet me.
"I've had my hands full. But I'll be in Joseon for the foreseeable future."
"His Highness has drawn his sword. Time to rip out every festering boil eating away at this country, root and stem."
The Bureau of Special Counselors—the Seodoh families' tool for real control over Joseon—had been abolished.
The troublemakers' rice bowls were smashed, and most bribe-bought magistrates stripped of office.
"We've set up this new office. It's directing all the reforms."
"Joseon's getting back on track day by day. Feels good. How can I help?"
"Take an official post. Nothing major—just advising His Highness."
An official post?
I'm a foreigner?
"Ha ha. If I can be of even slight help to His Highness, what wouldn't I do? But is it alright for a foreigner like me to eat Joseon's rice?"
"What's the difference? Britain might as well be our suzerain now."
Whoa, check out that razor tongue. But coming from you, Pro-Britain Number One, it stings a bit.
And so, trading favors, we headed to Hanyang.
"What... is that?"
"Hm? What do you mean?"
"Those things hanging everywhere in rows—"
"Rebels."
And not just one or two?
What the hell happened in this country while I was gone?