Chapter 53
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 053
Chapter Title: The Modern Era is Cold (3)
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Leigh & Gladstone Company was sailing smoothly day by day.
They say a name holds power, and sure enough, it must be because the name itself is so good.
- Gladstone's name?
No.
The abbreviation is LG. Doesn't it just scream overlord of Jamsil? It feels like we'll always win. It's not twins, but we even sold off a set of brothers in London just in time.
- Your bullshit is getting a bit stale... If it's an abbreviation, shouldn't it be L&G to begin with?
LNG sounds like natural gas. Not Besping Gas or anything, just plain natural gas—what meaning does that have in this 19th century?
In the Chinese market, where we're raking in money with a pitchfork, LG Company operates under the name Li Ge Yanghang.
In this era, Western-style companies in China usually tacked on "Yanghang" to their names. "Hang" means shop, so Yanghang refers to a Western-style shop, or more broadly, a Western firm.
To 21st-century Koreans, Yu Han Yanghang might ring a bell, but right now in the 19th century, companies like Ihwa Yanghang and Who-knows-what Yanghang were diligently mining gold across that vast continent.
But who am I? A man from the 21st century.
There's no word like "hang" in Joseon to begin with, so what does "Yanghang" even mean? To the vast majority of Joseon people, it's just alien gibberish.
"Company" or "corporation" is the same. Something like Merchant Guild might actually make sense to them.
So in Joseon, Leigh & Gladstone Company was set to launch under a name like Leigh Merchant Guild or something similar.
But it seems that didn't sit well with Joseon sensibilities either.
"Leigh Merchant Guild? What kind of name is that?"
"It's taken one character each from my surname, Lee, and Mr. Gladstone's (Ge-laes-ton), the investor."
"Forget it."
Yi Ha-eung, nosy as ever and always meddling in everything, grumbled.
"You know I'm pretty tight with the peddlers, right?"
"Yes, yes."
"You need a warm, familiar name that can pick the pockets of the common folk clean. How can you go with something so bizarre? Especially when all you're dealing in is Western goods anyway."
"Well..."
A gentleman's grace in accepting criticism. Only possible because I've studied Neo-Confucianism.
The result? The official name of Leigh & Gladstone Company's Joseon branch became Leigh Merchant Guild.
- You must've been itching to say that.
It abbreviates to LG—how could I hold back? This has to be heaven's will! A miracle! A portent!
- It's just a coincidence. Why make such a fuss?
Seeing you dismiss it as mere chance really shows the limits of a beast's brain.
Do you know which team the LG Twins inherited? It's the Bears.
And who's sitting right next to me now?
- Ah, aah...!
The Dragon Tamer here starts a company, and it gets named LG. This isn't coincidence—it's fate! With an omen this auspicious, people back in the day would've built an altar and offered sacrifices to the heavens ages ago!
- So, you're going to found Joseon's first baseball team and play ball games now?
No.
I don't even know baseball.
Studies show baseball fans have shorter lifespans than non-fans on average.
- You little shit...
To these romantic max Joseon folks who love watching stone fights where people's heads crack open like pottery, baseball would seem downright boring.
We need to make money. Baseball? What baseball?
As 1853 drew to a close,
envoys from America and France began arriving in Joseon one after another, ushering in the second opening season.
"What a poor country."
"Hanyang seems even more backward than Edo."
America arrived first.
The Americans had... really no particular thoughts about Joseon. Basically, the market's open, so let's sell stuff.
Their interests boiled down to three things.
Low-carbon coal.
Whaling.
Ginseng.
Low-carbon coal and whaling ultimately came down to one thing.
Safe fishing and resupply for American whaling ships.
American ginseng was one of the few products they could sell in China, so it carried some weight for them too. In short, could they swap it out, slap a "Joseon ginseng" premium on American roots, and sell?
Of course, Joseon-style housing might appeal to adventure maniacs seeking exotic experiences, but it was iffy for Western diplomats.
In the end, providing lodging for them naturally fell to me. Unlike Joseon, where women stay in the inner quarters, Lizzie could play hostess, which wasn't bad for me at all.
Kim Ja-geun House was still a hanok, but upon moving in, we'd shipped in furniture from Hong Kong first thing: desks, tables, dining sets, chairs, and so on.
As a kid, I'd adapted somehow, but after drinking Thames water and coming back, I had zero confidence in readjusting to cross-legged floor life. It was time for Joseon folks to appreciate the charm of chairs too.
"Pleased to meet you. Arthur Leigh."
"We've heard so much. They say you're working hard to bring civilization to this land of Joseon."
"Indeed. Moved by my efforts, the Joseon government even granted me the position of Reform Agency Advisor. It's about providing various aid to help Joseon people safely join the international community."
No way Yankees would get "Office of State Affairs and Military Reforms," so I simplified it to Reform Agency.
Sure enough, the moment I mentioned my government post, they perked up.
"What does this Reform Agency do?"
"Nominally, it's the national body overseeing Joseon's adoption of Western knowledge and institutions."
"And in reality—"
"Essentially a mini-cabinet. All Joseon's state affairs run through there. His Majesty the King wishes to radically transform this country after the Western model, and the Reform Agency handles everything for that."
That's right. The Reform Agency is the Office of State Affairs and Military Reforms. Since when has Joseon been a country that runs by the rules?
"So Mr. Leigh's role isn't bound by the advisor title, then."
"Correct. You might've read my humble writings—I've been friends with the King since childhood, and Prince Heungseon, the current Foreign Minister, is my mentor. They always listen to me and seek my input on policies."
Yeah. No point hiding it.
I'm Joseon's shadow power broker! I'm running the whole show!
Declaring boldly that I manipulate Joseon's government from the shadows, the Americans looked half-doubting, half-awed—like Ali Baba unlocking "Open Sesame."
"Could we hear a bit about the vision Mr. Leigh has for Joseon's future?"
"All Joseon's power stems from the absolute monarch, His Majesty. The conservative rebellion rejecting Western reforms was crushed, and the vast poor peasantry overwhelmingly supports the new regime. With the King's strong will for modernization, I predict Joseon will succeed and become a powerful industrial nation."
"Most impressive."
They're forcing smiles, but inside, probably thinking, "Yeah, right."
But what matters to you isn't whether Joseon modernizes.
It's the massive business opportunities that come with it.
"Joseon's population is excessive, and while policies dismantling noble estates to promote smallholder farming are underway, they can't possibly feed all the unemployed. Without building factories to absorb them as laborers, the future looks bleak."
"The United States has its own expertise in industrial development. We could certainly discuss close cooperation with the Joseon Kingdom on factories."
"And you may not know, but Joseon originally ruled Manchuria. The Manchus ruling Qing China now were subjects of Joseon."
"Hooh."
"Joseon's top priority is building military strength against Qing's physical threats, and the next is recovering lost Manchuria."
Joseon will conquer Manchuria.
A bold dream, but crucially, it's profitable.
Knowing Qing is getting beaten like a dog in summer and dropping gold like RPG monsters, a neighboring country gearing up to fight them is a massive business opportunity in itself.
"Helping oppressed weak nations is what America desires most. Whenever you need aid—"
"We absolutely do."
I affirmed crisply.
These talks are all private anyway. They're probably figuring my shadow boss claim is just bravado.
That's why straight balls work.
No beating around the bush—just toss the invoice.
"We need a loan."
"For large-scale ventures, I presume."
"Money pits everywhere. Britain agreed to provide one too, but it'll take time. I pulled in City of London financiers, but national projects are separate."
"Examples?"
"Arms factories, textile mills, railroads, telegraphs, port upgrades. That's a grand saga right there."
Let me say it upfront.
A loan is debt.
Debt's usually bad for your health, but for these national projects, better to borrow than cede equity.
Port upgrades? Britain, who needs them most, will handle it spectacularly. In return, let their fleet dock and resupply—which benefits Joseon.
Railroads and telegraphs? Leigh & Gladstone already gobbled those rights. Could rope in Americans if needed, but eh.
That leaves one.
"We desperately need factories for guns, ammo, cannons."
"Why build factories? Importing from America would be cheaper."
"China's weapons demand is enormous. I guarantee, build in Joseon and export to China, we'll repay the loan in a flash with change."
Won't sound like selling to Qing after I just ranted about their military threat.
Obviously to Taiping friends.
"We'll consider positively."
"Good. Now discuss details with Joseon officials."
I wrapped up, hinting my words align perfectly with official stances.
America's half-hooked, at least.
Compared to Americans, fixated on the single earthly commandment of profit,
the French were prickly as expected—truly the world's worst, most vicious frog-eaters, demanding much.
The French Second Republic lasted just four years before Louis Napoleon Bonaparte's Second Empire took over.
This empire started by blasting grapeshot cannons in Paris—not surprisingly, it's hot-tempered with a packed agenda.
But who am I? A dragon-taming hero who foresaw the future. If Jeratul got prophecies as long and detailed as mine, he'd have lived to a ripe old age.
What the French want isn't just money-making chances.
Opportunities to flaunt imperial prestige.
Something to rally nationalists, suppress opposition, boost the Emperor's ratings.
And suddenly, I'm pissed.
- What now?!
If I'd known I'd get dragged to the past, I'd have read way more books beforehand.
In this romantic 19th century teeming with opportunities everywhere, all I've got is this puny Joseon—and snagging one Nobel. If I'd prepped properly, I'd be Rockefeller-rich by now.
If that jar ghost hadn't bullshitted around "practicing," I'd have memorized like college entrance exams: steam engine blueprints first, then everything else.
Anger's turning to sorrow now.
My eyes are welling up.
Other alt-history webnovels I read had helpful ghosts instead of this idiot jar one, or living it up with 21st-century tech intact, or isekai hero perks, or digging up trucks and treasures, or at least Xiang Yu-level combat or Yi Sun-sin tactics.
How do I get nothing? How is this so unfair? Am I not the dirt-poorest of the dirt-poor?
This injustice is unbearable.
I've been robbed of my rightful privileges.
- Your bullshit’s getting staler by the day...
How can I stay sane dealing with Frenchies? As a British subject, they'll nitpick and snub me for sure.
And the decisive day dawned.
How to satisfy prestige-hungry Frenchmen and crown Napoleon III as the new Emperor of Goryeo?
I recited my prepared line right away.
"We need the metric system's origin."
"Pardon?"
"For Joseon Kingdom, wouldn't the scientific metric system suit better than imperial units? Given Joseon's aspirations for progress and science, I'd tearfully ask French gentlemen to help us adopt it..."
A British surrender!
Metric beats yards and pounds!
Hitting the ground in Joseon with instant nationalism shock, the French diplomats' mouths gaped like platters.