Chapter 81
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ace
Chapter: 081
Chapter Title: Friend or Foe (1)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Far away in the distant Black Sea, at the very moment when Britain, France, and the Ottomans were ganging up on Russia...
The Russian settlement of Petropavlovsk on the edge of the Eurasian continent's opposite end, in Kamchatka, had fallen.
With its capture, Russia lost all control over the Far East, and contact with Russian Alaska—which they hadn't yet sold to the Americans—was completely severed.
The ones who had conquered this impregnable fortress were, naturally, the fearless British and French marines and sailors. But added to their ranks were also the company troops from the East India Company.
And these company troops were an entirely new force, completely different from the traditional Indian armies—the Bombay Army, Bengal Army, and Madras Army.
This was the Chosen Army, composed solely of recruits from the small peninsular nation in the East: Joseon.
Originally, it was historical fact—proven by Hesse, Prussia, Saxony, and others—that the British employed mercenaries or henchmen from various nations. So, including Easterners from Chosen in that mix was, by induction, perfectly natural.
But astonishingly...
While the Chosen Army of the Joseon Kingdom consisted only of Joseon natives, the East India Company's Chosen Army wasn't exclusively Joseon men.
"Who would've thought I'd miss the harbors of Chosen like this."
Saigo Takamori, with the Chosen Army officer insignia on his shoulder, slowly set foot on solid ground.
"Kuh! Feels like I can finally breathe!"
"Ahh, so this is the land we've defended for our Asian peoples...!"
Those disembarking behind Saigo were also Japanese, each with rank insignia gleaming on their shoulders.
The fact that these random Chosen exchange students had suddenly thrown themselves into the East India Company's forces was both mysterious and inevitable.
The story was simple.
"Take these greenhorns to the battlefield?!"
Daniel and the British officers under the Chosen Army, hit with an out-of-the-blue deployment order, had scrambled like their asses were on fire, desperately scraping together troops from the desperate lower classes of Joseon and Hamgyong Province hunters to somehow secure enough manpower.
But unlike rank-and-file soldiers, officers didn't just pop up out of nowhere.
Especially in Joseon—unlike Europe, where modern officers were commonplace—the regular army was still fumbling in the dark, just starting to train its own. No need to elaborate.
They needed men who weren't total amateurs in military affairs—ideally with command experience—who could speak Joseon and English fluently.
Such talents were rare as hen's teeth.
Then, out of nowhere, Saigo—who'd been auditing classes at Sejong Academy and Hyeonjong Academy as some kind of exchange student—stepped up and volunteered.
The East India Company officers feigned reluctance even as they welcomed him.
"You're not even Joseon-born... You're Japanese, aren't you? Why the sudden change of heart?"
"There's a saying in the East: 'When Asia burns, the samurai steps forward.' It's only natural for a warrior like me to act for the future of Asians, isn't it? Though as a student, I can't commit long-term—"
"Just join for this battle and head home right after. Welcome aboard, samurai!"
Of course, Saigo had his own ulterior motives.
The samurai class had been desk jockeys for centuries now, so he wanted to experience a modern Western war firsthand. He aimed to earn a war hero title to boost his reputation, and to rack up some favors with Joseon.
When the 21st-century soul heard Saigo had volunteered, he immediately suspected some nefarious plot.
"Our Joseon youths won't step up to the front lines, so we have to put foreigners in command?!"
"While these barbarians go off winning glory with their long swords, our kids are just buying horse race tickets?!"
The Joseon people were properly pissed. Even yangban households saw a surge in volunteers.
And as a bonus, the shogunate students who'd crossed the sea with Saigo got dragged in too.
"You lot! Sneaking off to someone else's war without permission? Have you lost your minds?!"
"This is why you stiff-necked shogunate fools... Can't even decide for yourselves what's truly important?"
"Sh-shut up! We'll show you Satsuma country bumpkins that we're far superior!"
Across history and cultures, when men hear that kind of talk, they can't help but roar back.
Though they'd enlisted out of an inescapable pride showdown, these unique Japanese samurai-types—now commanding a Joseon army and marching north to fight the Russians in Kamchatka—had forged something akin to camaraderie.
And everyone who went to war came back with the same realization.
"So this is Western warfare!"
"Terrifying. Utterly terrifying..."
"If this army had come to Japan instead of the northern wastes, could the shogunate have stopped them?"
The astonishing logistics to ship thousands upon thousands by sea.
The insane amounts of gunpowder that shattered all common sense.
The line infantry marching forward step by steady step, unfazed by the ceaseless hail of bullets and shells.
"Look at those chinks losing their minds."
"This isn't the time to laugh! We have to command them! Hey! Snap out of it!!"
To Westerners, this was utterly routine—positively quaint compared to the Napoleonic Wars' horrors. More like a pleasure cruise abroad.
Rich or poor, Joseon or Japanese, all felt the class gap keenly. But reactions afterward split by nationality.
"In the end, our Chosen Army drove back the Russians and claimed victory!"
"Damn right!"
"From now on, everything's gonna be smooth sailing!"
The Joseon men were high on the thrill.
They shuddered at Western might but brimmed with confidence they could learn and catch up quick.
The Japanese, though, were different.
"If we don't throw open our doors like Chosen and modernize, their army—which now rivals the West's... "
"Might even invade us someday."
"The shogunate has to change. No—Japan has to change! Completely!"
The anxiety of the overwhelming gap.
The impatience watching Joseon transform daily.
And their own ambitions.
Thus, the birth of those dreaming of the Restoration.
Just as fleas spontaneously generate from dust and communists from colonies, Japanese exposed to Western ways morphing into anti-regime radicals was simply nature's law.
But it had nothing to do with Joseon.
Because Japanese were unequivocally Homo barbarus, while Joseon men were properly civilized by Confucianism.
Yet...
[Well done! Joseon's stalwart sons!]
[Annihilate the old bandits to protect the ancestral shrines!!]
[You are Joseon's future!]
"Kraaaah!!"
"Innkeeper!! Another round here!!"
No one was in their right mind.
Not a soul clung to even a shred of reason.
Which meant Arthur Leigh—the ultimate fusion of British rationalism and Joseon Neo-Confucianism, the Great Moss Man—was the only sane person left in this mad Hanyang.
- Ultimate fusion... Damn, my tongue's twisting. Whatever. Shutting up now.
I let the jar ghost's grumbling go in one ear and out the other as I tried heading to where the king was, but no dice. The streets were jammed with crowds rivaling Korea's 2002 World Cup semifinal frenzy.
After an epic ordeal, I finally reached the palace—only to find it infected with this massive grin-virus too.
"Congratulations, Your Majesty!"
"Congratulations!!"
"The mightiest nation under heaven must be Britain, bearer of the Mandate, but Russia is a great empire fit to rival even them."
"Our Joseon troops have crushed the army of one of the two powers vying for world dominion—this proves our national fortunes have turned."
"Russia's barbarity and ferocity mirror ancient Qin's; truly, a tiger-wolf nation of today. Even they quaked in fear at our Chosen Army's sight, attempted retreat, but failed and surrendered!"
"All that's left is exterminating those Manchu thieves who can't even match Russia's heels!!"
"Everyone, get a grip! Snap out of it!!"
Do they see Russia as a joke? Want the whole lot punched into the stars by a polar bear? Even our king, Lord Heonjong—is he lost in the sauce, giggling "Heh, we're the shit"?
"Though the troops who marched north are Joseon men, did we give them rice? Money? Not a single national resource—from weapons and armor to food, clothing, powder, and ships. That army isn't ours."
Damn! Knew I could count on you! Heonjong's still got his head screwed on right!
"This proves that with proper arms, Joseon need fear no Yi. Now we must accelerate reforms to build strength against foreign powers and safeguard our shrines."
For a second, I hallucinated the northern commissar yelling "Revolution!", but unlike that 21st-century animal farm up north, this was Kim Joseon—no, Yi Joseon.
Heonjong paused mid-sentence, then pressed on with resolve.
"A deep-rooted tree doesn't sway in the wind. For true reform, we must first solidify the foundation."
Ah.
This is it.
"The crown prince has grown. Shall we formally invest him as such?"
Pardon? Grown? The kid's three or four. Even in a rush, that's wild.
I'm an outsider, so I kept mum—but the ministers exchanged knowing glances, like their nerves were wired together.
And one more thing.
Not one— all of them. Probably why Heonjong spoke up himself instead of siccing lackeys on the investiture talk.
They're sprinting toward "king abroad, emperor at home." Just 0.1mm from declaring it outright. Joseon gets strong, and northern conquest plus emperorship follow like free chicken with your chicken?
The endless meeting finally broke, and as I rose...
Yi Ha-eung shot me a look. Probably about Daniel's title or whatever.
"Everything alright lately?"
"Plenty. Running the East India Company troops ate all my cash—gonna sweat bullets getting reimbursed."
"Besides that?"
"Not really... What'd Daniel screw up now?"
"Nah."
Yi Ha-eung strode ahead; I followed quietly.
Only near an empty hall did he turn.
"The British consul's starting to watch you."
"Expected that."
Some guy's got a straw jammed in the country, sucking it dry. If the diplomat posted there just goes "Cool," that's the real shocker, right?
"Seems more serious."
"Hear something?"
Joseon's Beria—gripping post and intel—nodded.
"They're planning to boot you."
"No way."
"Thinks you're working for Joseon over Britain. Watch yourself for a bit."
With that, he vanished. I stood frozen like a scarecrow.
- Things were cozy just the other day?
I'd figured it might come to this someday, but my head felt hot.
We jabbed the straw in Joseon. Through Daniel, we priced out influence over the local army. Hell, I even cut some deal with the Prince Gong in China.
No way a Great Britain's diplomat—obsessed with checks—ignores a guy like that.
Knock out the urgent stuff and head back to Britain.
My rise to glory started in this backwater Far East, but whether it lasts gets decided in Westminster, not here.
But I can't just slink away.
Anyone messing with my little money pot, Joseon—they can cough up an arm or two first.