I Don't Want to Make You Happy
“Sophia, did you watch the rest of that video?”
“Yeah, I did. Isn't it fun?”
“Sophia… the internet is losing its mind over that right now… The news outlets will probably pick it up any minute…”
“If the press has any sense, they won't touch it lightly. It wasn't some secret recording—the Empress filmed it herself. Call the content inappropriate and you're basically saying the person who shot it is at fault.”
“Is that… how it works?”
“Well. Of course they'll eventually track down whoever edited it and pin the blame on them, but at least we've bought ourselves a little breathing room.”
“Oh? You sound so confident—I take it you've already got a solution for this problem too?”
“Problem? You think this is a problem?”
Sophia shoved her smartphone screen toward my face.
“You told me last time you wanted to show a more approachable side of the Emperor. This whole thing is basically part of that effort. Of course it would look weird if you, the Emperor, opened your own channel—so if you just show up from time to time like in this video and let people see the friendly side… that wouldn't be so bad, right?”
Definitely not a bad idea…
It would help realize the goal I'd had since my accession—closing the distance between the imperial family and the public—while still sidestepping the charge that the imperial house was trying to meddle in politics.
I had planned a few public meet-and-greet events before, but Chamberlain Kim had shut them all down. The main concern was that any direct contact with the people could be read as a political move. It had felt a little overblown at the time, yet the political consensus was that if the imperial family ever chose to leverage its remaining prestige and nominal power, a return to absolute monarchy was not impossible. That was why, as Chamberlain Kim explained, the palace had to be careful about rolling up its sleeves on social issues.
Then shouldn't we just change the law?
The thought crossed my mind—until I realized the fatal flaw: what legislator would ever sponsor such a bill and still expect to win re-election? The public liked the imperial family. Calling for the stripping of its powers was the same as announcing you were quitting the next race.
And I, as Emperor, could hardly stand up and declare, “I hereby renounce these powers.” The very act of saying so would announce to the entire world that those powers still existed.
So here we were, unable to make direct contact with the people outside of official occasions—and Sophia's YouTube channel might just be the perfect detour.
Long, pleading comments detailing personal grievances and outright begging already appeared under the videos, but they were deleted almost immediately or met with replies like “You're begging even here?”
So this internet world becomes a kind of firewall.
Imagine I met citizens offline instead. Suppose one of them suddenly said, “I've suffered this terrible injustice—please help me.” If it were a simple request for financial aid, that might still be manageable. But if they poured out grievances about an ongoing trial? Whether I affirmed, denied, or stayed silent, the whole thing would explode into a national spectacle.
On the internet, though, no one finds it strange when those same long-winded comments simply vanish. This is a place people come to play, after all.
And because “Sophia's Daily Life” belongs to Sophia, even someone who wants something from the Emperor can't easily leave a message.
“Sophia. I never knew you thought that deep.”
“Well… half of it was just because it was fun. But I don't go around starting things completely thoughtlessly either.”
“Even so, good reactions or not, I think we still need to put out some kind of official statement…”
“Ahem. From here on, discuss that part with Chamberlain Kim over there. He already signed off on uploading that section of the video, you know.”
Fair enough. The Palace Affairs Office's New Media Team—or whatever they were called—handled the editing. There was no way Chamberlain Kim's influence hadn't been involved.
Sophia excused herself to practice for an upcoming concert, and Chamberlain Kim entered right after.
“I've already heard everything from Sophia. You clearly had a plan when you allowed the video to go up, didn't you?”
Chamberlain Kim nodded.
“This was something of a trial run—to see exactly what kind of image the public wants from Your Majesty. Not informing you beforehand was this servant's fault, yet…”
“You figured I lack Sophia's adventurous streak and would have opposed it. Well, husband and wife are one flesh, so there's no need to apologize to me for something Sophia already approved. So—what do you intend to do now?”
“Had the public reaction been poor, we planned to take the video down or re-edit it, and we would have asked the press to hold back on coverage. But the response has proven positive, so we've decided to keep the video as is.”
“Online reaction and real-world reaction can differ, can't they? Talk about loss of dignity and the like.”
The internet—especially community sites—was mostly young people. Gauging every generation required other metrics. And when it came to the imperial family, the highest stratum of the nation, complaints about a lack of “dignity” were entirely possible.
“We did anticipate some pushback from the more traditional imperial supporters. But if Your Majesty truly wishes to become an imperial house close to the people, as you once said, then setting aside a measure of dignity is necessary. That lost dignity can be filled by the people's support.
And… nothing is confirmed yet, but word is circulating that the Heirloom Seal of the Realm brought by the Danamo Museum Director last time is very likely genuine. If that story proves true, anyone grumbling about a mere display of casual speech will have to shut their mouths.”
“The results came that quickly?”
I had met the museum director less than a month ago. How could they already have findings?
“Yes. Immediately after Your Majesty met with the director, historians and archaeologists from Imperial University and Sungkyunkwan traveled to Danamo and began their investigation.
The most critical view so far is only that it may be one of several seals from the Warring States period—so at the very least, it is confirmed as a Qin-Han era artifact. Once the overseas research institutes Your Majesty mentioned deliver their results, we will be ready to announce.”
“I see. I don't believe the legends about holding the Heirloom Seal of the Realm granting the Mandate of Heaven, but it seems we may still reap some benefits from the seal.”
It wasn't as if we needed a bombshell like the discovery of the Heirloom Seal of the Realm just to bury a video of casual speech—but when something big happens, it makes for excellent diversionary material, doesn't it?
I was worried the press would splash my novel all over the headlines the way they did last time, but with the Heirloom Seal of the Realm as a shield, it should blow over without much fuss.
At present, the plot of My Great Han was steadily walking the road toward the fall of the Korean Empire.
The Eulsa Treaty had already been forced through, and Emperor Gojong's forced abdication was imminent. I had sprinkled in a few episodes that might let readers wonder, “Maybe there's a twist?”—but overall I was faithfully following the original historical scenario.
Of course, the reaction… was not particularly good.
Tragic glory, huh…
Hmm… that might actually be worth considering.