Sophia's Nationwide Hidden Camera
“So. That is how it came to pass.”
The eunuch who had brought word that the Japan–Korea Annexation Treaty had been signed withdrew in quick, mincing steps at a flick of the Emperor’s hand.
Ha.
A hollow laugh escaped him. He had never consented, and yet they were handing the throne over to Japan.
Well—he was only the Grand Emperor now. It would have been simple enough to cow his pliable son and make use of those traitors who were already servants of the Japanese.
Five hundred years of royal enterprise ends in my generation.
He had ascended the throne at eleven and held on for forty-four years. Much had happened in that time.
In the days when he knew nothing, he had been dragged about by his father the Grand Prince; he had been betrayed by those he trusted, and he had betrayed them in turn; he had lost the one person he had believed would share his entire life.
Looking back, he had always felt as though he were being hauled somewhere by someone else. He had thrashed against that feeling all his life. He had believed that struggle was the path to Korea’s autonomy and independence. Korea was an absolute monarchy; the monarch’s autonomy was the nation’s autonomy, and the monarch’s strength was the nation’s strength—was that not so?
For that end he had often done things even a scholar—no, even a commoner of low birth—would never have done. The courage of a private man was mostly recklessness, but the recklessness of a sovereign was a calculated display of power.
Yet all that grinding effort had ended in the termination of five centuries of royal enterprise.
What, then, was he now? A sovereign no longer, was he merely a private man left with nothing but shame? Perhaps so. No—the fellows snickering in the Residency-General’s compound had surely regarded him that way for years already.
But since when had the Mandate of Heaven been transferred by treaty? And by a document the monarch himself had never approved?
They would have spoken of abdication and promised him decent treatment, but there was no reason to believe any of it. From ancient times, a sovereign who abdicated might receive outward honors while in truth suffering the punishment of house arrest; when a cruel man seized power, even his life was forfeit.
“Therefore I shall remain not an emperor who abdicated to Japan, but the sovereign of a fallen nation.”
The arrangements were already complete. Regret remained that the great work had not been achieved, yet plans rest with man and success rests with Heaven. If Heaven truly willed it, Korea would survive.
Yi Hyeong quietly took from his sleeve the poison he had prepared and stirred it into the coffee he always enjoyed.
It had been possible only because their preparations for annexation had loosened the watch on him.
The taste of the last coffee he would ever drink was as bitter as it had always been.
On the twenty-ninth of August, 1910, the Emperor of the Korean Empire, Gojong Yi Hyeong, ended his life by poison.
My Korean Empire Is Not Like This — Part 1 Complete
“Whew. That should about wrap it up.”
Somehow this novel I had serialized for so long was finally finished.
Part 2… I’ll take it as far as the liberation. Part 3… I’ll think about that when I get there.
Writing the turbulent modern era would be a pain in all sorts of ways. Right now I very much prefer the idea of wrapping Part 2 with a “Liberation!” and a happy ending.
The broad direction will follow the history I know, but if the readers’ mood turns strongly against a “democratic republic,” I may tweak it a little—something like having Gojong casually mention the abolition of monarchy in a secret letter.
I hadn’t realized it while writing, but most readers—and most of the public at large—do not look very kindly on republican government.
Well, every surrounding country is a monarchy; the only republic in East Asia is the Republic of China to the northwest. And the Republic of China has clashed with the Korean Empire more than once in the modern era, so the feeling is only natural.
Still, I intend to give them a Republic of Korea ending. History originally went that way, and—though it’s awkward to say while sitting on the imperial throne—my personal view is that monarchy is a system that can meet its end at any time.
The readers will curse me a bit, but after dozens of rounds of that experience I no longer flinch at ordinary abuse. I have developed a heart of steel that can casually delete even long e-mails packed with insults.
Lately e-mails in Chinese have been increasing as well, and—true to a nation of great heroes—occasional death threats have appeared. Of course those fellows in Song or the Republic of China have no way of killing me in the Danamo secondary palace, so I took them lightly.
If I actually got angry and called in Jeguk Ikmunsa, things could get serious.
While I was entertaining these random thoughts, the time came for comments and online reactions to start appearing, so I visited the site.
Aigoo shit lmao
So everything you’ve serialized up to now was just build-up for “the country falls,” huh?
Huh!!!!
Yeonsangun, Jungjong, Seonjo, Gwanghaegun, Injo, Yeongjo, Jeongjo, Cheoljong
While creating all these characters, what you kept thinking was
how to make Joseon fall?
Huh!!!!!!! Answer me, Yi Myeongbok!!!!!!!!!
[Upvotes: 13] [Downvotes: 3]
The Yi Hyeong the author has shown us all this time isn’t the kind of guy who drinks poison. Feels like he forced a solemn ending just to pump patriotic juice because he was worried about the readers’ reactions.
Sigh. How’s an author supposed to live with the rat-brain fans breathing down his neck
[Upvotes: 21] [Downvotes: 12]
The consistent portrayal throughout the work has been monarch = the state.
Regardless of whether he was a good or bad ruler, looking only at his actions he was extremely smart about protecting himself and holding onto power.
Asking foreign armies to crush peasants who rose up because they couldn’t live, fleeing to a foreign embassy the moment war broke out—all of that.
In the end it just means as long as the Emperor of the Korean Empire exists, that’s enough.
To exaggerate, this guy sincerely believed that even if every last subject died, as long as he remained, that counted as the continuation of the Korean Empire.
But the conclusion is that he ran the country into the ground so badly the Korean Empire is about to be annexed by Japan. He spent his whole life thinking Yi Hyeong = Korean Empire, and now the Korean Empire is gone.
So what about Yi Hyeong himself? He too is a being that must disappear.
That’s why he chose the drastic measure of poison. And even then he couldn’t let go of his lust for power, so the text mentions he made various “arrangements.”
Probably Part 2 will be about him leaving a secret edict transferring full authority to some heir other than the current emperor, continuing the existence of the Korean Empire.
[Upvotes: 31] [Downvotes: 12]
Ah. Come to think of it, that happened too.
The day before I uploaded the final chapter, Sophia had asked whether it would be good to film the Heirloom Seal of the Realm up close and show it.
I also thought it would be nice to magnify the fine details you couldn’t properly see in the museum, so I inquired with the museum director and received the opinion that it would be fine as long as the artifact’s safety was guaranteed. (I will not entertain the retort that, strictly speaking, the Heirloom Seal of the Realm is the Emperor’s personal property and needs no permission.)
And so the scene they filmed was…
Sophia showed the genuine seal from every angle, then—outside the camera frame—swapped it for a replica and “accidentally” dropped the seal onto the floor.
There was no crash, but the seal shattered into pieces all the same.
Sophia… why on earth would you pull a nationwide hidden-camera prank with the Heirloom Seal of the Realm?
Of course I watched from the side because it looked fun. The shocked faces of the filming staff who hadn’t been told in advance were worth seeing.
But I wonder if doing this kind of thing is even okay for prenatal care.