Chapter 7
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 7
Chapter Title: Nineteenth-Century London
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Arthur Gore, the 3rd Earl of Arran, had never imagined he would feel such immense happiness in his later years.
To be fair, there was something a bit foolish about an old man nearing seventy having a son so late in life.
Of course, the boy hadn't been born just now, but a decade ago—and even then, wasn't he nearly sixty?
If others found out, they might tease him about his enduring vigor.
In truth, until he had seen the child with his own eyes, he had been plagued by indecision until the very last moment.
Having been childless past the age of sixty, it was practically a foregone conclusion that the title would pass to his nephew.
He knew without seeing what sort of storm would brew if he suddenly brought in an illegitimate child and acknowledged him as his son.
Wasn't an old man with one foot in the grave making things far too complicated?
Perhaps it would be better to let the title go to his nephew and simply leave his son a fortune so he could live comfortably in this country.
He had mulled over various worries, but such idle thoughts melted away like snow the moment he laid eyes on his young son.
"I want to study hard and become a great nobleman like you, Father!"
How much practice must it have taken for a child who had likely never heard a word of English in his life to say such a thing?
And to hear that he had studied English specifically to greet his father himself—it was impossible for the boy to be any more admirable.
He wanted to leave this child everything he had.
No, even that wasn't enough.
He wanted to live longer, to build the family's power and fortune until Killian could stand perfectly on his own.
Only then could his son live with his head held high, couldn't he?
He had once found it strange how his friends would lose their usual composure whenever they started bragging about their children, but now he saw it wasn't strange at all.
Perhaps it was because his late-born son was young enough to be his grandson.
It was no exaggeration; he felt the boy was truly the apple of his eye.
“James, I’m afraid I’m incapable of objective judgment right now, so I’d like you to give me your assessment. You’ve seen more of the boy than I have, after all. What happened on the journey here?”
He had sent his son up to rest, assuming the boy would be tired from the long journey.
The Earl sat in the garden, a place he hadn't been in a while, sipping wine and listening to James’s story.
“My lord. You know I am not one to invent stories simply to please you. Therefore, I will say this without the slightest exaggeration: the young master is a prodigy, at the very least. He may even be a genius.”
“Ha. Haha. Hahahaha. I knew it, didn't I? He may be my son, but just from our brief conversation, I could tell he was no ordinary child. He can’t have been studying for long, yet he managed to greet me in our language, however clumsily.”
“It’s not just English, my lord. The young master is fluent in the language of the Qing Dynasty, as well as that of a country called Wa, located south of Joseon. He mentioned he picked it all up without formal instruction, just by listening.”
“A ten-year-old fluent in three languages? Come now, even if he is my son, that must be an exaggeration.”
“I thought so myself, but the young master is truly fluent in the Qing language. When we spoke, I felt he was at my level, or perhaps even better.”
The Earl’s jaw dropped.
He had assumed his son couldn't be a fool, but this was far beyond his imagination.
To speak two foreign languages fluently, not just one, required extensive education from a young age.
If he had achieved that entirely through self-study, it would be no overstatement to say he possessed a genius-level talent for languages.
“Three languages… No, wait. He’ll be learning English now, so he’ll be a ten-year-old fluent in four. I’d never considered it, but perhaps I should raise him to be a diplomat?”
“Indeed. A diplomat fluent in Asian languages would have an immense advantage in the future. One might find a few nobles who can speak the Qing tongue, but most people don't even know the other two countries exist.”
“You think so too? Then, while we’re on the subject, start looking for tutors tomorrow. If Killian is truly a gifted prodigy, it is my duty as his father to provide a suitable educational environment, is it not? Once he has a grasp of the basics, I must lay the groundwork for him to enter the finest school.”
“The finest school? My lord, are you perhaps planning to send the young master to a public school?”
Though the name was often misleading, in England, “public school” was a term for the most elite private boarding schools.
They were called public, not private, because they were places where the sons of upper-class families gathered to be educated together.
While some had humble beginnings, the leading public schools of the British Empire were now unparalleled institutions of excellence.
They educated not only the sons of the upper class but often the children of the most prominent noble families.
“Yes. Eton, Harrow, Winchester, it matters not. Though, if I had to choose, Eton does have a certain appeal.”
“You are not unaware of how few new students Eton College accepts each year… If the young master begins studying now, will he be able to get in? To be frank, I worry it might put undue pressure on him.”
“We will, of course, hire a tutor and heed their opinion. If the tutor believes it is too soon for Killian to keep up, we will immediately look for other options.”
The child had not yet been in London for a full day.
The Earl knew it was far too early to be discussing Eton or Harrow, but he couldn't help himself.
Of course, he would never let on, as it could indeed place an unnecessary burden on the boy.
But if, just if, that child could truly enroll in Eton or Harrow and graduate with honors…
Then, no matter the objections from those around him, wouldn't it be that much easier to pass on the title?
The old Earl, nearing seventy, prayed and prayed that James’s assessment of his son was not wrong.
For some reason, the wine tasted exceptionally sweet tonight.
Having finished the entire bottle, the Earl went to bed feeling the happiest he had in his entire life.
* * *
After a few days in London, I was starting to get a feel for what England was like in this era.
I’d heard all the clichés—the age of the Industrial Revolution, the dawn of capitalism—but being here, at the heart of history, was no joke.
It was only a slight exaggeration to say that the streetscape of today was different from yesterday's; everything was changing at a dizzying pace.
The population was flooding into the city like mad, leading to constant road expansion and infrastructure development, which in turn spawned a continuous stream of new jobs.
New factories seemed to pop up overnight, and workers swarmed every corner of the city.
Even with my clear memories of the modern world, after years of struggling in Joseon, London seemed like another universe.
“Young Master, this is Soho. It used to be a residential area for nobles, but most have since moved to places like Mayfair, and it has become a street for commoners. It’s probably the most densely populated area in or around London right now.”
“It’s really packed.”
“There are many unsavory characters, so please stay close to us. We really should be traveling by carriage and sticking to the respectable areas, but since you were so insistent on seeing every nook and cranny of the city…”
“I’m going to be living here from now on, so I need to see what the city is really like with my own eyes. Besides, I saw much worse streets back in Joseon, so don’t worry.”
I could see prostitutes milling about behind the ubiquitous music halls and theaters, but James subtly used his body to block my view.
I was supposed to be playing the part of a ten-year-old kid, so I hadn't even glanced in that direction to begin with. He was being a bit dramatic.
I only took a tiny peek.
“By the way, James, do you happen to know what the population of London is right now?”
“The population is growing so fast, I don’t know the exact number. I read an article that said it had passed one million, so it might be around one and a half million by now.”
“Wow. No wonder there are so many people.”
I remembered hearing that the population of Hanseong in Joseon was less than 200,000 when I was there. The difference was staggering.
Then again, considering how rapidly London’s capital and industrial markets were maturing, this influx of people was only natural.
But such an explosive population growth inevitably brought with it many side effects.
London was no exception.
“Young Master, perhaps we should take the carriage to another area now? If we head that way, we’ll reach Chelsea, a much more beautiful street than this one. We could look around there.”
“Alright. Let’s just look around a little further up, then we’ll go.”
The city's infrastructure couldn't keep up with the madly increasing population, and I could see pollution, disease, and poverty spreading everywhere.
This, combined with the hopelessly inadequate systems of the early industrial age, made the gap between the rich and the poor even more stark.
On top of that, technology and the market were growing so rapidly that the country's laws often couldn't keep up.
It could literally be called a jungle of early capitalism, where the law of the jungle—survival of the fittest—reigned supreme.
This was exactly the kind of place I wanted to see, hear, and experience.
I needed to know how much the common people were benefiting from civilization, how deeply the capital markets and advanced technologies had penetrated their lives.
To what class did the financial services of this era extend without issue? Knowing this would make it easier to plan my next moves.
Wandering around places like Chelsea a hundred times would only show me how many rich people there were in London and how opulently they lived.
One of the ironclad rules I lived by in the modern world was to never swindle money from the innocent.
Poor or rich, it didn't matter.
The poor weren't necessarily good, and the rich weren't necessarily evil.
What mattered was whether or not they had extorted money from others through dishonest means.
If I fleeced those kinds of people, the risk of being pursued by the police or the legal system was low. This made it a win-win situation, as I could bleed them dry with peace of mind.
Unfortunately, it was impossible to use my particular talents in Joseon.
So, what about 19th-century London?
I had only been exploring the streets for a few days, but thankfully, I was able to find the answer without much difficulty.
“Someone! Please, help! This bastard stole my money!”
“Stole what? You handed it over yourself, customer. If you’re so upset, go report it to the police. Stop disrupting my business.”
“You tricked me out of it! That was money I saved working fifteen hours a day for a whole year!”
“Hey! Tricked you? Don’t be spreading such misleading rumors! So you’re not a customer, just a troublemaker, eh? This won’t do. Boys! Our ‘customer’ here doesn’t seem to understand, so kindly take him and explain it to him. Even the police said there was no legal issue, yet some people just don’t get it.”
“Aaaaargh! You bastards, let me go! My money, give me back my money!”
The man screamed desperately as he was dragged away by several burly men, but no one offered a helping hand.
Walking through these crowded streets, it was a sight you’d stumble upon fairly often, if not constantly.
This was the third time in the last three days, so I’d seen it about once a day.
James, worried I might see more of the spectacle, quickly led me to the carriage.
A harsh reality, unfortunate as it was.
In a society where capital was accumulating and finance was developing, the crime of fraud was inevitable.
And that meant… prey for me to devour was scattered everywhere.
At the same time, a lingering doubt turned into certainty.
What was the expression for a situation like this? Like shooting fish in a barrel?
Well, now. It's enough to make my mouth water.