Chapter 86
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 86
Chapter Title: The Aftermath of the Storm (2)
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The information Britain had discreetly leaked through Holland once again sent the Joseon court into an uproar.
The Border Defense Council and the Six Ministries alike couldn't believe their ears at the absurd news, but so far, no information received through Holland had ever been wrong.
“Have those damn Japanese lost their minds? It seems they still haven’t learned to distinguish where they belong and where they don’t, sticking their noses in everywhere.”
“It’s obvious, isn’t it? A pathetic scheme to elevate the Shogunate’s prestige by claiming Killian Gore, the man who defeated the Qing Dynasty—the center of the celestial order—as one of their own.”
“Killian Gore is a Joseon man, a Joseon man! Didn’t he admit himself that he was born in Joseon?”
Never mind that Joseon itself had told him he was not a man of Joseon. What could be done about it now?
Even if he had become a leader of the Westerners, Killian Gore’s influence was too great to be ignored.
Above all, if he were to live his life as a Westerner with no connection to them, that would be one thing. But they could never stomach the sight of him siding with those Japanese dogs.
That was the sentiment of most of the ministers.
“But no matter how much the Japanese insist, isn't it just baseless nonsense not worth listening to?”
“It seems they’ve been preparing this quite meticulously, in their own way. They’re subtly establishing the 'fact' that we persecuted Killian Gore, while claiming they are different. I don’t know the exact details, but they seem to be asserting that Tokugawa blood was mixed in during the Japanese invasions, and that Killian Gore is a descendant. There's no way to prove them wrong.”
“What… what kind of utter nonsense is that? Tokugawa blood mixed with a Joseon person during the invasions? From what I know, Tokugawa didn't even participate in those invasions.”
“Frankly, it’s obvious nonsense, but if they’re determined to fabricate a genealogy, we need evidence to refute it. But as of now, we haven't even been able to confirm where and how Killian Gore was born when he was in Joseon, have we? We must confirm that first.”
Doing so would naturally reveal the identity of the one who had persecuted him with the slur that he was not of Joseon.
From there, by tracing back the family line, they could naturally refute Japan’s absurd claims.
Feeling the matter grow more complicated by the second, Kim Jwa-geun let out a heavy sigh as he walked home.
He had been promoted to Junior Vice Minister of Personnel for his successful mission to the Qing court, but honestly, he wasn’t happy at all.
This was because the damn Grand Scholar and the other envoys had dumped everything related to England on him.
—Kim Jwa-geun is the only person in all of Joseon to have met and spoken with Killian Gore directly. There is no one more suitable for this task.
Frankly, it wasn’t an incorrect statement, so Kim Jwa-geun couldn’t offer any rebuttal and was now forced to play detective, a role he had never asked for.
*They didn’t even pretend to listen no matter how many times I told them, but the moment the Japanese get involved, their attitude changes completely.*
Even if he was consorting with Westerners, was he too precious to be given to the Japanese?
Of course, the Killian Gore he knew was a man who would simply laugh off such antics from the Japanese.
If anything, he would pretend to play along only to fleece them for something more.
Pondering how to proceed with the investigation, he arrived home to find an unexpected guest waiting for him.
“Is that not Prince Heungseon? What brings you to such a humble abode?”
“A humble abode, you say? Who in all of Joseon would dare call the residence of the Junior Vice Minister of Personnel such a thing?”
Yi Ha-eung had been elevated from Prince Heungseon Dojeong to Prince Heungseon, a senior second-rank title, but as a member of the royal clan, he held no real power.
Though Kim Jwa-geun, as a junior third-rank Junior Vice Minister of Personnel, was one step lower in official rank, the difference in actual power between him and Yi Ha-eung was so vast that a comparison was almost embarrassing.
It wasn't just a twenty-year age gap; their very standing was different, so Kim Jwa-geun showed no sign of nervousness before Yi Ha-eung.
In fact, it was Yi Ha-eung, the royal clansman, who spoke with a much more cautious demeanor about his reason for visiting.
“I heard you are conducting a large-scale investigation into this person named Killian Gore.”
“Yes, that is correct. Do you perhaps have some information?”
“Not exactly information… but I recall meeting a mixed-blood slave about ten years ago, though I don't remember the exact date. At the time, he was quite famous in the region, but I remember the talk about him suddenly ceased.”
“Ah… a slave?”
*Of course. It couldn’t be this easy.*
As disappointment clearly showed in his once-expectant eyes, Yi Ha-eung let out a deliberate cough.
“Of course, I know the chances are slim. They say this Killian Gore is fluent not only in the Joseon tongue but also in the languages of Qing and Japan. However, I remember the mixed-blood slave I met back then was so brilliant he startled me. If he was truly a rare genius, couldn't he have revived his memories from here and learned the languages after crossing over to England?”
“A slave, but a genius to the point of surprising you, Prince Heungseon?”
While there were those who looked down on Prince Heungseon, Kim Jwa-geun had occasionally felt that this young man had dozens of snakes coiled up inside him.
For such a person to speak so highly, the slave must have been more than just someone to be dismissed.
Besides, if Killian Gore had indeed been a slave, it wouldn’t be strange at all for him to have been told, “You are not of Joseon.”
Who in Joseon would treat a mixed-blood Western slave as a proper Joseon person?
“Do you happen to remember the slave’s name or face?”
“No. I only met him once, so I just remember that such a person existed. Ah, but I am certain his age was similar to mine. I remember that much clearly.”
“Then a portrait… no. His childhood face and his current face would be different, so that would be of no help. In any case, you’re saying that slave was of a similar age to you, Prince Heungseon?”
“Yes. The same age, or a year apart? I felt it wouldn't be more than two years.”
Considering Prince Heungseon was currently about nineteen, the age range matched perfectly.
With so many conditions aligning, he couldn’t simply dismiss it because he was a slave.
Feeling the urge to investigate immediately, Kim Jwa-geun’s speech quickened.
“Even if your memory isn’t detailed, you must remember the vicinity where you met him as a child, correct? I will begin inquiries focusing on that area. A decade can change mountains and rivers, but a mixed-blood slave that conspicuous would surely be remembered by some people.”
“I think so as well.”
“Thank you very much for this valuable information. If things work out, I will never forget your grace, Your Highness.”
Kim Jwa-geun bowed his head in gratitude and immediately rose from his seat.
With such distinct characteristics, it would be stranger *not* to find him.
The possibility of that slave being the same person as Killian Gore seemed low, but he left the house, grasping at straws.
*By the way, if he really was a slave, his feelings toward Joseon might be even worse than I anticipated…*
Above all, if he was of slave stock, he wouldn't have a family registry, which would make it difficult to effectively counter the Japanese fabrication of his origins.
It wouldn't be a problem if they fabricated a genealogy as well, but would the ministers of the court approve of that?
*This is driving me mad.*
Strangely, the more information he obtained, the worse his headache became instead of the situation improving.
***
Kim Hak-seo, the Vice Minister of Personnel, known as Old Man Kim, was struggling to keep his wits about him amidst the series of recent events.
Not only had the Qing Dynasty been defeated in a war against the Western barbarians, but their leader was said to be from Joseon.
Worse yet, that barbarian of Joseon descent had expressed his discontent, saying he had been mistreated during his time in Joseon, causing no small amount of worry in the court.
While rumors circulated about what would happen if he led an army here for revenge, the Japanese had to stick their oar in, and now he couldn't make heads or tails of anything.
But it wasn't this complex situation that made Kim Hak-seo’s stomach churn.
*This… no matter how I look at it, it has to be the slave from our house, doesn't it?*
His age, said to be not yet twenty.
A nobleman from a country called England.
And the fact that he was born in Joseon.
By all accounts, wasn't this Yuseok, the slave who used to be in his household?
He was hazy on whether it was England or not, but Yuseok had definitely been a nobleman from some Western country.
He’d held onto a sliver of hope that it might not be him, given the talk of fluency in three languages, but Old Man Kim knew Yuseok’s intelligence all too well.
He had kept his distance precisely because the boy was so clever and sharp-witted it was unnerving; the memory was vivid.
However, he could never let this fact escape his lips.
Taking a personal servant on an envoy mission to Qing was an offense in itself, but that was a trivial matter now.
—If Killian Gore holds a grudge against Joseon, it is entirely the fault of the one who persecuted him!
His heart sank every time he heard such talk, which had become common in the court recently.
*Just because they have mouths, they’ll say anything.*
As if they would have kept a mixed-blood slave by their side and doted on him if one were in their household.
He was certain that a hundred out of a hundred would have acted exactly as he did.
But if this truth came out, they would all pretend to be the most virtuous gentlemen in the world and condemn him.
It was plain to see. Therefore, this matter must never leak out.
He had already been dismissed from office years ago for taking some bribes and had only managed to return with great difficulty. He would not let that happen again.
“Is anyone there! I will say this again: the boy named Yuseok who was in our house ten years ago died of an illness. If anyone asks, you must say that you buried him on the back hill yourselves.”
“Yes, Master!”
“As you command!”
At the time, Yuseok had been a very conspicuous child, so if someone were determined to investigate, his name was bound to come up quickly.
But the only ones who knew Yuseok had left Joseon with a Western servant were himself and his household staff.
If he enforced strict silence, no one, absolutely no one, could find out.
“Yuseok was a truly bright and good child, but he passed away after contracting a terrible plague back then. You must never be confused about this.”
“Yes!”
“We will bear it in mind!”
Good. With these preparations, neither Kim Jwa-geun nor anyone else could uncover the truth, even if they suspected him.
What could they do about someone who was long dead?
Even if they demanded to see the body, he could just say the bones had long since turned to dust.
Desperate to escape the immediate crisis, Old Man Kim frantically sought out and erased any lingering traces of Yuseok that might remain.
Fortunately, the fact that Yuseok hadn't mentioned him by name must mean he had no intention of digging up the past, right?
Therefore, whether it was the Andong Kim clan, the Border Defense Council, or the royal family of Joseon, no one.
No one must ever know this truth. Ever.
***
As expected, as soon as I informed the Joseon side of Japan’s movements, there was an immediate reaction.
Their message was long-winded, but to summarize, Japan’s claims were baseless nonsense, and no such person as a Joseon with Tokugawa blood existed.
However, judging by the content of their response, it was clear that Joseon still hadn't figured out my exact origins.
I’d given them plenty of hints, but if they were still fumbling around, it was possible that Old Man Kim, who surely knew about me, was secretly obstructing them.
Truthfully, I didn't want Old Man Kim to be driven out on charges of persecuting me.
It wasn't because of any lingering affection or gratitude for raising me—of course not. It was because he was too valuable to waste.
Even if not now, I would likely have cause to visit Joseon at some point, and he needed to be safe and sound, in good health, so we could have a friendly reunion, wouldn't he?
Since it had come to this, I hoped he would deny it to the very end and climb to an even higher position.
“Let me know how Joseon and Japan trade blows. Tell them they can send whatever they want to say to me to Shanghai or Tainan. They’ve already agreed to keep sending reports to London anyway.”
“Understood. But somehow… it’s both amusing and absurd to see them fighting over whose bloodline you belong to, Minister.”
“I suppose so. If I find it funny, imagine how others must feel.”
A member of the British House of Lords and a cabinet minister.
For the citizens of Britain, it was bound to be irritating to see countries like Joseon or Japan squabbling, claiming someone of this stature as their own.
I found it amusing too, but if they were willing to stage a farce for my benefit, there was no reason to stop them.
And if this went well, it might even offset the only potential flaw in my background: my slave lineage.
It wasn't as if I would ever become Killian Tokugawa Gore, but if someone were to say, “He’s just got the blood of an Eastern slave,” this would serve as an excellent rebuttal, wouldn't it?
If I could say, “I thought so too, but it turns out I have the blood of an Eastern royal family,” it would eliminate any grounds for criticism.
It would be a problem if I solicited the fabrication, but since they were insisting on doing the fabricating themselves, I couldn’t be more grateful.
If Joseon continued to fail in finding my origins, they too might create a fake genealogy just to counter Japan.
Either way, as long as the two of them continued their war of fabrications, I was the one who stood to gain, so I hoped they would try even harder.
After tying up various loose ends and poring over reports, about three months into the voyage home, the long-awaited moment finally arrived.
“Minister, we’re about to arrive.”
“They say a grand triumphal celebration has been prepared. Even I’m getting nervous.”
“A celebration presided over by Her Majesty the Queen herself… This will be the greatest honor of my life.”
Passing through the Indian Ocean and rounding the Cape of Good Hope, we returned to Portsmouth the same way we came. The soldiers, and even the officers, grew increasingly excited.
Strictly speaking, I was the chief diplomat, not the commanding officer of a triumph, so I wondered if such a welcome was appropriate for me.
But Admiral George, who was in command, had reportedly submitted a report that made it sound as if I were the de facto commander-in-chief, so it probably wouldn't be an issue.
“Alright everyone, let's not get too excited or nervous. We might end up embarrassing ourselves. Let's just enjoy this in moderation. After all, we are the stars of this victory parade. We still have some time before we reach London, so let’s think of today as a rehearsal and relax.”
*Clank.*
No sooner had I finished speaking than the ship docked at the harbor.
I stood at the very front of our party and, as soon as the doors opened, strode out with a confident gait.
*Ooooooh!*
A roar of cheers carried from the distance.
The cheerful melody of instruments, keeping time with the marching of boots, danced in the air, heightening the atmosphere of victory.
As the officers and soldiers finished disembarking, the crowd erupted in explosive cheers, welcoming the return of their heroes.
“Uwoooooh!”
“The Lion of the British Empire who conquered Asia!”
“Make Killian Gore First Lord of the Admiralty!”
Hey, I appreciate the compliment, but I’m not an admiral, and I’m certainly not in the navy.
Though one or two strange accolades were mixed in, I smiled and waved my hat, while the officers saluted the cheering crowd in response.
“Waaaaah!”
“Minister! We love you!”
“You’re so handsome! Marry me!”
Although the main event was scheduled for London, no one could remain unmoved by the first welcoming crowd encountered upon setting foot on home soil after so long.
But where there is savory meat, hyenas are sure to appear.
“Minister! The Times! You’ve returned after a successful expedition to Asia, could we have a word…”
“Morning Post! There are rumors that you are a royal who carries the blood of an Eastern dynasty. Would you care to comment on this?”
“Morning Chronicle! We hear that although you went as the head of diplomacy, your role was crucial in the decision to turn to war. Was this all part of your plan from the beginning?”
“Some say that this war did nothing to recover the losses suffered by the opium merchants. What is your stance on the opium trade, Minister…”
Just as I thought. Now, as then, no barrier can hold back reporters starved for a scoop.
While the soldiers reveled in the glory of the celebration, I organized the formation and shook off the reporters swarming like a school of piranhas.
“Alright, I will answer all of your questions together before we enter London, that is, before the official triumphal celebration begins.”
“Th-then, could we please have just one word from the other officers…”
“These soldiers have just returned home after a bloody fight for their country and a long voyage of over three months. So I would appreciate it if you would allow them to rest easy for today. However, since you have all come this far, I will answer just one question. Please discuss it carefully and then ask.”
At my polite request, even the piranhas who had been relentlessly firing questions seemed a little sheepish and eased their assault.
After murmuring amongst themselves, the reporters shouted in unison.
“Then, not the soldiers, but if you, Minister, could answer just one question that all the citizens of London are curious about right now, we would be truly grateful. Rumors are rampant that you will be getting married after the triumphal celebration. Is this true?”
“…Married?”
I stared at them, wondering what kind of nonsense this was, but surprisingly, the reporters were looking at me with dead-serious faces.
Well, isn’t this a surprise? To think I had a fiancée I didn't even know about.
Just as I was about to dismiss it as nonsense not even worth a reply, the face of the one person who would react most violently to this rumor flashed through my mind.
*Wait a minute, didn't the Queen say she would preside over this celebration herself…?*
“…Everyone! That is all a lie. And something urgent has come up, so I must be going. Farewell.”
Why did the triumphal celebration, which had felt so glorious just moments ago, suddenly feel like it had turned into a horror movie?
I didn’t know what was what, but I had to send a letter first.
*I’m innocent. I swear, it’s just a baseless rumor!*