You Were the One I Trusted!
"Oh? So you met the Pope?"
"That's right."
"What did he say?"
"Apparently the Pope didn't know anything about it either. He said he'd look into the matter with both nations."
Hah. It'll all fizzle out, mark my words. What power does a Pope even have? Though back then, maybe he still had some?
Typical Westerners, really. They never gave a straight answer, and sure enough, the whole thing just fizzled into nothing.
Still, we caught a lucky break this once. The Khwarazmian dynasty down south is in upheaval. They've nearly swallowed the whole Persian region, and they're pushing their influence north too.
"And by now, gunpowder's made its way to the West as well."
"What? But all our engineers are here in Sinsi!"
"We fired plenty of fist potatoes in Qajar, didn't we? Doesn't matter where the engineers are."
There would have been duds left behind, plenty of witnesses, and not just from there — China too. It was about time gunpowder weapons started popping up somewhere, anywhere.
"Gunpowder was invented ages ago, all over the place, whether people knew it or not! Anywhere with alchemists. They just didn't know what to do with it."
"What do we do!?"
Why are you panicking? We've had countermeasures in place for ages.
"What do we need for cannons or guns, again?"
"Gunpowder?"
"Then just guard that."
"But isn't it easy to make? You just collect urine, right?"
Geez! How can the Prime Minister be this simple-minded?
"We collect ours through sewers we laid across an entire capital full of people, and even then we only make this much. You think other countries can pull that off?"
They'd have to do it at a cottage-industry level — and how much would that produce, honestly? Even if the whole world banded together, they couldn't make half of what we do.
"Whew. What a relief."
"Without gunpowder, what's a cannon or a gun? A metal club."
"Heheh. I like it!"
"So what should we be guarding?"
"What do we have?"
Oh, we have something, all right. I ordered it protected ages ago. Too long ago for this guy to remember, I suppose.
"The saltpeter mines I told you to guard, and the sea."
"Ah! I know those. You mean the ones in the Eastern Continent and out in that desert, right?"
Mining saltpeter from those is worlds easier than collecting everyone's pee like we do now.
"As for the sea — the country they call Delhi these days has patches of saltpeter-rich soil somewhere on its land, so we're keeping outsiders from coming and going too freely there."
Source control, in other words. It'll spread over land eventually, sure. Still better than floating around the high seas for anyone to grab.
"And once we see them starting to dig, we simply buy it all at a higher price. Heh heh heh."
"Aha!"
"Oh, and that stuff's good fertilizer too, you know. Any surplus, spread it on the fields."
"Heh, gotta fire one more shot whenever we can, right? Heh heh heh."
Right. Better to sink the odd passing ship than let it go to waste.
"Now — I hear you've finished the thermometer?"
"Yes! They're working on finding the stable method and conditions for making that detonator thing."
"With a thermometer, that'll come fast. Good work, everyone."
While those other fools were still poking around muzzles and gun ports with ramrods, the day would come when we just loaded up and fired away, bang bang.
Just imagining the look on their faces when they see it makes me laugh all over again.
Oh, right — we already have a huge lead in cannons and guns. Wrought iron versus steel is no small difference.
"How's the electricity research coming?"
"They're sweating over making a stronger magnet, apparently."
"Tell them to try every obscure material they can get their hands on."
Neodymium? Honestly, I don't know it either. Not even a hint to give...
"And have them research hard into ways to actually use electricity. It's going to make life so much easier."
"Ooh!"
"We could even have bright, glowing streets in the middle of the night."
"Pfft, night is for sleeping."
"It's just a figure of speech."
A world where you play all day AND play all night is coming, I tell you. Hurry up, computer! Games!
Wait a moment. Couldn't I game 365 days a year instead of just 24 hours a day? Top ranker, guaranteed?
Mmmmngh... I need dopamine.
The completion of the thermometer brought a tidal wave of change through the world of chemistry.
They catalogued the boiling and freezing points of every substance imaginable, began fractional distillation based on those figures, and — most importantly — finally systematized the smelting of mercury fulminate, which had always been maddeningly unpredictable.
Since the reaction only required temperatures under 100 degrees, the water bath made temperature control wonderfully simple.
They filled huge tanks with river water and circulated it with steam pumps, exploiting the fact that the temperature shifted far more slowly than expected, and were now cooling everything down right beside the river.
"So this is the prototype?"
"Yes. They spent a year experimenting with every shape imaginable and settled on whatever worked best."
Huh? The thing looks oddly round-headed? Not the sleek, pointed shape I remember from modern times?
"And the gun?"
"Right here."
Whoa. Anyone with eyes can see that's a bolt-action rifle. Look, they even mounted a muzzle-cleaning kit on the front — someone really put their heart into this.
"The early versions used a needle firing pin, but it broke constantly, and fixing that took them about two years, I'm told."
Two years to fix that? That's not bad at all, is it?
"Wasn't this thing hard to make?"
"Making each part by hand was too difficult, so they built a dedicated jig just for machining this one component. Apparently that alone took four years or so."
In other words, they built purpose-built lathes. Honestly impressive. I doubt I could pull that off even if I explained it and ordered them to.
The technology is slowly slipping out of my hands. Not that I have any more cards left to play.
"Also, the cartridge is slightly larger than the bore. So when you load, you have to push it in firmly."
"Huh?"
"They say that's how the cartridge seats into the rifling and flies true."
Well, that's news to me.
"Just shove it in hard toward the front when you load. That's all."
"Okay."
Clack.
Wow, it's beautiful. What wood is this, that it's this jet black? And it's dripping with silver and gold ornamentation — practically a work of art. There's even a flower engraved on the stock that I happen to love. I approve.
Click-clack, rrrratchet.
And here's the brand-new revolver. This one's graduated to firing cased cartridges now. I love it.
Fifteen years had passed since the Pope and Temüjin met in Zara in the year 3688. As the world stood on the brink of adopting gunpowder technology, we slipped one step ahead of it all — leaving the muzzle-loader behind for good.
"Is this the thing?"
"Yep. The very thing I've been waiting for."
"It's smaller than I expected?"
"Want to try a bite?"
Crunch, chew, chew.
Hm? No reaction? She's taking it pretty calmly, isn't she?
"Hm? There's some kind of intense flavor in here?"
"Oh? Is there?"
Were the originals just mild? Well, I suppose every crop gets improved over generations of human hands.
I'd have to try it myself to get a sense of it, wouldn't I?
Chomp, chew, chew.
Hm, now that you mention it? There's a nice juiciness to it, and it's not exactly... searing?
Chew, chew.
Gulp.
...
"AAAAAGH! WATER! GIVE ME WATER!"
"Huh? What's wrong?"
"Water, NOW! Guaaaah!"
Yeah, that's plenty spicy for me. These people must be immune to pain or something. Come to think of it, we'd already been to South America, and I did tell them to bring back chili peppers too.
So there we were, chewing on fully ripened red chilies raw. And I am, officially, a spice wimp.
"Hah, hah."
Drip, drip.
From now on, I'm eating chili peppers whenever I harvest holy water. Tears, snot, and drool were flooding out of me like a bursting dam.
"Would you like some fruit?"
"Urbleh."
I can barely get words out. Maybe it's the sheer injustice of it, but I feel even more tears welling up.
Keep eating it and I'll adapt, right? I'll build a tolerance?
"Agassi. Dry these for me."
"You want me to dry them?"
"Yes..."
First things first — chili powder had to be made.
Drying the peppers took forever. A good two weeks before we finally got powder out of them.
"Hm. So people actually eat this?"
"In moderation, it's delicious."
"A young lady like me should only eat a tiny bit, though?"
"Urgh..."
It felt like a nail being hammered straight into my chest. Such an innocent face, and yet she vivisects people's hearts without a shred of malice.
"It's tastier when it's just moderately spicy, you know..."
"Well, shall we make some, then?"
"Phew..."
The cooking itself was nothing special. Stir-fried pork — thin-sliced pork tossed with soy sauce, sugar, pepper, chili powder, garlic, and ginger, all seared together in a pan.
Ssssssss.
"Oh? Smells good, at least?"
"Might kill the two of you and you'd never know why?"
"Can you even die, Lady Haneul?"
"No, you— why do you keep—!"
Th-this! This hamster-faced little! She means no harm, which makes it that much more infuriating...
"Phew, phew..."
"Getting spicy already?"
"Huh...?"
If she'd been one of my Intelligence Bureau girls, I'd have genuinely flattened her with this pot. I picked her because she's about my height, and this is the thanks I get — no gratitude whatsoever, just nail after nail hammered into my heart.
Sizzle, sizzle.
"Alright, let's dig in."
"Since you're weak to spice, Lady Haneul, I'll taste it first. Someone has to make sure it's safe."
"Kgh..."
So I raised myself a tiger cub. Every single word out of her mouth — driven straight into my heart, one by one.
Nom nom. Munch munch.
She is, without exaggeration, a hamster. Even while eating, she barely opens her mouth, nibbling away all daintily.
Mmm. Nom nom.
Why do you keep eating in silence? Some feedback would be nice, you know?
"So? Is it good?"
"Yes. It's delicious."
"Oh!"
"But you can't have any, Lady Haneul."
"Why not!?"
"It's far too spicy for you."
"Then I'll try just one bite."
"One moment, then?"
And off she goes to fetch... water? Oh, how dutiful. Is she preparing it in case I can't handle the heat?
Splash-splash. Slosh, slosh.
Wait. What exactly is this atrocity? She's RINSING it in the water?
"Hold on! What do you think you're doing!?"
Never seen such a heretic in my life. You rinse it in water because it's too spicy!?
"I thought the seasoning needed a bit of a rinse. Mm-hm. Yes, this should do."
She had to peer at it that closely, examining it that carefully, before handing it over?
"Hey! There's not a speck of seasoning left on this!"
There are limits, you know! This is just plain! How is this any different from plain grilled meat off a hot plate?
"Yes, this is exactly how I like it."
"AAAAARGH..."
"I wonder if this counts as seasoned too?"
There's barely any red left! What are you even talking about!?
Grab, munch munch.
When she reached to rinse it in the water a second time, I snatched it and shoved it straight into my mouth.
"Um? Will you be all right?"
"Hmph. THIS much? Please. I'll be fine!"
"You were a bit slow just now, weren't you?"
The heat had come late the first time too, sure. But come on — there's practically no red left on this thing at all?
Chew, chew, gulp.
"See? I'm eating it just fine!"
"It should be about time, then?"
She was staring at me with this knowing little look. What? Is there something I'm missing here?
"Why would...? KGH!"
"See! Spicy, isn't it?"
"NO! It's barely been two bites!"
"It's spreading, isn't it!"
Not a single shred of spice tolerance. None whatsoever! Don't lie to me! This can't be right!!!
"Water! Quickly!"
"Here you go!"
Gulp, gulp, gulp.
Hm? Why does this water smell so... fragrant?
"KGH! GWAAAAAH!"
"Oh dear! I gave you the water I rinsed the seasoning in! Whatever shall we do!?"
"Kheough..."
This was an assassination attempt! You, of all people, you were the one I trusted! This hamster-faced brat has finally done me in! Kgh...
Chili powder spread rapidly across Daehan. Addicted to the burn, people began adding it to every dish they could think of.
"I've told Agassi to try breeding a milder pepper for you."
"What's that supposed to mean."
Everyone was happy except me. All because they got to eat all these new delicious foods.
"Aigoo~ why so sad?"
"I'm not."
"Then why are you crying?"
"I put a little chili powder in my soup and it's way too spicy."
"Aigoo! When did you put it in this time!"
I really did only put in a little. An ant's behind's worth, truly. Am I never going to be able to eat kimchi bean sprout soup either?
Right. Eat it enough and it'll grow on me. It has to.
Day after day of sprinkling chili powder over one dish after another, experimenting. Bit by bit, dose by dose, I drained myself of tears and snot.
"As if."
"Aigoo! You put some in again, didn't you!"
"Not anymore, I swear!"
I simply could not escape being a spice wimp. My taste buds refused to adapt. Spice is pain, they say! Then why does the pain refuse to stop past a certain threshold!?
How can the universe be this biased!?
"Seriously! Lord Haneul! What did I ever do wrong!?"
Genuinely aggrieved, I looked up at the heavens and demanded an accounting. This was beyond unacceptable, damn it!
KRRRRAKA-BOOM!
"...Om maya?"
Rumble, rumble—
"Did I do something wrong?"
KOO-BOOOM!
Holy... a bolt of lightning really just struck out of a clear blue sky. I feel like something like this has happened before?
"What exactly did I do?"
KRRRUMBLE!
Hah. This is absurd. Kids run wild and cause trouble all the time, don't they? And I've cleaned up after more than my share of messes.
Ah, of course, way back when I did bungle a nation or two. That part I'll admit.
But lately, haven't I been living quietly and keeping to myself? I genuinely can't remember causing any trouble?