The Treasure Beneath the Earth
Europe. A land where people starve to death and freeze to death year after year—and on top of that, they wage war constantly, so the population never grows.
“Alright! Question! How many Spanish scoundrels do you think will invade Portugal?”
“A hundred thousand?”
“That's way too many….”
“Huh? How is that a lot?”
Ah, our Mose is judging everything by Daehan's population standards. By our scale it really is a tiny number, but…
In a Europe this sparsely populated, a hundred thousand is an absolutely massive army!
“A few thousand, maybe ten thousand at most?”
“Huh? How is that so few?”
“More people means more soldiers.”
Behind any army you need an even larger producing population to keep it fed and supplied, and this place has practically nothing of the sort.
So that's why they strangled themselves over overseas colonies?
Besides, Spain is fighting wars on so many fronts that it can't possibly pull its armies away from all of them.
“Anyway, the point is: Portugal doesn't need to worry about being destroyed by a Spanish invasion.”
Not that Portugal could ever march out and expand its territory either.
“We're not worried about Portugal, Miss. We're worried about our own land.”
“Even if Portugal falls, they'll never make it across to our territory.”
Even if the Europeans somehow got over that outer wall, they'd never have the strength to breach the fortress.
They only need to hold out a little while—hell, one of those steamships we spotted passing by could show up and wipe them all out. That's exactly why we deliberately keep a Cheongsang-eo stationed here.
“Why is it that the Cheongsang-eo sitting in the harbor over there is left exactly as it is, without a single repair?”
It's a bit strange, I suppose. Even the lead smeared and crusted over its hull has been left untouched.
“That war deterrent you've spoken of before?”
“The moment anyone thinks about attacking, they'll remember the last battle. Until they acquire the firepower to actually take down a Cheongsang-eo, they won't be able to do anything.”
So our fortress has nothing to worry about at all. As long as we keep Portugal supplied with goods, they'll defend our territory for us, quite willingly.
The kids have been bragging about all the things they can refine out of crude oil, so I suppose I should go find us an oil field that'll keep us supplied for a while.
“Did you talk to the Ottomans and buy the land?”
“Yes. When they heard we wanted to pump oil out of it, they charged us an absolutely outrageous price.”
“Mm. Expensive or not, better to buy now.”
No matter how steep the price they're quoting today, this is the rock bottom. If we tried to buy it later, the bill would probably send even Daehan staggering.
“What does Qajar say? I mean, technically we're using their land however we please.”
“They say it's fine, but they'd like us to lay more railway lines.”
“Aha~”
Those kids have gotten pretty clever. But they still won't let go of their bargaining, so I can grant them that much.
“Lay as many as they want. The more trains run through Qajar, the faster the country develops.”
So they've figured out how important railways are, have they? Honestly, they're sharp and hardworking, too.
Kind of like Korea back in the day?
Whoa. Chills? And don't they have tons of resources and farmland? They're going to be absolutely terrifying down the line.
“Then we should expand the steelworks near Seonnam.”
“Yes. We're going to need more and more iron as time goes on. And let's gather up all the chemists who've been playing with petroleum and build them a research institute there too.”
They don't know the first thing about it, but if they shut themselves in and grind away for a few decades, something's bound to come out of it.
And the kids at least understand the concept of fractional distillation, so if we pool the crude oil in one place, they'll produce something eventually, won't they?
Europe, having already turned one country into rubble, is now brawling over colonial claims in Africa on a daily basis.
And it's not just there. In the Middle East, Persia and the Ottomans wage their eternal war. In Asia, Vietnam and China have split into opposing camps and are at each other's throats. Even India is in an uproar fighting its wars of unification.
“So aside from us and Japan, the whole world is a complete mess.”
“Miss? I wouldn't say things are exactly peaceful here either….”
BANG!
Ah… right. This place is a mess too.
We'd gathered people together to start research on putting Baku's oil to use, and I still remember the day I first arrived.
“Wahahaha! Behold—the distillation tower!”
“Hm? This is it?”
Uh, you called it a tower? This is just a barrel.
They'd built one round container about my height, and I'd assumed it was a barrel for storing crude oil—turns out it was a “tower”!
To their credit, they'd made three of them and connected them with pipes.
“Come on, hurry up and pump the oil!”
“Wahaha, this spot is perfect! Dig a hole and oil just comes gushing out!”
I decided to just watch quietly for a while. And then they started pouring crude oil straight in?
“Now, let's light the fire!”
“Careful it doesn't explode!”
Hm. They were simply setting a container of raw crude directly over the flames and boiling it.
Naturally, the gas would travel through the connected pipes, I suppose?
“Alright! Pour the water, cool it down!”
“Pour the water!”
And now the manual labor begins. You kept a pump around just so you could ignore it and make soup the hard way?
They're hauling seawater over and splashing it on for all they're worth.
Hiiiiiss—
And clouds of some unidentified steam billowing off into the air.
If a spark hit that, it would probably explode, right? Would I explode too? Do these idiots even realize that?
“Work harder! It's all escaping!”
“Hah… hah… hah….”
They play well together. Very well indeed.
After a good long while of this, they finally killed the fire and started clearing out the leftover sludge—apparently it's a nightmare to clean once it hardens.
“Hahaha! This is the oil we've made!”
“Impressive.”
“Thank you!”
Yeah. A dark, slightly sticky oil. So all that backbreaking labor was to extract heavy oil, was it?
The outermost tank, at least, came out a somewhat lighter color.
“Right! Starting now, class is in session!”
“…What?”
To think these ignorant lumps were gathered here calling themselves scientists. Honestly, I could do better than this.
“First: how to build a thermometer! How to heat oil precisely to a target temperature and then cool it! And how to manufacture the alloys we need!”
“Guh….”
That's where you start, and then you build a proper distillation tower—or at least set up several containers at different temperatures.
Oh, and this works out perfectly! Mudo is close by. I'm sending them there to read some books.
“Why won't you go to Mudo already!?”
“Yes! Going, going….”
“Off you goooo….”
Scientists who hate reading books. How fascinating. I wonder if they'd grow at all if I planted their heads in the ground?
Thud. Thud. Thud.
“Tighten that down more! If this comes loose we're all dead!”
Neither the kids nor I had ever done or even heard of anything like this, so we decided to try drawing off products while varying the temperature of the heated crude oil.
Experiment first, understand the principles after—that way, I figured, both they and I would have something to build on.
Since nobody knew anything, they were building the thing absurdly tall.
Screeeeech.
“Seal it up, no gaps!”
“You hold it steady, it keeps moving!”
They'd built partition plates at every level—actually thinking for once, I'll give them that.
As for the inlet at the bottom where the crude oil flows in and the heating itself, they'd gotten creative and decided to try steam heating.
They'd adapted the boiler we use in our steam turbines. Low temperatures circulated through hot water, and high temperatures switched over to live steam.
“Good! Final check for air leaks, then we begin the test run!”
“Everyone check your station!”
Well, at least they're thinking about safety and such.
Good grief, though—so many valves. A coolant circulation valve, a crude oil intake valve, and valves for every byproduct to flow out through.
And the plan was for one person to stand at each of these, watching a thermometer and pressure gauge, operating them all by hand?
“Start the boiler!”
“Already preheated!”
“Good! Now, feed in the crude oil!”
Grrrrr.
They'd pumped the crude oil in advance and stored it in a big container, and it was flowing in beautifully.
One real mercy here: the Baku crude wasn't nearly as thick as I'd expected. I'd been picturing something halfway to jelly.
“How much crude is in? Check it!”
“Half capacity!”
Then they'd fetched thick glass and fitted it so you could see inside—lots of headwork going on here, actually.
When I asked how they planned to observe it mid-run, they admitted they'd just drilled a hole and added it on the spot….
“That's enough! This is a test run—no need to fill it to the brim!”
“Yes, ma'am!”
“Open the low-temperature valve!”
Kiiiii— fwooooosh.
Now they'd circulate the hot water and gradually raise the temperature.
And then… some kind of smell began creeping through the air.
“Kgh! What is that! Did you just fart? No, wait, this smells worse—did you shit?”
“What? It wasn't you?”
“Huh? What is that?”
Hm… something like rotten eggs was spreading through the room.
Wow. This is… a bit much? I'll simply hold my breath, thank you very much.
“It's coming from the distiller!”
“Kgh! Why!”
How troubling. As for the reason—figure it out yourselves. I, for one, intend to stop breathing.
“Kehak!”
“Uwek!”
“The purifier! Yes! Somebody go and build a purifier, now!”
Oh? So they really are chemists of a sort—they remember protective equipment exists.
Fwoosh— fwoosh—
“Miss! Are you all right!?”
What the—? Mose's survival instincts are something else.
Where on earth did she get one of those all by herself?
“Me? I just need to not breathe.”
Dammit… turns out you have to breathe to talk? I took in a little air, and I'm now fairly convinced this room is a pit of hellfire.
“But why do only you have one? Where's mine?”
“…What?”
Ha. So she grabbed one for herself and figured that was that? Incredible. Truly incredible.
Those fools running the experiment without a stitch of protection, and Mose hoarding hers all to herself. The future of this country is brilliant! Absolutely brilliant!
“So something does come off even at this low temperature, hm?”
“Khek. S-seems like it.”
Gagging the whole time, yet still getting the job done. Good for them.
It looks fine for now, but what if this is toxic gas? Why on earth would they work like that?
“Open the first fraction's valve!”
“Collect from number one on!”
The top of the tower, heated to low temperature, was being cooled continuously—and something seemed to be collecting there.
Separating what came off at each temperature into its own container—that was the whole point of this experiment.
“Nothing's coming out now!”
“It's coming, but barely a trickle!”
“Good! Close the outlet valve and raise the temperature a little more!”
“Yes!”
Hm? Wait a moment—you lot aren't chemists at all, are you? You're just technicians, winging it with pure muscle and guesswork?
I should probably lump them into something like a Petroleum Division and manage them separately. Honestly, though, this slapdash, feel-it-out approach of mixing and muddling through might actually produce results faster.
“Oh! Something's coming out!”
“Good! Hold the temperature!”
Now the kid at the temperature valve would watch the thermometer and open and close his valve accordingly.
This was distillation on a practically cottage-industry scale.
Not that I ever asked for anything fancy in the way of automation.
“Nothing again!”
“Good, keep going exactly like this!”
Hm, they're working hard.
I wandered over and peered into the containers—liquids ranging from clear to yellow, the colors shifting gradually from one to the next.
My, my. This is actually starting to look like it's working?
“Oh? What's this? Judging by how it flows, it doesn't seem to be asphalt?”
At the very last container in the line, some black, oil-like substance was trickling out.
Kriiik. Kriiik.
“Hm? What's that? Sounds like something's clogged?”
“It seems to have gotten stuck partway down!”
“Bang on it a little! Get it flowing!”
“Yes!”
Hey, kids? Your distillation tower is making very strange noises. Shouldn't you be closing the steam valve you're raising the temperature with…?
“Raise the temperature more! Push it through with the air pressure!”
“Yes!”
Pooh— Hiiiii—
Uh… you're making it even hotter now?
Rumble-rumble-rumble.
Oh dear, the distillation tower is acting very strange. That seems like a bad idea?
CLANG CLANG CLANG.
“Come down, you blasted thing!”
“Hit it harder!”
Right. Time to intervene. Someone's about to cause a disaster.
“Looks like we're done here! Stop and let's check the results!”
“…What?”
KABOOOOM.
Ah… should've spoken up just a moment sooner.
“GYAAAAH!”
“What was that! It exploded!”
“GRAAAH!”
“IT'S HOT!”
The distillation tower had burst, and—my memory serves me right—something just like asphalt erupted in all directions, black as my soul.
It was scalding hot, but mercifully the kids had been wearing gas masks along with their protective suits, so it seemed nobody had taken a direct hit.
“Ugh, what IS this stuff? It's all sticky!”
“Isn't this about the same as that bitumen they paint the ships with?”
“Huh? You think?”
“Well, bitumen is boiled to make it too, so that tracks.”
You lucky, lucky bastards.
“Oh my….”
“Gah….”
“…Who's that?”
Because I, you see, had been soaked. Absolutely, thoroughly drenched head to toe.
I'm probably darker than those friends over in Africa by now?
Haah… my eyes sting.
“Pfff— PWAHAHAHA!”
“WAHAHAHA! Ah— GAHAHAHA! Shi—!”
“Are you all right, Miss!?”
You're asking if I'm all right while laughing at me? Really?
“ALL OF YOU GET LOST, YOU WRETCHED DEVILS!”