I am the Hidden Power Behind the British Empire Chapter 4 4: Finding My Roots

If I did nothing—if I simply drifted along like this—Joseon would fall.

That wasn't a theory. It was a confird fact, already written into the history I knew.

Even if the Daewongun pursued different policies, maybe he still wouldn't have been able to right a kingdom already tilting toward collapse.

But that was the realm of possibilities.

The one thing that wasn't debatable was this: if things continued as they were, Joseon would perish.

Of course, saying that in an era before even the Opium War had erupted was a perfect way to be branded a lunatic.

Yi Ha-eung quickly relaxed his gaze again, sighed, and clicked his tongue.

"Your words are so absurd I don't even feel they deserve a reply. In the first place, it isn't the conduct of a gentleman to overreact to the ramblings of a low slave who knows nothing."

"So you won't shout at for cursing the nation, then?"

"A man with Western blood simply speaks in a way that suits his roots. It isn't infuriating. It's rely laughable."

"Half my blood may be Yeonggilli, but the other half is Joseon. I was born here. I grew up here. Then shouldn't I be considered closer to Joseon as well?"

Yi Ha-eung stared at as if I'd said sothing ridiculous.

"If you plant a Western crop in Joseon soil, does that make it wholly Joseon's crop? Roots do not vanish simply because the earth changes."

"Then what of Master Mun Ik-jeom of Goryeo?" I countered. "He brought cotton seeds from Yuan and refined them into sothing that beca ours. Thanks to him, countless commoners escaped the cold. If a seed from abroad can serve this land and contribute greatly, then what else should we call it but Joseon's?"

The story of Mun Ik-jeom hiding cotton seeds inside his brush case was a famous anecdote.

Strictly speaking, historians argued the tale had been embellished—but cotton's widespread adoption was real, and Mun Ik-jeom had been honored for it in Joseon.

Yi Ha-eung couldn't refute that. He nodded slowly.

"You're not wrong. You do have a tongue on you." He studied for a mont, then went on. "Fine. As you say, if it can devote itself to this land, then where the seed ca from becos aningless. So in summary… you believe you can beco like the cotton seed Master Mun brought."

"Yes."

"Anyone can speak."

"I don't speak words I can't keep." I t his eyes. "And as proof—look at you. You're already speaking to seriously. You said no one would have a real conversation with soone like ."

If you talked to even once, your thinking would change.

Yi Ha-eung rembered what he'd said earlier and let out a dry, incredulous laugh.

"It isn't that my thinking has changed… No. You're right—I said no one would talk properly with a low half-blood slave, and I was wrong. I'll admit that much."

"Then will you listen seriously to what I have to say from here on?"

"Perhaps. But there's sothing we must settle first." His expression sharpened. "If you've heard my na, you likely know who I am. No matter how much learning I gather, I am not soone who can deeply involve himself in the politics of this nation. You probably don't understand that—"

"As a royal kinsman, you cannot hold substantive office beyond honorary posts."

His eyes widened.

"You know that? And yet… knowing that, why are you doing this? I can't even guess."

Since King Sejo, it was rare for royal relatives to hold truly powerful offices.

And this boy—barely ten—couldn't possibly be dreaming of placing his son on the throne soday and ruling through him.

To Yi Ha-eung, I must have looked like so foolish child who thought any royal connection was enough.

The fact that I had pierced that assumption left him visibly thrown off.

For all his precocity, he was still a child.

And no child—no matter how bright—could easily evade the instincts I'd honed by turning the tables on countless "geniuses" in my first life.

"You form ties when no one else is watching," I said calmly, "so that when you rise high, you'll value the ones who reached out first. Even from this short conversation, I'm convinced you're soone destined to beco great."

"It doesn't change the law," he muttered, but his lips twitched into a faint smile.

He didn't look offended. If anything, he looked mildly pleased—despite himself.

He was about to speak again when—

"Yoo Seok! Yoo Seok! You little—there you are!"

Seok-san—our household's prized slave, the star pupil, the one Lord Kim favored above all others—ca sprinting toward us, gasping for air.

"Hhk—hkk! Yoo Seok—quick, quick. You have to co. My lord—hkk—he's calling for you."

"Hyung-nim, you're going to pass out. Calm down and speak properly. What is it?"

"I don't know!" Seok-san wheezed. "I only heard it in a rush, but it sounds like an important guest has arrived. Just—co first!"

Seok-san was the slave Lord Kim valued most. I had run errands for him countless tis—but the reverse had never happened.

If Seok-san had co to fetch himself, sothing big had truly happened.

I glanced back. Yi Ha-eung gestured with his eyes—go.

"If the chance cos, we'll speak again," he said. "If you can truly convince then, I'll promise to listen to you seriously."

"Yes. Then please excuse ."

I'd already succeeded in the most important part—branding my existence into his mind on our first eting. From now on, it would be a matter of slowly drawing him in.

There was still a long ti before Yi Ha-eung beca the man who held the reins of Joseon. I had ti to spare.

In the anti, if I used him to build ties with other powerful figures, manumission would be a matter of monts.

Joseon didn't yet have modern institutions or an industrial structure. It would be difficult to fully apply my expertise here.

But I'd already gotten a feel for the general level of this society.

Taking a sizable cut for myself wouldn't be difficult.

I bade him farewell and watched Yi Ha-eung's back recede into the distance, a strange emotion tightening in my chest.

My life had been long, noisy, and full of trouble.

And at last, after years of stumbling over the sa suffocating obstacles—these endless Confucian gatekeepers—sothing finally felt like it was beginning.

My steps were almost light as I returned ho, dreaming of a rosy future.

But the mont I arrived, the atmosphere in the household felt wrong.

Servants were hurrying everywhere, preparing sothing. No one had idle hands.

I'd seen this enough tis to know what it ant.

As Seok-san said—so important guest had arrived.

I moved to help, but Seok-san nearly leapt out of his skin and dragged in the opposite direction.

"Yoo Seok! This way! Where do you think you're going?"

"Huh? It looks like they're short on hands. I thought I was called because they needed help."

"No—no, what help can you give?" He spoke rapidly, still half-panicked. "Co here—no. Co with . My lord said to find you quickly, wash you, dress you in good clothes, and bring you in."

"Wash ? Why?"

For a mont I wondered if my persistent attempts at getting people to listen had finally gotten in trouble—but it didn't fit.

If it were punishnt, they'd scold and be done with it. They wouldn't bathe and dress in silk.

"Ah… do I need to be clean because I'm helping with sothing?"

"That's not it!" Seok-san grimaced. "I don't know the details either, but it seems the visitors ca looking for you."

"Looking for ?"

I didn't know anyone in all eight provinces of Joseon.

For a second, I wondered if this was so kind of Joseon-era hidden cara prank—but the frantic bustle of the entire household made that impossible.

Before I knew it, servants had taken hold of and practically marched inside.

Even though the weather wasn't cold, they washed in warm water and dressed in proper silk.

Apparently the clothing had been rushed over from a noble household that had a boy around my age.

If they were going that far, it truly wasn't ordinary.

And the answer revealed itself the mont I entered the sarangchae, the n's reception quarters.

"Oh! He's here at last. This is the child—this is the one. Co in."

Lord Kim—who had never once spoken to in anything resembling warmth—welcod in the softest tone I had ever heard from him.

In front of him sat a middle-aged man with a queue hairstyle and clothing that scread, I'm from Qing.

But my attention wasn't drawn to the first Qing man I'd ever seen in Joseon.

From the mont I stepped in, a Western gentleman—dressed in what looked like formal attire popular in the early-to-mid nineteenth century—had been staring at with wide eyes, as if trying to pierce straight through .

"How is it?" Lord Kim asked.

His words were spoken in Qing language, then translated into English for the Western gentleman.

"Just by looking at him, you can tell this is certainly the child you were seeking, can you not?"

The gentleman replied in a asured tone, his words carried through translation.

"He's a fine-looking boy. I believe my lord will be very pleased."

"Is that so? Then that is fortunate."

Lord Kim sounded faintly puzzled by the complint, but in truth… my face in this era was unfairly good.

Maybe the old saying was true—mixed blood produced striking features.

To modern eyes, there wasn't a flaw on my face. It had the clean, almost unnatural symtry of soone "born to succeed."

If I'd looked like this in my previous life, I wouldn't have needed to run scams at all.

I could've modeled. Acted. Printed money honestly.

Unfortunately, in Joseon, the more handso a half-blood was, the more you were simply labeled "a pale-skinned goblin with big eyes."

"In any case," Lord Kim continued smoothly, "the child has grown quite healthy, so I have fulfilled my duty. Shall you take him today?"

"Of course," the gentleman answered. "My lord wishes to see his son as soon as possible. We will not be stingy in compensation for the years you have cared for him."

Lord Kim cleared his throat.

"Ahem. I am not trying to boast, but the child is unusually bright, so I… grew quite attached. You can see that even from the clothes he wears."

"Yes. We are only grateful."

So that was why they'd scrubbed clean and wrapped in silk.

Naturally. A man who rose to high office could lie without even wetting his tongue.

While I stared in disbelief, the three n in front of were already finishing their calculations.

"Now, you haven't forgotten my contribution," the Qing official interjected. "It was I who brought your agent from Qing to Joseon the mont I heard the information."

"Of course," the gentleman replied. "My lord keeps his promises. We will allocate the goods ant for this side to you first, in priority."

"Good. Very good."

"Then shouldn't you explain the situation to the boy?" the gentleman asked. "He likely doesn't understand what is happening."

"I will explain it myself!" Lord Kim said quickly, perhaps afraid a lie might be uncovered. "I've raised him this far, after all."

He assud, of course, that I couldn't understand English.

And with a broad smile, he addressed in the most affectionate tone I'd ever heard from him.

"Yoo Seok. This gentleman is a representative of your father, who resides far away in Yeonggilli. He learned that you were here and has co to take you."

"My father… the Yeonggilli nobleman?"

"Yes, yes. And I hear he has no other children of his blood. None at all. That is why he has co all this way—searching for his only lineage."

With that explanation, everything clicked into place.

My father—who had co to Qing as a diplomat—spent one night with the attendant of a Joseon envoy, then returned ho.

At the ti, perhaps it ant little.

But years passed.

He reached an age where producing an heir grew uncertain, and he began to panic.

Early-to-mid nineteenth century or not, it was still an era where aristocrats clung to bloodlines with iron hands. Having no heir was the abnormality.

Then, on a later visit to Qing, he heard a peculiar rumor from the official he'd once known:

—It seems there was a woman who beca pregnant after that night, so years ago.

Technically, that made a bastard.

But if you had wealth and influence, a "bastard" could be cleaned up with the right paperwork, the right story, the right pressure.

A man who had been resigned to dying without an heir chose instead to gamble.

He promised enormous benefits to that Qing official, and sent an agent all the way to Joseon to find .

Lord Kim benefited too—he could sell off the nuisance child he'd never wanted for a handso price.

The Qing official got his promised advantage.

And my father—bastard or not—got his only blood.

A perfect outco.

Everyone satisfied.

"Then… am I leaving today? To go with him to Yeonggilli?"

"Yes," Lord Kim said briskly. "First you will return to Qing, and from there you will take a ship to Yeonggilli. You may have grown up here, but your roots are Yeonggilli regardless, are they not? You will be far happier there than in Joseon."

Was he wrong?

Not even a commoner in the West—my father was a noble of the British Empire.

Whatever my status as a bastard, it couldn't even be compared to being a slave in Joseon.

And Britain—unlike this country—was surging through industrialization at a terrifying pace.

In a land like that, might I finally be able to use my expertise properly?

"Thank you for raising , my lord."

"Hahaha. Yes, yes." Lord Kim bead. "Though I may have been… slightly lacking in so regards, was it not still my duty to feed you and house you until you grew? So if you have any resentnt, throw it away and begin anew in your new land."

Slightly lacking.

I could still feel the years of contempt—years of being treated as less than human because I was "Western blood."

And in his mind, that had been only a minor shortcoming.

Of course it had.

There was no point arguing now. I matched his smile and laughed along.

If we ever t again, I wondered if we'd still be laughing.

But that was a pleasure I could leave for the future.

Soon after, I greeted the gentleman who claid to be my father's representative—and boarded the ship bound for Qing with him.

When I glanced back, Joseon's coastline—this land I might never see again—receded quickly into the distance.

And strangely…

I didn't feel even a trace of regret.

All I felt was curiosity.

In the far future, what kind of face would this land wear when it finally t again?