By the ti the appointnt procedures were finally completed, I spent my days rushing around London, eting people before my departure.
In an era without airplanes—and with ships that were hardly fast—simply traveling from London to Asia took more than three months.
Even that was considered quick thanks to the introduction of steamships. In earlier tis, depending on weather conditions, the journey could take as long as six months.
But even now, the trip was no small undertaking.
A round trip ant at least half a year, and realistically closer to seven months. And once the work in Guangzhou was factored in, the entire affair could easily stretch past a year.
Which ant there was one thing I absolutely had to do before leaving.
Secure my political network.
Still, I had to admit—being a minister had its advantages.
In the past, if I wanted to have dinner with Victoria even once, I had to invent all sorts of excuses.
Now?
I simply said we needed to discuss affairs of state.
Instant access.
Thanks to that, I had visited the palace often enough to try nearly every signature dish prepared by Victoria's personal chef.
Maybe that saying really was true.
A man should succeed in life.
"Are your preparations finished?"
Victoria asked casually.
"Yes. I'm scheduled to depart in three days."
"Normally ministers of your rank don't travel to the field themselves," she said. "This sounds less like a minister and more like a senior clerk doing fieldwork."
"Can't be helped," I replied with a shrug.
"I'm young."
A cabinet minister—one of the highest officials in the British governnt—leaving the country for a year?
Victoria was right.
Ordinarily, that would be unthinkable.
Superiors had their role. Subordinates had theirs.
From that perspective, the fact that a foreign secretary was personally traveling to Guangzhou was an unprecedented move.
"Even if you're young," Victoria said, "if the governnt gave you the title of minister, they should treat you accordingly."
"I'm fine with it. Honestly, this arrangent suits better."
I leaned back slightly.
"And besides, a minister personally traveling to the site sends a clear ssage. It shows how seriously the British Empire treats this matter. Parliant has already approved everything I requested, so my words will carry more weight there."
No matter how young I was, if I strutted around like an arrogant child playing minister, nobody would take seriously.
Humility was a virtue in every age.
East or West.
A young minister who humbly traveled to the field and produced results.
Just hearing that description already sounded admirable, didn't it?
"Very well," Victoria said.
"The decision has already been made. Since you're traveling so far, you might as well bring back results worthy of the effort."
"Wait," I said with a smile.
"Aren't you supposed to say sothing like 'Don't overwork yourself' or 'Your health cos first'?"
Victoria looked utterly unconvinced.
"We're both young. A little hard work won't kill us. So bring back the best possible results."
She paused before adding lightly,
"If you do, maybe people will start treating you like a real minister instead of a temporary one. Just be careful of tropical diseases."
I let out a dry laugh.
I hadn't expected performance pressure here of all places.
As I smiled awkwardly, Victoria gave a sidelong glance.
"You're not about to say you hadn't even thought about that, are you?"
"Of course not," I said quickly.
"I'll make sure to raise my market value while I'm gone."
"Hm."
"And is that all you have to say?"
"Pardon?"
"You might be gone for more than a year. Don't tell you plan to just say 'I'll be back' and leave?"
Of course not.
I knew better than to risk that kind of disaster.
Clearing my throat, I pulled a small box from my coat and placed it on the table.
"I probably won't be able to celebrate your birthday in person this year," I said.
"So I prepared a bracelet designed to match the locket I gave you before."
"And there's a letter inside. If you have ti to read it…"
"A letter?" Victoria asked.
"You wrote it yourself?"
"Of course."
Her eyes brightened.
"Now I'm curious. What did you write?"
"If possible," I said carefully, "I'd appreciate it if you read it after I've left London."
The letter contained a few… embarrassing expressions.
It was easier to be honest when writing privately.
Victoria stared at for a mont before suddenly breaking into a bright smile.
"Very well. I suppose a monarch can grant that request."
"I was actually planning to open it right here and read it aloud."
"If you did that," I said gravely, "my delicate sensibilities would suffer such catastrophic damage that I might never write another letter again."
"Oh?"
Victoria chuckled.
"In that case, I must be careful. If this ans you'll continue writing letters in the future."
She closed the box and nodded.
"I'll read it later, just as you asked. So take care of yourself on your journey."
"I'll do my best not to disappoint."
For so reason, it felt like our queen's patience was slowly running out.
Which ant I had one more reason to bring back undeniable results.
As we both grew older, expectations would only rise.
There was only one option left to .
Return with results so overwhelming that no one could criticize them.
After leaving the palace, I headed straight for Westminster.
While I was in Guangzhou, I would have zero influence over Parliant for nearly a year.
And the British Parliant was, quite frankly, a first-class explosive.
If I didn't secure things beforehand, it might explode in my absence—and drag down with it.
"Charles, I'll leave things in your hands."
Charles Wellesley laughed.
"Don't worry. I've already arranged for daily reports from Parliant to be compiled and sent to you."
"There's about a three-month delay, but you'll still know what's happening in London."
"Foreign affairs may be the headline issue," I said, "but dostic policy and the economy matter more. If we neglect that, we won't win the next election."
If I returned having solved the Qing crisis only to find dostic policy in ruins…
That would be the political equivalent of cooking a feast and feeding it to a dog.
Of course, the British economy was fairly stable right now.
Still, history had a nasty habit of punishing complacency.
"And by the end of this year—or early next year—public opinion will shift toward war with Qing," I continued.
"When that happens, follow the plan I told you about."
"That part isn't difficult," Charles said.
"But Killian… if your plan succeeds, our faction's influence will grow even stronger, won't it?"
"Of course."
Charles rubbed his chin.
"Then we might survive the next election. But after that… shouldn't we start defining our political direction more clearly?"
"The old n in the party have been pestering constantly lately."
It was understandable.
From the perspective of the party elders, a rising young faction was threatening their control.
Instead of waiting our turn, we had ford our own power base around Charles.
"Still," I said calmly, "your father is still active. No one will openly challenge you yet."
"For now," Charles admitted.
"But he won't be able to exert influence forever. And even if my brother inherits the title of Duke of Wellington, he won't be able to support the sa way imdiately."
"It's fine," I said.
"If my plan works, by the election after next, the party elders won't even dare to challenge us."
Britain would face plenty of crises in the coming years.
If we could ride those waves instead of being crushed by them…
The complaints of aging politicians would beco irrelevant.
Then Disraeli spoke up.
"Minister, the party elders aren't our only problem."
"What about Gladstone?"
I tilted my head.
"Gladstone? Are you two having trouble working together?"
"Not just recently," Disraeli said. "We've disagreed for a long ti."
"If his influence continues to grow, I think it could beco a problem for party unity."
Charles nodded faintly.
In the original tiline, Gladstone left the Conservative Party after the Opium War.
Perhaps the sa turning point was approaching.
Unlike Charles and Disraeli, Gladstone wasn't deeply tied to .
We were acquaintances from Eton.
Sotis allies.
Nothing more.
And historically speaking, Gladstone and Disraeli were destined to clash.
Still, I had tolerated the tension because Gladstone was extraordinarily capable.
Letting such a man fall into Whig hands was… unpleasant.
"So the disagreents are serious?"
"Yes," Disraeli replied.
"I'm certain Gladstone will oppose our next plan."
"Let him," I said calmly.
"There's value in that as well. For now, just observe."
"I'll deal with Gladstone after I return."
Disraeli looked dissatisfied, but he nodded.
That decision had been looming for a long ti.
But right now, there were more urgent matters.
After giving Charles and Disraeli several additional instructions, I finally called for Jas.
"How did the preparations go?"
"Perfectly," Jas replied.
"We purchased five companies from rchants who were shutting down due to Qing's opium ban. Our detectives are now posing as their employees."
"Good."
"If possible, recruit a few real traders as well. We may need to pretend to conduct actual opium shipnts."
"Yes."
Jas hesitated.
"Are you sure it's alright if I don't go with you?"
"Of course," I said.
"Even though you've separated from the Arran family, most people still associate us together."
"This operation must not involve anyone linked to ."
"Only personnel from the British Detective Office will participate. Your agency stays completely out of it."
"But you have another task."
I saw confusion in Jas's eyes.
"You want to go to the New World… now? In the middle of all this?"
"Yes."
"In fact, that task might be ten tis more important than what I'll be doing in Guangzhou."
"…Ten tis?"
"Search central xico and nearby regions of the United States. Collect samples. And obtain the opinion of a respected scholar."
It was 1838.
Jas would likely begin the investigation in 1839 or 1840.
By then, traces of the disease should exist in xico or the United States.
The epidemic that would devastate Ireland's potato crops would begin spreading in Arica around 1842–1843.
If we waited until then, it would already be too late.
"Understood," Jas said.
"I'll complete the preparations before you return."
Please.
Find it before I co back.
Because if we failed…
I might have to claim my Asian shaman blood had given a prophecy.
And I really, really didn't want to do that.
But soone had to warn them.
A disease capable of wiping out Ireland's staple crop—potatoes—would soon cross the Atlantic.
After finishing everything that could be done in Britain, I finally boarded a ship bound for Asia.
Eight years ago, when I first arrived in London, I had been a child with absolutely nothing.
But I had worked hard.
The illusion that I was a noble son of the British Empire had now beco reality.
There were still mountains to climb, but honestly…
I was doing fairly well.
If I could achieve results like this two more tis—
I stopped myself.
…Actually, that still left a long way to go.
And this voyage reminded of sothing else.
When I ca to Britain years ago, I had been too happy to escape my miserable life in Joseon to notice.
But the sea route to Asia in this era was brutal.
From London, we sailed south along Africa's coast to the Cape of Good Hope.
Then across the Indian Ocean.
After resupplying near Ceylon, we rested briefly.
Finally, we passed through the Strait of Malacca, entered the South China Sea…
…and reached the port of Guangzhou.
Three months later, the long journey finally ended.
Honestly, it was impressive that my younger self had endured such a voyage.
Thinking about it now made appreciate Jas even more.
He had made this brutal journey twice just to bring to Britain.
"Minister, welco to Guangzhou!"
"I'm Charles Elliot, Chief Superintendent of Trade in China, succeeding Lord Napier!"
As soon as I stepped off the ship, a sea of yellow-skinned faces bowed toward .
Foreign Office staff.
Naval officers.
rchant representatives whose nerves were probably fraying by the day.
Apparently they had been warned in advance.
No one reacted to my absurdly young appearance.
If anything, Elliot looked even more cautious than they did.
"Minister… does your arrival an I've been dismissed?"
"Not at all," I replied.
"The governnt knows you've done your best."
"But this situation requires soone with greater authority. You'll continue working under my direction."
Technically his role had been reduced, but Elliot looked relieved.
"Thank goodness," he muttered.
"Honestly, I've been worried things might spiral out of control. If I can support you instead, that's a relief."
"Is the situation that bad?"
"You may not realize it in London, but Qing's stance is uncompromising."
"They refuse to negotiate."
Of course they did.
What country declares war on drugs and then says,
"Actually, we changed our minds. Please continue selling them."
"Leaving Qing aside," I asked, "what about our rchants?"
"You can ask them yourself."
"They're right here."
Two n hurried forward.
Elliot's expression instantly stiffened.
Ah.
So they were the real troublemakers.
The older of the two n bowed politely.
"Greetings, Minister. I'm William Jardine, representing the rchants here."
"Pleasure to et you," I said.
"The governnt understands the difficulties you're facing. I'll do my best to reach a reasonable solution."
"Of course!" Jardine said enthusiastically.
"The fact that a minister ca all the way here for us—how could we not cooperate?"
"Whatever you need, just tell us."
"Thank you," I said with a smile.
"With cooperation like this, negotiations with Qing should go smoothly."
Maybe things would be easier than expected.
Perhaps Elliot had simply had poor relations with them.
Maybe—
"Honestly," Jardine continued brightly,
"opium isn't even as harmful as alcohol. People drink freely, yet they ban opium? It's outrageous."
"Knowing the governnt and Parliant share our views is truly reassuring!"
…Never mind.
I had been completely wrong.
Frankly, trade didn't happen unless both sides wanted it.
If the East India Company produced opium alone, the trade wouldn't flourish.
Producers.
Dealers.
Both sides had to be insane.
And clearly…
they were.
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