By the time the appointment procedures were finally completed, I spent my days rushing around London, meeting 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 times, 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 meant 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 meant 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 government—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 government gave you the title of minister, they should treat you accordingly."
"I'm fine with it. Honestly, this arrangement suits me better."
I leaned back slightly.
"And besides, a minister personally traveling to the site sends a clear message. It shows how seriously the British Empire treats this matter. Parliament 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 me 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 something like 'Don't overwork yourself' or 'Your health comes 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 me 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 me 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 time 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 me for a moment 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 means 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 some reason, it felt like our queen's patience was slowly running out.
Which meant 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 me.
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 Parliament for nearly a year.
And the British Parliament was, quite frankly, a first-class explosive.
If I didn't secure things beforehand, it might explode in my absence—and drag me 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 Parliament 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 domestic 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 domestic 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 men in the party have been pestering me 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 formed 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 me the same way immediately."
"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 become 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 time."
"If his influence continues to grow, I think it could become a problem for party unity."
Charles nodded faintly.
In the original timeline, Gladstone left the Conservative Party after the Opium War.
Perhaps the same turning point was approaching.
Unlike Charles and Disraeli, Gladstone wasn't deeply tied to me.
We were acquaintances from Eton.
Sometimes 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 disagreements 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 time.
But right now, there were more urgent matters.
After giving Charles and Disraeli several additional instructions, I finally called for James.
"How did the preparations go?"
"Perfectly," James replied.
"We purchased five companies from merchants 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 shipments."
"Yes."
James 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 me."
"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 James's eyes.
"You want me to go to the New World… now? In the middle of all this?"
"Yes."
"In fact, that task might be ten times more important than what I'll be doing in Guangzhou."
"…Ten times?"
"Search central Mexico and nearby regions of the United States. Collect samples. And obtain the opinion of a respected scholar."
It was 1838.
James would likely begin the investigation in 1839 or 1840.
By then, traces of the disease should exist in Mexico or the United States.
The epidemic that would devastate Ireland's potato crops would begin spreading in America around 1842–1843.
If we waited until then, it would already be too late.
"Understood," James said.
"I'll complete the preparations before you return."
Please.
Find it before I come back.
Because if we failed…
I might have to claim my Asian shaman blood had given me a prophecy.
And I really, really didn't want to do that.
But someone 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 become reality.
There were still mountains to climb, but honestly…
I was doing fairly well.
If I could achieve results like this two more times—
I stopped myself.
…Actually, that still left a long way to go.
And this voyage reminded me of something else.
When I came 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 me appreciate James even more.
He had made this brutal journey twice just to bring me to Britain.
"Minister, welcome 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 me.
Foreign Office staff.
Naval officers.
Merchant 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 mean I've been dismissed?"
"Not at all," I replied.
"The government knows you've done your best."
"But this situation requires someone 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 merchants?"
"You can ask them yourself."
"They're right here."
Two men hurried forward.
Elliot's expression instantly stiffened.
Ah.
So they were the real troublemakers.
The older of the two men bowed politely.
"Greetings, Minister. I'm William Jardine, representing the merchants here."
"Pleasure to meet you," I said.
"The government 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 came 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 government and Parliament 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.