The atmosphere inside the chamber where the State Council held its highest meeting felt like walking across thin ice.
The council was effectively the most powerful political institution in Joseon.
With no meaningful checks on its authority, it exercised immense influence over the government.
All senior ministers participated, overseeing nearly every aspect of state affairs—while also controlling appointments within the bureaucracy.
Naturally, their power was enormous.
The only force capable of restraining the council was the king.
But the king was still young and ruling under a regency.
And the regent—Queen Sunwon—belonged to the powerful Andong Kim clan.
With the regent tied to their own faction, how could the power of the State Council—already filled with members of the Andong Kim family—not grow overwhelming?
People often said the council wielded enough authority to "shoot down birds in flight."
In truth, that description was not an exaggeration.
Yet the faces of the council's most powerful members now showed unprecedented distress.
"So it's decided?" one minister asked grimly.
"A diplomatic mission will be sent to Qing?"
"Yes," came the reply.
"His Majesty and Her Majesty the Queen Dowager have already approved it."
"We will prove that Joseon has nothing to do with this disturbance—and at the same time gather accurate intelligence about the situation."
"Two birds with one stone."
Unlike the regular tribute missions sent to Qing, this special embassy was dispatched only when urgent diplomatic matters arose.
And diplomatic disputes with Qing were one of the most common reasons such missions were organized.
Given the circumstances, the decision was entirely appropriate.
"A wise plan," someone said.
"Yes, very wise."
"But the real problem is this."
Kim I-jae, one of the most influential figures of the Andong Kim faction and currently serving as a minister of the Six Ministries, jabbed irritably at a thick bundle of documents.
"This report claims that Killian Gore has been confirmed to be of Joseon origin."
"If that's true, we may not be able to distance ourselves from this incident."
"What happens if Qing argues that the instigator of this entire conflict is a Joseon man—and therefore Joseon shares responsibility?"
"That's excessive speculation," another minister replied.
"Even if he has Joseon blood, he is now a noble of Britain."
"For Qing to blame us would be absurd."
"Normally, yes," Kim I-jae said coldly.
"But we officially told Qing that no one named Killian Gore had ever been born in Joseon."
"If this proves false, we have lied to them."
"And if they seize on that point, we will have no defense."
"How exactly was the investigation conducted?"
"That responsibility belongs to the Ministry of Rites," someone shot back.
"Ahem!" Kim I-jae snapped.
"I only took charge of the ministry this year."
"The investigation happened last year."
"That responsibility belongs to Minister Jeong."
"You can't simply shift the blame onto me."
At first, the report brought by the Dutch had been dismissed as nonsense.
After all, the Dutch were Westerners too.
They were surely twisting the story in favor of their own kind.
But then news arrived that Qing forces—who had been demonstrating along the Joseon border to intimidate them—had suddenly withdrawn in haste.
That was when doubts began to surface.
More importantly, if even the Dutch claimed that Killian Gore was of Joseon descent, then Britain must also believe the same.
If Qing, Britain, and the Netherlands were all saying the same thing, the possibility that Killian Gore truly had Joseon roots could not be ignored.
And if that were true…
Then Joseon had clearly lied to Qing.
Which meant that if this issue escalated, everyone involved in that earlier investigation could be forced to resign.
"Yesterday I spoke privately with Kim Jwa-geun, younger brother of Queen Sunwon," another official said gravely.
"He says the Queen Dowager and His Majesty are both extremely displeased."
"If this incident leads to diplomatic or military disaster, more than half of the council members here may have to relinquish their positions."
"That's outrageous!" one minister protested.
"The Ministry of Rites requested our cooperation! We investigated thoroughly and found no records!"
"How can we be blamed for something that does not exist?"
"The Ministry of Finance also objects!" another cried.
"What authority did we have to conduct such an investigation?"
"Wait—weren't you in the Ministry of Personnel last year?" someone snapped.
"Then your ministry bears responsibility!"
"Responsibility for what?" the man retorted.
"We investigated thoroughly!"
"If someone is to blame, it is the officials who kept incomplete records—not us!"
In truth, the highest offices in Joseon had become something of a rotating club among the same small group of powerful families.
If one of them fell, the rest would soon follow.
Normally the regent merely approved or rejected proposals presented by ministers.
But if this matter escalated, that alone could be enough to remove them all.
Even the Andong Kim faction's immense power could collapse overnight if Qing found a pretext to intervene directly.
And once that happened, ambitious officials below them would swarm forward with impeachment petitions.
That outcome had to be prevented at all costs.
"Enough," someone said sharply.
"Let us calm down and address the immediate issue."
"The first step is obvious."
"We must determine the relationship between Killian Gore and Joseon as quickly as possible."
"Only then can we explain ourselves to Qing."
"But Minister Kim," another official asked cautiously,
"what if the embassy arrives in Qing and the reports are true?"
"What if Qing truly suffered a crushing defeat against Britain?"
"Should we still deny any connection to Killian Gore?"
Kim I-jae hesitated.
"That would… not necessarily be wise."
"But honestly—does anyone truly believe Qing could lose to Western barbarians?"
"Britain is said to lie six months away by sail!"
"Suppose—just suppose—it did happen," the man insisted.
"If Qing loses, and we openly support Qing while denying Killian Gore…"
"What if Britain turns its attention toward us next?"
The room fell silent.
The question came from Kim Hong-geun, a former envoy who had once visited Qing.
"That cannot be…"
"Two years ago when I visited Qing," Kim Hong-geun continued,
"I heard many officials expressing concern about Western greed."
"At the time I ignored it."
"But they said Western merchants were spreading opium for profit and destroying countless lives."
"That may explain why Qing has recently imported so much ginseng from Joseon," another official added.
"To treat opium addiction."
"Exactly," Kim Hong-geun said.
"Westerners are driven by greed."
"If they subdue Qing, what prevents them from turning their guns toward us?"
"We must prepare for a situation where either side wins—without letting the consequences fall upon Joseon."
And, of course, that preparation would help conceal their own mistakes.
"Very well," Kim I-jae said finally.
"We will conduct a thorough investigation."
"What we know so far is this."
"Killian Gore is of Joseon origin."
"He holds a position equivalent to a minister in Britain."
"And he is fluent in the languages of Joseon, Qing, and Japan."
"But Minister Kim," the Minister of War said hesitantly,
"I have a question."
"Ask."
"This Killian Gore…"
"Is he from the Ki clan?"
"…What?"
"His surname must be Ki, correct?"
"Ki-rian Gore?"
"What a strange barbarian name."
"Oh!" someone exclaimed.
"If that's the case, there aren't many Ki clans."
"We may find him easily!"
Kim I-jae nearly shouted that such a thing was impossible.
But the truth was unavoidable.
The Joseon elite were almost completely ignorant about Westerners.
Even Kim I-jae himself had only learned the most basic knowledge by interrogating interpreters after reading the Dutch report.
If even the Minister of Rites knew so little, what could be expected from the others?
Before he could respond, another official spoke up.
"You misunderstand," the man said smugly.
"Westerners place their surnames last."
"So his name must be Killian."
"Ah!"
"So the surname is Gore?"
"Perhaps it's a two-character surname, like Zhuge in China."
"Yes! Perhaps something like Nangong or Xiahou!"
"If it's two characters, it may be easier to trace."
"We should find him before the embassy even departs!"
Laughter filled the room.
But the few officials who understood reality even slightly wore dark expressions.
We're doomed.
At this rate, discovering Killian Gore's identity before the embassy left was practically impossible.
Which meant there was only one remaining option.
Gather information directly in Qing.
Even so, the Joseon elite still believed in one fundamental truth:
That the Qing Empire, the center of civilization, would never kneel before distant Western barbarians.
That belief had been their common sense.
The natural order of the world.
But common sense often shatters far more easily than people expect.
Moments of decision arrive suddenly.
And most people never realize they are standing at the crossroads between survival and ruin.
Joseon was no exception.
* * *
"Admiral, reinforcements have arrived," an officer reported.
"Excellent," George Elliot said.
"That means we can begin advancing inland."
"What do you think, Killian?"
"I told you before," I replied calmly.
"I am no military man."
"The decision is entirely yours."
George Elliot chuckled.
"That may be true."
"But this war is becoming stranger by the day."
"One must know the enemy and oneself."
"And frankly, I still feel as though I don't understand our enemy at all."
That was hardly surprising.
Without me, both George Elliot and Charles Elliot would probably still be circling aimlessly off the coast of Canton.
Everything had unfolded exactly as I expected.
That naval battles would end in effortless victories.
That negotiations would collapse.
That Lin Zexu, Qing's last hope, would be dismissed and take the blame.
Even the epidemic that historically devastated the British garrison in the Zhoushan Islands had been minimized thanks to my warnings.
In the original timeline, fewer than ten British soldiers died in battle—
but five hundred died from disease.
After prediction after prediction came true, even George Elliot had begun relying heavily on my judgment.
"I hear the emperor has appointed a new commander," George Elliot said.
"And a man named Yang Fang, commander of Hunan forces, is gathering forty thousand militia."
"They'll probably try to challenge us soon."
"They couldn't defeat us at sea," George Elliot said.
"So they believe things will be different on land."
"That seems to be their thinking."
"If we defeat those forces," I said,
"then Canton will effectively fall."
"Once we secure Canton and Zhoushan, we can push north."
"Capture Shanghai and Zhenjiang, and Nanjing will be paralyzed."
"That would force them to negotiate."
George Elliot nodded.
"Yes. At that point they'll have no choice but to accept our terms."
"That's how the war should end."
Historically, that was exactly how the First Opium War concluded.
But there was no reason for me to stop there.
"No," I said.
"We will not offer negotiations."
"They rejected them first."
"We should paralyze Nanjing's economy and continue sailing north."
"To Tianjin."
"With reinforcements arriving from Britain, we could even capture Tongzhou."
"And once that happens…"
"Beijing will be within reach."
In hindsight, many in Britain believed the war could have extracted far greater concessions if it had lasted just one more year.
And now our situation was even better than in the original history.
Qing defenses were weaker.
We knew their weaknesses.
Disease had been contained.
And Britain, realizing how vulnerable Qing was, kept sending more troops.
"We should show them the consequences," I said coldly.
"They rejected negotiations simply because they 'didn't want to give up land.'"
"Why should we offer them another chance?"
More importantly, if fighting remained limited to the south, Qing could continue pretending the conflict was merely a minor disturbance.
Even their tributary states might believe that illusion.
But if those states watched Britain threaten both Nanjing and Beijing…
Denial would become impossible.
"Russia and France still haven't realized what's happening," I continued.
"This is our chance to establish Britain's position in Asia."
George Elliot considered my words carefully.
"If your plan succeeds," he said,
"we could gain far more than expected."
"But that depends on crushing Qing forces decisively."
"Their morale must collapse."
"You said earlier that you still don't understand the enemy," I replied.
"You'll understand them soon enough."
"…What do you mean?"
"The commander gathering Canton's defenders is someone I recognize."
"Which means I can predict what will happen."
George Elliot blinked.
"And what exactly will happen?"
"The Qing soldiers will bring something unusual onto the battlefield."
"They'll try to use it to stop our artillery."
"Don't worry about it."
"Just keep firing."
"…What exactly are they bringing?"
"Chamber pots."
George Elliot stared at me in utter confusion.
"Chamber pots?"
"Is that the name of some kind of shield?"
I couldn't help smiling.
No.
Not a shield.
Just containers used for urine.
Though I suppose they would be used as shields.
Watching George Elliot's puzzled face, I imagined the moment he would witness the scene with his own eyes.
I couldn't help it.
I was already looking forward to it.