For a moment, Killian's mind simply shut down.
The absurd nonsense he had just heard had overloaded his brain so thoroughly that he barely noticed when the shouting match among the American congressmen finally ended.
What the hell was that?
When John Quincy Adams had visited Britain earlier, he had never mentioned anything about "Eastern royal blood."
So why bring it up now?
Did the old man eat something strange?
Once the schedule ended, Killian quietly approached Adams to ask about it.
The answer he received was so ridiculous that it almost made him laugh.
"…Pardon?" Adams said, looking puzzled. "Aren't you Eastern royalty? I understood that this had already been confirmed."
Killian blinked.
Apparently, sometime without his knowledge, he had been promoted from an "Eastern half-breed servant" to a royal prince.
And yet the only person who hadn't heard about it was the man himself.
"I'm sorry," Killian said carefully, "but may I ask where that information came from?"
"It was written quite clearly in a report sent by our ambassador in London three days ago," Adams replied. "It stated that the matter had been officially confirmed."
"…Three days ago?"
Killian's confusion deepened.
If the report had come through official diplomatic channels, then it couldn't simply be a fabricated rumor.
But how had something like this happened?
Could it be that reports had already reached Canada as well, and I just haven't heard about it yet because I'm in the United States?
Without knowing the situation, he couldn't act.
The only option was obvious.
He needed to visit the British embassy in Washington and find out exactly what was going on.
Adams, however, continued speaking as if nothing were unusual.
"You're remarkably modest, Minister. I've heard you suffered quite a bit growing up as a mixed-race man. If you had revealed your royal heritage earlier, things might have been much easier for you."
"…Hmm."
"But in the end, your judgment appears to have been correct. After all, you became the youngest minister in British history through your own ability. If people had known you were royalty, they might have attributed your success to your birth instead of your talent."
"Haha… haha."
If Killian really had royal blood, he certainly wouldn't have spent years scheming behind the scenes to climb the ladder.
What kind of masochist would refuse the easy path to power?
"You're already a national hero in Ireland," Adams continued. "And once your work as plenipotentiary in Canada is complete, your influence in Britain will grow even further. Europe and America alike must eventually figure out how to expand trade with Asia. And frankly, no one can rival your expertise there."
"Well… Asia does happen to be my specialty."
Adams sighed.
"If only the United States would abandon outdated relics like slavery and focus on the wider world. Unfortunately, the Southern representatives refuse to see the future. And since the president himself is from the South, he protects them."
"Everyone prioritizes their own interests," Killian replied mildly. "If you tell someone to sacrifice for the distant future, who would listen?"
In truth, Killian had no objection whatsoever to Southern politicians digging in their heels.
The longer America suffered internal conflict, the better it was for Canada.
No matter how he calculated it, Canada could never challenge the United States through straightforward competition.
Not even close.
In the original timeline, the United States had secured the most valuable land on the continent.
Even if Canada somehow seized some of it first, an enraged America would eventually demand it back.
And if war followed?
Canada would have no choice but to surrender it.
The Americans would undoubtedly scream about "Manifest Destiny."
Starting a war over the deserts and mountains of the southwestern continent was far too risky in the nineteenth century.
A modern observer might say that the land was priceless.
But this was not the twenty-first century.
Even the Crimean War would later provoke harsh criticism in Britain despite ending in victory.
Even the world's greatest power could not fight wars everywhere at once.
Which meant Killian needed a different strategy.
Keep America calm.
Encourage internal division.
Let the North and South tear each other apart.
And during that chaos…
Canada would quietly expand westward.
After that, stirring up Mexico might buy even more time.
Decades, perhaps.
But even then, the overall national power of the United States would remain greater.
The continent itself favored them.
Which meant Killian could not afford to waste a single moment.
And yet—
Now this absurd rumor had appeared out of nowhere.
Could this be some elaborate prank?
Trying to remain natural, Killian said his goodbyes to Adams and immediately hurried to the British Embassy in Washington D.C..
There, he demanded an explanation.
The result shocked him.
Adams had not exaggerated in the slightest.
"Minister!" the embassy official exclaimed. "A letter from the prime minister arrived early this morning. He sent copies to Canada as well, just in case. This is it."
Killian silently accepted the letter.
Breaking the seal, he unfolded the paper and began reading the familiar handwriting of Arthur Wellesley.
The words made his expression slowly stiffen.
"…As a result, the government—and even Parliament—is in an uproar over this matter. It seems you must decide how to handle it personally. Please send me your response as soon as you read this."
So it wasn't a diplomatic misunderstanding.
Not even remotely.
Killian exhaled slowly and read the letter again.
Carefully this time.
…Why is this actually real?
Several Months Earlier
Around the time Killian had first been appointed plenipotentiary to Canada, chaos spread across Asia following the devastating defeat of the Qing Dynasty.
Even Joseon, a nation famous for closing its eyes and ears to the outside world, could not escape the shock.
Envoys had traveled to Qing territory and witnessed events firsthand.
And as a result, rumors about a certain "Joseon-born British minister named Killian" began spreading rapidly.
Unfortunately for Kim Jwa-geun, he had been placed in charge of Joseon's newly formed "British Affairs Bureau."
Every day brought him new headaches.
How did I end up with this cursed position…
His superiors failed to grasp the seriousness of the situation.
His subordinates ignored his instructions.
It was a complete disaster.
At first, however, things had seemed promising.
When Heungseon Daewongun mentioned a mixed-race slave boy named Yuseok, Kim Jwa-geun believed the mystery might soon be solved.
But investigation revealed that the child had died years earlier from a strange illness.
Every servant in the household gave the same testimony.
There was no reason to doubt it.
So who exactly was Killian Gore?
For an entire year, Kim Jwa-geun had searched every available record.
Investigators were dispatched across all eight provinces of Joseon.
Yet nothing surfaced.
Did Killian simply lie to us?
Kim Jwa-geun had briefly considered that possibility.
But the man's flawless Korean language made it hard to believe.
Which left only one explanation.
Someone had deliberately erased Killian's past.
Otherwise, it was impossible that such extensive investigations would uncover nothing.
Recently, whispers had begun circulating that Kim Jwa-geun himself was deliberately delaying the search.
One day, the queen regent summoned him.
"Brother," she asked impatiently, "do you still have nothing new to report?"
"I apologize, Your Majesty," Kim Jwa-geun replied. "We have searched every corner of the kingdom. Yet it is as if the man vanished into the sky."
Even Queen Sunwon sighed in frustration.
And Kim felt just as miserable.
No matter how hard they searched, there was simply nothing to find.
To make matters worse, Japan had recently begun making outrageous claims.
"Your Majesty," Kim Jwa-geun said, "the Japanese now insist that Killian carries their blood."
"Yes," the queen said grimly. "They even sent official envoys and genealogical records."
"Fabrications, obviously."
Kim Jwa-geun snorted.
Genealogies could be invented overnight.
Yet the situation created a problem.
Joseon had no evidence to refute Japan's claims.
Then suddenly—
Kim Jwa-geun had an idea.
"Your Majesty," he said slowly, "it is impossible to uncover Killian's true origins. But that may actually benefit us."
The queen frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"If someone erased all records," Kim Jwa-geun explained, "then the situation is a blank slate. The Japanese may not realize it—but they have created an opportunity."
"…You cannot mean—"
"Yes," Kim said firmly.
"If Japan can fabricate a genealogy, why can't we?"
They would simply create a new one.
Place Killian into a prestigious lineage.
Then apologize formally.
Explain that he had unknowingly suffered injustice in Joseon—but that he had always belonged to a noble family.
The queen stared at him in disbelief.
But from a practical perspective…
It was the simplest solution.
Better yet, it would counter Japan's claims and win Killian's goodwill at the same time.
Japan had boldly claimed Killian was descended from the Tokugawa shogunate.
If Joseon wanted to compete, it needed an equally prestigious lineage.
And so—
Against all tradition—
Joseon's court quietly approved the plan.
A fabricated genealogy was created.
And sent toward Shanghai, where British officials would inevitably see it.
Soon, conflicting reports arrived:
"Killian Gore is unquestionably a royal relative of Joseon."
"No, he is clearly a distant descendant of the Tokugawa shoguns."
The British governor in Shanghai could not determine the truth.
So he did the most logical thing.
He reported both claims.
As confirmed facts.
Stamped with the official seal of the British administration in Shanghai, the report was forwarded to London.
No one had expected it.
Not Japan.
Not Joseon.
Not even Killian himself.
But what began as a tiny flutter of wings—
Soon became a storm powerful enough to shake London itself.