Chapter 17

Chapter 17

The Seer's Dilemma

Things to do increased.

First, translating Chinese character books. From my position this is close to simple labor. Not direct translation but just catching mistranslations in already translated books is truly close to the domain of hard labor.

Writing books for our Happy Stone (Gladstone)... I decided to write two.

One is a general overview book for culture containing the geography and customs of China, Joseon, and Japan. The other is of course <​Arthur’s Drift Record>. I’ll pack it full with true stories full of tears and emotion. Send one out first, and throw the other at the timing when I become an adult.

Gladstone who is a member of the current ruling party and whose family is also solid.

Among the people who made proposals to me he can be said to be by far first place.

Since there is nothing to lose by firmly making connections with such a person, I decided to willingly throw him one of the sources I had.

“Have you seen this, Member?”

“I actually don’t know that well about the Far East-”

“Ah. It’s completely different.”

I held out a newspaper that came across the water to him.

“The farming in New York America failed?”

“Not just farming but potato farming failed.”

“And?”

“Right now it’s a story of distant America so not much interest, but if farming fails in Europe too wouldn’t something tremendous happen?”

“That... would be a big problem.”

Potato blight. Or potato late blight.

One example that an epidemic can disorder the world even without killing people.

“But you worry too much. I already sufficiently felt that you are smart and clever so there’s no need to appeal like that. Rather you might lose the points you barely earned. Ah, don’t worry. I still evaluate you very highly!”

“Ah... yes.”

“I’ll give a little more advice for the future Eton junior. If potato farming has a bad harvest that is certainly a serious problem. But if one says we have to prepare from now our voters and taxpayers won’t stay still. Unlike absolute monarchies our United Kingdom must respect the will of the citizens.”

- Seems like not much fun was seen?

Huh? What are you saying.

Did you expect that Gladstone who is barely a second-term member would gather Britain’s power saying ‘Oh, I have to prepare to confront the great famine!’ and prepare for the coming catastrophe?

Since it’s an era that doesn’t even know bacteria are the cause of disease, the concept of having to quarantine or take measures so that disease doesn’t spread is of course blurry. By this era’s standards my words should be seen as really out of the blue.

- Then the reason you brought up those words-

When the great famine really comes a few years later won’t today’s thought suddenly come to mind.

If I had been born in a royal family or a great wealthy household I would have at least tried some effort to block the great famine that will come someday... honestly there is nothing a single child who lost parents early can do.

Except worrying if there’s a way to all-in buy food by scraping all the money I have.

There was no way for me now to change the predetermined future.

It was a bitter thing.

***

Currently the political parties of British politics are largely two, the Conservative Party and the Whig Party.

The Conservative Party is conservative as the name says.

Landowners who have land and traditional nobles, and the Anglican Church are their strongest support base.

On the other hand the Whig Party has a stance closer to progressive.

Merchants and industrialists, capitalists who are just about to bloom in earnest, and other denominations besides the Anglican Church generally support the Whig Party. And if there is one more... Queen Victoria very strongly supports the Whig Party.

The Conservative Party advocates tariff barriers and protectionism, and the Whig Party strongly advocates free trade.

- Then you should be on the Whig Party side?

Right. To eat a seat in the Conservative Party it is overwhelmingly advantageous to be a noble anyway.

Moreover considering the point that I want to become a conglomerate through trade and corporate groups, free trade suits my taste a bit more for me.

But there is a problem.

I don’t feel affection for either.

“Reform shouldn’t be done so recklessly and hastily, right?”

“Commoners keep chattering about doing politics or not, if we scatter voting rights like that the country will inevitably become ochlocracy like ancient Athens!”

The Conservative Party is... just like that. Doing that in a party supported by nobles is within the prediction range in a way.

But the Whig Party?

“Human history and society have always progressed.”

“Right now is the most glorious moment! The point when our humanity has progressed the most!”

“We the greatest Anglo-Saxons are fulfilling the mission to advance the world’s progress!”

“Liberation from state power! Liberation from tyrants! If everyone becomes free the world will become even better!”

- Uuum...

Don’t particularly want to get close, right?

Exactly that.

People who believe without a doubt that the ‘reason and rationality’ they found is the spirit of the times.

- That’s because it’s modern. What can one do about not knowing.

As expected this jar ghost doesn’t know the human heart.

Those friends’ worship of human reason leads to the miraculous logic of ‘we are the most evolved humanity and the rest are monkeys and chimpanzees’, and proceeds to imperialism of ‘if you don’t like it you should have won’. Its destination is endless trenches and gas chambers.

I have a lot piled up from being done a lot by the country, but seeing in real time the process of that imperialism and white supremacy growing vigorously like rainy season mold, would my insides not twist.

So.

It was a bit disgusting.

At first I clearly also had a mindset of China and Joseon all being fucked so I’ll grind them hard for achieving my mission goal... but after living there for a few years and coming back to London, rather Joseon felt more comfortable in the heart.

Kim Jwageun and friends were corrupt officials who ruined the country, but at least they didn’t say white noise like ‘what’s wrong with us superior ones using the monkey keys’.

- Suddenly became too sentimental?

Is that so?

- From what I see 21st century humans are the same greens the same rice anyway. It feels like a high school 2nd year looking at middle school 2nd year and thinking it’s pathetic.

This damned beast is suddenly hitting the human’s bones.

No you idiot. Think a bit.

Let’s say I reincarnated not in 19th century Britain but in Aztec land that ate human flesh. But laughing while deliciously tearing thigh meat saying ‘hmm since the era and place are like that nothing can be done’ is also funny.

- Tearing is correct?

What you bastard?

- No, didn’t you say with your own mouth. Even if the great famine comes there is no way to do anything.

That’s a ten-year-old kid now-

- No. Just say you received divine revelation or have mysterious Eastern knowledge or whatever and run out to the square and shout every day for 8 hours to prepare for the great famine. At least a better result might come than doing nothing. But you, you don’t do that, right?

My head became hot.

They say a person gets angry when at a loss for words, and I was no exception either.

No but what to do about being pissed. Getting a pointed remark from the bastard who short-sold with my soul makes my temper flare!

Unless I was chosen by God or Jesus and dropped to block the tragedies that will happen on this Earth, the first life ended like a dog idiot and the second life is a mortgaged life, right. I also have circumstances, circumstances.

- No what... I didn’t say something about you doing the right thing. What power would I have. Just watching is my duty.

Seeing the guy called Dragon King hesitating and trying to roughly clean up, it was hard to get even angrier. Honestly if called a hypocrite there is nothing particular to refute. But to avoid the sound of hypocrite one has to become Mother Teresa and that is not something doable with an ordinary mentality.

The rough conclusion came out.

I’ll try the things I can do, but that’s all.

Because I am not a great human enough to practice philanthropy even while abandoning my soul.

Instead... it is instead.

If I come to hold more things in hand whether financial power or power and the things I can do increase, then I will really try something.

- Isn’t it too without promise?

Anyway if I can’t hold it my soul flies away. Cut me some slack for this level of compromise you fuck. Do you want to see me suffering in guilt every day?

In the end we reached an implicit agreement not to mention this problem from now on. Don’t they say that in the army too. Just do the middle.

Someday when the time comes I will correct the primitiveness of these 19th century Europeans, but not now.

Now...

***

And 2 years passed to 1845.

I who steadily collected money and received sponsorship and support fire from various notables including Gladstone smoothly entered Eton College.

Eton!

A prestigious school that even first-life Park In-ho knew!

Since it is the cradle that nurtures the best talents supporting the British Empire, it probably won’t be ordinary.

Right.

It was not ordinary.

“Come, how many hits do you want today!”

“We have to correct the discipline that loosened over the weekend, right? Come out in order. Let’s start by getting hit.”

Thud! Thud thud! Thud!

“Aaak!”

“Mom, momaa...”

“These new students lack spirit. In my time, we got hit three times that.”

Eton?

Prestigious?

Why is <​Maljukgeori Cruel History> happening? Huh? Even more peripheral than <​Dead Poets Society>?

- I... I don’t know.

This fuck... do I have to suffer physical violence at this age? Is this real?

Eton College.

Its true nature is just a school where violence runs rampant like the 80s.

Education was just a relic.

Endless memorization.

Endless blank paper.

That damned Latin and that damned Greek.

School food was like trash and the dormitory stuffed students full into a narrow space like a pigsty or chicken coop, accompanied by the miraculous logic that if one eats delicious things and lives in a good space one becomes a lazy pig bastard.

“Uh...”

“Who told you to hesitate like that?”

Yes?

“An Eton student comes to the teachers’ office in such an undignified and unmanly appearance? Get down!”

Only after being hit vigorously with a club could I barely bring up the main point.

“I have Chinese character translation work I’m doing at London University so I have to go out.”

“Who’s permission?”

“Uh... I know it was already discussed in advance when entering.”

“Don’t say funny things. Do you think this is your house’s inner room?! There are strict rules in communal life!”

- Strange. For noble house children the rules seemed a bit different.

Because this is the status system.

Regrettably the authority of university professors didn’t work on these crazy teachers either, and when I sent an angry letter to the university the returning reply was crazy jumping words starting with ‘Hehe nothing can be done we have to respect the authority of the teachers there. When I attended Eton~’.

And at this Eton there was a system called Fagging.

Lower grade young students become underlings of upper grades and instead that upper grade watches the back of his subordinate, but this was not just underling level but really did all the work a servant should do. Cleaning, laundry, shoe polishing, ironing, preparing breakfast, brewing tea etc.

“Arthur Lee?”

“Yes, Master.”

Not SM play. The title is really Master. I’m going crazy.

“You are really lucky. Right?”

“Yes. Being fagged with a merciful senior I’m so happy!”

“Right right. I at least don’t hit the face much. This much is kind. Fuck, I don’t know how many hits I got when I was your age. At that time I resolved that when I become upper grade I absolutely won’t hit-”

This is completely the army.

Eating seniority, living in a living quarters like a pigsty, whether my senior is a devil or not is more important than the teacher, spending time doing things that seem useless in the world.

“Avoid that bastard.”

“Yes?”

“The rumor is widespread that that bastard secretly calls out his fag and eats him. If you don’t want your ass to get fucked somehow quietly avoid.”

I’ll correct.

It doesn’t seem like just the army either.

Hey, jar ghost.

-...Why me suddenly?

Even like this shouldn’t I not despise the 19th century? Huh?

While diligently ironing the master’s clothes, I cursed and cursed again the choice to come to Eton.

It was too fucked to count as coming to the army twice.

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Author's note

Thank you to Time Flight for your sponsorship!!