The day after the meeting was abruptly interrupted by the unexpected report.
I sat across from François Guizot, reading through the detailed report that had arrived overnight. From time to time I glanced up at him.
He had probably read the same report.
And judging from the look on his face, things were not going well.
For a moment I almost felt sorry for him—
Yeah, right.
When else would I get such a perfect opportunity to rub it in?
"Minister, you needn't worry too much," I said with a polite smile. "The admiral and the French sailors are all safe and in good health."
"…Thank you."
"It seems the Joseon authorities have already contacted the governor in Shanghai. They say they are protecting the French soldiers respectfully—Bulranseo, as they call France—and asked that we come retrieve them. Shanghai has gladly agreed."
"…I can only express my gratitude."
I waved my hand dismissively.
"Ha ha. France would surely do the same in such a situation. Please don't trouble yourself over it."
Of course, it was hard to imagine a British warship ever running aground on a reef and requiring French protection.
But there was no need to say that aloud.
"Are we certain the Joseon authorities are truly protecting our men safely?" Guizot asked.
"Of course. In fact, they even sent a letter expressing their wish to apologize politely for the misunderstanding surrounding the missionaries."
"…."
I handed Guizot a letter attached to the Shanghai governor's report.
It bore the personal seal of Kim Jwa-geun.
The wording was long and flowery, but the meaning was simple.
Your warship fired the first shots, but we will treat your soldiers with courtesy and cause them no harm. Let us forget past misunderstandings and move forward.
Strictly speaking, the French had fired cannons first.
If Joseon had chosen to treat the sailors as prisoners of war, France would have had little ground to protest.
There were no prisoner exchange treaties between the two nations.
When Guizot read the translated letter, his face twisted visibly.
Clearly he had hoped to use this incident as an excuse to gain influence in Joseon.
I offered him my most sincere condolences.
"The west coast of Joseon is famous for its unpredictable currents and countless islands," I said kindly.
"The tides are particularly fast there. Even the world's second-strongest navy could easily suffer an accident without proper preparation. It wasn't the soldiers' fault."
"…Yes," Guizot replied stiffly. "Our country has learned a great lesson from this incident."
"Our navy in Shanghai will take custody of your men," I continued.
"Then they'll travel via Hong Kong on a ship bound for France. We will see them safely to Europe, so please rest assured."
"Thank you. In that case, the expenses—"
"There's no need to calculate it in money," I said lightly.
"We're already negotiating here, so why not include a few clauses in the agreement?"
"For instance, we could insert a statement that neither France nor Joseon will pursue responsibility for the recent incident."
If he had objections, he could speak up.
But judging by the way he bit his lip, Guizot wasn't in a position to argue.
"And escorting your soldiers safely to Paris will not require any additional payment," I added.
"Frankly, this isn't the sort of event either of our nations would want loudly discussed. Quietly resolving the matter seems wiser."
"…We would appreciate that."
"Good. In that case, once you return to France, please begin preparations for the canal project."
"Once we purchase the shares, construction can begin immediately."
Guizot hesitated.
"But the operating rights will only be transferred if Your Highness's information proves true. If France begins preparing construction now and your information turns out to be false, wouldn't that complicate matters?"
"Not at all," I said.
"If the information proves false, France simply keeps the canal."
"Surely France would also like to control a canal connecting the Mediterranean Sea and the Red Sea."
If the canal was going to be built anyway, deciding its ownership could wait until construction began.
Guizot knew as well as I did that he had no real choice.
After a long sigh, he nodded.
"…Very well. But I have one condition."
"So let me get this straight," said Louis Philippe I.
"You promised to establish a canal company immediately and begin negotiations with Egypt?"
Guizot had returned to Paris and was immediately summoned to the royal palace.
He had left boasting that France would extract concessions from Britain.
Instead, he had returned having granted nearly everything Britain wanted.
Still, the king did not scold him.
After all, the disaster had been caused by the navy—not Guizot.
"Isn't it rather hasty to promise construction immediately?" the king asked.
"You could have delayed."
"Your Majesty need not worry," Guizot replied.
"If their intelligence proves false, France keeps the canal rights."
"Moreover, Britain promised not to obstruct the project—and even to cooperate."
"And regardless of who owns the canal, neither Britain nor France will face discrimination in passage."
The king considered the matter.
If France built the canal with Egyptian approval, the greatest obstacle would undoubtedly be Britain.
But if Britain guaranteed non-interference…
The project could become enormously profitable.
And if the rights ultimately went to Britain, it would still mean France had avoided disaster thanks to British intelligence.
"…Very well," the king said slowly.
"It's unfortunate we failed to gain influence in Asia, but with our sailors captured in Joseon, there was little choice."
"Still, what exactly was the basis for Britain's warning?"
Guizot hesitated.
"…Your Majesty, the explanation is difficult to believe."
"But if it's true… the gap between Britain and France may be greater than I imagined."
"Stop circling around the point and speak plainly."
"They believe that sometime between next year and the year after, Europe will experience widespread crop failures."
"Grain prices will surge."
"Economic recession will follow."
"And farmers' revolts will break out across the continent."
"The politically marginalized bourgeoisie may join them."
"And together they could unleash another great revolutionary wave in France."
"…What?"
The king frowned.
"How could anyone possibly know wheat harvests will fail a year or two in advance?"
Guizot continued quickly.
"The British Prince Consort accurately diagnosed the potato blight in Ireland and saved hundreds of thousands of lives."
"If he predicts a European famine, he must have his reasons."
"The blight in Ireland will inevitably spread across Europe."
"That alone might not cause continent-wide famine," the king argued.
"True. The real problem is that Britain also predicts simultaneous wheat failures."
"They have compared several years of data—temperature, rainfall, and harvest yields across Europe."
"They believe the current patterns resemble those that historically precede major crop failures."
"They call it the calm before the storm."
"If the trend continues, many regions will experience failed wheat harvests within one or two years."
The king blinked.
"You're telling me Britain has compiled years of European rainfall and agricultural data… and is using it to predict harvest cycles?"
It sounded unbelievable.
But if Britain lacked confidence, they would never demand canal ownership as the price.
Still, one question remained.
"Even if everything you say is true," the king said slowly, "why is the contract with the British royal family rather than the government?"
Guizot hesitated.
"…Because the data belongs to the Prince Consort personally."
"…What?"
"I'll explain everything from the beginning."
The king felt suddenly like an old man left behind by the times.
The wealth of the British Royal Family was immense.
But it could not be spent freely.
Any financial action that might significantly influence the national economy traditionally required approval from the government or Parliament.
This practice served as a safeguard to maintain royal political neutrality.
Naturally, purchasing the future operating rights of the Suez Canal would fall under such scrutiny.
And as a law-abiding citizen, I had no intention of ignoring established customs.
So as soon as Guizot returned to France, I summoned the leaders of both political parties to discuss the matter.
The reaction was immediate.
"…Pardon?"
"A canal?"
"You mean connecting the Mediterranean and the Red Sea?"
"How?"
Even William Gladstone, Benjamin Disraeli, and Henry John Temple reacted the same way.
When I finished explaining, every one of them sat there with mouths hanging open.
"Wait," Gladstone said.
"You're saying France agreed to sell all the shares to the British royal family?"
"Why…?"
"And shouldn't the British government be the one purchasing them?"
Clearly they understood the canal's strategic value instantly.
But so did I.
Why on earth would I hand over such a golden opportunity to the government?
"The government should buy it?" I asked innocently.
"Why?"
"Because a canal of this scale would obviously become a national project," Gladstone replied.
"The government must take responsibility."
"But the government won't be building it," I said calmly.
"The royal household will simply purchase all the shares France holds."
"Then the contracting party should be changed from the Crown to the government—"
"There is no need," I interrupted.
"This agreement is between the British royal household and France."
"I'm informing Parliament only because tradition requires consultation before large expenditures."
"I am not requesting assistance."
The meaning was clear.
This was a notification.
Not a request.
Gladstone and Palmerston spoke simultaneously.
"You signed such an agreement alone?"
"At the very least, you should have consulted the government."
"I did," I replied.
"I told the prime minister we might obtain something significant from France."
"Isn't that right?"
Prime Minister Charles Wellesley looked momentarily stunned.
"Wait… you meant the canal?"
"I said I understood, but…"
He had obviously never imagined something this enormous.
"Well," I said, "I informed you in advance."
Palmerston tried again.
"In that case, perhaps the royal household could hold half the shares and the government the other half—"
"This was a private transaction," I replied calmly.
"There is no reason for government involvement."
"But without parliamentary approval, royal funds cannot be used," Gladstone countered.
"If Parliament refuses, the purchase cannot proceed."
Exactly as expected.
They wanted control of the canal.
But I had anticipated this.
I nodded calmly while sipping my tea.
"Very well. If Parliament objects, we won't use royal funds."
"Thank you," Gladstone said. "Then the investment can be split between the Crown and the government—"
"I will fund the entire project with my personal money."
"…Excuse me?"
"If the royal family cannot own the canal, then I will."
The room fell silent.
Gladstone stopped speaking.
Palmerston froze.
Even Disraeli blinked silently.
Clink.
The soft sound of Charles Wellesley setting down his teacup echoed through the room.
Ah.
Silence.
How peaceful.
And as the saying goes—
silence means agreement.
So naturally, I assumed we were all in unanimous accord.
Honestly.
They should have accepted it the first time.
Why make me repeat myself?