A few days after I stayed as a guest at Gladstone's house.
Fortunately, I was able to return to the palace after receiving word from a servant that Victoria's anger had finally cooled.
Knowing her personality well, I had been certain from the beginning that this would never last more than three days at most.
What is the defining trait of someone with a fiery temper?
They flare up instantly—and cool down just as quickly.
Put harshly, they're like a boiling kettle. Put kindly, they're the sort of person who doesn't cling to emotions for long.
No matter how angry she was, she wasn't the type to leave her beloved husband stranded outside the palace for days on end.
Besides, even if I stayed at the townhouse of an influential figure like Gladstone or Disraeli, if this dragged on too long rumors would inevitably start spreading.
The Prince Consort staying outside Buckingham Palace for days?
If that didn't cause whispers, that would be stranger.
Whether for that reason or not, Victoria seemed to have finally moved past anger and bargaining and reached acceptance.
As expected of my wonderful wife. I knew I could trust her.
Putting on the most apologetic expression I could manage, I gently kissed the back of Victoria's hand.
Instead of pulling her hand away, she maintained a slightly sulky expression and pushed a sheet of paper toward me.
"What is this?"
"Sign it. I thought about it, and to be honest, what you said does make sense. So if you promise this one thing, I won't try to stop you anymore."
"Let's see…'I, Killian, swear in the name of the Queen that if I go to war, I will prioritize my personal safety above all else. I promise never to approach dangerous front lines and to return after the war without a single injury.
Should I fail to keep this promise, I swear in the name of Her Majesty the Queen and God that I will henceforth listen to my wife and never again approach any dangerous place.'"
After that, several additional clauses followed.
Most of them were essentially promises that I would not act recklessly in the war.
Had she been writing this by herself while I was gone?
Some of the sentences clearly carried the suppressed anger she must have felt while writing them.
Because of that, I couldn't help feeling a little guilty.
The wise course of action here was to keep quiet and sign.
It's not like I'm some kind of war fanatic.
Why would I want to go to war again and again?
After watching me immediately take the pen and sign, Victoria shook her head slightly and let out a long sigh that was half resignation and half relief.
"You do realize that if you deliberately put yourself in danger after making this promise, that makes you a terrible person, right?"
"Don't worry. I will never—absolutely never—do anything that would make you suffer."
"…Alright. You're not a child. I know you've thought this through, so I won't say anything more."
For the royal family of the British Empire to be respected forever.
If this were only for my own sake, I honestly wouldn't need to go to war at all.
But if I wanted to pass even greater authority and prestige to our children, there was no better method.
And Victoria understood that as well.
Of course, the fact that Britain was preparing for war was still a secret even from countries like France or Austria.
We absolutely couldn't let it become public.
Very few people knew about it, so there was no point discussing it further.
As an awkward silence fell between us, Victoria cleared her throat and carefully changed the subject.
"By the way, Parliament mentioned an interesting schedule. You know about it too, right? The audience with the new ambassador."
"Ah… is it already that time?"
"It's Joseon, correct? The place where you were born."
When a foreign ambassador assumes office, it is customary for them to meet the Queen and pledge their efforts toward the friendship between the two nations.
Since Joseon had formally dispatched an ambassador, they would naturally have to go through the same process.
"It is where I was born… but it's a rather complicated place."
Victoria's expression stiffened slightly at my answer.
She knew everything—how I had lived in Joseon, and how I had eventually come to Britain.
So even if it was my homeland, she probably didn't expect me to have particularly fond feelings for it.
"Still, the man coming as ambassador seems fairly reasonable. I've met him a couple of times. He's quick-witted and seems good at reading the situation."
"That name is difficult to pronounce. Jagang Kim? A representative of one of Joseon's most prestigious families… perhaps something like a ducal house? The people coming with him are also said to be from fairly prominent families. It seems they've made quite an effort."
It was surprising enough that Joseon had promised to send an ambassador as quickly as possible.
But when I heard that the envoy would be Kim Jwa-geun, I was honestly stunned.
From Joseon's perspective, Britain was essentially the leader of distant Western barbarians on the other side of the world.
Sending someone here was almost equivalent to exile.
Had he perhaps lost a power struggle?
Although considering the large entourage he was bringing, that seemed strange.
The composition of the delegation was peculiar as well.
Most of them came from respectable families, but what stood out was how young they were.
Their intentions were somewhat visible, yet not entirely clear.
"Killian, I will handle the preparations for receiving the ambassador. You should focus on the matters you are currently working on."
Receiving ambassadors was normally the Queen's responsibility.
But since the envoy was coming from the land where I had been born, it had apparently become a topic of conversation without my knowledge.
Judging from Victoria's somewhat displeased expression, I could easily guess what she was thinking.
Still, I decided not to comment.
After all, I wanted to see Joseon's Confucian traditionalists come to the British Empire and collapse in shock.
"Victoria, if you want to see their genuine reaction, it would be better to show off our superior technology rather than our military power. They already know our military is strong. If we emphasize that, they'll probably just convince themselves that we're nothing more than powerful barbarians."
"Ah, I see. Alright. I'll inform the Foreign Office."
The slight upward curl of Victoria's lips felt like a preview of the shock the Joseon envoys were about to experience.
Still, we shouldn't frighten them too much.
They've practically been exiled from their homeland already. If we scare them so badly they wet themselves, that would be a little cruel.
For Kim Jwa-geun, who was riding a steamship for the first time in his life, the journey to Britain itself was a series of wonders.
If that was the case for him, how much more overwhelming must it have been for the young officials who had never once stepped outside Joseon?
To be honest, their reactions at first had been ridiculous.
"They say Westerners eat people. What if something terrible happens to us?"
"Don't they concentrate all their technology into weapons? What if they use us to manufacture more weapons?"
"Ah… if I get eaten, who will take care of my mother back in Joseon?"
The nonsense was so absurd that Kim Jwa-geun didn't even bother correcting them.
But he heard every word.
Once they arrived in the capital of Britain, those very officials would wish they could sew their own mouths shut.
So what was the point of scolding them now?
As expected, their childish reactions gradually subsided once they boarded the British steamship departing from Shanghai.
After riding a vessel that ignored the wind entirely, could one still dismiss its creators as ignorant barbarians?
That question inevitably arose.
Kim Jwa-geun understood the feeling very well.
And finally, when they reached Britain itself—
Not only the young Joseon officials, but even Kim Jwa-geun stood with his mouth open, staring in astonishment at the spectacle of modern civilization before them.
"I–Is this the railway we've heard about?"
"Yes. With this, not only people but enormous quantities of resources and goods can be transported quickly."
"How fast does it travel?"
"Well… perhaps it's easier to explain with a distance example. His Highness once said it could travel from Hanseong to Dongnae in a single day. Though I don't know where those places are."
"From Hanseong to Dongnae in one day? This enormous iron carriage?"
If one traveled alone, changing horses endlessly at relay stations might make such speed possible.
But a massive iron machine carrying hundreds of people and enormous quantities of goods moving that fast?
Their shock, already overwhelming, reached its peak when they finally arrived in London.
Carriages constantly rolling across well-paved roads.
Gentlemen walking about in exotic yet clearly high-quality uniforms.
And buildings stretching endlessly along the streets—far grander than even the tiled mansions that symbolized wealth in Joseon.
"Wh–What is that building? It looks both majestic and beautiful… like some incredible work of art…"
"That is St. Paul's Cathedral. It's a religious building."
"Good heavens… Then what about that magnificent palace over there?"
"Ah, that's Westminster. It's where the members of Parliament gather to debate and pass laws. Tomorrow, you will go behind it to Buckingham Palace and meet Her Majesty."
"I… I see."
As the ambassador representing Joseon, Kim Jwa-geun could not afford to appear intimidated.
He straightened his clothes and tried to maintain a dignified posture.
But the young officials accompanying him already looked half out of their minds.
It couldn't be helped.
For their entire lives, the most prosperous city they had known was Hanseong.
Being suddenly dropped into a place like this—how could the shock be anything less?
To make matters worse, the British officials did not immediately escort them to their residence.
Instead, they guided them through the bustling districts of London, showing off their superior technology as if deliberately putting it on display.
They spent the entire day touring.
It felt as though they had experienced every wonder they would encounter in a lifetime.
But the real shock came afterward.
Once the sun set.
In Joseon, the only way to illuminate the darkness was with candles or torches.
But not here.
"Wh–What is this place? Why is it so dark without any lamps?"
"Are they deliberately insulting us by not even providing lanterns?"
As anxious complaints began to spread, one of the attendants reached toward something.
A soft hissing sound filled the room.
Then something unbelievable happened.
Flash.
"Ahhh! Fire!"
"W–Wait! That's not fire… it looks like a lamp!"
"A lamp? What kind of lamp lights the entire room like that?!"
Some officials fell backward in fright.
Others stared upward in a trance at the astonishingly bright light pouring from the ceiling.
The attendant calmly turned the light off and on again while helping the fallen officials to their feet.
"This is called a gas lamp. As you can see, when lit it's far brighter than candles, so you can live comfortably even at night."
"My heavens…"
"This… this is Britain? These are the barbarians?"
Man-eating monsters.
Barbarians ignorant of Confucian virtue.
Fools who devoted all their technology solely to warfare.
Those who had confidently said such things not long ago now stood frozen in silence, unable to utter a word.
But even though events were unfolding exactly as he had expected, Kim Jwa-geun could not laugh.
Rather than laughing, he found himself staring at the gas lamps illuminating the building, unable to suppress a sigh.
Learn Western technology.
Modernize Joseon.
That had been his plan—his goal—as he came here.
But where could one even begin?
How could Joseon possibly become like this?
The gap was simply too vast.
So vast that the thought itself felt impossible.
And now, he was beginning to fear the meeting with the Queen tomorrow.
If they showed him something even more overwhelming then…
He felt as though his spirit might truly break.
Such was the feeling of frogs who had finally left the well and seen the world for the first time.