Though bolstered by numerous allies and brimming with confidence, the Ottoman Empire had not truly regained the strength of its former peak.
About a month after both sides formally entered the war—
The first major naval battle took place off Sinop, on the northern coast of the Anatolian Peninsula, with both fleets fully prepared.
The result was not merely a defeat for the Ottomans—
It was a one-sided annihilation.
The primary cause was Russia's deployment of modern explosive shells.
Against such weapons, Ottoman wooden warships were little more than floating firewood.
A combat ratio of ninety to one.
Ten out of eleven ships crippled.
It was a defeat destined to be recorded in history.
Following this, the Ottomans suffered consecutive losses in subsequent engagements, and morale plummeted.
Meanwhile, Admiral Pavel Nakhimov's repeated reports of victory caused Russia's confidence to soar ever higher.
"Ha! Just look at this. The Ottomans can't even stand against the might of Russia's elite forces."
"They were never a match for us to begin with. The Black Sea is effectively under our control now. Once we drive them out of the Caucasus, they'll have no strength left to resist."
"At least we've secured our initial objectives before the British and French reinforcements arrive. If not for them, we could have completely crushed those decrepit Ottomans."
The more he thought about it, the more regret gnawed at him.
If only Britain and France had remained neutral—
So much had gone wrong because of Nesselrode's catastrophic misjudgment.
Avoid war? Britain?
What nonsense.
"Is it confirmed that Britain is assembling a large fleet?"
"Yes. And France is preparing to deploy over a hundred thousand troops on its own. If Austria joins as well, the front could become dangerously overstretched."
"Isn't it absurd? So-called Christian nations siding with Islam to suppress fellow Orthodox believers. At this rate, they're the true Antichrists."
Catholics. Anglicans. And even Protestant Prussia considering intervention.
All branches of Christianity joining hands to strike Orthodoxy—it was as ridiculous as it was infuriating.
What unsettled Nicholas most was the possibility of Austria and Prussia advancing from the north.
Russia could manage the Black Sea and Caucasus fronts alone—
But if forced to contend with Austria and Prussia as well, could it truly hold?
Worse still, with Prussian cooperation, the British navy could easily operate in the Baltic Sea and bombard Russia's northern coast.
A full-scale landing might be unlikely—
But with Prussian support, even that nightmare could not be dismissed.
After weighing everything, only one conclusion remained.
"We must kill as many Ottoman troops as possible before British and French reinforcements arrive. Tell the admiral to intensify the offensive."
"Yes, Your Majesty!"
No matter how boldly Britain and France had declared war, it would take time—considerable time—to send their forces from distant Western Europe.
At the earliest, their arrival would come after the new year.
And so, without succumbing to complacency, the Russian army pressed its offensive even harder.
Watching this unfold—
Greece grew increasingly impatient.
"As expected, Russia is crushing the feeble Ottomans and monopolizing all the glory. And yet our proud army has achieved nothing! Why is that?!"
"That is… we still require time to fully prepare our forces. Once winter passes, we will restore the glory of ancient Greece."
"Nonsense! By then, Britain and France will have arrived! Are you suggesting we fight them as well?!"
Otto's plan had been simple.
Declare war.
Immediately march into Thessaly and reclaim it.
Then, once the year turned and Anglo-French forces arrived, withdraw gracefully, claiming inability to continue—and shift all blame onto Russia.
A flawless, elegant, perfectly rational strategy—
And yet these incompetent fools couldn't even execute that much?
"Your Majesty, as you know, preparing the army requires time—"
"No! The Ottomans are nothing but a toothless lion—no, not even a lion, just a hyena! We can defeat them simply by marching in!"
"…Pardon?"
"A full offensive! We reclaim the glory of Greece before Britain and France arrive!"
Thus, Otto—whose brilliance might rival even Alexander's—marched his army proudly toward Thessaly.
The staff were horrified by this reckless gamble.
And yet—
Against all expectations, they began winning.
"Good heavens… how are we still winning?"
"It seems the Ottomans never anticipated an invasion this year."
"After their crushing defeat at Sinop, they appear to have committed nearly all forces to the Russian front."
"Hahahaha! Do you see? I told you—they're not even worthy of being called hyenas. Press the attack! Thessaly—no, even Macedonia before the year ends!"
In truth, it was little more than looting an empty house.
Still, the Greek army marched forward, striking down the 'oppressive' Ottomans and steadily expanding its territory.
But success came too easily.
And somewhere along the way—
The brakes failed.
At first, they had planned to stop after securing Thessaly.
But greed grew.
Perhaps… Macedonia too?
Just a little more.
Just one more push before withdrawing.
Like a gambler cursed to take one more step—
Even as winter deepened and the year drew to a close, Greece continued pushing northward, unable to stop.
***
Amid the turmoil over whether or not to declare war on Russia,
Joseon's position—initially leaning toward waiting and observing—began to stabilize after Kim Jwa-geun's full report finally arrived.
But that did not bring comfort.
Because his report laid bare a brutal truth—
Relentlessly.
"Is the gap between Britain and Joseon truly this vast?"
"It is difficult to believe, but this is not merely Kim Jwa-geun's personal view. It is the shared assessment of everyone at the embassy."
"…Unbelievable."
To the king, the report read almost like fiction.
Iron machines transporting hundreds—thousands—across distances greater than from Hanseong to Dongnae.
Massive iron structures lining entire cities.
Lights hundreds of times brighter than candles, turning night into day.
It all seemed impossible.
And it wasn't just military technology—
Social systems, education, medicine—every conceivable field showed an overwhelming gap.
If that were all, it would be one thing.
But Europe's open ambition to dominate Asia—
That was the true problem.
"Kim Jwa-geun predicts that within thirty years, most Asian nations will fall to European powers. He insists that to avoid this fate, Joseon must actively support Britain and remain within its alliance. What do you think?"
"Your Majesty, even if that is true, would that not make us effectively a British colony?"
"This resembles past debates about adopting Qing advancements. We take what is useful, discard what is not, and find our own balance."
"Your Majesty! Kim Jwa-geun has seen more of the world than anyone in Joseon. His counsel must not be taken lightly!"
"Even if Britain is a barbarian power, it would not turn an ally into a colony overnight. If we maintain the alliance properly, we may indeed shelter behind them from European greed."
The court once again split into factions, voices clashing in heated debate.
In the end—
The decision fell to the king.
Yi Hwan, who had been deep in thought, slowly opened his eyes.
"I find no contradictions in Kim Jwa-geun's report. For now, we shall follow his advice. Declare war on Russia and prepare accordingly."
"Your Majesty, but—"
"And we will dispatch additional envoys to verify these claims. If proven false, we may still reverse course."
A compromise.
Reluctantly, even the opposing ministers bowed.
"How shall we draft the declaration of war?"
"It will be prepared within two days for Your Majesty's approval."
"Good. Send word to Shanghai and request the arrival schedule of the British fleet. Concentrate supplies in Hamgyeong Province and ensure our borders are secured against any Russian incursion."
"We obey!"
Later that night, alone in his chambers,
Yi Hwan reread Kim Jwa-geun's report.
Truthfully—
What were the chances it was wrong?
Kim Jwa-geun was no fool.
A man at the pinnacle of Joseon's elite would not gamble everything on a lie so easily exposed.
No.
This had to be treated as truth.
But if it was true—
Did Joseon even have a future?
What path should it take?
His head throbbed.
His stomach twisted painfully.
"Urgh…"
Lately, nothing digested properly.
His face had begun to swell.
Was it stress—or illness?
Even the royal physician's medicine had little effect.
Yet at a time when the nation stood at a crossroads, he could not afford weakness.
Gritting his teeth, he pushed through the pain and read the declaration of war prepared by the State Council.
It was fierce.
Solemn.
Filled with force.
Joseon hereby recognizes the declaration of war by Britain and France against Russia as a legitimate act to uphold world peace, and proclaims the following:
Joseon condemns all acts of aggression by Russia and, as an ally of Britain, declares war upon the aggressor. In unity with its allies, Joseon shall expel Russian forces from its vicinity and fight without retreat until final victory is achieved. Joseon shall not tolerate any future interference by Russia and prays in advance for the triumph of the alliance that defends peace.
What followed was a torrent of fierce denunciations, reminiscent of a war proclamation.
"Bring me the royal seal."
With the stamp that granted it official power—
Joseon's future was decided.