"We deeply lament that Asia's credibility has fallen to the ground due to the Qing's treacherous and lawless schemes. Therefore, both in the previous war and now, we have chosen—willingly, as befits a righteous state—to board your nation's vessel in order to uphold proper conduct."
"…What is this?"
"It's Joseon's reply."
"No, I can see that. Captain—what kind of magic did you use to make the King of Joseon agree to come aboard our ship?"
"Uh… I simply delivered your letter as instructed, Your Highness. They huddled among themselves for a bit, and then sent this response. Doesn't this just prove how much they want to meet you?"
So they had already made a bold move by coming all the way to Dongnae—but agreeing to board the ship on top of that?
That, I hadn't expected.
Still, looking closely, there was a clue in their wording. 'The Qing's treacherous and lawless schemes.' Why use such strong language?
When I first heard they intended to break away from Qing influence, I thought it was just policy direction.
But this?
This was full throttle—no hesitation.
King Heonjong… I didn't expect him to have this kind of edge.
From what Kim Jwa-geun told me, he was intelligent and curious about Western knowledge—but this went beyond expectations.
"Do we have a ceremonial guard with us?"
"We do. The naval honor guard assigned for Your Highness's protection."
"Right. Then prepare a formal reception. A king is coming in person—if we treat him carelessly, it would stain the dignity of the British Empire."
"Understood. I'll make sure everything is prepared without the slightest oversight."
I said, 'If you don't like it, come to me,'—and he actually did.
That meant I now had to fulfill my duty as the host.
Even if this was an improvised meeting, the British military still set the global standard for such ceremonies.
Regardless of Joseon's relative weakness, a king stepping into our domain meant one thing: this was a matter of national prestige.
Captain William saluted and quickly left the room.
I had expected more back-and-forth—a drawn-out battle of pride—before they agreed.
But if he was coming today, preparations would be tight.
Still, protocol wasn't something you could brush off with a casual "Oops."
The soldiers were probably cursing under their breath right now after being ordered to prepare a full ceremony on such short notice.
If they pulled it off cleanly, I'd make sure they were properly rewarded.
And now that things had come to this, I couldn't remain at ease either.
From this moment on, I was no longer Killian the honorary admiral—
but Killian Gore Hanover, Prince Consort of the British Empire.
I carefully removed my admiral's cap and took out the formal uniform I had stored away.
* * *
It was enormous.
It had looked large from afar—but up close, the sheer presence was overwhelming.
Still, as King of Joseon, I had to maintain my composure.
I kept my expression firm—but a glance behind me showed that my officials were barely holding themselves together.
Fear… awe… curiosity…
They wanted to step aboard, but feared what might happen if something went wrong.
All of it was written plainly on their faces.
"Minister of Rites, why do you look so uneasy?"
"U-uneasy? Not at all, Your Majesty!"
"Is that so?"
"Yes! No matter how large it is, it is still merely a vessel floating on water. I swear—"
HOOOOOOOONK—!
"Waaah!"
"The ship—thunder from the ship!"
As one of the anchored vessels released steam with a deafening blast, several younger officials from Hanseong screamed and stumbled backward.
Heonjong clicked his tongue quietly and turned his gaze away.
"Steamships have been known for how long now, and yet you still react like this? Ignorance is not a sin—but refusing to learn what is already known is a failing, both as a scholar and as a servant of the state. Open your eyes and see how far ahead they are."
"Yes, Your Majesty!"
"We have committed a grave error!"
"Do not simply reject Western things as barbaric. One day, Joseon must build ships greater and stronger than these."
For now, the alliance with Britain—and Killian's existence—meant safety.
Many officials seemed to take comfort in that.
Who would dare attack Joseon, an ally of Britain?
It wasn't entirely wrong.
But what then—if Britain's stance changed?
If, after Killian's death, voices arose within Britain questioning the value of the alliance?
What if they decided it would be simpler to make Joseon a colony?
Human memory fades quickly.
Five years. Ten. Fifty.
No one could guarantee how Britain would view Joseon in the future.
That was why they had to find a path to self-strengthening—starting now.
The problem was, such things could not be achieved overnight.
And standing before this overwhelming warship only made that reality clearer.
Even if Joseon devoted itself to studying Western technology—
how long would it take to build something like this?
Until then, they would have no choice but to rely on Britain—
or deepen the alliance further.
Before coming here, he had been uncertain.
But now that the moment had arrived, his mind felt strangely at ease.
Do as I will. No regrets.
By the time he finished gathering his thoughts, they had arrived before the great ship.
Led by a British officer, they boarded.
Music—unfamiliar yet clearly ceremonial—filled the air.
Rows of British soldiers stood in perfect formation.
Different from Joseon's rituals—different weapons, different style.
Everything drew the eye.
And among them—
the one who drew the most attention stood at the very front.
A young man.
Tall, composed, dressed in refined Western attire.
Sharp features.
Not exactly as imagined—but from Kim Jwa-geun's description, there was no mistaking him.
"Welcome aboard this vessel. I am Killian Gore Hanover, representative of Her Majesty the Queen and Supreme Commander of Asian Affairs. It is an honor to receive His Majesty, the King of Joseon."
Following prior instruction, Heonjong moved with the flow of the ceremony—guided here and there, observing the ship as he walked.
There were flashes—strange devices capturing images.
Everything was unfamiliar.
But undeniably fascinating.
And at last—
after the formalities ended—
he sat face to face with the man he had long wished to meet.
He took a quiet breath, then spoke with a smile.
"It is a pleasure to finally meet the man whose name has resounded across all Eight Provinces of Joseon."
Now—
it begins.
No matter the outcome, he would speak his mind without regret.
* * *
How many historical dramas had I watched about this era back in the 21st century?
More than I could count.
And those depictions of Joseon kings all shared one thing—
a certain rigidity.
Even as kings, many carried that unmistakable Confucian stiffness.
And honestly?
The officials I had met were no different.
Kim Jwa-geun. Heungseon Daewongun.
All of them had been steeped in Neo-Confucian orthodoxy.
From what I'd heard, King Heonjong would be the same.
But the young king sitting before me—
felt different.
Not free-spirited—
but… detached.
Almost as if he had let go of something.
The dark circles under his eyes made it clear his health wasn't good.
Maybe that had something to do with it.
"If I had known Your Majesty's health was unwell, I would not have suggested meeting in Dongnae. I must apologize for making you come this far."
"No, it is quite all right. In fact, leaving the palace has lifted my spirits. And thanks to that, I've had the chance to board such a magnificent ship. I hear it is not only large, but faster than our own vessels—seeing it in person makes it even harder to believe. Truly remarkable."
"It runs on steam. The navy represents the forefront of technology—and the pride of the British Empire."
"I can see that. When I heard Qing stood no chance against your nation, I struggled to believe it. But had someone shown me ships like these back then, I would have understood immediately."
His gaze wandered across the ship—bright, almost boyish.
Like someone seeing something extraordinary for the first time.
No—
not just youth.
Warships had that effect on men of any age.
Then my attention shifted to the historian behind him, writing furiously.
What kind of record would this become?
Perhaps noticing my gaze, Heonjong gave a faint, apologetic smile.
"I must apologize for bringing a historian despite this being a private audience. But in Joseon, dismissing one would invite accusations of tyranny. If it makes you uncomfortable, I can have him withdrawn."
"Not at all. If this conversation is to be recorded for posterity, then that has its own charm. Though… will what I just said be recorded as well?"
As if in answer, the historian's brush moved even faster.
I should get a copy of this record someday.
Late Joseon records weren't always perfectly reliable, if I recalled correctly.
Still—
this was mostly curiosity.
"Thank you for your understanding. Many would find such recording uncomfortable, yet you accept it so easily."
"I am familiar with such customs. And after Your Majesty has come all this way, it would be petty of me to deny such a small accommodation."
"In that case… may I make a request?"
"A request?"
"From the moment I saw this ship, I've been thinking…"
Ah.
Here it comes.
Technology transfer? Weapons?
He's getting straight to the point sooner than expected.
Interesting.
As I leaned forward slightly—
Heonjong calmly took a sip of tea and pointed toward the harbor.
"Before I disembark… would you conduct a trial run? I would like to observe the ship in motion from the deck."
…
I see.
Completely understood.
At the end of the day—
a man is still a man.
And no man can resist a warship.
A sense of kinship rose within me.
This—
was going to be fun.