Chapter 166

Rice…

In the end, I couldn’t get any. That Japanese envoy would soon return home to feast on rice balls made of fluffy white grains, perhaps accompanied by a few slices of fresh sashimi.

God, that sounds delicious…

Any Korean who spends a significant amount of time traveling abroad eventually finds themselves hunting for spicy ramen, kimchi, and a bowl of steaming white rice. But for me, it hadn’t been a mere vacation. It had been thirty years. For thirty agonizing years, I hadn’t tasted a single bowl of proper white rice. I had endured it, suppressing the craving with every ounce of my willpower, and just when I thought a glimmer of hope had finally appeared, it vanished.

“Ugh… aaaagh!“

I rolled around on my bed, grinding my teeth in frustration until tears pricked my eyes. If I had simply lived my life having forgotten what it tasted like, it would have been one thing, but to have hope dangled before my nose only to see it snatched away was a special kind of cruelty. I spent several nights in a state of genuine mourning. Fortunately, the house was well-insulated, so my un-angelic wailing didn’t reach the ears of the public.

***

“Papa, Lord Nemo is crying again.”

“Hush, child. It is because he feels such profound pity for the sinful humans of this world.”

***

Thirty years was a long time.

Despite my efforts, I had managed only a few small victories. I had successfully brewed something resembling soybean paste, soy sauce, and even red chili paste at home. But it wasn’t enough. More precisely, I was suffering from a severe lack of ‘rice power.’

My reaction to the news of Japan proved where my priorities lay. I wasn’t a connoisseur of alternate history novels, but I knew the tropes. Usually, when a modern Korean ends up in the past, they think about seizing the Iwami Silver Mine or dismantling the Satsuma Domain. Me? I thought about white rice.

Thirty years.

While I spent three decades chewing on coarse, multi-grain mush and weeping, that envoy had been lounging at home eating white rice, rice balls, and rice steeped in tea. While I struggled to digest dry bread and resorted to chewing on raw kimchi to settle my stomach, he was likely scraping the scorched rice from the bottom of a stone pot.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt more sorrowful about my “trip” to this era than I did at that moment. I wept for rice as much as I wept for the family I’d left behind.

I want to go to East Asia…

Of course, with Mexico and most of Central and South America under the thumb of Spain and Portugal, the Pacific route was closed to us. To reach Asia, we would have to cross the Atlantic, round the Cape of Good Hope, cross the Indian Ocean, and finally enter the Pacific. It meant traveling more than halfway around the globe.

Actually, it was possible.

I only had to look at our Covenant’s pride—the clippers. Why were those ships built in the first place? According to the game descriptions in my head, they became popular because they could travel between Britain and China in two or three months while maintaining the quality of the tea leaves.

If I invested just a few months, I could somehow dodge the Spanish and Portuguese threats, reach East Asia, and finally have a home-cooked meal. I could bring back rice seeds, experiment with them across our territories, and if successful, we’d be self-sufficient. I wouldn’t have to keep traveling back and forth. If that happened, I’d have nothing left to wish for. If only…

“Lord Nemo! The dispute between the Knights and the Trade Company has flared up again!”

“The Knights are protesting that the Trade Company’s commission on exports is too high, while the Trade Company is demanding we reduce the guaranteed income for the Knights! We don’t know what to do!”

…If it were only possible.

Thump, thump, thump!

The sound of reporters pounding on my door dragged me from my daydream back into the harsh reality. I took a seat, let out a soft sigh, and beckoned them into my office.

“What is it this time?”

“They are trying to steal the fair share of the great Knights who devote themselves to the community! This is an outrage!”

“Stealing?! We are merely trying to ensure our employees receive a just wage!”

Here we go again.

If you asked me if I was busy, I’d say that for a man ruling a country of this scale, I enjoyed a remarkably leisurely life at home. But the moment I stepped outside for anything other than official business, a completely different reality awaited.

“O Nameless One, our Order of Knights has absolute faith that you will deliver a bright and impartial judgment!”

“Lord Nemo, we are certain you will side with the Trade Company…”

The work was piling up. Anyone who has ever tried to take a long vacation while working a corporate job knows the struggle. You pay for that one trip with weeks of suffering. The weeks leading up to the trip are spent frantically clearing your plate, and the weeks after are spent in a hellish attempt to catch up on everything you missed.

That was my situation. I could handle making soy sauce and chili paste because those were home projects. But leaving the house for an extended period for a non-work reason? Impossible. Because, well…

“O Nameless One!”

“M-Lord Nemo!”

Oh my God, the stress.

I was paradoxically busy despite being at leisure.

I needed a vacation.

This country was behaving like a freshly founded startup. It couldn’t even function properly without me. Even a mid-sized company with a bit of history has established regulations and systems so that things keep moving even if one person steps out. Not the Continental Covenant. At least not with me at the helm.

I realized more and more that this nation was fundamentally different from those in East Asia. It wasn’t a centralized kingdom where the monarch sat atop everything and every organization bowed in obedience. This place was more European. The Knights, the Trade Company, the Navy, and the Continental Congress all operated independently. And when a conflict arose between them? The results were dismal.

They all sought the only common thread they shared.

“Lord Nemo…!”

“O Nameless One…!”

Specifically, they sought me. That’s why I was suffering. The moment they had a problem, they started following me around like ducklings. I just wanted to enjoy a quiet, pleasant life. More than anything, I wanted to find my way back to Asia for a bowl of rice.

“This isn’t the first or second time this has happened,” I said, my voice sharp.

“Well, that’s…”

“Can you not handle this yourselves? Does it not shame you that you cannot resolve these matters without running to me every time?”

The representatives paled, their faces flushing with shame. Leaving them to their discomfort, I retreated from the office back into my living quarters.

Haaa… 

Work was stacked everywhere.

As I’d thought before, the Union’s institutions hadn’t been built from the top down. The Knights and various other agencies existed long before a formal Union government was established. Our massive community was maintained through a loose alliance of these entities. And my role was to be the glue that held these independent organizations and associations together into a functioning society.

Technically, a proper state structure had only existed for a few years. It was perhaps natural that the system relied so heavily on me as its leader. I’ll fix it gradually, I told myself. I have plenty of time.

***

The kings of this era were compelled to be nomadic due to the necessity of their lifestyle. Not only did they possess multiple royal palaces, but they also frequently visited the estates of their vassals, residing in their castles. Historians often interpret these travels as a means for the monarch to maintain control over their vassals, and while this was indeed a factor, there was a more primal reason behind these journeys.

“Finally! Escaping the soot of Holyrood Palace feels quite refreshing. Earl Crawford? May I inspect the state of your residence?”

“O-Of course, Your Highness.”

“Hahaha, I appreciate the hard work.”

The truth was that castles became unlivable. Even with 17th-century production levels, having the King and his entourage of hundreds or thousands staying in one place was like a plague of locusts. While they ate, defecated, heated rooms, and gathered servants, the surrounding area was stripped bare. More importantly, the castle itself would become so filled with soot and filth that it became intolerable.

So, the kings moved. Staying at a vassal’s estate had the added bonus of shifting the financial burden of the court’s upkeep onto the vassal, saving the royal treasury a fortune. James had set out with the ambitious plan of draining the Earl of Crawford’s wealth while padding his own budget.

“Your Highness,” an attendant whispered as they approached the destination. “There is a tunnel near the residence. I had the servants investigate, and…”

James I soon received some very interesting news. Very interesting indeed.

“Your Highness, you must flee! We should inform the Earl and turn back immediately—”

The attendant was chirping frantically. To ensure his nagging didn’t reach the ears of the Earl of Crawford riding ahead, James pulled the man into his carriage.

“There will be no flight,” the King said flatly.

“Pardon?”

“Do not inform the Earl. Quietly move only the essential servants and courtiers out of the perimeter.”

The implication was clear. Shortly after the King’s carriage entered the Earl of Crawford’s estate…

BOOM!

A thunderous explosion rocked the earth. The residence collapsed inward, creating a blood-soaked hellscape in an instant. The Earl of Crawford was almost certainly dead.

By “coincidence,” James had stepped out of the carriage for a brief stroll just moments before and survived unscathed. He looked upon the ruins of the Crawford estate, watching the frantic, bloodied survivors with a thin smile. It was likely a plot by radical Catholics. He had survived, and he had won. Finally, he had the perfect justification to exterminate those troublesome followers of the Pope.

James put on a masterful show, appearing dazed and shocked by the “evil plot” of the traitors and weeping for the loss of innocent lives. He then returned to Holyrood Palace in Edinburgh. He was in high spirits, preparing to declare a purge of Catholics with a legitimacy that no one, not even Spain, could challenge.

But then…

“Y-Y-Your Highness.”

“What is it?”

“We are… short on funds.”

“What? What nonsense are you talking about? New goods from Virginia just arrived through Glasgow—”

“They are… gone, sire.”

“What?”

“Explosions have been reported throughout Glasgow. The goods from Virginia, along with the supplies and funds intended as payment, were caught in the blasts…”

The attendant couldn’t finish. James had clutched the back of his head and collapsed.

The Catholic bombings hadn’t just targeted the Scottish King and his treasury.

Liverpool. The seat of the new Parliament leading England. Just as the newly built parliament building was being inaugurated amidst cheers and formal ceremonies…

Rumble!

“Wait—what’s happening?”

“Oh, fuck!”

KABOOM!

Everything came crashing down. A significant number of representatives were killed or maimed. Cromwell, who had survived by sheer luck, looked at the collapsed building and began tearing at his hair in a panic.

“Do you have any idea how much I donated to build that thing?!”

As the British Isles fell into chaos…

“Now, the supplies that arrived from England and Scotland this time…”

“There are none.”

“What do you mean, Walter?”

“Well, ahem. Lord Nemo? The thing is…”

The Continental Covenant was also plunged into a boiling pot of confusion. The Federal Trade Company, having lost its trade goods in an instant, shrieked in agony. The Knights, who relied on the Trade Company to distribute payments to the people, fell into a state of panic. The Navy, which imported cannons from England, and the tribes involved in the multi-level gift trade, all found themselves spiraling into chaos.

“What is the meaning of this?! That is your responsibility, and we demand our payment!”

“Payment my ass! We don’t have the money, so how can we pay you?!”

“Don’t think I don’t know about the Livres you’ve been hoarding!”

“We weren’t hoarding! We were stockpiling precious metals for emergencies—wait, are you trying to start something?!”

“Lord Nemo! Please, look at this! The tyranny of the Trade Company has reached its limit!”

“It was your fault for pushing the western expansion so recklessly! Master, please say something about the Knights’ mismanagement!”

“Don’t you dare use the Knights as an excuse! Our tribe’s trade network is failing right now! Do something!”

“Lord Nemo!”

“O Nameless One!”

“O Supreme Being!”

Kim Lee-sang realized he had been wrong.

A company—or a country—couldn’t run like a startup forever.