“However, the petition is not without merit,” Hyeon continued. “I would like to hear the council’s opinion.”

At Hyeon’s command, the ministers feigned deep consideration. In truth, the answer was already a foregone conclusion. According to protocol, when a petition was submitted, the Royal Secretariat would immediately transcribe it and deliver copies to the Emperor, the Prime Minister, and the relevant ministry. The actual response was always hammered out in the cabinet meetings beforehand. The Emperor’s role was simply to hear that pre-determined answer, add his own thoughts, or point out flaws.

Thanks to this efficiency, a response was produced quickly. Prime Minister Han Chi-hyeong stepped forward, bowing his head.

“Your Majesty, the matter of the flying machine is already, to some extent, public knowledge. Furthermore, many foreign merchants and sailors were in the crowd at this recent event. It is, frankly, impossible to silence them all. To even try would be an overreach. As the saying goes, ‘too much is as bad as too little’. We believe the best course of action is to simply redact the most sensitive parts.”

Hyeon immediately followed up. “And what parts, precisely, do you deem ‘sensitive’?”

“We believe it will be sufficient to strike only the parts concerning the new external combustion engine.”

“Hmm. I see. Very well, let it be so. Formalize this decision and send the directive to the Censorship Bureau.”

“We accept your command!”

Hyeon’s decision was crisp and immediate. This was, of course, because he had already come to the exact same conclusion.

The moment Hyeon had received his copy of the petition from the secretariat, he had discussed it with Hyang and Wan.

“What is your own opinion on the matter, Your Majesty?” Wan had asked.

“I believe we should only redact the sections on the new engine,” Hyeon replied without hesitation. “As for the flying machine itself… everyone who matters already knows, don’t they? We’ve flown more than one or two of them over the Hansu River by now.”

Both Wan and Hyang had nodded.

“That seems best,” Wan agreed. “The new engine is a technology only our Empire possesses, so we must guard it. But the flying machine? No. I hear there are more than a few ‘experimenters’ in foreign lands trying to fly similar contraptions as we speak.”

“Emperor Emeritus, your thoughts?” Hyeon had asked.

“I agree.”

And so, Hyeon had entered the cabinet meeting with his mind made up. The interesting part, however, was that while Hyang had agreed, his internal reasoning was… slightly different.

‘Looking at the way things are going,’ Hyang thought, ‘everyone is just content to copy whatever the Empire makes. That’s no fun. Honestly, this new external combustion engine is a perfect example. We’re so close. With just a little more tinkering, we could have a proper internal combustion engine, but they’re just… stuck here. They need a stimulus. A push from the outside.’

The new external combustion engine (Stirling) powering the Empire’s airships was, in its own way, a kind of “out-of-place artifact” (OPART).

***

When petroleum was first introduced as fuel, the engineers had used a simple wick system, much like an oil stove, to ensure a safe and efficient burn. You adjusted the flame by raising or lowering the wick. It was simple, but it had a massive problem: it was completely unsuitable for the engine room of an assault wagon or a warship.

“It’s not like you can just light a match and toss it into a vat of oil…”

“One wrong move and you’d be a pile of ash in a heartbeat.”

The researchers and artisans of Areas 51 and 52 beat their heads against the wall, trying to create a safe, high-output burner. It was around that time that the existence and properties of air and oxygen became known.

“Hmm… this… this could be something…”

They grappled with the faint outline of a solution, losing sleep. Even Hyang found himself stuck. He sensed the answer was near, lingering just out of reach, but he couldn’t quite catch it. In his 21st-century “fanboy” life, he hadn’t been an expert in everything.

While even Hyang was fumbling, Area 51 finally had a breakthrough.

• Some oils light easily. Others, like heavier petroleum distillates, do not.
• These “difficult” oils can be ignited, however, if they are pre-heated.
• And if that hot oil is sprayed as a fine mist, it ignites even more readily.

“Wait a minute… What if… what if we took that hot oil, mixed it with pre-heated air, and then sprayed the mixture to be ignited?”

“That’s it!”

Having found the method, the artisans began the agonizing work of building a practical device. The mechanism that emerged from their toil was as follows:

• A pre-heater heats both the petroleum and the air.
• They are mixed and atomized into a fine mist, which is then injected into the combustion chamber and ignited.
• A high-pressure air tank and compressor are added for stable, continuous operation.

The moment Hyang saw this new burner, he screamed internally. ‘I- I- I’ve seen this! I’ve definitely seen this!’

A forgotten memory surfaced, clear as day: a Royal Navy training film from WWII he’d once seen on an internet video site. It was a video about the procedure for lighting a battleship’s boiler, and it used a massive industrial petroleum burner. It was a video he’d stumbled on by accident, and at the time he’d been obsessed with a different topic, so he hadn’t paid it much mind. But here it was.

This new, advanced burner proved to have outstanding performance. The new steam engines built around it were installed in the Empire’s next-generation warships and assault wagons.

And this new burner, when combined with a sealed combustion chamber, was the core of the very external combustion engine (Stirling) now in question. Thanks to this stable, high-output burner, the new flying machine could tilt steeply in the air without the flame dying, allowing for relatively sharp turns—though, of course, inverted flight or loops were still impossible.

And this was what made Hyang want to tear his hair out.

‘Dammit, you have a sealed combustion chamber! You have a fuel-air mixer! Why are you just stopping here?!’

He was furious at this situation of “being stuck right at the foot of the summit.” That was the real reason he’d agreed to loosen the censorship. In fact, he was even considering a little trickery.

‘Wait… what if I use the Secret Guards to “leak” the designs… and then, if someone else invents the next step… I use the Secret Guards to “acquire” it back?’

He stopped himself. “That’s far enough. That’s a move I could make if I were alone, but if it backfires, the Empire will get a bloody nose. Keep it as just a thought.”

***

With Hyeon’s approval, the lightly censored letters went out to Europe. But it wasn’t just the letters. The foreign merchants, travelers, and sailors who had seen the test flight went home and talked.

“In the Empire, they have airships without the gasbags! They just fly!”

“You’re joking, right?”

“It’s true!”

Most people who heard the story just reacted with wonder, but there were others…

“Huh? You mean that crazy bastard in our village… his crazy contraption… wasn’t so crazy after all?”

“Does this mean the thing we’ve only heard rumors about is finally being built?”

“If the Empire is doing it openly, it means it’s not just possible, it’s practical. If that’s the case, then maybe I…”

The “madmen” who had clung to their experiments despite the ridicule were suddenly re-evaluated. New challengers, hearing the news, began their own work. And then came the investors.

“Every new ‘machine’ the Empire makes turns into a gold mine. They wouldn’t be building flying machines just for fun. There must be money in it. If that’s the case…”

Those who smelled profit began to seek out these “inventors” and invest. The lonely researchers, who had endured years of scorn, wept with gratitude.

“Thank you! Thank you!”

Of course, this also triggered a wave of con artists and fraud. It was the beginning of a speculative fever that would, in later years, be known as the “Flying Machine Bubble,” a storm that would sweep through both the East and the West.

***

The information on the flying machine also reached the military commands of various nations.

“Wait… it can fly without a gasbag? And… it’s more maneuverable?”

The military leaders showed immense interest in the flying machine‘s military value. They had already witnessed the aerial combat between self propelled airships in the war between France and the Habsburgs. They could not simply ignore a machine that promised even greater freedom of movement.

The first and most zealous to act were France and the Habsburgs. The two powers, currently in a lull to catch their breath from their fierce, grinding war, had learned firsthand the importance of air superiority. The moment they received the intel, they summoned their scholars and artisans.

“He who controls the sky,” they declared, “controls the battlefield!”

Following them, the nation that showed the strongest will was Japan. As an island nation, Japan was obsessed with maritime patrols. But relying entirely on warships for this was problematic. Not only did they have to constantly be wary of the Empire’s watchful eye, but their own economy was limited.

“A warship costs a fortune, but just maintaining the navy to sail it costs even more…”

In this situation, Japan had shown great interest in the Empire’s self propelled airships. They had imported a few, seen their excellent performance, and, satisfied, had moved on to licensed production. But while operating the airships in large numbers, they were dissatisfied with their range and speed. When they heard news of the flying machine, they moved immediately.

“We cannot live forever just staring at the Empire’s back! We must, at the very least, catch up to be right behind them!”

Japan focused its hard-won technological workforce on flying machine development. And following Japan’s lead, the Ming also jumped in.

“For scouting the vast regions bordering Mongolia, a flying machine might be better than a horse… Besides, I am abdicating soon. I should probably create one last great achievement to hand over to the Crown Prince, shouldn’t I?”

The reasons were military and political, but not a single minister opposed it.

***

While the East and West were being thrown into a fever over the flying machine, back in Gyeongbok Palace, Emperor Hyeon was rummaging through a stack of blueprints in his personal workshop.

“Where is it? I know I put it right here…”

He dug through every corner until he finally pulled out a single, large sheet, his face breaking into a wide grin.

“This is it!”

Across the top of the blueprint, a title was written: “Self-Propelled Airship Mothership”.