Chapter 202

“For the post of Chief Envoy of this Jeongjosa mission, we shall once again appoint Oh Yung-gyeom. As for the Deputy Envoy…”

Oh Yung-gyeom, selected yet again for a grueling diplomatic mission, departed for the Ming Dynasty weeping tears of blood and cursing the King (though only in the privacy of his own mind).

The selection of personnel for this mission to Ming was largely identical to the previous mission to Japan. The Great Northerners still gripped the reins of power, and the younger scions of the Southerners and Westerners were still, for “some reason,” burning with a desperate desire to expand their horizons beyond Joseon’s borders.

There was, however, one glaring difference from the previous mission: a massive contingent of merchants had gathered, laden with heavy packs. Every one of them carried a hoard of silver coins—melted down from Continental Covenant currency and recast to resemble waeeun, or Japanese silver. The number of merchants trailing the embassy had swelled exponentially compared to the days before contact with the Covenant.

They had a ready-made justification. Previously, the journey to the capital had been undertaken overland; now, to evade the looming threat of the Later Jin, they moved by sea—a route already bustling with people and goods.

Upon arriving in Beijing, the delegation moved with purpose.

“We wish to purchase raw silk.”

“How much do you intend to take?” a Ming official asked, gesturing to a stack. “Shall we start with this—”

“Everything. From here to the very end.”

“Pardon?”

“All of it.”

The official blinked, stunned. “Are you… are you truly from Joseon? Why on earth do you have so much money?”

The Joseon merchants effectively swept up every scrap of silk in Beijing—especially the raw silk.

As the price of silk in the Ming capital began to fluctuate wildly, it was impossible for the authorities to remain oblivious. Naturally, they also knew exactly what was causing the volatility. The volume of tribute Joseon offered had increased overwhelmingly, centered primarily around cotton cloth. Furthermore, the Joseon delegation, led by Oh Yung-gyeom, was making forceful (albeit implicit) demands that their “reciprocal gifts” be paid in finished silk or raw silk.

Between the official state business and the private trade, the sheer volume of logistics brought by this mission was staggering compared to previous years. The mountain of gold, silver, and cotton was simply too large to ignore. Ming officials put their heads together, agonizing over the implications of this sudden windfall.

“I simply cannot fathom why they desire raw silk so desperately,” one official mused. “And where did all that silver come from?”

They couldn’t bring themselves to ask the Joseon envoys directly. It was much like a department head asking a new recruit, “Nice car you’ve got there, eh?” Even if the intent were pure, it would inevitably look like a subtle attempt at intimidation. (And usually, the intent isn’t pure.)

In the old days, they would have prodded Joseon with a “You seem to have a lot of silver lately,” before systematically extorting it—which was precisely why Joseon had historically been so reluctant to allow gold and silver to circulate. But in the current climate, that was no longer an option.

The Later Jin were growing stronger by the day, having declared their own imperial title and now wreaking havoc in the north. Since this delegation had officially declared that Joseon would actively participate in checking the Jurchens, Ming could not afford to lose Joseon’s favor.

During this Ming-Qing transition, Joseon was nervous that Ming might suspect them of siding with the Qing; conversely, Ming was far from comfortable themselves. Even after the Battle of Sarhu, while Joseon trembled at the thought of being suspected because of Kang Hong-rip’s surrender, Ming feared that a Joseon that had lost so many soldiers might defect to the Later Jin.

To put it kindly, Joseon was Ming’s most vital ally in the fight against the Jurchens. To put it bluntly, they were a meat shield intended to take the beatings while Ming prepared for war. The scenario where Joseon switched sides was the ultimate nightmare for the Ming court.

“Chief Envoy Oh Yung-gyeom says that silver has become plentiful in their land because the Japanese have recently been bringing silver to Joseon in exchange for Chinese goods,” an official reported.

“Hmm? Why would the Japanese seek our goods through Joseon? Are the Portuguese merchants not already trading through Macau? I thought they were the ones shipping goods to Japan.”

“Your news is stale,” another countered. “The Dutch scoundrels who recently plundered Fujian have been harassing the Portuguese so relentlessly that they can hardly move.”

“Heavens! Has their piracy truly become that severe?”

Having heard this “agreed-upon truth” from the delegation, the Ming court chose to stop prying and accept Joseon’s explanation at face value. Even if it was a lie, it didn’t matter.

Thus, the embassy concluded its trade with Ming and returned safely. When Yun Seondo and the others recounted the sights they had seen in China to Oitotan, who was visibly startled by the massive quantity of silk, the envoy went to Nemo.

“Hoh… China,” Oitotan mused. “My horizons… have broadened.”

“Indeed,” Nemo replied. “The world is wide, and there are many wealthy and powerful nations—”

“I see… there are indeed other countries out there… that are somewhat well-off.”

“…”

It seemed Oitotan’s arrogance was a terminal condition—especially since it was based, however loosely, on facts.

***

“Is this the ‘Daedong Sugar’?”

“It is, Your Majesty,” the minister replied. “It is said that the scions of the traitors, whose lives were spared by your royal grace, produced this sugar in the Daito Islands as a token of their overwhelming gratitude.”

“Hmm.”

Yi Hon dipped a finger into the bowl and closed his eyes to savor the taste. It was purely, intensely sweet. Even for a man who had rarely tasted sugar, the quality was clearly exceptional. As the King nodded in satisfaction, the minister prostrated before him continued.

“Sugar produced elsewhere is born from the extreme suffering and torment of laborers, making it something a scholar should not let touch his lips. However, this sugar from the Daito Islands is made without such cruelty. Consequently, it has become a favorite among the literati lately.”

It was a primitive form of “ethical consumption.” In truth, Joseon’s lack of advanced navigation meant they had almost no way to obtain sugar other than what the Covenant brought in, but the branding was effective. There was a certain satisfaction in enjoying a sweet treat while feeling like a patron of virtue. It was cheaper than the sugar imported from Ming, whiter in color, and far superior in quality.

Yi Hon looked at the lid of the tribute sugar bowl. It bore the engraved face of a scholar, smiling proudly with a thumb held high.

“I am told they selected the portrait of the most diligent sugar farmer to serve as the emblem,” the minister explained.

“Fascinating. To be superior to the sugar of China… it is truly wondrous.”

“Indeed, Your Majesty. To maintain quality, they have even inscribed the names of the farmers who grew the cane on the bottom of each container. This encourages the farmers to work with even greater diligence.”

“I see.”

Driven by curiosity, Yi Hon closed the lid and flipped the sugar container over. He froze for a moment, his eyes widening as he spotted a pair of familiar names.

The inscription read: ‘Kim Ja-jeom & Choi Myeong-gil’.

He looked back at the caricature on the “Daedong Scholar’s Brand Sugar” label. The face in the drawing felt strangely familiar.

…It must be my imagination, he decided, letting the thought go.

***

The strategic importance of Hawaii cannot be overstated; it is a massive island chain anchored in the heart of the world’s largest ocean. In the age of sail, its importance was somewhat diminished as it sat outside the major North Equatorial and North Pacific currents. Contact with Europeans had been relatively late, occurring only in the late eighteenth century.

However, for an Continental Covenant with its sights set on the development of steamships, there was no reason to ignore it. Unlike the era when the British had made hesitant contact, the Covenant’s aggressive approach accelerated the unification of the Hawaiian Islands significantly.

Unlike other regions where the Covenant had merely established “gift-based trade,” Hawaii already possessed a rigid class system, a functioning military, and a powerful monarchy. It wasn’t a situation that could be resolved simply through peace treaties and trade expansion. It was much like the modern-day United States and China suddenly becoming best friends just because a trans-dimensional empire gave them room-temperature superconductors and fusion reactors—power dynamics don’t shift that easily.

And so, King Keakealani-kāne of Hawaii began earning “points” (sugarcane) and purchasing “items” from his “status window” like the protagonist of a webnovel titled I’m the Only One Trading with a Parallel Dimension. Those items took the form of flintlock muskets, Lexan shields, and older-model galleons.

With that overwhelming power, Keakealani-kāne began his conquest of the surrounding islands. The other tribal kings, facing a man using “Vibranium weapons” and a “status window,” were deleted before they could even protest the unfairness of the match.

“Your Majesty, rejoice! Countless islands have fallen beneath your feet!”

Simultaneously, wielding a royal authority more absolute than ever before, Keakealani-kāne launched a series of massive reforms. To meet the requirements for joining the “Continental Covenant,” he abolished slavery and established a parliament. Naturally, the priesthood—suddenly branded as remnants of the old regime—rose in protest. Keakealani-kāne “resolved” them using the same webnovel-logic. If violence didn’t solve the problem, it was clearly because you weren’t using enough of it.

The priests fled toward the ports the Covenant had received in exchange for their trade deals. Keakealani-kāne, satisfied that their influence had been castrated, allowed them to go. It was a story that sounded like the President of the United States obtaining a starship, declaring a Global Empire, and succeeding in world conquest—but it was actually happening.

All of this had transpired in a mere four years.

“And that is the current state of affairs,” the report concluded.

I was more than a little stunned. Humans truly are creatures of adaptation. To think that a unified, constitutional monarchy would rise within four years of contact. Regardless, it solved many of our problems. We had been granted the uninhabited island of Lanai by the “Great King of the Hawaiian Islands,” and we relocated the exiled priests and members of the old regime there.

We were about to launch a full-scale plantation operation using that labor force, when…

“So this… this is that Hawaii place!”

“Haha! That’s right, Seong-ji! This is Oahu, the most important island in the chain!”

Wait… why is Kim Ja-jeom here?

Wasn’t that man supposed to be in exile? Is it really okay for him to be out here on a sightseeing tour?

“I know what you are thinking,” Oitotan said, appearing at my side.

“Ah, Oitotan.”

“But even if they tried to run, where would they go?”

He had a point. The main island of Hawaii was over seven thousand kilometers from the Korean Peninsula. Even if a man could run a hundred meters in two minutes without stopping, resting, or tiring, it would take nearly a hundred days. Whether we formed a “Renegade Ninja Club” or a “Tap-Dancing Society” with the traitors, the King of Joseon would never know.

And since the King didn’t care, it was better for us to occasionally give them a tour to ease their tension and anxiety. It was a way of respecting basic human rights, in its own way.

Regardless, our reason for being in Hawaii was clear: the construction of a core coaling station and port of call. Ocean currents are the highways of the sea, but as we transitioned to steamships, our dependence on traditional routes would diminish. Thus, Hawaii—though outside the major currents—would become a vital stopping point.

If we could sail from California through Lanai in Hawaii, then on to Midway, Wake Island, the Ogasawara Islands, and the Daito Islands… Pacific trade would become active on a scale previously unimaginable.

Selling California gold to Japan, selling Japanese silver to Joseon, and having Joseon sell that silver to Ming to bring in the luxuries we needed… the Covenant stood to reap astronomical profits. This would fuel the wave of immigration to California and solidify our control over the North American West. In turn, a stronger grip on North America would make it easier to check the Viceroyalty of New Spain. Every plan was interconnected; with each success, the next task became exponentially easier.

“So, how do you intend to develop this place?” Oitotan asked.

“The climate of Hawaii is perfect for two specific crops,” I replied, drawing on my memories of my past life. “We will plant pineapples and sugarcane.”

Pineapples and sugar—two luxuries that could draw a fortune in seventeenth-century Europe. While shipping fresh pineapples to Europe was currently impossible, it didn’t matter. We had East Asia. We could sell them to Joseon, Japan, and the Chinese market.

And I was a man of the future. I knew about the “tin can,” an invention due in two hundred years. If I could successfully develop that technology, long-term preservation would be possible. Our market would expand overwhelmingly, and the profits from this island would be immense.

Heh. Hehehe…

I suppose the question of labor might arise. Well, as for that…

***

“Yi Si-baek, Won Du-pyo, Jang Yu, and the others have plotted treason out of jealousy for our loyal subjects. Their crimes are indeed heavy. However, their guilt does not reach the level of the rebel leaders, and the law must distinguish between the gravity of offenses.

Therefore… let them be exiled to the Island of Hawaii.”

***

…King Gwanghae would take care of it for me. I didn’t even have to ask.