There is a ridiculous slogan called "Manifest Destiny."
Dressed up grandly, it claims that the United States conquering the American continent is divine providence—and to Americans, it is treated almost like a matter of faith.
It goes beyond mere right, insisting that territorial expansion is an obligation. In that sense, it also serves as a tool for national cohesion.
Expand the land, strengthen the system, unify the people, and everyone reaches a happy ending—something like that.
…Lebensraum. Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere… irritating words suddenly come to mind.
However, the United States was fortunate in its timing. It made such absurd claims in the 19th century, not the 20th, and no European great power seriously interfered.
Had such rhetoric emerged in the heart of Europe, it would have been crushed immediately—but few nations cared enough to intervene while the United States beat down Native Americans and Mexicans.
After all, the European powers themselves justified colonialism with the strange logic of the "white man's burden," leaving them in no position to criticize America.
But for me, who must carefully cultivate Canada as a future cornerstone, it is impossible not to feel uneasy about when the United States might suddenly lose its mind.
You might think—surely they wouldn't dare fight the British Empire.
But history proves that relying on "surely" is the fastest way to get your head smashed in.
Surely Germany wouldn't start a world war. Surely they wouldn't try again after losing once.
Surely Japan wouldn't strike Pearl Harbor.
And yet, all of it happened.
Knowing the original course of history, I understand just how insane the world becomes when it descends into madness.
To be honest, who could have predicted Russia would charge headlong like that in the Crimean War?
That is why, at the very least while I am alive, the United States must be firmly restrained—taught not to bare its fangs at this side.
But those who crave conflict will always search for new prey. Fresh bait must be provided.
And so, with Spain conveniently drawing attention on its own, there is no reason not to make use of it.
"Greetings."
"I had been hoping to pay my respects. Thank you for inviting me."
"Not at all. If anything, I am the one who is late. I needed time to hear the perspectives of the other nations involved."
"By 'the others'… you mean Spain?"
"Yes."
At my immediate answer, Ambassador Lawrence's eyes flickered slightly.
Without another word, I poured whiskey into a glass and handed it to him.
The President and the State Department must already be pressing him hard—best to let him drink. Conversations go more smoothly that way.
"I do not know how long it has been since the war ended, yet we already have to deal with matters like this. Though I suppose, Ambassador, you have it even harder with your war still ongoing."
"Not at all."
I downed my glass in one go. He followed shortly after.
The heat rising in his expression—just the right atmosphere for candid conversation.
"You can probably guess why I invited you in secret."
"…You come to the point faster than I expected."
"I am quite busy. The Exposition is only a few months away, and I am already overwhelmed."
"I have heard there is no one in the British Empire who works harder than Your Highness. I thought it a joke—but perhaps not."
Is that condensation on the glass, or my tears? Perhaps both. Damn it.
"Regarding your previous request—to halt arms exports to Canada—I regret to inform you that I cannot comply."
"I see. That is unfortunate."
"I did consider it, given relations between Spain and the United States. However, Spain has pressed the matter strongly, and there is no legal basis for suspension."
"I see… so Spain has made a strong demand."
At a glance, this might look like sowing discord—but it is not.
Discord means driving apart those already on good terms.
I am merely organizing two parties whose relations are already foul.
"The United States may feel disappointed with Spain, but there is no need to view it too negatively. Spain does not act out of hostility toward your country."
"…They are not hostile, yet they sell weapons to a nation at war with us?"
"It is not aimed at undermining the United States. Hm… misunderstandings may deepen at this rate. It would be better if I mediate."
See? This is not manipulation or slander—this is simply goodwill from the foremost great power, helping two quarrelsome would-be powers reconcile.
"There does not seem to be any misunderstanding between us and Spain."
"On the contrary. While Spain's actions do harm the United States, as I said, it is not driven by ill will, but by their own objectives."
"And what objectives would those be?"
"Spain has been struggling of late, has it not? It has lost many of its colonies."
Ambassador Lawrence nodded, half-understanding.
"They intend to use this as an opportunity—starting with Mexico—to restore their former influence. Not to target the United States or Canada, but to rebuild strength in the south."
"…Spain intends to act again on the American continent?"
"Not to rebuild colonies outright. Spain is no longer the Spain of old—hardly even a toothless tiger. It lacks the capacity to manage colonies."
"So, beginning with Mexico, they aim to drive a stake back into the continent."
I nodded with a faintly mischievous expression.
Now he understands—Spain is not acting to spite the United States.
I truly do hope these two nations resolve their misunderstandings and engage more closely.
As if sensing my sincerity, Ambassador Lawrence drained another glass, his smile far brighter than before.
"Thank you. I feel much clearer now."
"I am glad to hear it. Ha! We white nations ought to get along, after all."
A ridiculous remark coming from someone of mixed European and Asian blood—but he seemed pleased enough to refill my glass himself.
"Indeed. The President will be sincerely grateful for Your Highness's consideration."
Spain… the greatest obstacle standing in the way of America's "Manifest Destiny."
His expression makes it obvious what conclusions he has drawn.
Now all that remains is to sell arms as much as possible, then gently mediate the conflict between the two nations.
The British Empire need only present itself as a guardian of peace on the American continent.
If they still choose to fight—well, that is their decision.
It is not as though anyone held a knife to their throats and forced them.
"It is truly a pleasure to see you again."
Lately, everyone I meet seems to repeat the same phrase as if on cue—"it has been a while." Perhaps it is just my imagination.
Though in truth, it has been years for most of them.
In any case, after resolving the tangled misunderstandings among the American nations, I felt refreshed.
Now, turning to other matters, I had summoned Kim Jwa-geun, the Joseon ambassador. He looked slightly gaunt—British cuisine clearly did not suit him.
"You seem thinner, Ambassador. Does the food not agree with you?"
"N-not at all! British cuisine is the finest in the world!"
…To say such madness so calmly—perhaps homesickness has begun affecting his mind.
"You need not praise Britain simply because I am British."
"No! British food is the best in the world—it can be proven scientifically! I once tried French cuisine, and it was far too greasy and overwhelming."
"I see. Then today, I shall have traditional British dishes prepared for you. As for me, I will have kimchi pilaf."
"K-kimchi? You have kimchi? Truly?"
"I occasionally crave it, so I had my personal chef develop it through much trial and error. It is tailored to my taste, so I do not recommend it to others."
I had considered offering him a taste—but since he insists British food is superior, I suppose he will have to make do with sardine pie.
"Ah… kimchi…"
"Unfortunate. I shall have them serve you kidney pie, rich with texture, and sardine pie, full of flavor."
"Ah… ugh…"
It seemed he had run out of provisions from Joseon. He licked his lips, looking at me like a desperate dog.
An Andong Kim noble reduced to such a pitiful expression over kimchi…
Well, I understand. A man who lived his whole life in Joseon suddenly dropped into Britain—offered eel jelly and sardine pie—of course he would despair.
I teased him a little too long.
With a faint smile, I ordered a plate of kimchi pilaf—perfectly tailored to my taste—served before him.
"Ooooooh! T-this… to think one could eat kimchi fried rice in Britain!"
"Strictly speaking, pilaf is not the same as fried rice—"
He did not listen at all, shoveling spoonfuls into his mouth.
After three years away from home, it is only natural.
Watching him devour the food, I finally brought up the real matter.
"The terms of the Treaty of Paris must have reached Joseon by now. Has a reply come?"
"…Yes. His Majesty… expresses great gratitude for Your Highness's consideration…"
Even while chewing, his diction remained clear—truly a refined noble.
"Here—His Majesty sends this as a token of gratitude."
He carefully presented a bundle.
"Wild ginseng, aged over fifty years. His Majesty personally sends it, wishing for Your Highness's health."
"I have only heard of such ginseng—how remarkable. Please convey my thanks."
"It seems Joseon is quite satisfied with the treaty."
"Yes. Though the indemnity from Russia and the unexpected territorial gains have greatly increased the officials' workload, all are pleased. However… Sakhalin may be difficult to administer."
"Would you have preferred Manchuria instead?"
"Certainly not! That would only create further conflict with Qing."
Good judgment.
"That is why I gave only half of Sakhalin. As an island, it is easier for the British Empire to assist. Should the need arise, our forces can respond quickly."
Building military bases on another nation's land was essentially a polite fiction—but he did not seem concerned.
Sakhalin was never truly Joseon's to begin with.
"And regarding the upcoming Great Exhibition—Joseon's participation has been confirmed."
"Yes… though it may seem unimpressive to Britain…"
"I have no complaints. Japan will also participate, so it is a good opportunity to present Asia to the world."
"You are most considerate."
Consideration? Hardly. I have my own aims.
"And… it may be time to proceed with that matter His Majesty promised."
"…You mean—?"
"Yes. That."
Since he already understood, there was no need to elaborate.
"But first, relations with Qing must be settled."
"Perfect timing. Qing will also attend the Exhibition."
After a moment's hesitation, he nodded.
A promise made by the king cannot be overturned by a mere subject.
Joseon is an independent nation, unrelated to Qing—and how such nations treat the British Empire…
With the eyes of the world upon London, this is the perfect opportunity to show how harmonious the nations of Asia can be.