Asia is still Asia.
Most of those who came to study in the British Empire with grand ambitions came to realize reality within just a few months.
Anyone who managed to study in London was either from a powerful family in their homeland or a recognized genius.
But special treatment existed only in their own countries.
Even the sons of noble families from Japan were nothing more than anonymous Asians in London.
No matter how hard they tried to speak English, their accents stood out, and they often became targets of subtle ridicule.
No one would insult them openly, but there were many ways to belittle others without making it obvious.
"Th…this is very delicious."
"Is that so? I am glad it suits your taste. Perhaps next time you can visit various places around London."
"…What does that mean?"
"Ah, my apologies. It is an old expression. I meant you should look around."
Sometimes unfamiliar expressions were used deliberately.
"Could you please give me water?"
"Pardon? Oh, you meant water. My apologies."
Sometimes people pretended not to understand their pronunciation.
Such methods of quiet condescension were endless.
Yet it was difficult to become truly angry, since misunderstandings could be genuine.
"Damn it. These arrogant Westerners. As if they were born speaking English."
Itō Hirobumi, serving as Japan's consul general in London and head of the Asian student association, closed the door with irritation.
"Did something happen?"
"Nothing unusual. Just the same irritation as always."
Though respected in Japan, even he had once been treated as just another outsider.
"You met with officials for the student event. How did it go?"
"As always, they pretend to cooperate, but nothing changes."
"They do not see us as equals."
"If only we had the strength of Spain, we would not face such humiliation."
"But with people like you, one day we will stand among the great powers."
He nodded.
But the international system was not so generous.
Japan needed a reason to rise without provoking resistance.
His idea was to align with Joseon, Britain's ally, and form a larger bloc.
Together, their population exceeded fifty million.
If they developed further, they could rival many powers.
"Let us see if there are promising students."
One name stood out.
A relative of Killian from the Joseon royal family.
Yi Seung-man.
In London, Yi Seung-man began to understand the power of his identity.
Once it was known that he was related to Killian, he was no longer mocked.
Even those who had once faced discrimination found his experience different.
Then Itō came to meet him personally.
"So, are you adjusting well?"
"Yes. Every day is fulfilling."
"Your English is excellent."
"I study more than six hours a day."
"A wise approach. Language will define the future."
Many students eventually learned to read and understand English.
But pronunciation remained difficult.
Those from high status families often avoided the effort, choosing instead to stay among their own.
But Yi Seung-man saw things differently.
Language was power.
If he mastered it, he could climb higher.
"Do you wish to attend university here?"
"Yes. I wish to graduate from Oxford, like His Majesty."
"A bold ambition."
Itō then made an offer.
"His Majesty will attend the student event. You could greet him there."
"I would be honored."
Both had their own goals.
One sought influence.
The other sought recognition.
Neither realized that Killian already knew their names.
"Your Majesty, here is the speech for the event."
"It looks appropriate."
"You do not need to stay long."
"But these students will shape the future."
Killian attended such events for a reason.
To inspire loyalty.
To become a symbol.
After all, to Asian students, he was everything.
His presence elevated them.
"Who is the new association leader?"
"The consul general. His name is listed here."
Killian read the name.
Itō Hirobumi.
"…I see."
He knew the name well.
History was approaching.
Curious, he decided to stay longer than planned.
"…Therefore, remember that your nation's future rests upon your shoulders."
The speech ended.
Many were moved to tears.
Killian had grown used to such reactions.
He remained for the meal.
"Your Majesty, this is an honor."
"No need for formality. Let me see the food."
"I apologize. We were not prepared for this."
"I can eat anything."
Approaching the table, he saw familiar faces.
One man quickly wiped his mouth and bowed deeply.
"Your Majesty, I am Itō Hirobumi. I will dedicate my life to peace in Asia."
Killian paused.
Then Itō introduced the student beside him.
"This is Yi Seung-man, a distant relative of Your Majesty."
"…Is that so?"
The young boy bowed.
"I am Yi Seung-man. It is an honor."
Killian repeated the name.
"…Seung-man?"
Itō eating kimchi stew.
Yi Seung-man eating sushi.
The scene felt surreal.
For a moment, Killian did not know what to say.
He let out a quiet laugh.
History was unfolding in unexpected ways.