And so, the Parliament sent someone to us.
Their purpose was to question whether white phosphorus matches were truly that dangerous.
Their tone didn't seem particularly favorable.
It was obvious they already had the answer they wanted.
'These bastards... They want to hear that it's okay.'
Frankly, I'd rather play ball with the political powers if I could.
You know, cozy up to the big shots?
Why make unnecessary enemies?
But white phosphorus is a no-go.
I roughly understand why it causes problems, you see.
'White phosphorus... it mainly reacts with the calcium phosphate in the jawbone, causing necrosis.'
There's even a term for it.
Phossy Jaw.
Its toxicity was already confirmed and its production halted worldwide a long time before I was even active.
Why?
Because the toxicity isn't just a problem during manufacturing.
It can be a problem during use, too.
It's not for nothing that the little match girl saw hallucinations while lighting her matches.
They were symptoms of acute poisoning from white phosphorus gas.
That's why she died unknowingly in the cold.
"Look at this. Isn't this exactly what we were worried about?"
"But the possibility of it being a coincidence..."
"Listen here. There are several female workers at the factory I visited who already show similar symptoms! They're so severe they all need surgery. And you call that a coincidence?"
"W-well, but... how on earth does this person know..."
"Now, now, it's because you don't know the country called Joseon. When it comes to medicine, it's a nation developed enough to rival our great British Empire."
"That..."
Lister pressed on aggressively, seemingly thinking along similar lines.
Although, there was one point in the middle that seriously bothered me...
But what could I do?
There was absolutely no way this gentleman had been to Joseon.
Wasn't the country itself opened to foreign trade only in the 1870s?
Before that, Joseon was a hermit kingdom.
"Still, these are military supplies... If we stop making them and another war breaks out with the French, what will we do then?"
The French.
Heh.
Far from going to war with them, we're about to form an alliance with them.
Have you heard of the Crimean War?
It's not that far off.
As the Russian Empire pushes south, our island nation will start to counter them at every turn.
But what good would explaining this do?
"Take a good look."
So, ignoring Lister for a moment, I held out a match towards the man who was cautiously but firmly standing his ground.
It was a white phosphorus match.
Knowing full well its hazards, even carrying it around made me uneasy...
But honestly, breathing in all of London's polluted air, what's the point of being careful now?
Since I've been given a second chance at life, I intend to live it fully, even if it's short and intense.
"Is this really all that useful?" I said, though it actually was useful.
This thing lights up really well.
To what extent...
Literally, it could start a fire in an instant, anytime, anywhere.
In a time long before the development of MREs (Meals Ready-to-Eat), having such an item in the military was a tremendous advantage compared to those without.
"Of course, isn't that obvious!"
"But look at this."
Of course, because it ignites so easily, it also has drawbacks.
Just yesterday, by briefly touring the hospital, Lister and I found several cases of people who suffered burns because the white phosphorus matches they carried in their coats rubbed together and caught fire.
The military?
It was even worse there.
Aren't they the ones who have to move around busily?
Moreover, since they also handle gunpowder, it seemed there had been quite a few instances where it escalated into major accidents.
The information about this was provided by the Police Commissioner and Superintendent Damien.
It's true that knowing high-ranking people is never a bad thing.
"The disadvantages are clear. It's too dangerous. Furthermore, even during production, workers of our British Empire are dying. It must be banned."
"We are aware of the disadvantages. But..."
Even after saying all that, the guy from Parliament was still spouting frustrating nonsense.
That's when Lister stepped in.
He was going to say what I couldn't.
"Can't we just buy them from the French? Who cares what happens to their workers?"
"Well."
"And officially, aren't our governments on good terms? It's an item we're still buying without any issues now."
"W-well, that's true."
But still, the line "who cares what happens to their workers"...
Wouldn't it be a bit much for me to say that myself?
"Besides, it's not like there aren't other ways to start a fire... People are dying so clearly like this, we can't just stand by. Look. Look at these pictures."
"Ugh."
Lister continued his persuasion, which bordered on coercion.
Frankly, the fact that such a procedure was even necessary was absurd.
People are dying...
And dying in such a horrifying way, so why all the unnecessary talk?
Perhaps the people from Parliament also felt something after seeing the pictures of the women, as they quickly fell silent.
"This is certainly a bit... concerning."
"A bit concerning? Should we cut out your jawbone? Is it just 'a bit'?"
"N-no, why... why are you like this? I was just..."
"So, go back and deliver the message properly. I've remembered your face and name."
"Excuse me?"
"If nothing changes, where do you think I'll go? I'll go find the people I know, won't I?"
"P-please spare me!"
"Then just don't do anything that would get you killed. Go and do your best. Superintendent Damien will probably provide supporting fire anyway, so what is there to worry about?"
Even though he kept listing nothing but things to worry about, Lister chuckled and patted the man's shoulder.
Simultaneously, he also patted his sword scabbard, so the face of the man representing the Parliament delegation—someone supposedly quite influential in London—grew paler by the minute.
"Now, do your best."
"Uh..."
"Shall we settle it here?"
"N-no, no! I'll go. I will, I will! This will definitely..."
"Good, my expectations are high. If there's any chairman who doesn't listen, let me know. I'll make sure they understand that in London, it's not just the law that matters."
"Yes, yes!"
And with a firm promise to accomplish what seemed like a very difficult task, he disappeared.
Lister watched him leave with a satisfied smile before turning to look at me.
I...
I was feeling a bit sorry.
"Brother. Will that work? Those Parliament bastards never really listen, you know?"
Actually, did the National Assembly of the Republic of Korea ever really listen?
As a rule, expert opinions—the most credible ones—are usually the ones people don't want to hear.
Because, inevitably, they present a narrative different from armchair theorizing.
"Saying they're the ones who won't even fix the sewers is a bit... but they'll probably save face for Superintendent Damien. Frankly, this isn't even an essential item, and it's so cheap. Besides those making money from it, there's no real need to oppose it. The trade where our British Empire suffers the most loss is the tea trade anyway."
"Ah... yes."
The tea trade...
Wasn't the Opium War before the Crimean War?
So, opium might already be flowing in.
That would be the starting point for the great Eastern civilizations to fall entirely into the grip of Western imperialism...
'But what can I do? I can't even handle the white phosphorus right in front of me by myself.'
It's like a mantis trying to stop a chariot (螳臂當車).
What can I alone possibly do?
For now, taking care of myself is the top priority.
"Ah, right. Speaking of which... You remember the party this time, don't you?"
"Party? Ah. I remember. I mustn't forget that. You even gave me a microscope for free... and invited me to the party."
"First, you were introduced as a nobleman. Right? Noble Kim?"
"Yes, of course."
It was also highly possible that my ancestors had purchased the family name.
Looking at the distribution of the Kim surname, isn't it too widespread to have occurred naturally?
Well, even though there's that uneasy suspicion.
I was raised being told my family were yangban (aristocrats).
Now that I think about it, all my friends said they were from yangban families too.
Though, given the social structure of Joseon, the majority should have been commoners.
Actually, judging by my physique in my previous life, it was highly likely that my family had been farmers for generations.
"A proud yangban. Ah, it means nobleman in Joseon language."
"I thought so."
Of course, having been a master bullshitter for a long time, I could mention 'yangban' without a hint of hesitation or reluctance.
"Good, then I'll introduce you as such... You have proper clothes, right?"
"I do. I told you I make good money, right?"
"Haha, that's true. Then get ready. A carriage will be sent for you. You are a guest of some importance, after all."
"Ah... yes."
The term 'party' referred to a massive event that even Superintendent Damien would attend.
Hardly a place for a minor character like me...
It seemed Superintendent Damien had pulled some strings.
The host of this party was, surprisingly... Sir Jamie.
It was the day of his return to high society, overcoming the rumors that he'd gone mad from prostate hypertrophy and castrated himself.
There surely wouldn't be anyone daring enough to mention testicles or balls to his face...
But according to rumors, he had worked incredibly hard to restore his damaged honor.
Some said it would be the most splendid banquet held in recent years.
They even said it would be on par with royal parties, so its scale was hard to even imagine.
"I'm jealous..."
"See? Being a professor is different."
When I returned home, Alfred and Joseph were looking at me with envious eyes.
They were eating tasteless British food for dinner.
"If you go to the party, there will probably be sardine pie."
"And eel pudding..."
They then listed the worst foods imaginable, going beyond just tasteless.
I don't know about Alfred, but that bastard Joseph is definitely making fun of me.
He grew up eating Korean food, after all.
"Why would you eat that? I'll just have some bread."
"I heard Sir Jamie is so wealthy he even puts fermented sardines inside his bread."
"Ha."
"Still, I'm jealous. Everyone who's received a title will be there. It's a huge event. Professor Blundell didn't even get an invitation, but you're going."
Thinking about the food makes me not want to go...
But it certainly was a special occasion.
So, I sprayed on some cologne and waited for the carriage with a solemn expression.
After a while, a carriage adorned with lavish decorations arrived and soon dropped me off at a grand mansion near the entrance of Kensington.
"Huh?"
"What's this?"
As soon as I got out, not-so-friendly stares began to be directed at me.
It was fine.
"Ah, Pyeong."
As soon as Lister stood beside me, the intensity of the stares lessened considerably.
Most were looking at the ground now; nobles, successful merchants, soldiers—they were all the same.
They probably didn't want to die.
"Ah, Pyeong-yeong."
And when Superintendent Damien came over cheerfully, the stares started again.
But this time, they were completely different.
Now, I could sense pure curiosity.
I truly felt like I was making my formal debut into high society.
"I'll introduce you to everyone... but let's go to Jamie first. You know his face anyway, and it's polite to greet the host first."
"Yes, Your Grace."
"Come, this way."
This was probably the best way to make a debut.
Being escorted by a Duke himself to go meet another Duke.
'Wow...'
Anyway, the place where Sir Jamie was stationed was extravagantly lavish.
It felt a bit like one primary color was overly dominant...
But since that primary color happened to be green, which I like, it didn't feel tacky.
Of course, it was a bit strange.
The carpet, the wallpaper, and even the dress of the woman standing nearby were all entirely green.
'Is this the fashion?'
If it's the fashion, then I guess it makes sense.