Chapter 151

The response I had anticipated from the Empire of Chinguk boiled down to two likely actions:

Severing diplomatic ties, or economic sanctions.

While a formal declaration of war could have been a possibility, I doubted the Crown Prince would be foolish enough to pursue such a drastic measure.

Certainly, the Empire of Chinguk held a higher royal authority compared to the Empire. A nation that dispatched local governors down to even the smallest villages, effectively functioning as a state where every level of government operated to elevate the authority of the Emperor or Empress.

Even so, the Emperor or Empress cannot whimsically rule without restraint.

More importantly, Crown Prince Tang Yeon-cheol was not the Emperor but a Regent Prince.

In the grand scheme of things, cutting off diplomatic relations was likely the strongest move they could take. Although this itself would be a significant incident, it still fell within the realm of my expectations.

However, the Empire of Chinguk’s response was surprisingly moderate.

Thus, it appeared suspicious.

“…An official from the Empire of Chinguk visited our embassy in Nanjing. We anticipated closure or even arrest, but they’ve simply advised us to continue our duties. Neither were they especially hostile, nor were there any disadvantages.”

This was the report delivered by the Minister of Foreign Affairs toVictoria and myself.

“Any mention of wine?”

“None. …Though it has been reported that the head envoy and deputy killed themselves after composing farewell poems. The Crown Prince of the Empire honored their loyalty by posthumously promoting them. Elevating someone’s rank after death is unusual but characteristic of the Empire.”

“I understand.”

“Yes. And…they spared the rest.”

The resolution of the envoy issue came off surprisingly dry.

Certainly, most of the envoys had returned completely addicted to narcotics. Such a state should have caused chaos within the court of the Empire.

‘And they just let it slide?’

Victoria, standing beside me, also wore an expression of bewilderment. She seemed to be attempting to decipher the Empire’s intentions.

“Sir Alan. It seems they’re concerned about public sentiment.”

“In fear that the truth of the envoys turning into madmen might terrify the populace, so they chose to quietly bury the matter. If renowned figures withstanding withdrawal symptoms were revealed to be drooling and scratching themselves…”

“This would create unrest. Perhaps they feared this outcome.”

Victoria’s explanation was sensible.

However, it still left an unease that wasn’t entirely justified by mere public unrest.

Still, despite their rank, they’ve suddenly become subdued simply over partaking in some wine.

‘What are you planning, these people?’

An extended silence followed.

Victoria broke the silence.

“Sir Alan. Nothing has changed.”

“Victoria?”

“She knows why you’re flustered.”

“…”

“To most, you’ve set a trap they’ve been frantically scrambling to overcome. Even the elves, Anais, and Leon Rothe Dale were equally caught up. Though the Empire’s actions this time deviate from your expectations, it’s unnecessary to overestimate them.”

“Victoria…”

“You are undoubtedly superior to them.”

For a brief moment, it felt as if roles were reversed—where I was managing Victoria, now she was handling me.

Regardless, her words were correct.

It was futile trying to deduce the Empire’s intentions.

The best course was to push forward with the original plan until any new variables emerge.

Set up the distribution network to ensure the seamless delivery of narcotics, expedite the mass production of synthetic drugs, and commence full-scale production once everything is prepared. To look elsewhere would be merely wasting time.

“Understood, Victoria.”

“Are you heading to the production facility?”

“Yes, I must.”

I gave Victoria a quick kiss on the cheek and departed from the audience chamber.

Yes. Let’s continue as planned.

Though the Empire’s peculiar behavior wasn’t entirely without influence on me. The type and amount of drugs I planned to manufacture would depend on their future actions. If the Empire genuinely sought an ambiguous peace, this wouldn’t necessarily harm my plans.

*

Indeed, the Empire had other intentions lurking beneath the surface.

It wasn’t something I deliberately uncovered.

Rather, the ambassador of the Empire kindly visited our company in person and requested a meeting.

“Lord Alan. I bear a directive from Crown Prince Tang.”

“Is that so?”

The ambassador stationed in the State was one of the few remaining Easterners in the Empire.

Most had either been sent back or had fled.

Though formal severance hadn’t yet occurred, the embassy was still operational, albeit barely functional. Yet, amidst this, the ambassador had approached me cautiously, claiming to deliver a message from the Crown Prince.

The ambassador then spoke.

“Although it’s difficult to say aloud, His Majesty the Emperor is nearing the end of his days.”

The Emperor’s demise was an open secret.

“I’m aware His health has been declining.”

“Would the President of the Privy Council honor us by attending the funeral in the capacity of an envoy from our allies? The Crown Prince personally requests this for the continued friendly relations between our two nations.”

“…”

“How would you respond?”

The Emperor is dying, and they are inviting me to attend the mourning. Surely, this couldn’t be their earnest effort to promote peace in the wake of His death.

Thankfully, they didn’t officially summon me to court, but this request was still absurd.

‘Still trying, huh?’

Though I felt exasperated, I decided to respond.

“And if I cannot attend?”

“I humbly apologize for mentioning state mourning, but how could this be!”

“A nation’s grief is indeed sorrowful. Yet, considering the current state of relations between our countries, I cannot send an envoy for mourning. Even if we were to, I myself have no obligation to attend. Do they send a Grand Tutor or Minister as an envoy? It would be inappropriate.”

“Is this your refusal?”

“This isn’t a refusal—it’s merely something not worth considering.”

Insane to expect me to willingly walk into the Empire.

Given current tensions, the risk of an incident upon my arrival would be high. They might view removing me as a method to suppress the Empire by rank, perhaps executing me officially or instigating an ‘accident.’

The ambassador seemed to anticipate my rejection, nodding slowly.

Yet, he didn’t withdraw easily.

“If you cannot visit the Empire, might there be another way to show your goodwill?”

“Thoughtfulness?”

“I have heard the Lord has a sibling. Incidentally, there is a young and accomplished daughter within the royal household of the Emperor’s kin. It would be a great honor if Lord Alan could send his brother to marry her, and he could even be appointed to an official position.”

A request for me to essentially send my sibling as a hostage.

Shaking my head, another demand followed.

“If that’s unsuitable, might you assist in transferring Tang Lianhua to the Empire? It must be under the Lord’s recommendation.”

This was a blatant demand to send Empress Lianhua to their country.

I understood their intentions.

Perhaps their bid to salvage face and reduce suspicion of me. But their idea of thoughtfulness was far too extreme—to send my family as hostages or the Empress herself.

Unless the Crown Prince truly believes the Empire is anxiously seeking peace, there was no other reason for this.

An underwhelming diplomatic skill, even worse than the elves.

‘I need to end this now.’

Let’s just dismiss them.

As I was about to speak, the ambassador signaled for silence.

“Lord Alan, please hold. I have a gift for you. Confirm its contents before responding.”

“Gift?”

As I tilted my head, the ambassador, seemingly as puzzled as me, pulled out something with an anxious expression.

It wasn’t gold or treasure.

It was just a small, quaint medicine box. The ambassador simply nodded, indicating I should inspect its contents.

Surely not tea leaves or some herbal medicine—it had to be something else, something they believed could pressure me.

“Let’s see. Then reconsider your answer.”

“…”

Carefully, I opened the pine wood medicine box.

It had three compartments.

The first was filled with a pungent substance: raw opium, chopped finely. Though I dealt in heroin, this was hardly amusing due to the content of the adjacent compartment.

“Lime?”

“Yes.”

And the final compartment held a pale yellow powder—ammonium chloride.

“They insisted it must be seen in the order of opium, lime, ammonium chloride. I’m unaware of its significance, but Lord Alan surely understands.”

“Yes, and they also mentioned that one should ‘boil deer horn glue with boiling water.’ They discovered this secret only recently at the Imperial Medical Bureau. It’s one of the utmost secrets known to only four people in the Empire.”

It all became clear now.

‘Morphine.’

Opium, lime, ammonium chloride—these were the ingredients needed for the production of morphine.

Morphine, which could, in fact, be extracted with simple solvent extraction.

This was how I first managed to extract morphine shortly after arriving, in the absence of any equipment. Though now with the means to manufacture solvents independently, I no longer needed expensive ammonium chloride from natural sources as I did back then.

The simplicity of its synthesis led me to maintain strict confidentiality.

I had implemented strategies like purchasing large quantities of unnecessary materials and leaking false manufacturing methods to incompetent nobles attempting to replicate it. And yet, no one had managed to produce morphine, despite numerous failures.

‘Yet, they’ve unraveled it. Are they pressuring me with this?’

I never imagined I could keep this secret for life. The fact that opium was the primary ingredient is a widely known fact.

With inexhaustible patience and sufficient resources to endure countless failures, it wasn’t impossible to discover how to manufacture morphine.

The mention of boiling deer horn glue suggests the Empire underwent substantial repeated trials and failures to uncover the method.

Perhaps hundreds, or even thousands of failures.

But even rough extraction of morphine wasn’t weak. Even if I could easily produce stronger narcotics, considering their production capacity, they could mass-produce it effectively regardless.

“What will you do, Lord Alan?”

Now,

I wasn’t the only one who could weaponize narcotics.

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