chapter 14

What is a banquet?

Isn't it just a gathering of popular people drinking and having fun?

'No.'

No.

This is the 19th century.

Even back in the days of Upton, there were similar events to banquets.

Though it was more like a party where the uncle would invite people he knew and chat.

Since he was a Quaker who made and sold alcohol but never drank it except for tasting, he didn't serve alcohol either.

But here, it's different, right?

Wouldn't they throw the kind of party you only see in movies?

"That… that's not the kind of banquet we're talking about."

Just as I was letting my imagination run wild, the butler spoke up.

"Huh?"

Feeling like my thoughts had been read, I looked at the butler, and he continued.

"Usually, banquets are held in the countryside, right? And it's actually the season for it now."

"Ah… yes, that's right."

For some reason, it felt awkward to admit I didn't know, so I just kept nodding.

In truth, I didn't know anything about what he was saying.

That banquets are held in the countryside.

And that it's the season for them now.

Banquets aren't like seasonal fish—how can there be a season for hosting them?

Joseph is just as much of a country bumpkin as I am, so I'll have to ask my senior when he recovers a bit from his pain.

"Actually, the master has been receiving invitations since December… but as you know, the trade business isn't something that can be tied down to one place. Even though the young masters are handling things here and there, there are still deals that can only be finalized with the master's involvement."

The butler spoke quite earnestly.

The reason was simple.

Our senior had lied.

He said I was the son of a very successful person in Joseon.

Almost like a noble, or even higher.

"Prince Kim."

"Ah."

But that's not it.

Prince Kim?

Joseon is the Yi dynasty.

The Kim dynasty… wait.

That's up north…?

"I'm not a prince. Our king is from the Yi family."

"Ah, my apologies. Anyway, due to the master's circumstances, he can't attend large banquets. Instead, we host smaller gatherings here. It's a bit different from the usual social events. How should I put it…"

Just as he was about to drop a bombshell, the butler paused and looked toward one side of the mansion.

A round table came into view.

Surrounding it were… what do you call those?

Ah, right, finger food? There was a lot of that.

It didn't look very tasty.

That's not the point, but what should I call it…?

"It's a business meeting."

"Not a gambling… meeting?"

Come on.

There were ashtrays already set out.

Multiple decks of cards.

The lights were dimmed just right…

I've seen this kind of scene in movies too.

Not the good kind of movies, but the ones with a lot of bad people.

'Is the trade business… something shady?'

Now that I think about it, just having a house like this in London is suspicious.

I mean, how can you make this much money doing only legal things?

"Ah, yes. It's a gambling meeting. He really enjoys it. Especially that card game."

"Ah, I see…"

But regardless of what I thought, the butler was very confident.

No, it wasn't just confidence—there was even a hint of pride.

Well…

Aren't laws and morals things that change with the times?

In the 19th century, hosting house meetings like this might have been considered a good thing.

You know, like how sandwiches were supposedly invented by a nobleman while gambling.

If it were something shameful, they wouldn't have boasted about it so much.

"So… Prince Kim would be welcome to join as well."

"I'm not a prince, okay?"

"Then should I call you Noble Kim?"

"Hmm."

Noble, huh?

As far as I know, both my parents got their surnames after crossing the Indian Ocean.

"Sure. You can call me that."

"Alright, Noble Kim."

Well, what can I do?

If they're going to call me that, there's no need to argue.

It's all lies anyway.

"Anyway… the meeting will be very quiet. It's mostly business talk… so it might be boring, but if you come and mingle, everyone will be pleased. Since they're all in the trade business, they don't have much prejudice against Asians."

"Ah, I see. Thank you. So when should I… get ready and come out?"

"We'll let you know."

"Alright."

With that, the butler left, and it took a while for my senior to regain his composure.

"Does it hurt that much?"

I felt a bit guilty asking.

Of course it would hurt.

At the same time, I was curious.

How much does it really hurt?

If someone were to poke your finger with a knife without anesthesia.

"You bastard…"

Enough to make you curse.

Yeah, that's understandable.

I humbly accepted my senior's curse.

"You're still cursing?"

Joseph seemed to question it, but I stopped him.

"If someone's cutting you with a knife, you curse. It's fine."

I'd curse too if someone tried to operate on me without anesthesia.

Besides, I had something important to bring up.

Ultimately, I needed to ask for money.

After all, isn't the one who pays the money the boss?

So I slightly lowered my posture and helped my senior up.

Seeing his legs trembling, it must have really hurt.

"At least you don't have a fever. That's a good sign."

"Yeah… it better be."

"But was the person who died earlier someone close to you? Why are you so scared?"

"Huh? Oh, he was my friend. I didn't understand why back then. But now… yeah, it was exactly like this. My God, I didn't think there'd be harmful particles in the corpse."

Aside from the pain, is it really that surprising that there would be harmful particles in a corpse?

Just looking at it, doesn't it seem obvious?

Instinctively, it's scary.

You don't even want to touch it.

This kind of thing isn't unreasonable.

Of course, research in the 21st century has clearly proven this, but anyway, the emotions we feel can actually be quite rational.

But talking about that now wouldn't be of much use, so I moved on.

At least it's a relief that we now think of it as particles instead of some kind of energy.

"So, speaking of which, wouldn't it be good to block those particles?"

"Blocking them would be good, but how?"

"..."

Talking in the kitchen, next to the hellish cauldron, felt a bit off, so we continued our conversation while walking.

Being a rich household, the artworks lining the hallway caught my eye, including a painting of medieval knights.

"Right, that. That armor."

"Armor?"

"That iron thing. The one worn on the hands."

"Ah, gloves. Right, gloves…

Hmm. But how would you dissect something wearing those?"

You can't do it with those.

Unless you're planning to wage war against the corpse.

Just then, Joseph, who was walking beside us and practically carrying my senior due to his strong build, spoke up.

"If they're winter gloves… maybe it could work?"

"Ah, leather gloves! Those wouldn't get cut by a knife, so they could protect against the particles, right?"

Yeah, that makes sense.

They'd offer protection.

But could you really dissect properly wearing those?

The human body is so fragile.

Even with careful cutting, it's easy to damage. How could you do it with something so thick?

And we're dissecting a decaying corpse without formalin.

It's even more fragile…

"They'd offer protection, sure. But you'd need to feel the structures inside while cutting, right?"

"Ah, that's true. I've actually… done some dissections. The professor said I'd be assisting him starting next year."

"Ah, I see."

But how did you end up cutting your own hand?

If it weren't for me, you'd be dead by now.

Still, since I'm the subordinate, I did my best to flatter him.

I was confident.

I've lived like this for over a decade before becoming a professor.

"If someone like you says so, it must be true. Dissection is delicate work, so leather gloves would be too thick."

"Yeah, that's right. Hmm… but we still need protection."

My senior raised his hand to show it.

Seeing it seemed to bring back the pain, as he grimaced.

Aside from that, I examined the wound. It was clear that the painful cutting and cleaning had been worth it.

'He won't die. At least not from this.'

It didn't seem like he'd die from this.

Both of us were going through unnecessary suffering, but still.

Thinking it was fortunate, I quietly pulled out something I'd been carrying.

It was rubber.

"Huh?"

"I've been thinking… looking at this."

"Yeah."

"What if we made gloves out of this? Unlike leather, it doesn't get wet. It might be good."

"Gloves… out of this? This?"

My senior looked slightly intrigued.

But not too much.

"It's so hard, though?"

The rubber in front of us was nothing like the rubber we knew.

It felt more like something you'd use for armor.

But I knew exactly how far rubber could evolve.

I was more confident than ever, beyond just thinking of surgical gloves.

It can be made really strong and thin, right?

I've seen it.

I don't know how it's made, but…

The engineers will figure it out somehow.

"Couldn't it be made thin? I've heard there's thin rubber."

"But that's… too soft… and really weak."

"What if we treat it somehow?"

"Treat it?"

How would I know?

"I don't know. But wouldn't your father know a factory or a scientist who could figure it out?"

"Hmm… but here's the thing."

"Yeah."

Suddenly, my senior's face turned serious.

For the first time, he looked genuinely intelligent.

Well, it's only natural, considering he's had a proper education.

"This… doesn't have business potential. Developing something like this would cost a fortune… and I don't think my father would spend that kind of money just for safe dissection practice."

"But you're his son?"

"I'll just be careful. And you'll watch over me, right?"

Don't say creepy things…

What do you mean, watch over you?

Watch over you?

I want to watch over you.

No, no.

Don't say crazy things…

"No, no. There might be business potential in other areas."

"What business potential? Gloves won't work."

Frankly, it'd be nice to wear them while doing laundry or dishes.

But expecting that in the 19th century is impossible.

Expecting hygiene standards from people who operate with bare hands is a bit much.

Anyway.

"What about… contraception?"

"Contraception?"

When I asked earlier, it turned out condoms did exist.

But they were made from animal intestines.

Seriously…

Gross…

Those guys must have strong stomachs.

"What if we made condoms out of thin rubber? They'd be much stronger and cleaner."

"Oh…? And they wouldn't break even if washed?"

No, don't wash and reuse them…

Let's go with disposable, please…