I Became The Leader Of A Revolution In A Romance Fantasy

< Chapter 34: The Empress’s Reign – 3 >

Actually, I also think the saying ‘Your life sucks because of you’ is extremely irresponsible.

What I learned through my short yet long life in Yeouido is that unless you have the luck of the gods, the achievements one can reach through personal effort are truly miserable and limited.

Society. And one’s birth.

They determine 95% of life.

According to the ‘Ne Joo Byun Dore’ statistics, the probability that effort alone can change anything is within 5%.

Even then, 4% is the case where one actively screws up their own life.

The probability of breaking away from the inertia created by one’s birth and pioneering life through effort is… at best, about 1%?

Because human beings are surprisingly slaves to inertia, most end up living the way they always have.

And even before a person decides to take initiative and do something with their life,

The starting point of life, as well as ‘how I live that life,’ is already determined by birth.

But here’s the thing.

If we’re just supposed to live as the world goes. If we’re told to shut up and suck it up because that’s how the world is.

Then why do we need society?

And above all, why do we need politics?

We agreed that such a wild state of life sucks, so we built a society. And we delegated power to politicians.

The role of politicians is to seriously contemplate and lay down the rails regarding ‘how far, and in what way, the government should intervene.’

1. A normal progressive would start by laying guardrails. ‘Let’s prevent lives from being screwed up before they even start because of birth (≒class).’

2. A normal conservative would say we should lay tracks (rails) that people can run on. ‘Anyone should be able to change their life through effort.’

In fact, based on 21st century South Korea, the difference in stance between these two is not that great.

It’s just a matter of where the starting point of the argument lies, but in the end, ‘normal and modern’ progressives and conservatives can’t have drastically different goals.

Since I viewed the world from one of these two perspectives, I accepted the professor’s proposal.

……But while the martial arts of the orthodox school (玄門正宗) take a long time to train and are extremely difficult to master,

The demonic arts of the heretical school (邪魔外道) can increase inner strength quickly with just a maiden’s blood.

‘Sorry, old man. I said I wouldn’t do it again.’

Honestly, I’m not that sorry.

I began to unleash the demonic arts I trained in on the Ten Thousand Great Mountains of Yeouido.

Since it’s not even a country I will live in anyway, who cares if it turns into chaos?

So it’s not your fault that life sucks.

It’s not something that can be fixed with your effort.

Since it’s not your fault to begin with.

It’s those bastards’ fault!

#

**A plague began to spread in Camelot.**

If someone held a newspaper, about ten people would crowd around them, glaring intensely.

The infected would tremble, holding the newspaper tightly, while making sounds like, “Ugh, eek!” as if they might soon be rushed to the hospital with high blood pressure.

(*The common folk in the world of romance fantasy would be ejected back to their graves without even crossing the threshold.)

The frightening thing about this disease was that it shook the foundations of the existing pathology of the romance fantasy world.

What this means is:

Originally, the poor and the nobles were fundamentally different species, so they didn’t typically share diseases.

To illustrate, the poor usually suffered and died from malnutrition, infections, and industrial accidents.

In contrast, nobles had to watch out for poisoning from romantic affairs, high blood pressure, diabetes, and hyperlipidemia.

The distinction between the upper and lower classes was that strict.

But from the lodgings of day laborers who had to sleep propped up on ropes to the courts of Camelot,

This new disease spread the same symptoms regardless of status. How horrifying and terrifying is that?

This semi-feudal and revolutionary disease, which couldn’t even recognize class distinctions, we called ‘political disease.’

#

At the Empress’s winter palace, an exhibition was in full swing. Numerous artists and inventors gathered to greet winter.

Originally, exhibitions at the palace were occasions for the emperor and high nobles to personally witness the latest and greatest in culture, and to promise support for the next year to artists with outstanding achievements.

Traditionally, the atmosphere was stiflingly pretentious and lofty…

“This is all because of those damn continentals!”

A voice, unsuited to the elegant event, spilled out from the salon, filled with agitation.

“The problem started when the Empire got involved in the continental war. Why did we have to cross the sea and fight their battles?”

“Oh my god. I thought this damn armchair debate ended five years ago.”

Someone muttered in complaint, but the young noble didn’t care.

He continued his rough rhetoric, raising his fist resolutely, reminiscent of a man from the newspaper headlines.

“We sacrificed our Empire’s young men to fight someone else’s war, and we even won. While the continentals were dragging on, it was the Empire that ended the war. But what did we get? Unpayable reparations? Promissory notes on the verge of default?”

“Don’t you feel any shame, parroting someone else’s words so perfectly?”

“The Empire’s victory was stolen!”

“…He’s not listening.”

It was inevitable.

There were few complainers, and most of the young nobles were resonating with the passionate words of the young man.

“Isn’t he actually right? The so-called allies are all short-sighted and greedy…”

“Why do we even go to war in the first place? It’s expensive, and a lot of people die. But we still do it because of the massive benefits we gain from winning, right? Yet in this war, we won, and got nothing! Something went terribly wrong.”

“According to rumors, it was all orchestrated by our allies. The Empire exhausted its national power and lost one of its biggest markets, the Kingdom. Or is it a Republic now? Anyway, we basically lost it.”

The murmurs of each person effectively served as amplifiers for Congressman Hastings’ argument.

Mycroft frowned.

A deep sigh escaped from his chest.

“…This young man. I should just give him some candy and send him away.”

If left in the Empire too long, who knows what kind of strange hypnosis he might spread.

###

“The timing is perfect.”

Congressman Roche said as he inserted an emerald ornament into his cravat (the prototype of a necktie, an accessory like silk or lace tied around the neck).

“If it were spring or summer, it would be chaos with all the romance and marriage nonsense. But at the Winter Palace Exhibition, we can have more serious discussions about culture and politics.”

Lize sent a covertly cold glance at the flamboyantly dressed and reactionary Congressman Roche.

I quietly lowered the blue diamond ornament I had held up to chest height and stored it back in my pocket.

“Congressman Hastings, even if shaping public opinion is possible, I don’t quite understand why we should target the Empress. As you know, the ruler of the Empire reigns but does not govern. Rather than wasting effort persuading a powerless monarch, I could arrange for you to give a speech at the Imperial House of Nobles.”

Providing a platform for a foreign political figure—an enemy and a destroyer of monarchies—at what is effectively the parliament of another nation? The Roche family’s connections were extraordinary.

Yet it was precisely because of this that I was certain we could often collaborate but never be true allies.

‘The power of the Roche family peaks when the entire continent revolves around nobility and royalty.’

The ruling class of the old era inherited power through bloodlines. The Roche family maximized their influence by intertwining themselves with the noble bloodlines across the continent.

The result of generations of such ‘breeding’ was the current Roche family—a bizarre clan that was essentially a transnational kinship network.

But what would happen if kings disappeared and nobles began to fall?

All the political power they had built over generations would evaporate.

To varying degrees, but ultimately, over 90% of the great nobles were closely tied to monarchies and feudal systems.

It’s not simply a matter of good or bad; for them, defending the old order is a matter of survival.

I smiled bitterly.

‘It would be nice if we could all join hands and move forward together. But I graduated from that naive worldview a long time ago.’

“The Empress is not merely a tourist attraction for the Logres Empire. Although she lacks explicit power, she holds the ultimate authority in cabinet appointments and can always express her views through public speeches, right? It’s more natural to move the Empire by influencing the Empress than for us foreigners to intervene any further.”

“…Worried about being natural, and yet doing this?”

Congressman Roche raised an eyebrow, but I, the epitome of revolutionary spirit, did not care about the approval of a reactionary feudal lord.

Moreover, my insistence on influencing the Empress was not merely a political calculation.

It was because I knew the future.

‘In the end, it was Perpetua II who saved the Republic, which was on the brink of collapse due to the reparations issue.’

A girl who would proudly take her place on the stage of international diplomacy, dominated by beasts, with her ‘moral idealism.’

The problem was, according to the synopsis of the original work’s second part, that despite her efforts, the Republic was already entering a civil war, resulting in utter chaos.

With the Republic’s complete destruction, Perpetua II also exhausted her political capital and fell from grace, so, in a way, I am also helping her this time.

‘Just like how I helped Visenya Andrastra and the nobles.’

I smiled bitterly.

Repeating seemingly thankless tasks while telling myself ‘I am actually saving them too’…

It was truly a peculiar fate.

###

Outside the winter palace.

A guardsman yawned widely. His shift had ended, but the next guard had not arrived.

“Shouldn’t they be on time?”

The next guard was often late, which made him even more annoyed.

In the distance, he saw a group of fellow guardsmen approaching.

Finally, time for the shift change.

He saluted with his rifle, following the protocol for the changing of the guard—

‘Huh?’

Why weren’t they responding?

The next moment.

He realized the red hair under the cap of the ‘next guard’ was unfamiliar.

Thunk!

“Ugh!”

In an instant, the ‘next guard’ closed the distance with a lunge and thrust a dagger into the guard’s soft neck, pushing him back.

The guard struggled in agony, feeling the horrifying sensation of his life slowly pouring out of him.

“Ugh, urgh, ugh…!”

Clawing at the ‘next guard’s’ hand, the guard used his last strength to grab his attacker’s collar.

He glimpsed a barbaric tattoo on the collarbone.

“Se-separatist…”

Over the past year, one of the bizarre concepts that had seeped out of the Republic was the notion of ‘ethnicity.’

Although there had been ethnic distinctions before, few considered them as the foundation of any political identity.

But Eugene Hastings had reinterpreted and propagated these strange ideas ‘class-wise,’ and some concepts resonated better in other countries than within the Republic itself.

With dying lips, the guard offered his final prayer.

“Lord, protect Her Majesty, the Empress…”

Terrorists advocating the dissolution of the Empire had infiltrated the winter palace.