Chapter 2

<Upon failure to clear, Victoria (Kim Ah-young)… dies!>

Thump. Thump. Thump.

My heart hammered frantically as the tips of my fingers grew ice-cold.

If I don’t make Britain a conscientious country, I die?

Right here?

‘How can this even happen…!’

I had only come to the UK on vacation.

Sure, I liked Harry Potter and I liked Sherlock Holmes too… but having that turn into everyday life where my life was on the line was a bit much!

If only all of this were just filming some variety show.

If the door would open right now, cameras would flood in, and the pub owner would shout, “Ta-da!” and “You’ve been tricked!”, I would forgive everything.

Hoo….

What a ridiculous thought.

Taking a deep, heavy breath, I reached out and touched the diary with my fingertips.

The soft texture of the sheepskin could be felt beneath my touch.

At the same time, the trembling I felt while breaking out in cold sweat in front of Gate 36 at Heathrow Airport and the nervousness I experienced sitting inside the prosecutor’s interrogation room washed over me all at once.

Whimper!

Right then, a rustling sound came from beneath the bed.

“A puppy…?”

It was a bit dim in the candlelight, but it definitely looked like a puppy.

Otherwise, there was no way it would be licking the hand I extended, as if it were the greatest thing in the world.

“Who are you?”

Instantly, young Victoria’s memories blended in, and the name of this puppy—Dash—surfaced in my mind.

Seen in a better light, Dash was a cute spaniel with a mix of dark navy, brown, and white fur. Thinking I must have had a nightmare, the little fellow leaped up and burrowed right into my arms.

‘It’s warm….’

A warmth I never could have felt if I hadn’t survived.

Thanks to that, the trembling that had made me anxious just a moment ago vanished in an instant.

“Ahahaha! Stop it!”

Dash licked my cheek and tickled me, as if telling me to stop thinking gloomy thoughts.

After petting Dash a few times and settling him back onto his cushion, I took a deep breath.

‘Right, fear and courage are two sides of the same coin.’

Courage without fear is recklessness, and fear without courage is cowardice.

I placed the diary down on the table and pressed both palms firmly against the cover.

As if holding back something trying to run away, or perhaps holding onto myself.

Moonlight rested gently upon the diary.

Dozens of events and dozens of seemingly impossible tasks.

And right at the end, the word “death” scrawled in finality.

‘They said the safety devices on a food factory line were impossible to fix, too. They said whistleblowing was a crazy thing to do. They said winning against the company in court was out of the question. But I ended up winning anyway.’

That’s right.

I beat those odds back then, so why would there be a law saying I have to die now?

The expected difficulty level was just an expected difficulty level, after all.

I’d just find a way through, somehow.

‘Queen, huh….’

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I glanced at the clock: 2:20 AM.

Right on schedule with the diary, it would be the exact time my uncle and the King of Britain, William IV, had just breathed his last breath.

‘…May you rest in peace.’

I pressed my palms together in a silent prayer.

He was someone I had never met nor exchanged words with, yet a sense of profound pity welled up inside me.

Back then, I might have just brushed past such things, but I had made up my mind not to do that anymore.

‘Nothing has changed, then or now.’

Perhaps my traveling to England, ending up talking with the pub owner at the Anchor Tap, and sitting right here—if all of this meant the world needed me?

‘If that’s the case, you could have given me a hint a little sooner so I could mentally prepare.’

Only after grumbling complaints to an invisible Buddha did I feel a bit more at ease.

Since I was dropped into an unfamiliar world anyway, I might as well try to keep my mind at ease.

Once my thoughts settled a bit, my throat felt dry.

Glancing around, a crystal water pitcher caught my eye.

I placed the glass that had been inverted like a lid over the spout onto the table, poured some water, and drank it down, feeling the coolness spread through my body.

‘Reality is really reality….’

And then I thought.

The feelings of helplessness and failure I experienced when I blew the whistle on my company in the past.

Maybe, just maybe, here I could change everything the way I wanted?

‘Don’t count your chickens before they hatch, pull yourself together. There are a million things to do starting right now.’

After lightly tapping my cheeks with both hands, I organized the events set to happen today based on what I had seen in Victoria’s diary.

9:00 AM.

Prime Minister Lord Melbourne was scheduled to arrive with the draft of the Accession Declaration to be read at the Privy Council.

At 11:30 AM, I would head down to the Red Salon in Kensington Palace where I was staying, hold the Privy Council meeting to read aloud the Accession Declaration, and receive oaths of allegiance from the Privy Councilors, officially concluding the first day’s schedule of my accession.

The Accession Declaration.

A document officially mentioning the death of the previous monarch while expressing grief, and formally declaring the succession to the throne.

It contained vows to uphold the nation’s constitution and the Church of England, respect the rights of Parliament, express trust in the government (the cabinet) to rule together, and concluded by asking for divine help and blessing for one’s reign and the nation’s prosperity.

This document was scheduled to be drafted and brought by Prime Minister Lord Melbourne.

‘A just and moral Britain.’

I recalled my goal once more.

A country that rejected imperialism and aggressive wars, walking down the righteous path.

A nation that protected the weak, cast out corruption, and allowed everyone to live a humane life.

Last night at the pub, I had laughed it off as impossible, but was it truly beyond reach?

“I….”

While I sat on the edge of the bed pondering, dawn broke.

True to the diary, my mother, accompanied by the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Lord Chamberlain, came to find me and informed me that I had become Queen.

Greeting people I had never seen before as if I had known them all along wasn’t an easy feat, but perhaps due to the urgent news delivered from the palace, nobody questioned my demeanor.

“Your Majesty, the Prime Minister has arrived. He is waiting in the parlor.”

Here it comes.

My first official schedule, and my meeting with the seasoned politician, Prime Minister Lord Melbourne.

Meeting someone equivalent to a president in our country made my stomach knot with tension without me realizing it.

The sound of my heart pounding frantically must have been my imagination, surely louder than the click-clack of my footsteps echoing down the hallway.

The doors of the parlor opened, and standing at the center was a middle-aged man with a gentle smile.

His seasoned face resembled a century-old fox, and the unspoken pressure he exuded was suffocating. His gaze seemed a mix of worry, suspicion, and a hint of wariness toward me.

“Your Majesty.”

Lord Melbourne spoke first in a soft voice, approaching and kissing my hand.

His attitude was polite, yet beneath the surface, it felt as though he were testing what kind of person I really was.

“I sincerely congratulate you on your accession. However, as Your Majesty is well aware, a multitude of difficult challenges lie before us right now. The Irish question, the restless movements of the workers, and the unstable political situation in Europe…. Your Majesty will have to navigate through all of these.”

People who spew out difficult words in front of someone who knows nothing generally fall into two categories.

Those who are trying to scam you, or those who believe they are superior to you and expect you to trust and leave everything to them.

Lord Melbourne seemed to belong to the latter camp.

Since I was a young and inexperienced queen, he was projecting a silent pressure that I should lean on him.

In his mind, he was probably thinking, ‘Just what can a young thing like you possibly do?’

My heart started beating rapidly again, but this time it wasn’t because of trembling or fear.

If anything, a sense of fighting spirit welled up inside me.

I exhaled slowly and looked straight into his eyes.

I was someone who had fought against prominent law firms and won.

On top of that, I possessed Victoria’s diary containing the future.

Feeling my resolve harden, I flashed a sweet smile at him.

“I thank you for your loyalty, My Lord. Knowing full well that a turbulent path lies ahead, I can only hope that the cabinet will continue to dedicate itself to the prosperity of the fatherland, just as you do now.”

At my words, Lord Melbourne nodded as if satisfied.

That was all it took.

I would support him and the cabinet, and the Melbourne administration would pledge loyalty to me.

However, Britain did not put its trust in verbal promises.

That was why they had created the tradition of putting verbal promises into writing.

“Here is the draft of the Accession Declaration, Your Majesty.”

He presented a single sheet of paper with an extremely polite demeanor.

All sorts of flowery language were written upon it, but the core was this single line.

[We declare that we shall uphold the national constitution and the Church of England, and respect the rights of Parliament.]

Ah, absolutely.

I had no intention whatsoever of denying a constitutional monarchy.

“…A truly magnificent declaration. I could read it aloud just as it is right now.”

“You are too kind, Your Majesty.”

“It’s all good, but it would be even better if just one line were added at the end.”

“Pardon?”

In the Red Salon of Kensington Palace, dozens of people, including the Archbishop of Canterbury, were seated and listening intently to the newly ascended queen’s accession declaration.

Hearing the young queen state in a clear and calm voice just moments ago that she would respect Britain’s constitution, laws, parliament, and church, the veteran politicians felt a simultaneous mix of admiration and relief deep down. She was far more resolute and prepared than anticipated.

Yet the very next moment, the words slipping from her lips sent a subtle ripple across the room.

“…Respected members of the Privy Council, I declare that I shall respect not only the constitution, laws, and religion of this nation, but also the weight of Britain’s great conscience and its morality.”

Silence.

A suffocatingly brief stillness fell.

Dozens of politicians pricked up their ears at the phrase “the weight of conscience.”

In this heart of politics where laws, institutions, national interests, and power took precedence, it was an expression so unfamiliar and idealistic that it was hard to believe it came from the lips of an eighteen-year-old girl about to wear the crown.

‘What on earth is she thinking…?’

The first to show a minute reaction was Lord Melbourne.

He didn’t lose his gentle smile, but his eyebrows twitched ever so slightly for a split second.

‘The weight of conscience, you say….’

His mind raced rapidly.

‘What is her intent? Is it mere rhetoric? Or is it the influence of her mother, the Duchess of Kent, or Baroness Lehzen? Or perhaps, is this an idea this young monarch came up with all on her own?’

Barely eighteen.

An age where she might still fail to distinguish between ideals and reality.

When the queen had first requested to add a sentence about respecting the weight of conscience and morality, he had agreed without giving it much thought since he had already achieved what he wanted.

Yet as time passed, a nagging sense of unease crept over him.

Deciding to probe the queen’s intentions further for the time being, Lord Melbourne put on an even softer expression.

On the other hand, the expression of the Duke of Wellington standing across the room was far from favorable.

Deep, short wrinkles gathered between the brows of the Hero of Waterloo who had defeated Napoleon.

‘The weight of conscience?’

To him, someone who placed utmost importance on national glory, order, and military discipline, talking about conscience was nothing more than sentimental nonsense.

‘I thought she was smart, but the queen still knows nothing of the world. Politics is not run on conscience.’

National interest and power—that was all politics was.

Unable to hide his displeasure, he clicked his tongue briefly.

With any luck, that fellow Melbourne ought to manage her properly.

Meanwhile, the Archbishop of Canterbury reacted a little differently.

He closed his eyes for a moment, opened them, and gave a faint nod.

‘Oh, Lord. Have You instilled the weight of conscience and moral responsibility into the heart of the young queen?’

The word “conscience” had room for positive interpretation.

It could be accepted as a will to consider moral and ethical aspects in governing the nation, while in religion, conscience meant being more faithful to the Lord and fulfilling obedience and duty.

Of course, how that would manifest in practical politics was a separate issue, but to the Archbishop of Canterbury, it looked like a positive signal for now.

At the same time, a quiet murmur broke out among the other Privy Councilors in attendance.

“Conscience, of all things….”

“That’s an unprecedented expression.”

“What on earth could she mean by that?”

Some marveled at the young queen’s pure idealism.

Others inwardly sneered, dismissing it as childish talk born of ignorance regarding the harsh realities of realpolitik.

Still others rapidly turned their gears, wondering if there was any hidden political implication behind those words or how that statement would affect future policy directions.

Ultimately, the queen’s final remark instantly altered the atmosphere inside the Red Salon.

To the attendees, her words hinted at the reign yet to unfold while also leaving them with the impression that their queen would never be led around by the nose.

At that moment, the Queen seated at the highest place in the Red Salon consciously absorbed the diverse gazes pouring down on her and thought to herself:

Let’s become the whistleblower who will illuminate the conscience of this colossal empire.