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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 8
Chapter Title: The Familiar Scent of Home
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Regardless of my growing understanding of London, there was only one thing I could focus on for now.
"Young Master, shall we begin our lessons for the day?"
"Yes! I look forward to it."
"Young Master, you learn so quickly that I believe we'll be able to start on other subjects soon. I may not look it, but I've been a private tutor for well over ten years, and I've never seen anyone learn as fast as you."
"Thank you. It must be because you're such a good teacher."
In the end, the most essential thing for a person to navigate the world is language.
After all, in a society where you don't speak the language, even the most intelligent person becomes deaf and mute, unable to hear or speak.
I had to pretend to master English as quickly as possible to blend in with those around me and remove the many restrictions on my actions.
Of course, it was true that I needed to work on my pronunciation, and many words from this era were different from their modern counterparts, so there was a genuine need to learn.
Thanks to this, I studied with utmost concentration, without cutting any corners, and as the days went by, it became a habit for my tutor to shower me with praise.
"My lord! The young master is a genius! A genius!"
"Ho ho ho, is that so?"
"I've never taught such a brilliant student in my entire life. In just a few months, he's fluently handling not only simple conversation but also reading comprehension, and his grammar is impeccable. You must be so proud to have such a gifted son."
"Hahahaha! Well now, I've never been called dull myself, but I was never like this. I wonder who the boy takes after to be so clever. In that case, might it be possible for him to enter Eton or Harrow?"
"More than possible! Students enroll there at twelve, or thirteen at the latest, so the young master still has nearly three years. That's more than enough time. I will stick by his side and teach him myself."
What? Was my father actually thinking of sending me to Eton College?
As my eyes widened at this news I was hearing for the first time, the Earl smiled brightly and patted my shoulder.
"Ah, this must be the first you're hearing of it, my son. Eton and Harrow are, without a doubt, among the very best schools in this country. A school is a place where children of your age gather to live and study together."
"So I'll get to live there with friends?"
"That's right. Only the brightest children in the country go there, so making friends will surely be of great help to you later, Killian. The entrance exam is difficult, but your tutor says it will be no problem for you, so I thought it was time to tell you."
Was he being considerate, worried I might feel pressured if he told me about such a prestigious school from the start?
I was a bit taken aback, but I felt no negativity whatsoever.
After all, if I could add a name like Eton to my credentials, it would only be a benefit to me, never a detriment.
Besides, just as my father said, such prestigious schools are teeming with the children of upper-class families.
The British Empire of this era was a society of connections, incomparable to the modern world.
Making good friends there would surely provide me with priceless connections that even a fortune couldn't buy.
All things considered, if I could get in, I absolutely should.
"I understand. I'll study hard and make sure to get into Eton College. I want to become a son you can be proud of."
"Yes, yes. Whose son are you to say such clever and lovely things? If you need anything, I'll provide it, so don't feel burdened and just let me know."
"Yes, thank you. I'll study hard."
In fact, if I thought about it for a moment, my father was a nobleman with his own estate in Ireland.
He was staying here for my sake, but he couldn't leave his estate unattended forever.
So, if I enrolled at Eton or Harrow, I would have to live in a dormitory, allowing my father to return to Ireland with peace of mind.
Of course, this was still a matter for the distant future, but it's always wise to plan ahead to avoid scrambling later.
From that day on, I diligently applied myself to my tutor's lessons and began to formally study other subjects besides English.
Still, it was just the studies of a ten-year-old trying to catch up.
Latin was a bit difficult, but subjects like mathematics and music were, on the contrary, so easy it was a problem.
What if my progress was so fast that my tutor or father mistook me for a once-in-a-generation genius and pushed me towards a scholarly path?
I only wanted to climb to the highest echelons of British society; I had no desire to become a world-renowned scholar.
But even at this pace, it was more than enough to earn the constant praise and admiration of my tutor and father.
"My goodness, Young Master! You can already solve problems like this!"
"…"
"To grasp the principles of multiplication in a single day!"
"…"
"Good heavens, division in just one day! Young Master, are you truly a genius?"
It was all well and good, but being praised as a prodigy for solving arithmetic problems fit for a ten-year-old was starting to make me blush.
My tutor took even this as a sign that the young master already understood the virtue of humility, chattering on endlessly, and thanks to him, my father's trust in me grew deeper by the day.
Recognition earned through multiplication and division.
It was all fine... but still, it was a little embarrassing.
* * *
In any case, all's well that ends well. Basking in my father's affection and becoming familiar with the layout of London, I felt like there was nothing holding me back.
Still, as a ten-year-old boy, I couldn't go out alone.
James always accompanied me, but thanks to my father's orders to let me do whatever I wanted, he would buy me anything I wished to eat and take me anywhere I wished to go.
Then one day.
While strolling through a busy street with James as usual, looking around, I noticed a building with a peculiar atmosphere and stopped in my tracks.
"Young Master, why have you stopped here?"
"No reason. I was just wondering what kind of place this is."
"It's not a place you need to know about, Young Master. There's a street with delicious food just over there. How about we go that way?"
"What? Is it a place I shouldn't even look at?"
Could it be a place similar to that one I briefly passed by in Soho the other day?
No. If it were that kind of establishment, it wouldn't be operating on a busy, expensive-looking street like this, would it?
James's reaction was like a parent stopping their child from eating junk food. And aren't people more tempted to do something when they're told not to?
"If we just leave, I'll only be more curious. Wouldn't I be more easily convinced if you told me why I don't need to know?"
"Well... sigh, very well. You have a point, Young Master. To put it simply, this is a gambling den. Gambling is the act of wasting one's life by betting money against others. This is a place where people squander their lives on such a useless activity."
"I know what gambling is. We had it in Joseon, too. But this building looks quite large and ornate."
"London is filled with private gambling dens like this one. In the past, high-society clubs mainly served that purpose, but these days, the market has grown, and such dens are thriving everywhere."
No wonder I smelled something familiar. It was a gambling den.
I'd heard somewhere that gambling became so rampant in Britain that they banned almost all forms of it, except for horse racing, starting in the 19th century.
They say every effect has a cause. If gambling was this widespread, it's easy to understand why.
As I recall, gambling was outlawed around the mid-19th century, which means London's gambling dens were currently in the middle of their last dance.
Thinking about it that way made me curious again.
It's a place I won't be able to enter soon enough anyway. I wonder what's happening inside.
Since ancient times, gambling and cheating have been two sides of the same coin.
In my past life, I too was a cardsharp who had honed my skills by drifting through countless gambling rings.
Sometimes I participated as a player, and other times I controlled the outcome of the game as a dealer.
Of course, I was an anomaly who preyed on other cardsharps, so my main role was to ruin the games they tried to rig.
"Say, James. Can't we just go inside and take a look?"
"As I said before, Young Master, this is a world you're better off not knowing about. Of course, people bet on cards and horse races in social clubs. But that's a story for true gentlemen with strong self-control. Most people squander their money and fall to the very bottom of life."
"That's why I want to see it for myself. That's how I'll learn that I shouldn't do such things. Wouldn't it be better to see it now, while I have someone like you to explain it to me clearly? That would help me form the right values, don't you think?"
"That sounds plausible, but... Young Master, you don't simply want to look around, do you?"
To be honest, he was right.
Of all the buildings, what other reason could there be for my feet to stop here?
A sparrow can't just fly past a mill.
Wasn't it some instinct ingrained within me that had reacted to this gambling den?
Realizing he had no choice but to let me see the gambling den, James sighed and opened the building's door.
A middle-aged man who had been watching us from inside spotted us and quickly approached.
"What's this? No children allowed in—"
The man, who had been waving his arms to shoo us away, immediately changed his expression upon seeing my neat attire.
"Are you, by any chance, a nobleman?"
"Can't you tell by looking? The young master showed some interest, so I thought I'd give him a tour, but I suppose children are forbidden? In that case, we'll leave at once."
"A nobleman is a potential future patron! Of course, you're more than welcome. What does age matter? Please, come in and take your time looking around. Hahaha!"
Following the heartily laughing man inside, the sprawling vista of the gambling den came into view.
One might expect a child's entrance to draw attention, but no one so much as glanced our way.
They were all just staring at the cards, dice, and beads before them, chattering loudly.
James clicked his tongue, watching the scene with an expression of utter pity.
"Allow me to explain. That is a game where they roll dice and bet on the outcome. You can think of it as them throwing away their lives along with the dice."
"Mm-hm, I see."
"And that is a card game. There are various types, but they all share the common trait of irresponsibly entrusting one's life to the luck of the draw."
I wonder if this man has ever lost a fortune gambling, or if he knows someone who has.
The thorns in his every word were no joke.
After that, James continued to walk me through every corner of the gambling den, passionately preaching about why gambling was a waste of life.
Of course, I wholeheartedly agreed with him, but humans are creatures of endless greed who are doomed to repeat the same mistakes.
At the very least, the people filling this room would keep coming back until gambling was made illegal.
Just as I was about to get lost in my thoughts.
My eyes fell on a man engrossed in a card game at a central table that looked like a VIP section.
To be more precise, it wasn't the man but the dealer in front of him who caught my attention.
It was only a fleeting sense of unease, but upon focusing, I immediately understood why I'd felt it.
Well, well. These dealers have some bad habits with their hands, don't they?
The players at the table, their vision narrowed by their focus on the cards, lacked the sharp eyes to notice.
But my eyes could see it all.
I stopped and watched for a moment, and I could see they were carefully controlling the game to avoid getting caught.
It was a technique where they didn't just drain the players dry, but occasionally let them taste the high of victory while steadily fleecing them.
This wasn't the work of an amateur. At this level, it had to be the house colluding with the dealers, not just a rogue employee.
No wonder my feet had naturally stopped in front of this building.
Then again, I wasn't a professional gambler, so it would be strange for me to get a 'hunch' just by passing a gambling den.
This cool, heavy feeling, like returning home after a long time.
My spirit of professional courtesy, more considerate than anyone else in the world, began to squirm, screaming with delight.