Onseong Assignment Chronicle (4)
Choi Du-sik's mansion, returned from Chwiwol Pavilion, had become a hellscape overnight, filled with screams and the stench of burning.
"Burn it! Burn every last scrap without leaving a single page behind! Anyone who hesitates gets thrown into the flames with it!"
Choi Du-sik howled like a madman, driving his clerks onward. In the center of the courtyard stood a massive brazier, into which ledgers meticulously recording decades of graft in Onseong were being tossed. Staring at the blazing pile, Choi Du-sik's eyes gleamed with frenzy.
In that pandemonium, the local strongman Park Seong-sul swallowed dryly as he watched the roaring flames. He couldn't shake the image of Si-woo from Chwiwol Pavilion—the ghostly martial prowess that had floored seven grown men in the blink of an eye, and the piercing insight that recited the ledgers' hidden secrets as if he'd seen them firsthand. Park Seong-sul sensed it instinctively: what Choi Du-sik was burning wasn't paper, but his own lifeline.
With a trembling voice, Park Seong-sul approached. "Choi... Lord Choi... You must reconsider. That magistrate isn't your average pushover. He already had the ledgers memorized. Burning them won't make him forget. Better... better take the remaining ones, bow your head, slip him some silver, and settle it now..."
Before Park Seong-sul could finish, "You damned fool, flapping your tongue like that!" Thwack! Choi Du-sik's rough palm struck his cheek. Blood spurted from Park Seong-sul's twisted mouth. Eyes bloodshot, Choi Du-sik seized his collar.
"Park, you bastard—you've finally lost your mind! Who the hell are you telling to bow? Forgotten whose silk you're wearing, whose fat meats fill your gut? That magistrate? That green eighteen-year-old whelp memorized the ledgers? What, is he a ghost? No ledgers, no law. One more weak-kneed word out of you, and your head goes in the brazier first!"
Choi Du-sik flung Park Seong-sul to the ground like trash. Clutching his throbbing cheek, Park Seong-sul looked up. Backlit by the flames, Choi Du-sik's bellowing figure wasn't the dignified tycoon anymore—just a senile old man thrashing to hold a crumbling fortress.
He's lost it. Completely lost it. Poisonous resolve hardened in Park Seong-sul's eyes. This ship's sunk. Choi Du-sik's rotting vessel goes down today. To survive, I need to cling to that monster magistrate's coattails.
Feigning a groveling bow, Park Seong-sul sharpened his inner blade. Out of Choi Du-sik's sight, he clutched tighter the real ledger he'd secretly pocketed.
The next morning, cold fog silently blanketed the yamen courtyard in Onseong. Si-woo sat alone on a wooden chair in the center, his neatly donned official robes as chilling as the wintry wind. Before him stood Choi Du-sik and his clerks, pale as dirt from a sleepless night, lined up like criminals.
Forcing bloodshot eyes wide and a strained smile, Choi Du-sik pulled out a few hastily forged ledgers from his bosom and offered them. "Magistrate, we scoured the yamen warehouse and my home top to bottom all night, but alas, a fire destroyed most. These remnants match perfectly—no discrepancies in inventory. You must have misread something at Chwiwol Pavilion yesterday."
Arrogance crept back into his voice, bolstered by certainty that the evidence was gone. Si-woo didn't even glance at the ledgers. Instead, he rose slowly and approached. Each step shattered the courtyard's silence.
Stopping nose-to-nose, Si-woo flicked the black soot from Choi Du-sik's sleeve with his fingertip. "Quite the racket with your little bonfire last night. The stench of burning paper wafted all the way here. Nose plugged up, Lord Choi? Or does the reek of your crimes make even scorched ink smell sweet?"
"Th-that was just burning trash in the courtyard..." Before the excuse could land, Si-woo simply stared into his eyes. That eerie silence strangled Choi Du-sik like a noose, crushing the yard.
Park Seong-sul's shoulders visibly shook first, unable to bear the stillness. He recalled the mad face that slapped him last night—and Si-woo's brutality shredding thugs at Chwiwol Pavilion. This ship's already sunk. Can't die with that old fool.
Terror and survival instinct overrode reason. Park Seong-sul burst from the line, prostrating at Si-woo's feet. "M-Magistrate! Mercy! That old man's deceiving you! What went into the brazier last night were blanks I snuck out ahead! Here—the real ones! The true ledgers of how the Choi clan manipulated Onseong's relief grain and hidden taxes these past five years!"
Breaths halted across the yard. Choi Du-sik's eyes bulged; his cane-gripping hand quivered. "You... traitor! Park Seong-sul! You've gone mad! How dare you!!"
Choi Du-sik swung his cane wildly at Park Seong-sul's head. Si-woo's voice froze the air. "Stay put. I said my patience ended last night. Move that filthy carcass without my leave once more, and I'll snap both your legs so you crawl the earth forever."
Choi Du-sik froze under the gaze. Si-woo took the ledgers from Park Seong-sul with one hand, then tossed another worn volume at his feet. Thud. Dust rose from the old papers.
It was the real black book, hidden in Choi Du-sik's deepest vault—known only to him. "Park, you're sharp enough. Sensed I'd already secured the real one and scrambled to save your skin? Your copy's good, but this is the truth you hid so desperately."
Confirming it on the ground, Choi Du-sik recoiled in horror. "H-how did you get this..."
"While you lot were distracted by my fists at Chwiwol Pavilion, the kid I planted swept your study. What you burned so diligently? Blanks I'd swapped in advance. Beautiful flames, watching a lifetime of greed vanish as smoke with mere scraps of paper."
Si-woo leaned close, murmuring as Choi gaped at the ledger. "Choi Du-sik, you underestimated numbers. Thought they were just ink scratches on paper? Every erased '1' was someone's rice bowl, someone's life, someone's grudge!"
"Behind each digit you wiped from the ledgers lies a starved child's corpse. The thousand seok you embezzled? A full year's survival for a thousand Onseong souls. You thought you could blot out those precious lives with a few ink drops?"
Flipping pages, Si-woo dissected the truths Choi had buried. "Gyeongin year, autumn—two hundred seok of relief grain siphoned from Pyeonggok-ri. That winter, forty-two starved to death. Last winter, selling the crown's relief rice for kickbacks. That cash could've carried the refugees beyond the walls through winter. You truly believed burning these numbers would erase them? No—they return as the noose around your neck."
His voice carried across the yard to every ear. "Every sip of liquor you drank was laced with commoners' blood; every silk you wore clung with children's flesh. Slept well draped in them? No more. From tonight, the vengeful spirits of those you killed will tear you limb from limb every night."
Speechless, Choi Du-sik crawled on the ground, foaming and shuddering—no longer Onseong's overlord.
Si-woo turned to trembling Park Seong-sul. At the glance, he smashed his forehead into the dirt. "Park, you're as guilty of death. Licking the people's lifeblood as Choi's hound—whose tears fattened the meats in your belly? I'd rot you in prison with him... but that rat-like survival instinct at the last moment earns you one chance."
"M-Magistrate! This lowly life spared—overwhelmed with gratitude! I'll slave at your feet like a dog till death to repay!"
"Don't celebrate yet. In exchange for life, your days start today harsher than hell. By noon tomorrow, cross-check the seized slush funds from Choi's house against this real ledger. Compute every missing tax and embezzled grain to the last coin—no errors. One penny short? You'll pay from your flesh and marrow. Understood?"
"Y-yes! Magistrate! I'll work like a dog!"
Park Seong-sul spurred the clerks and fled. Si-woo coldly ignored his bowing and extended a hand to the guards. "Hey! Lock that sly old rat and his cronies in the cells now! No contact whatsoever—guard strictly till the auditor from Hanyang arrives. Anyone approaching under pretext of care or passing notes? Treat as accomplices in this organized embezzlement and bind on the spot!"
The guards dragged screaming Choi Du-sik away. The once-mighty merchant's silk turban unraveled, rolling in the dirt as morning sun pierced the lifting fog.
Si-woo smoothed his sleeves and kicked a ledger scrap. "By magistrate's authority, beheading you now would be easy—but I uphold the law. Today, I report every crime to His Highness in full. Till Hanyang's auditor comes for your head, stew in your cell with the rats on the weight of your sins. Your clan confiscates; your name etched as Onseong's shame."
Si-woo rose, gazing toward Choi's mansion. Through the fog, commoners gathered at the yamen gates. Eyes witnessing the tyrant's dog-like dragging held shock, awe, and hope they'd never known.
Turning his back, Si-woo headed to his office. "Watch closely! From now on, any who fill their bellies in this town with others' tears instead of honest sweat will pay dearly! Next ledger—bring it!"