Onseong Deployment Chronicle (7)
In the grand hall of the Onseong county office, a massive sheet of white hanji paper—dozens of sheets meticulously joined—unfurled in place of the usual straw mat. Park Seong-sul and the other clerks gulped as they stared at the intricate lines and bizarre symbols crowding the page.
It was the city plan for Onseong that Yi Si-woo had drawn up over three sleepless days and nights.
"Park Ho-bang."
"Y-yes, my lord! Here it is!"
Yi Si-woo lifted the end of his cane and tapped a point on the blueprint.
"Starting today, divide Onseong into five districts and rebuild it. Team 1 handles sewers, Team 2 roads, Team 3 ondol floors, Team 4 waterwheels, and Team 5 walls. Mobilize every able-bodied man, ox, and cart in Onseong."
Park Seong-sul's face drained to a muddy pallor in an instant.
"M-my lord! Launching such massive works in this frigid north will stir unrest among the people! Forced labor alone is enough to send them into fits even in their sleep...!"
"Who said anything about free labor? Pay two mareongseo potatoes and one nyang of silver per day to everyone who joins. Top-performing teams get bonuses. Don't believe me? Go check the warehouse we just distributed from. See if the rice is rotting over or not."
Before Yi Si-woo's words even finished, cheers erupted from the people outside the office.
"My lord! Start digging from the road in front of my house! I'm confident in shoveling dirt!"
"Just give us the potatoes and silver, and we'll lift the walls right off the ground!"
To the people of Onseong, who had tasted real rewards and visible results instead of unpaid toil, Yi Si-woo's projects weren't drudgery—they were a festival.
Yi Si-woo roamed the dusty sites at the heart of the action, level in hand—a tool he'd crafted himself. His sharp eyes checked every alley as he peered through the bamboo tube filled with water to confirm true horizontal.
"My lord, isn't this good enough? Why dig the water channels so deep and precise?"
A laborer wiping sweat from his brow with his spade asked. Yi Si-woo thrust the level forward.
"Even a 2-degree tilt, and the water won't flow—it'll pool and rot. That stagnant filth seeps into your children's wells, breeding plague. Keep sewage with sewage, clean water with clean. Separate them completely."
Yi Si-woo pulled a pouch of white lime powder from his pocket and scattered it on the ground. The bold white lines traced an efficient drainage network straight out of modern urban engineering.
"If the level's off, dig it up again! You can fool my eyes, but not gravity. Water doesn't lie."
"Gra... gravity? I don't know who that is, but your word is law, my lord—we'll dig it again!"
The laborers, convinced this "gravity" Yi Si-woo spoke of must be some fearsome water spirit, dug like their lives depended on it.
Where once the marketplace had been impassable amid the stench of filth and excrement, smooth stone-lined drains now carved through. The clerks screamed as they rolled their abacus beads to match the decimal-point gradients Yi Si-woo demanded.
A few days later, a torrent poured from the heavens.
Normally, the whole village would drown in knee-deep muck and sewage, turning into a hellscape.
"What in the world...!"
The people flung open their gates and poured out.
Rainwater had no chance to pool—it raced down Yi Si-woo's drains with a roar, vanishing beyond the walls in moments.
"The stench is gone, and no water in the yard!"
"The lord must've cast a spell on the water paths! It's slithering out like a living serpent, finding its own way!"
Elders who had groaned a lifetime in stink and mud caressed the clean streets with trembling hands. Overcome, they wiped away tears mingling with rain and bowed deeply toward the pavilion.
Yi Si-woo stood under the eaves, watching impassively amid the downpour.
What spell? Just fluid dynamics and flawless gradient design.
To a 21st-century man like him, it was basic physics. But to Joseon's folk, it was magic.
As the sewer works wrapped up, Yi Si-woo turned to the main road from the office gate to the fortress gate—a muddy quagmire that normally swallowed ox carts to the axles in rain.
"Starting today, dig it all up from the office gate to the fortress gate."
He mobilized laborers to tear up the roadbed entirely.
"My lord, I get the water channels, but why tear up a perfectly good road? Carts can't pass easily now."
Im Chi-gwon, manager of the Uiju merchant guild, asked worriedly. Yi Si-woo pointed to sacks of gravel and sand unloaded from a cart.
"Manager Im, how much money do you lose every time your cart's axle snaps in the mud? Today, I'll show you a road smoother than silk."
Yi Si-woo had them layer the roadbed in three strata: fist-sized rocks at the base, gravel above, and fine sand mixed with clay on top. Basic modern road engineering—particle size control.
Where his improved stone roller passed, crude dirt paths gave way to firm new roads as solid as fortress battlements.
"Now, drive your cart."
Im Chi-gwon, half-doubting, loaded his fully laden cart. A weight that would've ground to a halt with a groan now glided like wheels on oiled silk.
"Impossible! The cart... it's rolling like a feather! My lord, you've laid silk on the road itself!"
Cheers from the drivers echoed long. Steep hills that once took half a double-hour of straining oxen were now crested in a single effortless dash.
With roads open, household warmth transformed next. Yi Si-woo had laborers rip out ondol floors in every home and rebuild the smoke flues.
"My lord, smash these precious ondols, and where will we sleep this winter?"
Elders sniffled. Yi Si-woo replied coolly.
"Who said smash and leave? Curve the flues to trap heat where you want it—one load of firewood will hold three days' worth of hellfire warmth."
Fires lit in the redesigned ondols worked miracles. Using half the usual fuel, the floors scorched hot enough to yellow the mats, the warmth lingering till morning.
"One sack of wood, and the floor's a red-hot wok all night!"
"The lord must've planted a sun under the floors!"
Relieved of wood-gathering treks, the people prepared in cozy rooms for Yi Si-woo's next tasks.
The grand finale: Onseong's skin—the walls. In truth, they were walls in name only, crumbling ruins overrun with weeds. Past magistrates, colluding with Choi Du-sik, had pocketed repair funds from the court, slapping on a few stones and declaring completion.
Their greed left Onseong's people cursing fate, not walls, when foes came.
Yi Si-woo cleared every rotten trace.
"Wall construction isn't just piling stones. It's the final bulwark guarding Onseong lives. No gaps, no margins for error."
He widened the foundation skirt and shaped each stone to interlock in a structural marvel. After a fortnight of massive works, Onseong was no longer a shabby border ruin.
Clean sewers flowed beneathfoot, solid roads stretched ahead, efficient smoke rose from every home—a planned northern city reborn.
Onseong's walls were no longer tools to fatten corrupt officials but an iron fortress shielding against any foe.
Atop the pavilion, surveying the orderly city, Yi Si-woo felt Park Seong-sul approach and kneel roughly on the stone.
"My lord... no, this lowly Park Seong-sul finally sees. Those strange scribbles you dashed on paper weren't doodles—they were the lifelines saving people and raising a fortress."
Pressing his forehead to the ground, his voice trembled.
"This Park Seong-sul vows to be your faithful hound till death. I'll leap into hell itself where your calculations lead!"
Yi Si-woo stretched lazily.
"Hound, liege—what's with the dramatics? Park Ho-bang, skip the sentiment and fetch the ledgers. Time to cross-check silver and mareongseo spent on this."
Narrowing his eyes, he added,
"One nyang off in my math, and you're no hound—you're the prey. Got it?"
"Aigoo! Yes! Right away! I'll double-check—no error down to a single hair!"
Park Seong-sul fled in panic.