Eternal Unforgetting Stele
"County Magistrate Yi Si-woo, heed His Highness's royal command!"
The thunderous shout of the herald, Choi Seong-un, sharply tore through the dawn silence of the Onseong county office.
Si-woo knelt on the cold stone floor.
"The King decrees: Though County Magistrate Yi Si-woo of Onseong in Hamgyong Province has devoted himself to relieving the people and establishing discipline in this barren northern land, the time has come for his talents to serve the court urgently. Yi Si-woo shall proceed immediately to Hanyang and report in detail to Us on his achievements thus far. Waste no time. Thus it is commanded."
"Your servant is eternally grateful, Your Highness!"
Si-woo clutched the sealed edict to his chest and rose to his feet.
"Preparations are complete. Let us set out at once."
"Grant me just one gak of time."
"One gak...? Very well."
But Si-woo did not mount his horse right away. He returned to the office in the county yamen to review the final documents: the operational status of the Onseong workshop, the distribution rate of standard measures, and a compiled manual of essential Onseong governance policies that his successor must absolutely follow.
"Hobang, Ibang. Come forward."
At Si-woo's call, the clerks of the six offices filed in orderly.
Si-woo met each of their eyes in turn and spoke.
"My departure must not lead to disordered ledgers or a dimming forge fire. While I discuss state affairs with His Highness in Hanyang, you must safeguard the foundations of Joseon here."
Si-woo paused, taking in the reddening eyes of the clerks one by one. Over the past two years, they had been the primary architects of Onseong's transformation, shedding bloody tears under his relentless calculations.
"If I return to find even a single pun discrepancy, I will address it personally then."
"My lord! How can you speak such frightening words? We pledge our lives to protect Onseong!"
Hobang wiped his tears with his sleeve and replied. Instead of answering, Si-woo placed a hefty ledger on the desk.
"This book is the cornerstone sustaining Onseong—the blueprint I leave behind. When the successor arrives, deliver it without fail."
Si-woo lightly tapped the Standards of the Ledger on the desk. The dull thud settled heavily in the office.
"Should he arrive and cite customs or precedents to disrupt these figures, remember this clearly: The moment the numbers falter, Onseong's forges will cool, and your sated peace will vanish like a mirage."
"When that time comes, you must stand as my proxies and block him. More fearsome than a magistrate's authority is hunger; more solemn than law is the hot meat broth your children will drink tomorrow. Guarding this ledger is the only path to ensure your families never grovel in the dirt again. Etch it in your minds, and etch it again."
"M-my lord, how you make our eyes burn so... We petty folk swear on our lives to preserve the righteous path of numbers you have left!"
Ibang could no longer hold back, covering his face with his sleeve and sobbing. Si-woo turned from them, pocketing the heavy seal as he stood.
The true farewell awaited not at the yamen gate, but beyond the town walls at the city gate's edge.
As dawn mist clung low along the Tumen River, the space before Onseong's gate brimmed with the breaths of ten thousand people.
Just two years prior, on his first day, Si-woo had seen Onseong as a ghost town reeking of death—its people glaring at one another like starving beasts ready to devour. But now, before him stood blacksmiths in rugged leather aprons, farmers gripping steel hoes, and villagers with eyes brimming with vitality.
"My lord magistrate, must you truly leave like this?"
The master blacksmith Sangno blocked Si-woo's horse with bloodshot eyes. Behind him stood hundreds of workshop artisans, each clutching heavy tools, their hands gripping the standard iron rulers Si-woo had distributed like sacred relics.
Si-woo mounted and gazed deeply upon them.
"My leaving won't extinguish your forges. Forget not the measures in your hands nor the numbers etched in your minds. They alone will fill your bellies."
At Si-woo's firm admonition, the ten thousand knelt as one.
Then, the township chief arrived, panting as he dragged a massive cart. He roughly swept aside the red silk covering it, revealing a metallic gleam that cut through the chill dawn air.
It was the Eternal Unforgetting Stele of gleaming black steel, cast from Onseong's purest forge iron.
He breathed iron's life into the harsh soil, saving the starving people and rigorously establishing the rule of numbers to revive the town's discipline.
The forge fires blazed day and night, giving ten thousand people a foundation to rely on; the unceasing hammer strikes freed the weak from hunger and made the strong fear the law.
Thus, the people of Onseong unite their hearts to melt their gratitude into this molten steel, engraving it eternal: This iron shall never rust through the ages, nor shall the laws established here waver for ten thousand generations.
"Stones turn to dust and scatter, but the steel you granted us will guard Onseong even after a thousand years. We ten thousand people offer this molten iron!"
Sangno's cry echoed across the fields. At the stele's center, the words Onseong County Magistrate Yi Si-woo Eternal Unforgetting Stele were exquisitely engraved.
Si-woo dismounted and clapped each of the six clerks on the shoulder.
"Erect this stele at the village entrance. Let every passerby realize: What changes lives is not waiting, but the firm resolve one forges oneself."
The procession headed south, reaching the blue river marking the border between Hamgyong and Gangwon Provinces.
At the road's end, amid rugged mountains, a mirror-clear river appeared. Si-woo and Man-seok reined in their horses as if by prior agreement.
Crossing by boat was a first for Joseon's Yi Si-woo—and for his loyal bodyguard Man-seok, born and raised here.
"My lord... You truly mean to board that wooden plank? It looks less trustworthy than solid ground."
Man-seok squinted warily at the swaying ferry. The man who had guarded Si-woo unflinchingly since age five against countless foes now stood exposed as a landlubber before the rocking vessel.
Si-woo boarded with feigned nonchalance but hesitated at the strange buoyancy underfoot. As the boat glided into midstream, he gripped the rail and stared at the flowing current.
In my past life, I crossed oceans on cruise ships tens of thousands of times larger, piling buffet plates high while gazing at the horizon—that decadent memory.
A bitter smile tugged at Si-woo's lips. He recalled weekend outings to Ttukseom Hangang Park, pedaling goofy pedal boats amid laughing couples and families, wondering at the "labor" while reveling in it—modern joys.
But beneath his feet now lay only a rickety wooden ferry, doomed if it sprang a leak.
"My lord, look below! Silvers swirling in the water like coins!"
Man-seok's innocent cry snapped Si-woo from reverie. Through the crystal-clear river, schools of fish flashed silver scales as they swam.
To eyes accustomed to Onseong's black soil and jagged rocks, the swaying water plants and darting fish were wonders incarnate.
The breeze atop the boat differed from Onseong's. Not the north's razor-sharp gale that flayed skin, but a soft, sun-warmed puff, fluffy and gentle.
"So the south wind is this tender."
Si-woo closed his eyes, savoring it. Two years in Onseong had been nothing but reforms and figures; he had never once relaxed his vigilance. This brief interlude on the rocking ferry felt like his first true respite in ages.
"My lord, will Hanyang's winds be this warm too?"
Man-seok asked, dipping his hand in the river. Si-woo gazed at the distant southern ridges and murmured low.
"The wind may be warm, but the hearts within will chill colder than Onseong's blizzards. Cherish this warmth well."
Having crossed, the procession now took the true road to Hanyang. The path widened far beyond Onseong's, yet the walkers' faces lacked Onseong's vigor.
Four sijin later, as dusk fell, they reached the misty entrance to Cheollyeong Pass, fog blanketing like clouds.
Higher elevation chilled the warm breeze anew; the ridges fell into an eerie hush. Si-woo dismounted to recheck the carts' lashings.
As fog rose to ankles, he reined in the procession.
"We camp here tonight. No further till dawn."
At Si-woo's order, Choi Seong-un and the escort troops sighed in relief. For those who had wrestled carts up treacherous paths all day, Cheollyeong's night fog brought fatigue before fear.
"Man-seok, circle the wagons. Steel axles outward, braziers inward."
Under Si-woo's direction, the camp sprang up with crisp efficiency. Onseong artisans and troops mingled, kindling fires and hanging cauldrons. Soon, savory aromas of dried meat and wild greens from Onseong wafted from the pots.
Si-woo sat by a cart, sipping steaming broth from a wooden bowl. Beside him, Man-seok sniffed warily at the forest shadows but grinned at the proffered meat morsel.
"Young master, you wore a strange look on the river... Have you truly never been on a boat? You seem to know waterways like an old hand."
Si-woo's hand paused at Man-seok's casual query over his broth. The boy, glued to him like a shadow since age five, had sharp instincts.
Si-woo swallowed steadily and replied.
"Just a dream-memory of roaming oceans on a massive ironclad. Mountains of fish piled aboard."
"Haha, even your dreams suit you, young master. How could an iron ship float?"
Man-seok chalked it up to an auspicious prenatal dream befitting Si-woo's caliber, bursting into hearty laughter before returning to his stew.
Si-woo stared blankly at the crackling campfire, a wry inner smile forming.
The cruise buffets' splendor, canned coffee amid giggles at Ttukseom Hangang Park... All feel like dreams now.
As the sated group bedded down under carts—even Choi Seong-un snoring deeply—the camp held only the pop of firewood.
Si-woo rested his steel sword across his knees and quietly closed his eyes.