Chapter 5: First Mission (Part 2)
A single flickering candle illuminated the room, where Yi Si-woo had confined himself amid dusty records for days on end. Senior scribes passing by the corridor clucked their tongues at the sight of his back through the cracked door. To them, he was nothing more than a foolish newbie flailing about, nitpicking errors.
But in Yi Si-woo's mind, numbers were clicking into place with ruthless precision.
'The rice hasn't been moved. If it had been transported from Hanyang to Onseong by cart, there would've been repair costs—not a single yang.'
Cross-referencing the [Hamgyong Province Disaster Relief Records] with the [Ministry of Agriculture's Discarded Farm Tool Inventory], Yi Si-woo confirmed his suspicions. Kim Gwi-ju was melting down farm tools to forge swords for his private army.
As Yi Si-woo pored over the ledgers, the archive door burst open with a bang.
"Y-you, Junior Scribe! What in the world are you doing here?!"
It was Senior Scribe Park. His face drained to the color of dirt as he scanned the Hamgyong ledgers strewn across Yi Si-woo's desk.
In an instant, Yi Si-woo erased his sharp gaze, replacing it with the bleary-eyed look of a diligent but sleepy rookie.
"Oh, Senior Scribe Park. I was going over the ledgers you gave me, and some questions popped up."
Yi Si-woo pointed innocently at one ledger. It detailed charcoal purchases for the Hamgyong forges.
"This Onseong in Hamgyong Province must be awfully cold, huh? The forges there use five or six times more charcoal than in the capital. Must be because farm tools freeze and shatter so often on the frontier, right?"
Senior Scribe Park's eyes shook violently.
"Charcoal...? Why are you asking about—"
"It's nothing much. The numbers were just so huge, I was grumbling about how hard they were to tally. Oh, and Senior Scribe Park—there was a receipt stuck in the corner of this ledger with a name that looked an awful lot like yours... Is this for managing your family's ancestral graves? Quite a hefty sum."
The paper Yi Si-woo handed over was a record of Park siphoning off Kim Gwi-ju's slush funds for brothel visits. Park's hand trembled uncontrollably.
Yi Si-woo added with a bright, innocent smile, "My math skills are too poor to make sense of such big figures. Why don't we take this straight to the minister and ask him to teach me? He seems to hold you in such high regard; I'm sure he'd explain it kindly to me too."
Senior Scribe Park snatched the ledger with a shriek-like cry and fled the archive. Yi Si-woo watched his retreating back, slowly wiping ink from the desk. The bumbling smile that had flustered Park moments ago was gone.
At the same time, tension hung thick in the lavish parlor of Kim Gwi-ju's mansion in the heart of the capital.
"Yi Si-woo... That brat really asked about the charcoal amounts and even brought up traces of my slush funds? All while grinning like an idiot?"
Kneeling and kowtowing on the floor, Senior Scribe Park trembled like an aspen leaf as he replied to Kim Gwi-ju's question.
"Yes, my lord! I can't tell if the punk truly knows something or if he's just stumbling over ledgers and spouting nonsense! But his accusations were so precise, as if he'd been sitting in the Hamgyong forge yard watching—it chilled me to the bone!"
Clang! Kim Gwi-ju hurled his teacup to the floor. A shard grazed Park's cheek.
"You idiots! Can't even handle one measly newbie without exposing my secrets? My sister is the queen consort, and at my word, even ministers hold their breath... And some lowly scribe dares mention my family's graves?!"
Beside the fuming Kim Gwi-ju, his trusted enforcer Choi Dal-pyeong smirked wickedly and spoke up.
"My lord, calm yourself. A clever man is less dangerous than a lucky fool. Killing him in the capital would draw His Highness's suspicion, but Hamgyong Province? That's a different story."
Kim Gwi-ju narrowed his eyes at Choi Dal-pyeong, who bowed obsequiously and continued.
"Conveniently, the Onseong deputy magistrate post is open. Your cousin is the Hamgyong Inspector there, so send the brat packing. Make him walk right into the tiger's den on his own two feet."
A murderous glint crept into Kim Gwi-ju's eyes. He nodded slowly, twisting his lips into a sneer.
"Yes... Onseong. Crawling into the grip of my cousin, who holds Hamgyong's military authority? In that harsh northern wasteland, who would care if a top scholar died of local disease or a barbarian's blade?"
Looking down pityingly at the quaking Park, Kim Gwi-ju ordered Choi Dal-pyeong, "Dal-pyeong, send a letter to your mountaineer friends. A precious guest will arrive soon—tell them to prepare his grave with utmost care. Have them ready an extravagant seven-star burial chart for him."
Kim Gwi-ju's arrogant laughter pierced the night air beyond the walls.
Around that time, Yi Si-woo stood in King Jeongjo's secret pavilion, enduring the cold night dew.
After verifying the jade token, King Jeongjo dismissed even his guard eunuch and sat face-to-face with Yi Si-woo.
"Scribe, I rushed here upon reading your secret missive. To summon me in the dead of night, it must be more than mere tales of officials pocketing funds, yes?"
Tension and anticipation laced King Jeongjo's voice.
Yi Si-woo presented the 'Weapon Forging and Troop Movement Estimates' he had compiled over sleepless days and nights.
"Your Highness, this is no mere corruption. A private army beyond the court's control is forming near Onseong in Hamgyong Province. Ten thousand seok of rice sustains them, and the discarded farm tools will soon become swords and spears aimed at Your Highness's heart."
King Jeongjo flipped through the figures Yi Si-woo offered. Each page reeked of blood.
His fist trembled, then clenched until veins bulged.
"Onseong... Where Kim Gwi-ju's faction has deep roots. But Scribe, this is insufficient. They control even the Three Armies' command, and Kim Gwi-ju is the Noron leader and the queen consort's brother. If they deny it as ignorance or a frame-up, I lack the justification to press them. The court tongues already dance to their tune."
Anger clouded King Jeongjo's face.
"They know too well how to choke my breath. I need ironclad proof—a living ledger to sever their heads in one stroke."
King Jeongjo's anguish ran deep. Baseless treason charges could push royal authority to the brink.
But Yi Si-woo's gaze did not waver.
"That is why I must go to Onseong myself. In the capital, we grasp only tails. I will enter their lair and secure irrefutable proof they cannot deny."
King Jeongjo stared piercingly at Yi Si-woo.
"Onseong is rotten from the yamen to the clerks—all Noron tentacles. Especially with Kim Gwi-ju's cousin as Hamgyong Inspector; you may not even cross the threshold before being 'accidentally' killed and turned into a corpse. Will you still go?"
"To obtain a tiger's pelt, one must thrust a hand into its maw. If my life can carve out their heart, it's a bargain."
King Jeongjo let out a short, hollow laugh. The bold—nay, arrogant—reply was exactly the madness he needed now.
"Very well. Kim Gwi-ju will move against you. Park has likely reported already, so memorials demoting you will rain down tomorrow. I will feign indifference, letting their will send you to Onseong—like an incompetent king chased from the capital's back by court pressure, banishing a top graduate to the frontier."
King Jeongjo rose slowly and approached Yi Si-woo, gripping his shoulder firmly.
"But mark this promise: two years. In two years, I will summon you back to Hanyang without fail. Until then, as Onseong's magistrate, guard Joseon's north, investigate Kim Gwi-ju's corruption, and be my eyes and ears. If no signal comes in two years... I will assume you lost, and wage total war on the Noron my way. So survive, seize the proof, and return."
Yi Si-woo saw the resolve and sorrow in King Jeongjo's eyes. Without hesitation, he prostrated himself.
"Two years is plenty. In two years, I will pierce the northern blizzards, rip out their heart, and return... Then, to the triumphant fanfare, I shall down the celebratory drink Your Highness bestows in one gulp."
A resolute smile spread across King Jeongjo's lips.
"Good. Remember, Yi Si-woo: the frozen soil of Hamgyong you tread is no exile—it's the battlefield I grant you. There, tear out the enemy's throat for proof and signal me. That day, Kim Gwi-ju's clan falls."
Yi Si-woo bowed his head. The jade token in his bosom warmed against his pounding heart.
His steps were light leaving the Office of Royal Decrees. Back in his room, he carefully packed the clan heirloom, the Star Cloud Sword, into his worn satchel.
Gazing at the northern sky where dawn winds blew, Yi Si-woo murmured low.
Two years—short and long. When that time passed, this land's master would change.
"Wait for me, Onseong."