Onseong Governorship Begins (1)
The air in Hanyang's grand throne hall was several times more tense than usual. Kim Gwi-ju, the Noron faction leader, stepped forward slowly with his hands clasped behind his back. His voice was soft, yet carried an irresistible weight.
"Your Highness, it has already been several months since Yi Si-woo, the top palace exam graduate, took up his brush in the Office of Special Counsellors. Would it not be a waste to the nation's future to confine such outstanding talent amid the dust-gathering documents of the palace? Grant him the chance to witness the people's hardships firsthand and put the court's great principles into practice—that is the true way to cherish him."
King Jeongjo furrowed his brow, feigning distress. "The field, you say? What place do you have in mind, Minister Kim?"
"Just now, the magistrate position in Onseong County, Hamgyong Province, lies vacant. It was once a strategic outpost governed by a provincial governor, but recent breakdowns in discipline have demoted it to a county amid dire straits. Appoint Yi Si-woo as a rank-6 magistrate and let him restore order to its disordered populace."
No sooner had Kim Gwi-ju finished than the Noron officials behind him chimed in, stirring the hall into murmurs.
"A most fitting proposal, Your Highness! A top graduate must prove himself by tackling such a challenge, must he not?"
"Only by enduring Onseong's harsh winds will he learn the value of court favor. Heh heh."
In that instant, Chae Je-gong, the Southerner faction leader, leaped forward as if waiting for his cue, blocking the way. It was a thorough performance, as prearranged in secret with Jeongjo a month prior to lull the Noron into complacency.
"No, Your Highness! What manner of place is Onseong? A forsaken limb where even former magistrates fled like rats from barbarian gales and entrenched local tyrants' backsides! How can we send a fresh talent to such a perilous outpost? If you must dispatch him, appoint him to a village near Hanyang to learn the ropes!"
As Chae Je-gong's voice rose, Kim Gwi-ju's gaze filled with even greater certainty.
"Heh heh, Counselor Chae. Is this not the top graduate? At an age not yet twenty, he has seized a rank-7 counsellor post—what greater glory for his house? Entrusting him with a rank-6 magistracy is an unprecedented promotion and honor beyond ancestral precedent. I cannot fathom why you would rot such talent under narrow-minded measures. Or do you fear this counsellor might quail before those rough locals?"
Kim Gwi-ju's provocative query drew snickers from the Noron courtiers in the hall. Jeongjo pretended deep deliberation, gripping the throne's armrest tightly before reluctantly turning to Si-woo.
"Counsellor Yi, what are your thoughts? I would keep you at my side, yet the court's consensus stands thus..."
Si-woo advanced a step and prostrated himself. A faint sneer ghosted his lips as he bowed his head.
"Your Highness, your servant Yi Si-woo. Though of humble birth, how could I seek only the easy path at the nation's call? If you command the rank-6 magistracy of Onseong, I shall fulfill my duty and ease Your Highness's worries."
"...Very well. I appoint Counsellor Yi as rank-6 magistrate of Onseong County. Proceed at once to your post and restore discipline to its ruins!"
With Jeongjo's decree, Noron laughter filled the hall. They believed they had triumphed, shoving this thorn-in-their-side prodigy into oblivion. But as Si-woo withdrew behind a palace pillar, Chae Je-gong met his eyes and gave a subtle nod.
The act ends here. Go sweep away every rotten root there.
Yi Si-woo's procession leaving Hanyang's gates bore no resemblance to a typical magistrate's pomp. No ornate palanquin or blaring trumpet train—just two horses and stark simplicity.
"Young master, why keep taking these rugged mountain paths and back-alley inns? The main road's kinder on the ass, and the meat's better there."
Man-seok wriggled uncomfortably atop his mount. Si-woo, eyes tracing faint roadside markers on trees and the gait of passing peddlers, replied.
"Main roads carry only rumors tailored to officials' tastes. These backwaters flow with the real intel. Man-seok, look at the mud on those peddlers' soles. They're from Hamgyong, faces dark as night—proof the northern border guards are a mess, or the Ho clan squeezing tolls."
On the evening of the third day, as they entered the rugged mountain paths bordering Gangwon Province, Si-woo narrowed his eyes from horseback. At every inn, two men in similar garb trailed at fixed intervals. Yesterday at Wonju market, today under this remote inn's eaves.
Kim Gwi-ju's men. Quick work.
Si-woo betrayed nothing, whispering low to Man-seok.
"Spread word we're bedding down here tonight. Stow the gear, order drinks, fake snoring loud."
"Huh? And you, young master?"
"I'll ask the innkeeper's wife about the back path and slip out first. Meet at the next village inn before dawn."
Man-seok's eyes widened, but Si-woo's gaze silenced him.
That night unfolded as Si-woo foresaw. Past midnight, twenty soldiers lay in ambush across three mountain paths. A remote stretch off the Uiju road, rife with tiger rumors. Had Si-woo taken it, dawn would reveal only a plague-stricken magistrate's corpse.
But Si-woo slurped cold rice soup on the opposite inn's veranda.
At dawn the next day, once the futile soldiers withdrew, Man-seok rejoined.
"Young master, those bastards for real? Twenty soldiers!"
"Hanseong Governor Kim Gwi-ju's thugs, no doubt. A plague disguise, but no tiger—and no me—on that path."
Si-woo spooned more soup, adding, "Bury this deep, Man-seok. Once in Onseong, they'll know our faces anyway."
"Just let it slide?"
"Not sliding—logging it. It'll serve when the time comes."
Mid-journey, crossing Hwanghae Province, they encountered a woman clutching a child and sobbing by the road, menaced by three burly thugs. Si-woo read the scene before dismounting. The IOUs they flaunted screamed falsified math.
"The national code Gyeongguk Daejeon caps interest at three percent monthly. Mocking the law to squeeze blood from the people—you're begging for the rod."
"What's this? Some punk schooling us in our own racket?"
Si-woo snorted, flipping the ledger. "Compounding interest on interest—this crude scam? By this book, she's repaid triple the principal. Shall I rip it quietly here, or drag it to the yamen? There, your fingers replace the pages."
"Brat mouthing law! Gut his saddlebags—life lesson time!"
The thugs charged with clubs. Si-woo vaulted lightly from his horse, seizing the leader's wrist on landing.
Thwack! Crunch!
The leader's arm twisted grotesquely in seconds. Man-seok drew his staff, shattering the others' shins.
Si-woo flung the muddy ledger into the leader's face, voice icy. "Life lessons for you. Usury and extortion—thirty lashes minimum, shitting yourself for a fortnight. Man-seok, bind them for the nearest yamen. I'll note the statutes and charges on the back—relay for strict execution. Show my sealed missive; no backtalk."
"Young master, safe alone? Processing these louts takes a full day."
"No worry. Scouting Onseong faces anyway. Handle it, then saunter to the yamen."
Alone at Onseong's outskirts, Si-woo shed his official robes to unmask true faces. At an inn, chewing radish soup, he eavesdropped on porters.
"Last magistrate fled like a rat? New one's eighteen—eighteen! Bet he booze-hounds under Choi the great lord."
"Booze'd be lucky. Sigh, hope no 'repairs' draft this time. Last year, tore down sound walls to rebuild, dragooned every able man—pocketed the funds, we got zilch."
The people's sentiment chilled colder than northern gales.
Next morning, Si-woo strode solo to the yamen. The gate sentry dozed on the porch. Si-woo prodded his side with his Baekun sword tip.
"Magistrate arrives—sleepy time?"
The sentry jolted, kowtowing, eyes flickering curiosity and scorn at the lone youth. Si-woo brushed past into the yard. Clerks huddled over ledgers in one corner.
"Pad three-four more eun secretly, erase from books. Wine and girls for the kid magistrate—he'll chuckle it off."
As they snickered, fiddling figures, a shadow eclipsed them. Si-woo snatched Yi-bang's ledger.
"Wh-what insolence! Who dares touch yamen books!"
Yi-bang bellowed upright, but Si-woo silently scanned pages, eyes machine-sharp on numbers.
"This scribble a ledger? Paddy yield halves from last year? Drought in Onseong?"
"Wh-what? What do you know...!"
"Mid-grade soil taxed as lowest—pocketed difference? Yours or Choi Du-sik's coffers? Math-illiterates mismanaging state granaries—explains the county's state."
Si-woo slammed the ledger, thwacking Yi-bang's chest. He tossed the king's seal-stamped appointment on the desk.
"Who am I? Your new Hamgyong Onseong magistrate, Yi Si-woo, reporting today."
The yard froze like iced water. Yi-bang squinted at the seal, then slammed his forehead to the ground.
"M-my lord! Mercy, we failed to recognize... Early arrival. But Onseong's ledgers differ from Hanyang's laws."
Yi-bang peeked slyly while kowtowing. "This frontier has ancestral customs. Minor discrepancies, extra levies to cover shortfalls—wisdom for harsh lands. Just sign as custom, my lord. Easiest for all."
Hobang nodded beside, smirking. "Quite right. Hanyang script withstands centuries of border grit? Turn blind eyes, take our shares—that's true magistrate virtue. No strife; sit the silk cushion we lay, enjoy seasonal tribute."
Si-woo skimmed, then chuckled softly. Chills ran down clerks' spines. He slammed the ledger, piercing Yi-bang's eyes coldly.
"Custom? Stow that filth before me."
His voice sank low. "Your 'custom'—petty theft sucking people's blood to plug books? This was once a rank-3 governor's Onseong garrison. Why demoted to rank-6 county husk? Truly ignorant?"
Si-woo hurled the ledger at Yi-bang's nose. "Your 'customs' gnawed discipline, hurled the county to ruin. Demoted? Your brains too."
"M-my lord! Too harsh...!"
"Silence. No more 'Onseong way.' Your vile customs sentenced to death today. One discrepancy—your necks pay."
Si-woo's roar cleaved the yard. The clerks realized: this Hanyang youth was a monster unlike their puppets.
Onseong's winds no longer favored the tyrants.