Onseong Assignment (Part 2)
The clerks who had been harshly rebuked by Yi Si-woo at the Onseong government office rushed straight to the mansion of Choi Du-sik, the real power broker in Onseong. In the inner courtyard of Choi Du-sik's residence, where the aroma of roasting meat wafted over the walls, he lounged leisurely, puffing on his long pipe as he listened to the clerks' report.
"He insists on skipping the exemption ceremony after just a formal greeting? That greenhorn who defied the ceremony even in Hanyang's Royal Secretariat and was treated like a nobody—rumors were true; he's a mad dog that bites its master."
Choi Du-sik smirked bitterly, exhaling a long plume of acrid smoke. Clerk Yi-bang wiped his sweat and chimed in from the side.
"Yes, my lord. His momentum was so overwhelming—he slammed the appointment scroll down and grilled us on the accounts... Those weren't the eyes of an eighteen-year-old boy. It felt like he already had our lifelines in his grip, picking out every dirty corner with chilling precision."
Choi Du-sik tapped out his pipe and rose from his seat.
"Hmph, but this isn't Hanyang. Since ancient times, officials arriving in Onseong first pay respects to me, then host lavish banquets for the clerks to perform the exemption ceremony—that's the longstanding custom here. No matter how clever the magistrate is, without the underlings moving, he won't even get a bowl of rice on time. That's the way of the frontier."
Choi Du-sik turned to Yi-bang and issued his command.
"Yi-bang, set up a spread at Chwiwol House. If he hates the exemption ceremony, call it a welcome banquet and lure him out. Lay out delicacies from the mountains and seas he couldn't dream of in this barren northern land, show him the taste of money and women. Even a top scholar is human at heart—he'll end up wagging his tail at our feet. And if he refuses even that..."
"Then we just turn him into a shadow without substance on this Onseong soil and make him vanish forever."
But contrary to Choi Du-sik's calculations, Yi Si-woo's actions showed no hesitation. On the third day of his posting, a commotion erupted at the main gate of the government office.
"How dare a lowly butcher hag dirty the office courtyard! The magistrate is busy with important affairs!"
"Please, just let me see him once! My son... my son is dying!"
An old woman in ragged clothes reeking of cowhide wailed desperately. A drowsy constable swung his club irritably, shoving her shoulder. As she tumbled to the ground, covered in dust, the office door burst open and Yi Si-woo strode out.
"What's all this noise? Bring that old woman inside immediately."
The constables panicked and dropped to their knees at his words.
"M-my lord! That old woman isn't even human—she's a butcher hag who slaughters animals. For such a lowly thing to step in the office courtyard violates all decorum..."
"Does my command not sound like words to you?"
Yi Si-woo's sharp rebuke froze the courtyard air in an instant.
"When a subject comes crying injustice, you block the gate over status? Before she's a butcher, isn't she a resident of Onseong under my jurisdiction? Bring her in now. Defy my order once more, and you'll be the first to taste the rod right there!"
The constables scattered in terror, clearing the way. The old woman, entering the courtyard, couldn't even climb the porch; she prostrated herself on the dirt and sobbed.
Her son, conscripted as a laborer for Choi Du-sik's merchant caravan, had worked the promised five days—four hours each—but as a mere butcher, they claimed no wages were due and paid only sixty percent. When he protested, the foremen beat him, breaking his leg; now he hovered between life and death.
Yi Si-woo immediately ordered the caravan foreman brought in under arrest. The arrogant foreman sneered at Yi Si-woo upon arrival.
"Magistrate, sir, in this rough frontier, it's long been custom to dock butchers for tools and meals. You seem young and unaware, but pay them full and the caravan order collapses."
"Custom, you say...?"
Yi Si-woo tossed the caravan ledger at the foreman's feet.
"I've already reviewed your construction logs and expenses. Out of fifty laborers, you pocketed wages from ten 'lowly' butchers. Exactly one hundred twenty taels skimmed from them."
Yi Si-woo stood and glared down at him.
"No law permits embezzling a butcher's wages. You've stolen rightful labor pay—that's theft plain and simple—and maiming a commoner in private reprisal is a grave crime. Guards! Bind him to the frame and administer thirty strokes at once!"
"M-magistrate! Over a butcher, you'll beat a caravan foreman like me?"
"Silence! To me, it's not your status that matters, but the weight of your crimes! Compensate the victims with treatment fees and triple their original wages. Fall short by a single ri, and I'll seize every caravan good for the national treasury!"
On the fifth day of his posting, Yi Si-woo assembled all the clerks.
"The ledgers show taxes fluctuating wildly month to month. Digging in, Onseong's last population census was five years ago. People die and are born every day—levying on five-year-old figures means taxing the dead and squeezing the living dry."
"My lord, censuses take too much effort; we've always collected roughly thus. Consider the frontier's hardships..."
Ho-bang smirked obsequiously, trailing off, but Yi Si-woo hurled the ledger to the floor with a roar.
"Shut your mouth. Starting today, visit every household in Onseong District for a full recensus. Survey cultivated land precisely, household sizes too. Omit one home or falsify reports, and that clerk's head rolls first—remember it."
That night, amid deepening darkness, Yi Si-woo lit a lamp and penned a letter. His brush flew across the paper without pause. Finishing, he folded and sealed it carefully, then called to Man-seok waiting outside.
"Man-seok, come in."
The door opened, and Man-seok entered. Yi Si-woo set aside his magisterial dignity for a moment, offering the letter with a relaxed air.
"Deliver this to Father in Uiju. Let no other eyes see it."
"Young master, why Uiju so suddenly...? Word that Onseong's vile Ho clan is out to get you? Or news from Hanyang?"
Yi Si-woo shook his head, gazing at the pitch-black northern night beyond the window.
"No. This is the key to transforming this barren land from the roots. Sweet potatoes from Japan via Jeju or Busan might grow south, but in chilly Onseong, they'd rot away. So I'm importing mareongseo (potatoes) from beyond Manchuria, in the Qing's northern reaches. Hardy against cold, bursting from poor soil—it's the only way for Onseong's people to escape hunger."
Yi Si-woo's eyes gleamed.
"Also ask him to source tough bean seeds that endure northern cold. With Father's Uiju caravan networks and Ho clan funds fully mobilized, it's feasible. Urge him earnestly to airlift them to Onseong ASAP."
Man-seok tucked the letter deep inside his robe and nodded firmly.
"Don't worry, young master. If the chief foreman sees this saves the people, he'll stake the caravan's fate on it. I'll leave Onseong before dawn and race to Uiju."
As Man-seok vanished into the shadows, Yi Si-woo faced the cold north wind through the window and murmured.
'First block their mouths to open their hearts; open hearts let my laws take hold. For starving folk, nothing beats food to feed their families now. Numbers are just worthless scribbles otherwise.'
On the tenth day afternoon, the office air hung heavier than usual. Yi Si-woo cross-checked census ledgers against old tax books, striking red lines. Then Yi-bang and Ho-bang entered, their greasy faces bowing low.
"Magistrate, sir, put down the brush already. Ten days posted, and you slave away without tasting Onseong's flavor—our clerk hearts break."
Yi-bang jested slyly; Ho-bang piled on.
"Yes, my lord. So pillar of Onseong, Lord Choi, humbly prepares a welcome banquet tonight at Chwiwol House. From Pyongyang's gamhong to southern abalone rarities—feasts even Hanyang rarely sees. His sincerity to show Onseong hearts aren't stingy; please don't refuse."
Yi Si-woo asked indifferently, eyes on his work.
"Onseong hearts not stingy...? Where do such mountain-sea delicacies spring from in this barren north?"
Yi-bang smiled.
"Heh, my lord. Lord Choi's influence knows no bounds. To govern Onseong comfortably, ally with men like him, no? It's custom, for your good."
Yi Si-woo stifled amusement, set down his brush, and eyed the clerks.
"Sincerity? No reason to refuse. Let's see those delicacies."