Legitimacy
Even the Mongols had already tasted bitter defeat in Goryeo. They knew that Song might be militarily weak, but its vast national power was too much to handle. Even a militarily feeble Song had held out for over forty years—that alone made its strength impossible to gauge. If I were the Mongols, I'd probably target the easier west instead. In the meantime, we should strike Japan. At minimum, we need to make Kyushu a direct territory. That's the way to massively boost our population. In my lifetime, I want to push Goryeo's population to at least ten million. To do that, I have to either conquer the Japanese archipelago or turn it into a puppet state.
"Come to think of it, Goryeo's navy wasn't half bad either."
We do need to build up the navy. That requires potential, and we had plenty. During the Sambyeolcho Rebellion, they mobilized over a thousand ships—not all crewed by soldiers, of course, but including enough scholars, civilians, and sailors to form a government. The real issue was that, even temporarily, they had a command structure capable of deploying that many vessels. Later, during the Mongol invasion of Japan, Goryeo built nearly nine hundred warships specifically for the assault. And these were large invasion ships, constructed even after the damage from wars with the Mongols. That speaks to our national power. With our population growing, it's time to expand the navy.
So, how big should the navy be? Given our current army size and Goryeo's population, maintaining over thirty thousand sailors makes sense.
"What are you thinking about so deeply?"
"We need to start planning to invade Japan. That means building up the navy we've neglected so far. The army's strong now, with the Jurchens integrated. Time to start building ships."
Gigantic ships.
"Indeed, Your Excellency has so many grand plans."
"Well, it comes with the territory."
"But to do this systematically, we need to manage population and land taxes properly. Only then can we expand the navy."
"Exactly."
And that's where Arabic numerals come in. Not from the House of Wisdom, but a mathematical system from my old world. Imagine applying it in Goryeo. Just introducing these numbers would propel us forward. It would scientificize artillery, allowing calculations for range, angle, trajectory, and more—boosting accuracy. Naturally, with zero and the decimal system, we'd handle celestial observations for navigation, map-making, safer maritime trade, and naval expeditions. At a basic level, that's the benefit. With Arabic numerals, managing large-scale statistics for population, land, and taxes becomes effortless. Why? Because our growing population demands better logistics. Goryeo will need to maintain over two hundred thousand standing troops and hundreds of warships—the inventory management alone would be a breeze.
Basic math like this doesn't even require the House of Wisdom.
"Puhahaha."
Ah, how did I overlook this? I should have introduced it during the reforms. Arabic numerals. The numbers zero through nine!
"What brought that on all of a sudden?"
"That's it. That's the answer. Introduce Arabic numerals!"
Wahahaha. Kim Jun really knows how to make things click.
With Arabic numerals...
"Pardon?"
"We can justify it under the banner of managing our growing population, land, tax revenue, and weapons stockpiles. Just one set of numbers, and Goryeo leaps ahead."
With Yodong secured, resources are less of an issue. We're already mass-producing cast-iron cannons. Once we organize the statistics like this and ramp up the navy, introducing keels is the way to go. Keel ships would lay the foundation for a maritime empire. Done right, we could kick off the Age of Exploration. How great would it be to reach the Americas first? Not that it'll happen in my lifetime, but laying the groundwork is key.
"Alright, let's head there first."
Arabic numerals, shipbuilding—this all needs discussing with Father directly. Especially the navy; it's a Dobang matter.
Gaegyeong Palace
Around this time, Emperor Gojong of Goryeo felt like he was walking on thin ice every day. The Choi clan had repelled the Mongols twice. And the Mongols were still toying with the great power Jin while toppling unknown western nations. Yet the Choi regime had crushed that empire. Led by Choi U's daughter, Choi Yeon. A woman had done it.
She'd risen to an absurd rank through Choi U's overreach, not to manipulate the state but to save it. The people who once pitied the royal family now praised the Chois for bringing peace and prosperity—without even mentioning the royals.
"At this rate, our imperial house is finished."
Gojong was deeply worried. What if Choi U staged a coup? He couldn't let that happen. At minimum, he had to preserve the royal line. He couldn't go down as the incompetent emperor who ended the dynasty.
Something occurred to him. He summoned Choi U and voiced his idea.
"Your Majesty, what do you mean by that?"
"Exactly as I said. Lord Choi. What if we marry you to the magistrate of Beijing and our crown prince?"
Thus, he chose complete political alliance with the Chois through blood ties. Better to bind them that way than lose the throne entirely. It would legitimize the Chois too, which seemed fitting to Gojong.
"Hmm, if it's Your Majesty's wish, we'll discuss it. But Yeon has no interest in marriage."
"She's a woman. She needs to bear children, doesn't she?"
Her cute face would twist into a scowl at that. From Choi U's view, tying Yeon to the royals would secure the regime's legitimacy, but it would also mean losing her as a full-time reformer. Even just pregnancy and child-rearing would waste years. And the soap and gunpowder weapons had taken years already. If she married, bore children... the lost time would be immense.
"She's the one gunning for my position because she hates that. Forcing it might backfire."
"Hmm."
The emperor had seen Choi Yeon once, briefly at the war declaration. She didn't seem ordinary. Bringing her in as daughter-in-law might be risky.
"That's my biggest concern too. But I'll at least broach the topic."
It wasn't a bad deal for Choi U, so he'd float the idea.
"I leave it to you, Lord Choi."
Choi U inwardly sneered at the relieved emperor. As if it would work with someone who refused marriage to become heir instead.
Gaegyeong, Goryeo
The moment I arrived in Gaegyeong, I heard the most ridiculous nonsense. I'd enjoyed the markets after so long, then went to see Father.
"You want me to marry the crown prince? I've been reforming, inventing weapons, and crushing Mongols precisely to avoid that?"
Out of nowhere, marriage to me.
Do they really not get that I reformed Goryeo to dodge wedlock? Okay, that's too personal, but still. I have a stake here.
"What is marriage to you that you resist so fiercely? Ahem. Anyway, it's just talk. If you refuse, no hard feelings. So, you truly have no intention of marrying?"
Be reasonable. The crown prince is future Wonjong—way younger than me. In 21st-century terms, it's like a kid marrying an adult woman. A shota. So I'd have to pounce on this shota, get pregnant, bear a child? Ugh, imagining myself seducing a little boy fills me with self-loathing and disgust.
Hmm. I did briefly fantasize about leading that young prince or taking charge like a man. No. Fantasy and reality are different. He's too young. Even for this era, my 21st-century memories make it shocking.
"Father, think about it."
"Acting all foxy again."
This isn't foxy. Beyond just hating marriage, it means being tied to a household—and as a woman, bearing and raising kids. How much could I achieve for Goryeo in that time? (Not telling Father, but to block hereditary succession and introduce a council, I absolutely can't marry.)
"No, isn't it? Think of the time wasted on marriage, childbirth, child-rearing. I've advanced Goryeo years in just a few. If I spend it all on kids, what happens?"
"True enough."
"Above all, tying me to the royals limits what I can do. Can't have that."
Send my brothers instead. Marrying them off reassures the emperor, and since not my kids, their offspring get less council sway. Add a law barring royal blood from politics—perfect. Father might object then, but he'd likely be gone by then. He's getting on.
"But the emperor fears our popular support."
Fair. He's paranoid now. We've succeeded in reforms on military might: slave emancipation surprisingly smooth, currency reform too. Early on, exchange houses and copper Shangping Tongbao changed much. Grounds for fear.
Of course, he knows one side but not the other—which might stabilize us.
"Yes. He fears our full popular backing means a coup, so he offers marriage."
"Any ideas?"
"Marriage is key for us. Blood ties make us not mere warrior lords but kin to the throne—fully legitimizing our rule. The emperor's proposal is basically surrender."
Like Gongyang clinging to Yi Seong-gye. Desperate to block a coup, even if just a puppet like in the military regime era.
Problem: we have no reason for a coup. Even with popularity, why risk reversal? Look at Yi Seong-gye's success: backed by new scholar-officials, pushed impossible Yodong campaigns leading to Wihwa Island Retreat, collapsing royal legitimacy. Late Goryeo was a mess anyway.
Us? Strong usurper image. Even if elites truly follow, we started as thieves. Military yes, but lacking moral justification, blood prestige. No imperial Tang or Dragon King descent like Wangs. No monk proclaiming destiny like for Yi. Just fists.
Ho clans? Centralized now, but they built Goryeo with Wangs. Coup them? They'd rally Wang branches everywhere for "rightful" restoration.
If coup was goal, Choi Chungheon shouldn't have killed Yi Uimin—let chaos peak, restore monarchy via him, then seize power as merit, crush Mongols, win hearts. As usurpers, our max is long-term rule via popularity, regime stability, royal symbolism. Like Japan's shogunate.
Why doesn't Father ever mention coup? He knows. As usurper, our ceiling is stability via popularity, long rule. That's the gap: Gojong fears coup; Father, at regime's peak, lacks no political savvy.
Right. We couldn't coup even if we wanted to.