Chapter 8
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 008
Chapter Title: Birth of the Confucian Guardian
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Prime Minister Yi Ji-yeon let out a deep sigh.
"When on earth did the Neo-Confucianism of this country get dragged through the mud like this?!"
He had raised the banner of executing heretics to crush the followers of evil cults and warn the entire nation about their cunning tongues, all in an effort to right the moral way that had fallen to the ground.
But look at Hanyang now.
Wasn't everyone losing their minds over a single foreign brat?
"Hmph. Hmph. Hmph."
Yi Ji-yeon's mood soured even further when he spotted a man who looked unmistakably pleased with himself.
"Excuse me, Chief Scholar."
"Prime Minister."
"Why on earth do you look so... pleased?"
Kim Ja-geun.
Seeing this man, who seemed to embody the decline of the nation, only made Yi Ji-yeon's temper flare worse.
"How could I not be pleased when the Neo-Confucianism of our land is standing tall once more?"
"Standing tall? I see it the exact opposite way."
"I see."
The two great clans that pulled the strings in Joseon—the Andong Kim Clan and the Pungyang Jo Clan.
Their rivalry wasn't some blood feud straight out of a historical drama, where exterminating each other's families and gnawing on their entrails was life's ultimate goal. If anything, it was more like pro sports rivals competing for dominance. Think Real Madrid vs. Barcelona, Yankees vs. Red Sox, Lakers vs. Celtics, or T1 vs. Gen.G.
But even calling it a rivalry was generous—the gap between first and second place was glaring. Sure, the Jo Clan had been on a hot streak lately, narrowing what used to be a three- or four-step lead down to just one or two. That was it.
Take the man standing before him now: Kim Ja-geun, who had breezed through the civil service exams last year at over forty thanks purely to connections, then rocketed up the ranks in a single year to become Chief Scholar of Sungkyunkwan—essentially the president of Seoul National University.
For such a lowly man to hold the reins of Joseon's future, all on his clan's nepotism.
These were the end times.
The real end times.
This must be what it feels like when the world goes pitch black.
"As you know, I bear the grave duty as Chief Scholar of Sungkyunkwan to flourish Joseon's Neo-Confucianism."
Hearing this hack—who had barely scraped by without passing the exams until his forties thanks to pull—speak so boldly, Yi Ji-yeon took a deep breath. His head spun.
"And thanks to my diligent efforts, a Westerner has come to admire our lofty morals and scholarship. Truly, this is the greatest blessing for our nation."
"A seven-year-old castaway is your 'arrival'?"
"Come now, it's just a figure of speech. Our pure fragrance moved a pure-hearted child who knows nothing of the world. Isn't one moment of his enlightenment worth more than a hundred greedy flies swarming for profit?"
Kim Ja-geun had volunteered to take in that kid—Arthur Leigh or whatever his name was—bringing him home, and now he wouldn't shut up about how his lofty scholarship had enlightened the foreigner.
Yi Ji-yeon's patience wore thin listening to this nonsense, and he finally snapped in anger.
"Speaking of which."
"Yes, Prime Minister?"
"I hear the Westerners all believe in that evil cult. How about we confront that Western monk we caught with the boy? Who knows, maybe even the kid's been tainted."
"Pardon? No, you're not seriously putting that innocent child who washed ashore on the same level as those vicious monks spreading heresy in our land?"
"Tch. If there's nothing to hide, what harm is there? Let's test it. If you pity him too much, it just proves he hasn't been swayed by Confucius and Mencius but harbors intent to spread the cult here. I'll send word soon—have the boy ready then."
Before Kim Ja-geun could respond, Yi Ji-yeon stormed off, swinging his arms dramatically. Screwing over that nepotism-fueled bastard from a filthy-good family felt oddly satisfying.
But his ordeal wasn't over.
"What did you just say?"
"Well... Her Majesty the Grand Royal Dowager is worried that His Majesty hasn't been enjoying his studies lately."
"And?!"
"Sh-she thought that showing His Highness that clever Western boy enjoying his studies might provide a fresh stimulus—"
"Does that even make sense?! Aaaargh?!"
The country was going mad.
He wanted to quit his post and retire to the countryside.
For real.
No prison is pleasant, but Joseon's were on another level.
- Come to think of it, you've got prison experience, right?
Strictly speaking, where I'd been was a detention center, not a full prison, but I figured China's were way worse than Korea's.
But in the 19th century, China or anywhere else offered no mercy.
"Hngh."
This was still an era where torture was a legal interrogation tool.
Even in China's detention centers, guards dished out beatings, forced labor, and torture. I'd gotten off light, but locals sometimes ended up as corpses.
Even 21st-century China knew that if foreign media caught wind of torture, it was national humiliation.
No such awareness here.
Europe might have abolished or phased out torture, but they still used it freely in colonies. Joseon went without saying.
Heading to the prison with Kim Byeong-gi—and for some reason, Yi Ha-eung tagging along—I saw a Westerner already reduced to rags, battered to hell.
"Go talk to him."
"What about...?"
"Anything."
There was only one kind of Westerner they'd drag here and torture mercilessly.
Missionaries.
I'd planned to sell them out to boost my own value since arriving, but seeing him literally beaten to a pulp like ground meat, I couldn't bring myself to speak.
More than that, the chilling fear that one slip could land me in there too, turned into that horrific mess, prickled the back of my neck.
"Hello."
"Wh-who are you? A child—"
"Do you speak English by any chance?"
The man's barely moving eyelids blinked slowly a few times before focus returned to his eyes.
"A child? Why is a child—"
"Sorry. I only know English, Chinese, and Korean."
"I see. Who are you?"
"I'm Arthur Leigh. I'm English. I was heading to Whampoa with my parents when we shipwrecked and ended up here. And you, sir?"
"I'm Bishop Laurent-Joseph-Marius Imbert. From France. Are you alright? The Joseon government hasn't flogged you?"
"I'm... fine. No persecution. Instead, I'm studying Korean and the Confucian classics."
Instead of answering, the man named Imbert slumped.
Thinking he might be dead, as I cautiously slipped my hand inside the cell, he lifted his head and looked at me.
His dying eyes now brimmed with an inexplicable strength, courage, and conviction.
"Listen carefully from now on, child. Never let on that you revere Lord Jesus Christ. Don't show me any pity either."
"Pardon?"
"When you answer me from here on, act angry or defiant. If you show even a hint of sympathy, the Joseon government might harm you."
That was my plan anyway.
But I never imagined the bishop would say it first.
"Are you okay?"
"Are you okay? That's not it. What did I just say?"
"You frog-eating bastard!! Satan! Jesuit monster!!"
- You actually did it. Took like three seconds?
Then I'll get my head chopped off too, you idiot.
Despite my sharp three-hit verbal combo, Bishop Imbert didn't even twitch an eyebrow.
"You're doing well. Never give up hope. The Joseon people won't kill you without reason. Behave, and return to your homeland."
"What about you, sir!"
"Death holds no fear for me. I only pity the believers persecuted in this land. But you must not die here."
Imbert coughed. Blood splattered the floor.
"The Lord saved you and guided you here for a mission only you can fulfill. Child, if you return safely, will you help the people of this land? Even something small for these pure souls suffering under greedy officials and nobles?"
"Filthy frog! Womanizer! Antichrist papal worshiper!"
"Yes, that's it. Exactly. Now go back. To those Joseon people."
I instinctively started to bow in respect but caught myself and scurried back to cling to Kim Byeong-gi.
Once fully out of the prison, we quenched our thirst at a spot the guards and servants had prepared.
"So, what did you talk about with him?"
"That uncle's from France! He's a Catholic devil!"
"I see. What's France, and what's Catholic?"
The same question felt entirely different coming from Kim Byeong-gi versus Yi Ha-eung. The latter sent chills down my spine.
"France is next to our country. It's a bad country. Daddy said their people are bad."
"Hoho, is that so? Did you hear why they're bad?"
"They believe in Catholicism."
"Catholicism?"
"Catholicism is... like, bad."
I unfolded my story bundle slowly, as cautiously as possible—using vocabulary befitting a child.
French people eat frogs.
French people believe in Catholicism.
Catholics believe in the Pope so much that if he orders it, they'll betray their country and king. That's why English people don't believe in the Pope—only people from bad countries like France do.
Reciting that was amateur hour.
The real trick was acting like I only knew it secondhand: "Mom and Dad said so, but I don't really get it."
"So English people don't believe in the Pope but follow that Jesus fellow?"
"Yes!"
I nodded vigorously at Yi Ha-eung's loaded question.
- Is that okay?
If I said I didn't believe in Jesus here, that'd raise more suspicion, right?
Before Yi Ha-eung could speak, I bit the inside of my cheek hard. The metallic tang of blood hit my tongue, tears welling up.
"That uncle said... I'd go to hell."
"What?"
"Said I need to repent quick and believe in the Pope to go to heaven, or burn forever in hell."
"How dare he spew such evil to a seven-year-old child. True heretics have hearts black as pitch."
"Kid, ignore that nonsense. No heaven or hell. When you die, your soul goes to the sky, your body to the earth, and that's it. You did well."
"Waaahhh!!"
"Mak-soe! Hurry and get some candy!"
I bawled my heart out, snatched the candy Mak-soe brought, savored the sweetness briefly, then wailed again.
By the time my eyes were puffy from crying, I got to the point.
"Is there really no heaven or hell?"
"No. It's all in the classics. That stuff's just lies heretics made up to deceive people."
"Then... could I ask the elders a favor?"
"Speak."
"Could you... hold a rite for my mom and dad, and everyone on the ship?"
Both men looked like they'd been smacked with a hammer.
"I miss Mom and Dad. I want to... do my filial duty and hold the rite."
"What a fine child! Of course! I'll speak to my father right away!"
"Even a Westerner, once taught, can't ignore benevolence, righteousness, propriety, and wisdom! You've awakened to the Way at last—truly the fortune of our Joseon!"
If Catholics burned ancestral tablets, then this justice warrior Arthur Leigh had to make new ones from scratch to balance the universe.
To Joseon people who made the Three Bonds, Five Ethics, loyalty, and filial piety their national creed and belief—studying a bit of Confucianism and immediately wanting to perform ancestral rites out of filial duty?
No way that wouldn't land.
It perfectly struck at the heart of the Joseon worldview.
Sure enough, both Kim Byeong-gi and Yi Ha-eung flushed red with excitement.
This was the moment my standing upgraded from "blue-eyed monkey who can read" to "proof that Joseon's Way enlightens even barbarians."
And then.
"Her Majesty the Grand Royal Dowager seeks the English boy called Arthur Leigh."
The path to the palace opened.
(Explanation)
The word "Jesuitical" translates roughly to "Jesuit-like" or "of the Jesuits," but it carries negative connotations like cunning, evasive, or playing subtle word games, reflecting prejudices against Catholics and the Jesuits.
The most prominent prejudice against Catholics at the time was the claim that they'd betray their nation for the Pope.