Not the Alternate History Hero I Expected
Si-jin, you're really quite infuriating.
I've read alternate history stories before. One where a modern guy gets reborn into some ancient era as a high-ranking noble and drags the whole country into progress. I thought that was me. Sure, like Hong Gil-dong, I was born the son of a concubine, but with modern knowledge, I'd climb the ranks.
"Alright! Everyone, recite it! Starting from the twos!"
Of course, reality always shattered my expectations.
"One times two is two! Two times two is four! Three times two is six!"
At the teacher's—no, the master's—command, kids my age bellowed the gugudan multiplication tables in unison. This wasn't some modern elementary school scene. This was straight out of the Joseon era.
"Hm. Good."
Once the twos were done, the teacher stroked his beard in satisfaction and pointed at one of the boys.
"You there! Gapsam! Recite it for us!"
"Uh, me? The twos, right?"
"Ho ho, shall I have you do the threes instead?"
"N-no, sir! One times two is two! Two times two is four! Three times two, three times two is six!"
"Eyes closed! No peeking at the book!"
"Four times two is eight! Five times two is ten!"
"From the beginning!"
"Two, one times two is two! Two times two is four!"
There was a reason we were chanting gugudan instead of the Thousand Character Classic in this seodang. Someone else had been born with modern knowledge just like me. None other than Joseon's Crown Prince, who I suspected would become King Munjong, the fourth king's son. He'd sparked all sorts of changes. Like setting up these little elementary schools in every village to teach commoner boys. But education wasn't all. Salt pans, the rain-float separation method for silver refining, gunpowder development, soap distribution—you name it, the kind of stuff that'd fill any alternate history novel. He'd done it all.
"...One times two is two. Two times two is four. Three times two is six. Four times two is... what?"
Well, it was still a bit imperfect.
I subtly flashed eight fingers from an angle the teacher couldn't see. The girl peeking through the door crack whispered back with joyful relief.
"Th-thank you...! Four times two is eight. Four times two is eight. Four times two is eight."
She'd been sneaking in to listen for a while now, muttering it over and over like she'd never forget. Even if that prince was brilliant enough to extend learning to everyone, it didn't reach a girl from the lowly Hwacheok folk.
"Tch! You brat! Si-jin!"
Whether he'd caught me helping the girl or just slacking off, the teacher bellowed.
"Yes, teacher."
"Where are you looking? If you've got time to glance around, you've already memorized the twos, haven't you?"
"I'm sorry, teacher."
"I didn't ask for an apology! Recite the twos! If you mess up, that's one lash on the calf per mistake!"
"Yes, sir. One times two is two. Two times two is four. Three times two is six."
My body was a ten-year-old kid's, but my mind was a 23-year-old ex-conscript college grad. No way I'd flub the easiest table, the twos.
"Er, hm! Well done."
I rattled them off without a hitch. The teacher cleared his throat awkwardly, stroking his long beard.
"Good. Then the threes too, I suppose?"
"Yes, sir. One times three is three. Two times three is six."
The threes went the same, and so did the fours and sevens he threw at me next—no mistakes. The other students burst into applause.
"Whoa!"
Clap clap clap clap.
Getting this excited over perfect gugudan? My twelve years of schooling would weep.
I fought down a smirk and met the teacher's eyes squarely.
"Teacher. Anything else?"
"Er, hm! No! You rattled them off perfectly as ordered. I'll give you a reward later."
"Thank you, teacher."
"However!"
What now?
"Your crime of looking elsewhere in class still stands! Come here and roll up your pant leg!"
"What?! But I did great!"
"Plus, lack of humility! Disrespect to your master! That's three lashes total!"
"No, come on, that's not fair! You told me to do it, and now you're whipping me for it?"
"Four! What'll you do about it? Get up or it'll be five!"
"...Coming now."
Whether I aced the gugudan or not, the teacher seemed dead set on whipping me. Old-school boomers had nothing on this guy.
I stood, went to him, and rolled up my pant leg. He picked up his hoechori bamboo switch, made from a thick root.
"Four lashes. Count them."
"Teacher, I did well, so go easy, please."
"Five!"
"Teacher?!"
Smack!
"Ow! Ouch! O-one! Two! Three! Four! Five!"
"Only one hit, you brat!"
"You said count per hit, not during!"
"Six!"
"Why does it keep going up? You raising the whip like it's your kid?"
"Your mouth is calling for more! Ten!"
"What?! Why ten? Shouldn't it be seven now?"
"Made it ten in case you sass again! Count properly!"
"Two!"
"You just tapped it and called three, you little—!"
Luckily, he didn't up it further, and the hits weren't that bad.
"Ahh, three! Ow! Five! Oww! Seven!"
"Where'd you sell four and six?"
"Saving 'em for later on credit! Ah! Four! See? Ow! Six!"
"Pfft, heh heh heh...!"
Me hamming it up, the teacher nitpicking, kids stifling laughs. Kim Hong-do's Seodang painting flashed in my mind.
"Hee hee hee...!"
Even the girl peeking through the door couldn't hold it in.
"T-ten! Ten! Done! It's ten!"
Pants down after the tenth, but he kept the switch up and lightly tapped my head.
Thwack!
"Ow! That's eleven!"
"Smart head, rotten manners—what a waste! How do you expect to get ahead?"
"Wait, I—"
"Enough! Back to your seat!"
Not even letting me finish, he pointed at my spot with the switch. I bowed and returned. Behind me, he tsked.
"Tsk tsk tsk. Smart kid. So smart, but..."
No need to look; I could picture his pitying frown.
I was a concubine's son, and my mom was a lowly haenyeo diver. No shot at the civil service exam. Military or technical tracks were possible, but secondary sons like me hit promotion ceilings. Advancement? Tough.
Not impossible, though. With the Crown Prince's modern know-how modernizing Joseon, even class barriers would fall. Just not yet.
"Alright! That's today's lesson done."
Soon as I sat, class ended. The other kids' eyes sparkled as they jumped up. The teacher grinned good-naturedly at their eager faces.
"Heh heh, line up and get yours."
Crash!
"Yes, teacher!"
"Outta the way! Me first! I was here first!"
"I was closer!"
They bolted without closing books, scrambling into line. The teacher pulled small beads from his belt pouch.
"Here you go."
"Thank you, teacher."
What he handed out were alsatang candies. Once rare even for royalty, the prince's sugar imports had demoted them to pricey snacks.
"Teacher, I'll leave the books here."
I was too embarrassed to shove for one candy. I gathered the forgotten books and set them neatly by him.
"..."
A bit winded from hauling them, I lingered to catch my breath. Midway through distributing, the teacher eyed me awkwardly.
"Something wrong, teacher?"
"Si-jin."
"Yes? You called? More chores?"
"You... are really infuriating."
"High praise, teacher."
"Here. For tidying the books."
Again, I didn't wanna fight kids for one. Might as well snag two or three.
"Thank you! I'll spread word of your virtue far and wide!"
"Enough. People will talk."
"I'll make sure they know your humility too! This humble one retires!"
Books, gugudan, and the usual—three candies total. Legs aching, I bowed, then dashed out faster than anyone, unlike the rest.
Whoosh!
"...!"
Just past the reed-fence gate, the girl bounded up, eyes sparkling. She'd hung back till class ended, then come running.
"What? Want one?"
I dangled one of my three.
She nodded furiously, braids whipping.
"Yes! Yes! Yes! I want it, young master!"
"Young master? Nah, guess I'll eat 'em all."
"O-O-Oppa! I want it!"
Only after faking a bite did I get the right answer. Power's a wonderful thing, I thought, handing it over.
"Here. Ahh~"
"Ahhh, nom! Mmm!"
I popped it in her mouth myself. After a few sucks, her eyes went wide; she clutched her cheeks. Too sweet—salivary overload.
"Heh heh."
I just watched her bliss without prompting. Superiors speak, inferiors spit out food to reply.
"Heh heh, hmm~"
Her name was Eori. Dusky skin, obsidian-black eyes—townies called her Kkamsun.
"Whew, studying's tiring. Time to head home."
"!"
I turned to go, and she startled, trailing me—not eyeing the candies, but hungry for lesson notes.
Thus, not being the alternate history protag had perks. Top brain in the seodang, and a girl tagging along for "various reasons."
"Hey! You lowborn scum! Class over?"
Of course, it wasn't all smooth sailing.