The Roar of the Matchlocks
"Ready shooters! Fire! Commence!"
My leisurely Dan-o Day had ended up with me performing CPR. Sure, it was better than letting a kid die, but right now, I was the one about to keel over.
"Hahaha! Si-jin, my boy. You've done a great deed for this village! You'll make a fine investigator someday!"
"What are you talking about? Investigator? With how versed Si-jin is in medicine, he'll surely become an outstanding doctor!"
Word had spread that a child had nearly died, drawing the investigator and the doctor running. The moment they heard I'd saved the kid, their eyes lit up like stars.
"I'm going to be a military officer, I told you!"
"Nonsense! A military officer? Don't you want to become an investigator and uphold justice in this county?"
Justice could go freeze in hell. It wasn't long ago that Eori's father had been falsely accused.
"Si-jin. Wouldn't being a doctor be more worthwhile than a soldier? Saving lives, like you did for little Ejae today."
Why the hell would I become a doctor? I'd blow my brains out studying for that.
Investigator and doctor—two con artist professions by modern standards—were now bickering over me like kids fighting for a toy.
"Oh dear, what to do? Investigator sounds good, doctor sounds good too..."
Mom, who wasn't even involved, was lost in her own happy dilemma.
The investigator and doctor weren't about to let that slide.
"Si-jin's mom! Si-jin will make a great investigator! You know what he's capable of!"
"No way! He has to become a doctor! Suffocating and losing consciousness, then blowing breath into him to revive? That's not something an ordinary kid thinks up! It's straight out of medical texts!"
"You asked me for help too! To make Si-jin a good investigator!"
"This child is heaven-sent! He should be a doctor saving lives, not an investigator! I'll put in a good word with my master, Professor Jeon Nae-heon!"
"Hey! Hold on!"
I jumped into the conversation at the familiar name. Joseon had stricter etiquette than modern times, but in this situation, I held the cards.
"Y-you mean Professor Jeon Nae-heon? The one at the medical academy?"
"Oh ho! That's right! You know him too? I'll send word to him right—"
"N-no, no way!"
I couldn't let it slip yet! Keeping my modern origins secret was best. If I ever crossed paths with other transmigrators, that secret could be my ace in the hole.
"I-I don't want that kind of attention! I just want to live a normal life!"
"......"
"......"
"......"
The adults froze their squabble and stared down at me. Even Mom looked like she'd heard something she shouldn't have.
"Wh-what? Why are you all looking at me like that?"
"No, Si-jin."
"That's a bit..."
"Son. Sigh..."
"What?! What's wrong with me?!"
They shook their heads like I was spouting nonsense. Feeling absurd and wronged, I changed the subject.
"L-look! The bailiffs are coming! Wow! Wooow!"
Clap clap clap! Acting my ten-year-old age, I rolled on the ground clapping.
Luckily or not, the adults stared at me a moment longer before turning to the tent in the field.
After all the fuss—and a good wash—we'd gathered in the field with the others. The county office was putting on a matchlock firepower demo under the guise of Dan-o Day festivities.
"Our bailiff dad is so cool!"
"Dad! Daaad! I'm over here! Daaad!"
"Whoaaa!"
The bailiffs marched out from the field tent in perfect formation. As family men to the onlookers, they all shouldered their matchlocks at the ready.
"One! Two! One! Two!"
They stepped in sync with the instructor's commands trailing alongside. Even from ten meters away, their powerful footfalls thundered.
"Whoa! Master! When you become a military officer, will you do that too?"
First-timers couldn't hold back their awe. Even Eori, who'd wandered over from her family, flushed with excitement.
"Probably."
Knowing how much effort went into that drill, I nodded calmly. I'd done similar training in modern times, so I'd ace it at the military academy too.
"Halt... at the ready!"
The bailiffs finally stopped their advance. But the instructor's orders continued, keeping their feet stamping. After a pause, he bellowed:
"Five!"
"One! Two!"
Crunch! The fifteen bailiffs in three ranks halted in perfect unison. The county folk burst into applause, unable to contain themselves.
"One! Standing fire!"
"Standing fire!"
Amid the cheers, instructor and bailiffs showed no smiles. The front rank raised their shouldered matchlocks, aiming at the targets ahead.
Thirty meters away stood two wooden human-shaped cutouts. Scrawled across their chests: our mortal enemies, "Jap bastard" and "Manchu bastard" in Hangul.
"Open breeches!"
"Open breeches!"
The matchlocks they handled differed slightly from those in dramas or online. Same lit fuses, but with proper stocks.
"Cover your ears, folks."
"Everyone plug your ears. You could go deaf otherwise."
The doctor—who'd seen matchlocks in Hanyang—and I—who'd fired guns in modern times—spoke almost together.
The instructor then shouted to us and the county crowd:
"Matchlock blasts are loud! Cover your ears! Prepare yourselves! Louder than thunder!"
His voice boomed, but aside from us, few listened.
"Everyone!!! Cover!!! Your ears!!!"
Even megaphoning it changed nothing. Judging his duty done, he drew his waist sword, thrusting it skyward.
"Aim!"
Unlike before, the bailiffs silently shouldered and aimed. Moments later, the instructor slashed the blade down vigorously.
"Ready shooters! Fire! Commence!"
Bang! Boom! Bang! Bang! White smoke erupted from muzzles with deafening blasts. Smaller than modern gunfire, but enough to stun Joseon folk.
"Mommy!"
"Eek!"
"Wha, shit?!"
Screams and crouches everywhere. Some hit the dirt outright.
"Whoaaa!"
Eori, meanwhile, gaped with flushed excitement. Must've looked damn cool. See? Military officer beats investigator or doctor any day.
I wasn't much different. My heart raced at their steadfast formation amid swirling smoke.
"...!"
As we gawked, the bailiffs hustled. Front rank turned and fell to the rear; second and third advanced to fill the gap.
"Two! Standing fire!"
"Standing fire!"
The instructor gave the new front rank the same order. Meanwhile, the first rank reloaded frantically at the back.
"Ready shooters! Fire! Commence!"
Bang! Boom boom! Bang! Second volley: less shock, more claps and cheers amid the flinches.
Second rank circled to the rear post-fire, as first had. Nearly reloaded first joined the third—now ready—to fill in.
"Three! Standing fire!"
"Standing fire!"
Same for the third. While first finished reloading and second started, third fired on target.
"Ready shooters! Fire! Commence!"
Bang! Bang! Boom! Bang! By the third, folks relaxed into enjoyment—clapping, cheering.
Unlike prior, third didn't fall back post-fire. They reloaded in place.
"...All! Single file, spread out!"
"Single file, spread out!"
Instructor waited for first and second to finish reloading, then called. They split like wings flanking the third.
"All! Standing fire!"
"Standing fire!"
Once third reloaded, he bellowed sword aloft. All ranks echoed, re-aiming.
The targets—hit by fifteen rounds—were shredded. Jap's head gone; Manchu's chest holed fist-sized, twice over.
"Ready shooters!"
Pitiful sight, but instructor slashed unheeding.
"Fire! Commence!!!"
Bang! Boom! Bang! Bang! Boom boom! Boom boom! Bang! Bang! Bang! Boom! Staggered shots built to a fog-shrouded crescendo.
Wind soon cleared the smoke, revealing their majestic stance. Targets? Obliterated—barely lower torsos left.
"That concludes the matchlock firepower demo! Thank you!"
"......Woooaaah!!!"
Instructor bowed; delayed crowd roar hit like a World Cup goal.
"Hm, well! Military officer's not bad, I suppose?"
"Still, a life-saving doctor..."
Investigator and doctor seemed less keen to claim me after that display. But Mom fretted on.
"Son. Looks good, but dangerous, no?"
"Mom. It's fine. By the time I join, better guns'll be around."
"Still. So risky..."
Son mangled and bloody overrode the heroic image, it seemed. Knowing her worry, I stayed quiet.
"Wh-whoaaa! Master! That! Do that! That one!"
Eori jabbed at the bailiffs, too hyped for proper words.
"Hey. Hey."
Tap tap. Someone lightly patted my shoulder. Without thinking who, I turned.
There stood Yun Seong-bae, one of Kim Hui-un's punk posse.
"Hey. You wouldn't happen to be..."
The thirteen-year-old—taller than my mom—grinned cockily.
"Wrestling today, right?"