King Sejong Swallows My Tiger Pelt!
King Sejong had gobbled up my tiger pelt! Kim Jin-sa, who'd heard about my wedding plans, naturally flew into a flaming rage. If it hadn't been the very day I'd slain the tiger, he might've come charging in with a sword. Mom's face turned not just stiff but deathly pale the moment she heard. She didn't say much, but it sure wasn't a positive reaction.
And even those I thought would be on my side—the magistrate, the investigator, the local doctor—all opposed my idea. They even asked why I'd do such a thing, and one of them offered to play matchmaker. Their reactions weren't incomprehensible. For an ordinary commoner, maybe, but this was a guy with a guaranteed future in life declaring he'd marry a woman from the nomadic Hwacheok tribe—not even a noble lady. It was the kind of thing only a madman would do.
Damn. Being too outstanding really is a problem, huh? Half-jokingly lamenting my fate, I stuck to my daily routine. I trained for the military academy entrance exam and sold some tiger meat to buy various books on military strategy.
Then, hopeful news arrived amid all that.
"Huuuuh...!"
I sprawled over a long bench without a backrest, one knee hooked over it, catching my breath. My right hand propped up my upper body while my left gripped the 25-geun (about 15kg) iron dumbbell custom-made at the blacksmith.
"Hoot, huuuuh...!"
I timed my exhale with the lowering motion, fully extending the arm holding the dumbbell. A sharp tingle shot through my lats as they stretched, followed by a refreshing rush.
"Urgh, haa. Nice."
I'd gotten a bit winded, so my breath came out weird, sounding like some guy chugging a beer, but the post-workout high helped me forget the mess of my current situation, if only a little.
"Haa, haa, haa."
That last set of one-arm dumbbell rows was done. In the chilly weather, my breath fogged the air as I scanned the backyard. It was called a backyard, but aside from the outhouse, it might as well have been my personal gym.
Of course, it wasn't on the level of the mega-gym Sejong the Great would build for turning people into muscleheads. At best, I had a bench and a few pairs of dumbbells. But that was enough for most exercises. Chest: dumbbell bench press instead of barbell. Back: one-arm dumbbell rows like I'd just done. Legs: deadlifts and squats holding a dumbbell in each hand.
The effects of investing money as it came in for custom gear and training consistently were obvious. If there weren't results, I wouldn't be shirtless out here.
"Mm. Looking good."
It was worlds apart from my middle and high school days in the modern era. Not just lean and toned without an ounce of flab—my subtly defined muscles and glossy skin were begging for an audience, but alas, no one to show off to.
"Eommat! You scared me!"
"Huh?!"
I'd been admiring my physique when I jumped in shock and whipped around. Mom had come out to the backyard and freaked at the sight.
"Son, put some clothes on right now! What are you doing, acting so shameless?"
"It was just hot for a second."
"...In the middle of winter?"
Fair point—this was peak winter with the wind howling. But when you're working out, you end up stripping for one reason or another. Heat, or just wanting to check your gains.
"Haa, just cover up already."
Mom sighed as she watched me mid-workout, then approached and handed me the shirt draped over the bench. She brought up the same old topic.
"Company's coming soon."
"Not if it's not Eori."
This was the backlash from blabbing everywhere about marrying Eori. Not quite village elders, but folks of similar standing showed up with daughters or nieces in tow. For the record, yesterday a 12-year-old came, and I nearly died of shock.
"Hee-hee, not that kind of guest."
Mom smiled for the first time in a while as I pulled on my shirt. She dropped a hint about today's visitor.
"Honestly. Thanks to you, I'm getting experiences most people couldn't dream of in a lifetime."
"Right? You raised a good son."
"Aish! My one and only son stripping shirtless in the backyard..."
"Mom?! It was just my shirt! Pants stayed on!"
"Aish! Aish! What a cursed fate. Such poor luck with sons."
"Mom! Your son might hear and get hurt!"
"Just get dressed. They'll be here any minute."
Mom wasn't just sighing—she let out a hollow chuckle too. I felt a bit hurt watching her blame her son, but knowing what I'd done, I quietly slipped on the shirt.
"Hey, you there!"
I was stowing the dumbbells and bench in the warehouse I'd built over the past five years when a familiar shout came from beyond the house.
"Filial son Kim Si-jin, heed the royal decree!"
Again? A royal decree was something most folks might get once in a lifetime, if ever, but the third one felt a tad annoying.
I checked my attire and headed to the front yard.
"Yes! I'm the filial son Kim Si-jin!"
"You?"
Uh. Me.
The official visible through the open gate looked baffled at the sight of me. Clutching what looked like an official scroll, he asked again.
"Are you truly Kim Si-jin, the one who slew the mountain leopard?"
"Yes. That's me."
"Hooh. All by your lonesome?"
"Haven't married yet, so yeah, single."
"Haha! You do look the part!"
This was the first human-like official to deliver one. The first guy who'd brought the decree had tried to scam me out of the lamb meat King Sejong sent as a joke. The second? Han Myeong-hoe explained that one.
"Pardon the intrusion."
True to form as the mother of a son who'd received two royal decrees already, Mom fetched a mat and spread it on the frozen ground.
"Hahaha! I've delivered decrees across all eight provinces of Joseon, but this is the first house like yours!"
The official burst out laughing at how casually we handled the decree. But he turned solemn for the delivery.
Hear ye! Though you slew a beast of the mountains, We know it was for your mother's sake.
And witnessing your valor in slaying the great tiger, We deem you a talent needed by Joseon.
Thus, We command you to take the entrance exam for the Military Academy!
Furthermore! Seeing the sincerity in the tiger pelt you offered, We accept it without refusal! To Kim Si-jin, We bestow one matchlock musket, one heavy sword, and one composite bow.
Moreover! Desiring to speak with you, filial son of deep devotion, come to Hanyang once the weather warms! Thus ends the decree!
What the hell?! This was basically ordering me to take the military academy entrance exam, which amounted to straight admission. The exam bit was probably just for fairness.
"And furthermore!"
Huh? What? More?
"Having seen the devotion in the tiger pelt you presented, We do not refuse but accept it! To Kim Si-jin, We grant one matchlock musket, one heavy sword, and one composite bow."
This, this, fucking bullshit! My tiger pelt! Shit! My tiger pelt! King Sejong had swallowed my tiger pelt!
Normally, when you killed a tiger, you sent the pelt to Hanyang as tribute, but supposedly they returned it to the hunter. But he'd pawned it off for some junk!
Aaaah! My wedding funds are ruined! Done for!
My despair had a specific reason. Among tiger parts, the pelt was the most valuable. I'd planned to sell it for wedding money if I couldn't get permission otherwise, but that dream died before it started.
"And furthermore!"
But the world doesn't always conspire against you.
"Desiring to converse with you, son of deep filial piety! Ascend to Hanyang once the weather thaws! Thus ends the decree!"
"Your grace is immeasurable, wait, what?"
I'd responded by habit, then lifted my head as it sank in. The official grinned, as if I finally looked the part of decree recipient.
"Consider it an honor. Even Hanyang folk rarely get to meet His Majesty."
"An audience? You mean, meet him?"
"Indeed."
"Me? With the King? Why?"
"Curious, eh? Your fame's spread through the capital. The guy who felled a great tiger with two arrows. I had to shove past folks who wanted to see you myself just to get here."
Aah, yeah, I get it. I'd want to see me too. But...
"Me? With the King? Why?"
"Hey now, playing word games with me?"
"N-no, sir. Just... too shocked. Sorry."
"Haha, no harm. I'd be stunned too in your shoes. Alright, let's wrap it up."
"Wrap what up—oh, right. Your grace is immeasurable!"
We finished the formalities, and I received the scroll. Then the official set a large box down before me. A bit small for the pelt, it seemed.
Damn, shit. My tiger pelt. I was gonna marry Eori with the money from that...
Even in my gloom, curiosity won out, and I opened the box. My eyes lit up at the contents.
"Y-you're really giving this to me?"
"Doesn't the decree say so?"
"Whoaaa...!"
This was no junk. The matchlock gleamed like it was fresh off the line. The 80cm sword's scabbard was leopard tail, and the black-lacquered composite bow stirred a man's soul.
"No, no, whoaaa...!"
Any bitterness over the pelt vanished. Even combining my modern and Joseon ages put me nearing forty, but shiny weapons still made my heart race. Like a baby at a doljanchi picking his first gift, I hesitated before grabbing the matchlock.
I hefted the surprisingly heavy gun, inspecting it. It looked much like the ones from the internet or historical dramas—light the fuse and touch it to the powder pan. Unlike official ones, no buttstock.
Whoa. In America, this'd be a pistol. Wait, no—barrel gauge says shotgun.
"Ah, right."
The official watched fondly as I geeked out, then gave a heads-up.
"Don't forget to register it at the magistrate's office. Ignore that, and it'll be confiscated—with heavy punishment for you. Got it?"
"Yes, sir."
Makes sense. Advanced Joseon in this alt-history would have gun laws. Staring at the shiny matchlock, hope bloomed—not for gunning down assholes, but because the King wanted to see me.
As a modern soul born into this world, yeah, I'd dreamed of meeting Sejong. But this hope wasn't just awe. If the elders wouldn't approve my marriage, I'd get it from the biggest elder of all. The one no one in Joseon could refuse.