Forging a Warrior's Body
Why on earth did the king abolish the civil service exams? If I never wanted to see that bastard Kim Jin-sa's face—the guy pretending to be my dad—my top priority was getting out of this house. I didn't skimp on time or effort to make it happen.
"One! Two! Three...!"
In our house's backyard, wearing nothing but shorts, I dropped into push-ups. Every dip and rise made my arms and chest burn like fire.
"Hngh! Up!"
I finished ten push-ups and stood, catching my breath to calm my pounding heart while eyeing the next station: the pull-up bar. Of course, there was no such thing as a proper pull-up bar in the Joseon era. What stood in the yard now was a crudely made wooden horizontal bar. Wood, so wooden bar was more accurate.
"Hah, hah, hah... Hup!"
After a quick breather, I jumped up and grabbed the bar—er, wooden bar—with both hands. Finding my rhythm, I chinned myself until failure.
Ten push-ups for ten sets, n pull-ups for ten sets, ten squats for ten sets. That was my daily routine. In a place with no concept of bodybuilding, it was pure bodyweight training—no added weights. A true gym rat would scoff, but for a ten-year-old kid, it was just right.
"Ngh! Hah!"
I kept chinning until I couldn't anymore, then dropped down. While catching my breath, I checked my body. Not ripped like some shirtless actor in a movie, but the muscles were starting to take shape.
One regret from my army days, when I'd built up some seniority: I wished I'd started training as a kid. Starting young, building steadily through growth spurts and consistent stimulus, would've given me a body like no one else's.
"Hmph. Looking good."
The results were showing, even if just a bit. Seeing my smooth, kid-like but different-from-the-others physique made my lips curl up. If only I had better gear. Wasn't the Crown Prince making benches or squat racks? Some places were turning all of Joseon into a gym paradise.
"Hyah!"
Shaking off the idle thoughts, I grabbed the wooden bar again. The short rest let me squeeze out a few more reps than before.
"Son? You done?"
I was finishing my last set of squats after pull-ups when Mom called from inside, her voice brimming with cheer.
"Time for dinner."
"Yeah, Mom. Just... one sec...!"
I wrapped up the final squat set and caught my breath. Even using just the wooden bar, I was winded and sweaty. Scratching my itchy skin from the beading sweat, I headed to the porch.
"Mom, lemme wipe down first and I'll eat! Go ahead without me!"
"How could I eat without my boy? Hurry in. I'm waiting."
"It's fine, eat already!"
This was still Joseon, alternate history or not—no hot showers. Instead, I wiped down with a damp cloth. Once the sweat was roughly gone and I'd thrown on some clothes, I entered Mom's room.
She sat at the table, chopsticks untouched.
"Mom, I told you to start."
"How could a mom eat first, leaving her handsome boy behind?"
"Mom."
"Hee hee hee. What's wrong, son?"
"Not handsome—I'm good-looking."
"Oh, uh, right. Son, let's eat."
"Thanks for the food."
"Hee hee. Eat up, yummy?"
I waited for her to start, then dug in. A bite of rice porridge laced with grains, then to the sides: a few salty fish, fermented seafood, and today's star—beef skewers.
Whenever that bastard Kim Jin-sa visited, beef like this showed up at dinner. My gut twisted at the memory, but the beef was innocent.
"Hee hee, son. Tasty, right?"
Mom, spotting where my eyes lingered, picked up a skewer with her chopsticks and placed it on my rice bowl.
"Son, you really wanna be a military officer?"
I wasn't grinding this hard from childhood just to become a Joseon-era gym bro. It was merely the path to becoming a military officer.
"Yeah. The civil service seems tough with my brains, so military exam feels more doable. If the head won't cut it, make up with the body."
"Why, son? With your smarts, you could top the miscellaneous exam."
"Dunno. Technical interpreters need to be born into it, medical's for monsters anyway, yin-yang needs Hanyang roots."
"There's the practical exam too."
"Clerks like local officials? Lame. Better to swing swords and fire guns as a military officer."
"Not 'cause you wanna leave here?"
"Mom, eat your skewer. Dig in."
In modern terms, the practical exam was like a level 9 or 7 civil service test—most realistic. But with local ties, passing meant staying stuck here. Might as well become a merchant.
"Mom's saying, son."
She resumed eating but didn't drop the topic.
"Whatever you do, just... not dangerous."
"Aw, Mom. You scared of maggots, you don't make kimchi."
"Can't remake my son like kimchi."
"But you can boil him. All wrinkly."
"Son."
"Got it. But I wanna be a military officer."
"Sigh. Who can break your stubbornness."
Mom set aside her regrets and shoveled in a big scoop of porridge. But she grumbled anyway.
"Why'd the king abolish the civil service exams?"
This era's official selection differed hugely from original history. No summoning talents to Hanyang—instead, local academies nurtured and picked them. The elementary school I attended was step one.
Graduate it or pass the equivalency test here, and you qualified for the academy entrance exam. Qualified, not guaranteed—like middle school grad doesn't auto-enroll you in high school.
Academy exams varied by track: classics for civil, fitness and basic classics for military, specialized subjects for others. The old civil service system from Goryeo days wasn't gone, just vestigial with maybe 100 applicants.
"Hello? Anyone home?"
Halfway through my bowl, a young girl's voice came from outside. I swallowed and stood.
"Eori? That you?"
"Ah, yes! It's me, young master!"
"Eori's here?"
Mom started to rise, but I opened the lattice door. Through the gate, Eori met my eyes.
"Hello, young master!"
She bowed low, her ponytail swinging. Entering the yard, she proudly showed the bowl cradled in both hands.
"Um, we butchered a chicken at home, and Mom said to bring some."
"Chicken?"
"Yes! Hee hee. Try it! Delicious!"
The bowl held a huge drumstick in milky broth, chicken feet hooked out like claws.
"Whoa, no need for this...!"
Chicken legs were precious in modern times or Joseon. I slipped on straw sandals, stepped into the yard, and took the bowl.
"Eori, hang on a sec."
Mom, who'd come out, ducked back in. Moments later, she returned with the beef skewer plate.
"Wow! Beef!"
Only half left now, but Eori gasped. Her dark eyes sparkled so bright, I teased.
"Hey, no beef at your place? Why so shocked?"
"Hee hee hee! Pretty much!"
I wouldn't tease if they truly had none. Spotting skewers as beef meant she'd tasted it plenty—thanks to her butcher dad. And the Crown Prince, this alt-history's real hero, importing high-yield livestock and such. Unless dirt-poor, folks ate meat every few days.
"Here, take this. Tell your mom we'll enjoy it."
"Yes, ma'am! Hee hee hee. Thank you!"
Eori beamed, bowing with the plate. Mom watched fondly, then turned to go inside.
"Eori."
Right on cue. I plucked a skewer bare-handed from her old plate and held it out.
"This is good. Try it. Here, ahh~"
"Young master?!"
"Quick. Ahh~"
"Ah, no, I, uh... *nom*."
Eyes wide in shock, face flushing red, she still took the bite.
"Good, right?"
"Mmm, yesh, delish...ious, sir..."
Chewing, mouth full, she nodded, grin unstoppable. I waved sauce-smeared fingers in goodbye.
"See ya tomorrow, Eori."
"Yes, tomorrow! Um, b-brother."
"Yeah, sure."
I watched her bow again and leave, then followed, waving till she vanished before heading back in.
*Smack! Smack!*
Inside, I licked the skewer sauce off my fingers. The sweet-salty tang kept making me smile.