Chapter 11
Chapter 11
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 11
Chapter Title: Grassroots Market Economy (3)
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After a week of preparation, the Jinhae County market was finally opening today.
Originally, in the flow of history, it would take about fifty years from now for a market where commoners exchanged goods with one another to emerge, defying persecution from the Joseon government—that is, the local offices.
But thanks to me mobilizing every ounce of the county magistrate's authority, I'd managed to create a proper local market a full fifty years ahead of schedule.
Just that accomplishment alone made my chest swell with pride and my shoulders square up... but it was still too early to drop my guard.
After all, it was the market's opening day, so all sorts of incidents and accidents were bound to crop up.
"Magistrate, people are swarming outside the market grounds like a massive cloud."
"I saw them on my way here. Reports said there are forty merchants with proper shops and over five hundred folks with street stalls. Seeing it for myself, it's even more staggering than I imagined."
Just counting those gathered to do business, the crowd already rivaled famous markets like Gyeongdong or Hwagaecheon.
And when you added in the buyers streaming in, thousands of people would surely converge here.
Even a village festival handing out free food wouldn't draw a crowd this big.
Kim I-bang's face clouded with worry at my words.
"If word gets out that Jinhae County's market is pulling in crowds like this, even more people will flock here in the future. I'm worried, Magistrate."
"Where crowds gather, troublemakers are bound to show up. We need to stay extra vigilant."
Historical records on Joseon-era markets are full of memorials warning that allowing trade would spawn bandit hordes.
There were even real cases of bandits disguising themselves as vendors.
But under the sharp eyes of the authorities, only a tiny fraction of bandits could pull that off.
Truth be told, the real threats were the entitled scoundrels of Joseon.
You'd have the types throwing tantrums in eateries that didn't sell booze, demanding drinks anyway; the ones whining for credit because they "used to be somebody"; and every flavor of lunatic in between.
Pickpockets, brawlers, robbers, drunks harassing women... the list went on.
"For the time being, everyone in the office except those handling lawsuits gets thrown into market surveillance."
"Understood, Magistrate."
In Joseon, magistrates couldn't just open markets on a whim—it was illegal.
But Joseon cared less about strict rules and principles than about "insolence" when it came to punishments.
In other words, even if I bent the law a bit, as long as it helped the people... Sejong and King Taejong would look the other way.
Those two were harsh on their officials but doted on the common folk to an obsessive degree. They might even encourage more markets.
But if crimes ran rampant because of it?
Then I'd be guilty not just of breaking the law, but of insolently promoting lowly commerce to boot.
They could ship me off to some frozen exile in Sam-su Gap-san and let me rot for five years easy.
"...... Sound the gongs."
Not long after, the gongs boomed out.
At the same time, massive shouts erupted from every direction—loud enough to reach my temporary office.
"Wood! Firewood! Straw sandals! All at rock-bottom prices!"
"Twenty herrings for four hops of rice! Four hops of rice! Barley, beans, or cloth works too!"
"Dried persimmons, four for the price of two and a half dou of rice! Two and a half dou!"
It was so raucous you couldn't tell if this was a market or a battlefield.
Part of it was the first-day excitement, but everyone's voices brimmed with real energy.
If I weren't stuck managing order on opening day, I'd be itching to head out and take a look around myself.
"The people seem to love the market you've created, Magistrate. But with crowds this thick, keeping order will be a real challenge."
"Your workload just got heavier, so I'll make sure to compensate you fairly."
What I really wanted was to stamp out corruption entirely.
Cut out every bribe-taker, toss them in jail... yeah, right.
Realistically, that was impossible.
Just like how you can't discipline office workers for sneaking an hour off a day to smoke.
So, compromise on reality.
Make life better for the people than before, and cut corruption down as much as possible without erasing it completely.
"As you know, I-bang, one tenth—ten percent—of all sales in the market gets collected as tax."
"Yes, I'm aware, Magistrate."
"One tenth of that tax—meaning one percent of total sales—gets divided up among you clerks, the soldiers, and the slaves. You've earned that much in hazard pay."
Predicting exact sales at Jinhae market was tough right now. But one thing was clear from the racket outside.
Business was booming. So even one percent wouldn't be chump change.
"...... If there's no corruption or graft from clerks or soldiers while the market runs, I'll double that share. By my estimate, that'd net you alone around twenty seom of rice a year. And if the market grows bigger... fifty seom wouldn't be a pipe dream."
High-end clerks like I-bang or Hobang pulled annual salaries of two hundred seom of rice—rich by any measure.
Even for them, a single seom wasn't pocket lint. Fifty seom of white rice? Irresistible temptation.
Drool trickled from I-bang's mouth.
"Keep a sharp watch. I'd love to keep looking out for you all, but if something regrettable happens, my hands are tied."
"Of course, Magistrate."
No sooner had I finished speaking than a line of men was dragged into the courtyard of my makeshift office.
Their faces were covered in bruises—definitely troublemakers nabbed at the market.
The Veritable Records of King Seongjong mention memorials complaining of bandit hordes overrunning markets...
These are the bandits causing problems—what else would you call them?
"What crime have you committed?"
The prisoner, facing my interrogation, hung his head in protest and burst into sobs.
"Mercy, Magistrate! Please, just this once! This fool didn't know you had to register with the office before setting up a stall, so I went ahead and sold some wares."
"Is that really true?"
The runner who'd hauled him in shook his head at my question.
"We told him to pack it up, but he resisted, griping that he shouldn't need to register just to sell, and on top of that, pay taxes? So we dragged him here. The gall—not wanting to pay taxes."
Refusing taxes after being told? By Joseon standards—or even twenty-first-century Korea—that was peak entitlement.
Besides, this was the critical startup phase for establishing market rules. Go easy on violations now?
Every schemer in the county would try weaseling around the rules.
So, enforce the letter of the law, but weigh whether to add insolence on top.
"You really did it out of ignorance?"
"Yes, Magistrate. I just wanted to sell firewood and wild greens from the hills to put food in my kids' mouths like rabbits. Please, have mercy just this once."
"I see you weren't trying to insult me."
His face crumpled the moment "insult" hit his ears. Joseon folk might be illiterate, but they were sharp as tacks.
Especially commoners—they read moods a thousand times better than any noble playbook.
So he knew "insult" meant no mercy coming.
"By the book, resisting after knowing the office's rules, plus trying to trade without paying market tax, warrants thirty lashes on the back. But your plight moves me, so I'll show special mercy: ten lashes, then release him. Take him away."
Less brutal than a full caning, but back-whipping with full force from an adult man still left nasty bruises after ten.
Still, what could be done? Ignorance was no excuse after warnings—he had to pay for resisting.
Next came a burly man hauled in.
"Magistrate, this one's the punk who swiped rice cakes off a stall and threatened the old woman selling them with his fist when she scolded him."
Yeah, I knew types like this would show. Plenty more during opening day.
Crowded, thriving markets always drew these pests.
"Is everything they say about your crime true?"
"No, Magistrate... I just took one rice cake to taste-test, since I know that lady selling. But she chewed me out so much I lost my temper..."
"Swinging your fist could've killed that woman! What makes your tantrum any different from a farter getting mad at his own fart? Drag this scum off and give him ten leg lashes right now!"
This was the upside of early Joseon—no Gyunguk Daejeon code yet.
Meaning magistrates could cane serious offenders on the spot.
And so I kept handling the shadows cast by the bustling market.
Punishing an endless stream of people wasn't easy...
But when the tax clerk Hobang came bounding in with a beaming face, all my built-up fatigue vanished in an instant.
"Magistrate! In just one day at the market today, we've collected a whopping 150 seom of white rice in taxes!"
150 seom in taxes alone. That meant daily revenue topped 1,500 seom.
Even chalking it up to first-day hype...
At minimum, this meant thousands of seom in annual taxes going forward.
And the indirect economic ripple effects? Massive.
"Give me more details on how the market's running, Hobang."