Chapter 175
Chapter 175
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 175
Chapter Title: Commercial City Hanyang (9)
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Gong-gil gathered the members of his Namsadang troupe.
Normally, when Gong-gil called everyone together like this, there would always be some joker cracking wise with something like, "What's the boss got for us today? Hidden honey rice cakes, one for each? Or maybe a round of strong liquor? Even better."
But not this time. No one dared to joke around.
Because yesterday, Gong-gil had personally met with Kim Dae-bung—the yangban known as the craziest man in all of Joseon, the Junior Inspector.
No one knew what they had talked about.
'The Inspector wouldn't have called just to mess around.'
"Hey, Bear Cub—you're my number two in the troupe."
"Yeah?"
"The Inspector's entrusted us with some official business."
Bear Cub Kim Mal-dong tilted his head at Gong-gil's words.
The others froze in place, all thinking, 'What the hell does that even mean?' but none dared say it aloud.
"...What kind of ghost-spit nonsense is that? The yangban hate our guts."
The yangban despised Namsadang troupes.
And it wasn't just prejudice against the lowly entertainments of commoners.
These troupes roamed from village to village, performing kkotbuegi mask dances full of lewd gestures and crude language. The yangban characters in their plays were always greedy idiots, objects of endless ridicule.
Hell, sometimes they'd even kidnap kids to fill out the troupe.
Still, for those in the troupe, this was the only trade they knew. They kept at it to survive, even knowing how much they were hated.
And now that upright, famously incorruptible Kim Dae-bung had handed them official state business?
It was as believable as humans flying through the sky.
"I had just as hard a time believing it when I first heard. But it's true. And do I look like the kind of guy who'd lie to you about something like this?"
"No, it's not that I think you're lying, boss... It's just so damn absurd. Don't take it wrong."
"I get it. Anyway, take a look at this."
Leader Gong-gil handed Bear Cub the letter Kim Dae-bung had written himself.
Bear Cub couldn't read the Classical Chinese, but if this really was from the Inspector...
"The Inspector wrote this letter himself. And just like he said, I went to the Capital Office this morning at the crack of dawn. The clerks there acted like they were expecting me, told me to write down every name in the troupe, so I did exactly that on my way back."
"This is some ghost-level shit, for real."
"Tell me about it. So now we're officially doing state work. No ranks or titles, obviously... But they'll pay us handsomely."
"How much?"
"Every fifth day, we put on shows cycling through Yongsan, Gwangjin, and Noryangjin. Four seom of white rice per show. Plus, whatever the crowds throw at us is all ours."
Namsadang troupes were always dirt poor.
In rural areas, a performance might get them a meal from the village and a handful of rice as pay. That was it.
Six shows a month at four seom each meant twenty-four seom of steady income just that month. And Hanyang folk had money to burn, so the crowds would love it...
They could expect serious on-site earnings too.
"In exchange, they want new material for the kkotbuegi. Like an innkeeper getting divine punishment for selling spoiled food, or a filial son receiving great blessings, or a poor toothless guy who works hard and ends up rich. Stuff like that."
"No bashing the yangban, I take it?"
The real joy of Namsadang was mocking the yangban you couldn't even look in the eye otherwise—hiding behind masks and dances.
But taking government money? Slip in that kind of content, and it'd be beatings with rods for sure.
"He said we could lump in 'Ryu Jeong-hyeon' as a usurious yangban squeezing the poor with high interest. Go wild satirizing that."
"That Goryeo ghost who showed up?"
"Time for the punching bag to get properly pummeled."
Kim Dae-bung wanted to stir up public outrage against usury this time too.
Legally, yangban lending at high rates couldn't be punished in Joseon. But he still saw it as strangling the poor.
Borrow one seom of rice, pay back at least one-and-a-half next year. Worst case, two seom.
Under that system, the commoners would never escape poverty.
So even if he couldn't outlaw usury, he'd spread the idea far and wide that it was shameful.
Once that took root, even for their own reputations, the lenders would have to lower rates or quit.
"Just leave it to us. I'll write a kkotbuegi that'll blow their minds."
"I'm counting on you. Oh, and one more thing."
"What?"
"While we're here prepping the new show, the Inspector's covering our food. But if we cause trouble..."
Kim Dae-bung had sternly warned Gong-gil that troublemakers would regret it.
But the Inspector was too infamous by his nickname.
Gong-gil heard it this way:
'I'll chop your necks myself with an axe.'
"Anyone who causes problems, or even all of us—we'll all die. No joke. Straight from the Inspector's mouth."
Everyone nodded gravely at the declaration.
"Keep each other in line. No harassing women, no kidnapping kids to pad the troupe. If we get caught, we could all end up hanged together nice and friendly-like."
Kim Dae-bung hadn't said it outright, but if Gong-gil's crew got nabbed for kidnapping...
He fully intended to punish the entire Namsadang troupe harshly.
So Gong-gil's fears weren't entirely off-base.
"Alright, now let's think about the kkotbuegi. We've got one month to make a new one."
And a month later, they successfully debuted their new kkotbuegi in a performance.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ The new market in Noryangjin bustled with people today as always.
These days, jokes about more crowds in Noryangjin than in Unjongga (Jongno) weren't entirely exaggeration—or so Dol-soe felt, having come down from Yangju.
"Gap-dol, seeing it myself, I totally get it now. Noryangjin is packed."
"Duh. My cousin couldn't find land to tenant, came to Hanyang, and settled here. Fourteen guys from our village alone work in workshops and merchant houses around here."
"Hanyang really is different."
Dol-soe gaped at the merchants hawking every kind of good and the countless ferries crisscrossing the water—too many to count.
"What were we supposed to buy today? Let me check."
As he scanned around for their shopping list, his eyes caught the Namsadang troupe performing in the market's central square.
With dazzling, death-defying acrobatics and blaring music, they drew every passerby's gaze.
One walked a tightrope high on a pole, moves that chilled the blood. Another soared through swallow-like flips in midair, utterly free.
Dol-soe's group's eyes locked on them. Without a word, like iron to a magnet, their feet carried them toward the show.
They were completely entranced by Gong-gil's troupe's performance.
"Alright, that's all for today's tightrope. Now, we'll show you our brand-new kkotbuegi. We need a big round of applause!"
With that, Gong-gil's crew changed clothes in a flash and began the masked play.
The kkotbuegi lasted about an hour.
Following Kim Dae-bung's orders to the letter: a greedy innkeeper selling moldy rice and spoiled food without a care...
"Heh heh, folks eat even slightly off food without complaint, so the money piles up day by day. A little more, and I can buy a tiled house in Hanyang. No more envying the yangban—I'm living large. All thanks to His Majesty's grace."
Exaggerated gestures and an objectively childish plot.
But watching the villainous innkeeper hawk spoiled grub like it was nothing, Dol-soe wrinkled his nose and cursed involuntarily.
"That, that damn bitch. A money-mad innkeeper deliberately selling bad food to customers?"
In Joseon, folks sometimes ate slightly moldy rice or off food when rations ran low.
But that was out of desperation, pure poverty.
Seeing a woman who'd made good money off food peddle spoiled stuff shamelessly to paying customers? The crowd's stomachs turned.
As the play went on, several eaters fell ill from her wares.
Climax: one little kid dies.
Dol-soe and the crowd gasped in unison, hurling double curses at the masked innkeeper.
A rich woman blinded by greed, killing a child with bad food.
Fiction or not, it was a kkotbuegi plenty raw to ignite everyone's rage.
Then a man in a mask wielding an axe stormed the stage.
He mimed smashing a jar with it.
"You bitch! Selling spoiled food just to squeeze out extra coin! Have no fear of heaven? What you've done is a grave crime unforgiven by heaven, earth, or the throne! Hey, constables! What are you waiting for? Bind this money-grubbing child-killer and flog her now!"
The beating followed, and the play ended.
The crowd erupted in thunderous applause, muttering agreement.
Bitches like that deserved death.
Dol-soe's crew clucked their tongues too.
"When we're desperate and out of food, sure, eat the bad stuff. But when we've got options? Better steer clear."
"We've all had gut trouble from slightly off food. But I didn't know it could actually kill."
"From now on, no buying from places hawking moldy rice. They charge full price for it. Shameless, and straight-up criminal."
And from that performance onward, even shops selling spoiled food at cut rates saw customers drop off sharply day by day.