Chapter 2
Chapter 2
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 2
Chapter Title: Conscripted by King Sejong (1)
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Eighteen years had passed since I was reborn in Joseon.
When I first reincarnated, I was furious at how unfairly I'd been yanked from my modern life. Without everyday conveniences like refrigerators or smartphones, everything felt utterly inconvenient.
No, all I'd done was post a logical, 5,700-character rebuttal in a gallery thread calling King Sejong the Great an economics expert.
Suddenly, my computer screen went black, and my consciousness faded.
When I came to and opened my eyes, I'd been born into a yangban family in Joseon.
Whoever sent me here must have had at least a shred of conscience as a fellow human, because the Kim clan of Gimhae I was born into was filthy rich—lacking only official rank.
If I'd been born into an ordinary commoner family...
Just thinking about it was horrifying.
"What on earth are you pondering so deeply, young master? Even someone as composed as you gets nervous before the Audience Examination in front of His Highness?"
"Nah, I'm not nervous or anything. I've already passed the Preliminary and Second Exams of the Great Examination. All that's left is this test where the rank determines your rank in office. I just plan to answer His Highness's questions as best I can."
"I heard from the servants of other local yangban who passed the Civil Service Exam that even they couldn't hide their nerves the day before the Audience Exam—they were biting their nails. You truly are bold, young master."
"Bold? Hardly. I just think I should do my best within my abilities."
The time I'd come to take the Civil Service Exam was the early reign of King Sejong the Great.
It was the era of the Great Joseon Prosperity, when the kingdom was at its strongest.
No massive wars like in the late Goryeo, territory expanded, taxes reduced, and even Proper Sounds for the Education of the People created—Joseon's golden age.
At the same time, it was hell for the officials, with endless overtime, excess workloads, and sky-high performance demands. Talented men like Prime Minister Hwang Hui, Maeng Sa-seong, and Jang Yeong-sil were worked to the bone...
As someone who knew history, I had zero intention of suffering their fate.
Was I insane? Even if I begged to resign like Hwang Hui, it would always be rejected. No way in hell.
"Still, I expect you to take First Place, young master. Weren't you always called a prodigy back in Yanggu?"
"Every guy who passes the exam gets called a prodigy in his hometown at least once."
"I don't know about prodigies from other places, but I'm sure you'll take First Place."
First Place my ass! I planned to scribble whatever I wanted and turn it in quick to get out.
If King Sejong the Great took notice of me, I'd never retire—I'd just get worked to death. And considering our family's wealth...
Why bother slaving for office to build more wealth and power?
Just enjoy what we have and live comfortably.
Even if I didn't rank high, I'd still pass, so no one could call me a "layabout." If I said I refused office because "I won't join the rotten politics," the local scholars would nod approvingly, thumbs up.
Because this was Joseon, land of the scholars.
A place where frequent remonstrations to the king (like my 5,700-character heartfelt rebuttal) were prized. If they weren't heeded, claiming "I'm a loyal subject, but the king won't employ me—this world is in chaos" earned respect.
"With so many talents in the kingdom, how could a guy like me take First Place?"
"Even a slave like me who receives your kindness would make this country a pillar if you became prime minister."
Living as a yangban young master in Joseon for eighteen years had its perks. But I could never bring myself to mistreat, beat, or look down on slaves.
Since Joseon was a Confucian state, treating slaves well wasn't even a flaw...
I did my best to protect the household slaves' rights.
That's why Dol-soe could talk to me so casually.
In the middle of our chat, someone knocked on the door.
"Young master, I've brought dinner. But I have a favor to ask—I'm truly sorry. Could you share the room with another scholar?"
Our family was well-off, but we had no house in Hanyang.
No close relatives here either, so we were boarding at a commoner's home for money...
With exam season drawing crowds to Hanyang, more people like us were crowding into private homes. We'd paid first, so refusing wouldn't cause issues, but...
I didn't need a quiet room for last-minute cramming anyway, and with nothing else to do, what harm in letting one more guy share?
If we hit it off, it'd be great to have someone to talk to.
"......Fine."
"Thank you so much, my lord."
With my permission, two scholars entered the room.
One looked about my age but plump. The other screamed "general" at first glance.
"Thanks for letting us share the room. I'm Yi Won-jeong from Jeonju. The scholar beside me is Yi Man-ri, who came from Jeonju with me for the military exam."
Something about Yi Won-jeong's face felt familiar.
Maybe because he looked jolly and plump. But for a split second, King Sejong the Great's face from the 10,000-won note overlapped. Nah, just a resemblance.
Historically, he was around that age...
Yi clan from Jeonju? In early Joseon, that meant royal blood.
Why would royalty trek from Jeonju here? Probably a different branch. Lookalikes are common.
"What a coincidence," they say, but it hardly ever happens.
"What's your courtesy name?"
In Joseon, yangban never called each other by given names.
They even introduced themselves with courtesy names only.
Only the king, father, or teacher could use real names. Mentioning one was as rude as a slap.
So they used courtesy names like nicknames.
"Mine is Jangheon, and this gentleman's is Wonjeong."
"And yours, young sir...?"
"Jukheon."
"What brings you to Hanyang, Jukheon?"
"Born a scholar, shouldn't I pass the exam, rise to prime minister, become one below the king and above all others, Chief State Councillor even?"
"Big dreams."
"To paint a tiger, you might end up with a cat. Studying diligently to become prime minister and serve king and country loyally got me this far, to the Audience Examination."
Yi Won-jeong—the plump scholar—lit up at "Audience Examination."
"Impressive. You look my age, yet already at this stage. You've succeeded in rising high."
"You're too kind."
"The Audience Exam just determines rank, so since you've entered service ahead of me, may I ask you something?"
"Ask away."
This was why I'd agreed to share—passing time with chit-chat.
In a world without TV, computers, or smartphones, talking to people was the most fun.
"Joseon has toppled rotten Goryeo and marches toward prosperity. By His Highness's grace, the people eat their fill, the treasury overflows. The road is long, but isn't the king doing well enough?"
Joseon overflowed with scholars and remonstrations. Loyalty to the king was given, but criticizing bad policy was "loyal advice."
Even in King Myeongjong's era, Nam-myeong Jo Sik called the king a "bald bachelor" and the queen dowager a "widow"—and it was praised as loyal advice.
Anything short of "overthrow the king" was tolerated.
So I could speak my mind freely.
"The court's coffers may be full, but the people suffer under a flawed tax system."
"What do you mean?"
"The current taxes favor yangban and big landowners. It's rotten for Joseon's poor. Yet the ministers ignore it, never remonstrating, blinding His Highness... How lamentable."
Joseon's early tax system was better than Goryeo's.
Goryeo peasants under power clans paid up to 90% at worst...
Yes, much improved in Confucian Joseon.
Still, the system was a mess.
The central government collected only national taxes, no local ones, so local offices used portions of collected taxes on-site.
Early Joseon was relatively clean, but mid-Joseon? Total chaos.
"The rich pay little tax, the poor pay heaps."
"What?"
"......You really don't see the system's flaws?"
"No, it's perfect. Crafted after endless deliberation by the prime ministers and His Highness. To minimize taxes on the poor, households are classed as Petty or Lesser Petty..."
"Petty is fine. Lesser Petty is the problem."
Joseon's tax method classed households by wealth and land, taxing accordingly.
Sounds fair, like taxing a 10-million-won earner and 100-million-won one the same yearly 20 million? Exactly.
But Lesser Petty—commoners—got screwed.
"Don't three Lesser Petty make a Small Household exempt from tax? That reduces their burden..."
"Small Households own five plots of land, harvesting dozens of seom of rice yearly—rich folk. Lesser Petty mostly have no land, just tenant farming. Can three tenant farmers match that income?"
In modern terms: Small Household, 200-300 million won income. Lesser Petty, 2-3 million. Three won't match one, yet same tax. It's a noose for the poor.
Annals record: Strict magistrates collecting by the book killed villages; lenient ones taxing rich more saved them.
"......"
"I'm not saying no taxes or military service. Tax by circumstance. And Tribute Goods—another mess."
Every Joseon history lesson mentions the Great Equalization Law.
Once implemented, commoners burdened by tribute suddenly lived better. It was like magic—and true.
Tribute production tormented them.
"Forcing rice farmers to produce local specialties like apples is one thing, but ginseng or matsutake? They can't, so they commute through temples, bending backs."
I'm not saintly enough to sacrifice for others.
I know the contradictions but won't dive into the mud to fix them.
Solving this means war on vested interests.
Even with Sejong's help, it'd be Hwang Hui's fate—worked till death.
'No thanks.'
"If I were a commoner, I'd wonder: Is this prosperity or hellish chaos?"
"...Any fixes?"
Plenty came to mind.
Gallery scraps, alternate history novels.
Even rough Great Equalization Law rollout would slash burdens, secure budgets, boost markets.
"Solutions exist, but His Highness wouldn't heed a lowly scholar's words. Good medicine tastes bitter, loyal advice grates. Even if I pass and rise to minor office to petition, would the Office of Royal Decrees deliver it?"
At that, Wonjeong—the plump scholar—shot up, claiming urgent business, and rushed out. His companion followed.
"......Where's everyone going without dinner?"
I ended up eating alone.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ The plump scholar Wonjeong—no, King Sejong Lee Do of Joseon—felt heavy-hearted after talking with Kim Dae-bung.
His mind so burdened that even the meal he'd wheedled from Retired King Lee Bang-won for his outing vanished his appetite.
He headed straight to Gyeongbok Palace to see Lee Bang-won.
"Father, I'm back."
"......Why so soon?"
Sejong hesitated on where to start.
Then he recounted everything from the scholar at the exams.
Lee Bang-won bristled at first—his tax policy critiqued—but soon sighed in regret, seeing the truth.
"......I haven't looked deeply into the people's plight. My heart is heavy."
"Yes, Father. I felt the same, losing appetite mid-meal and rushing here. I wouldn't want beef now."
Sejong couldn't eat without meat.
King Taejong's dying wish: Even in mourning, ensure Sejong eats meat.
No meat cravings from his son said it all.
"......Still, fortunate."
"What is?"
"If Kim Dae-bung takes the Audience Exam, appoint him. His advice could ease the people's lives."
A smile bloomed on Sejong's face.
Yes. A minister to point out flaws could improve lives.
"As expected of Father."
The worry lifted from Sejong's face.
King Taejong beamed proudly at his son.
"Loyal retainers must labor like horse or dog."
If Kim Dae-bung heard, he'd flee.
"Labor like horse or dog" pledged undying service like Hwang Hui—and the king saying it meant...
Work you till death.
Oblivious, Kim Dae-bung entered the exam hall cheerfully.