Chapter 4
Chapter 4
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 4
Chapter Title: Conscripted by Sejong (3)
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After receiving the decree from King Sejong the Great—no, from Sejong himself—I quietly returned to my seat.
Once the meal was finished and the banquet began, several high-ranking officials in crimson court robes swarmed me. Was it because I was the top scorer, or because they saw me as some insolent newbie?
The hunched old man from yesterday was probably Heo Jo, and the bearded one who looked somehow kindly was likely Prime Minister Hwang Hui.
Looking at their expressions as they stared at me, I couldn't help but feel intimidated.
In alternate history novels, the ministers serving under Sejong are often depicted treating the protagonist like a promising new grad student.
That's exactly the vibe I got from those two.
It was the look of a sergeant obsessed with discipline eyeing a pitiful, hapless private who's about to get reamed.
"I'm Heo Jo, the Minister of Rites. And this gentleman beside me is Bangchon, the Minister of Finance."
"It is an honor to meet two esteemed ministers renowned throughout the court."
Normally, when a newbie bows and speaks humbly like that, a veteran would respond with something encouraging like, "Let's do our best together," and the mood would warm up nicely.
But who am I? The madman who wrote on the audience exam paper that the king fails to properly care for his subjects and the people, squeezing taxes out of them instead.
If I were some famous scholar from the countryside, they might have overlooked it as insightful commentary piercing through the ages.
But I'm just a fresh kind-6th-grade nobody who barely passed the civil service exam.
So, to sum up my current situation? I'm totally screwed.
Heo Jo proved my fears right by pointing at me sharply.
"Well, well, a brilliant minister has appeared in Joseon. A talent who'll prop up the nation like Zhuge Liang or Yue Fei and still have strength left over. I'm genuinely curious, so let me ask: have you ever read in the classics that the tongue is a blade that cuts people, and the mouth a brush that summons calamity?"
At this point, I had only one option.
Bow low and apologize profusely for being too forward.
In truth, with my knowledge of Joseon history, I could passionately prove why the current tax policies were broken.
But right now, I was in hot water for insolence.
Arguing back point by point in this situation would just make me look like an idiot who mistook street food for manners.
"I apologize."
"I agree that Joseon is still far from an age of peace and prosperity, as you said. But no matter how much you wanted to say about taxes... how can a young pup so viciously criticize a tax system refined over generations, from King Taejo to His Highness today? Heaven has sent us a loyal subject."
Joseon is a land of propriety and decorum.
Korea values manners too, but it's a different beast from Joseon.
In Korea, being rude might get you blacklisted by superiors and stall your promotions.
In Joseon, impropriety gets you the rod.
If I hadn't been assigned to Jinhae as county magistrate, I'd have been dragged to the newbie welcome party and force-fed etiquette.
Bowing to clerks, fetching booze snacks, or catching fish in muddy water.
In this world where manners reign supreme, staying off the bad side of your betters is priority one.
"Harsh rule is more fearsome than tigers, you say? That's exactly what the tax policies look like to the people right now? What an arrogant brat. Back in my day, no one had the guts to talk like that."
As Heo Jo kept fuming, Bangchon—Hwang Hui—stepped in to calm him.
"Isn't it just youthful vigor that led him to submit such an answer in the great examination? Besides, His Retired Majesty (King Taejong) already said there's truth to it."
"If I didn't know that, do you think I'd have let this punk sit here this long? This ungrateful whelp calls the tax system—forged through the effort of toppling rotten Goryeo and building Joseon to this point—more fearsome than tigers. Can't let that slide."
"Are you really that rigid? Principles and order are fine, but you need some flexibility too."
"Ugh, as Confucius says..."
"Oh come on, enough of that. Let's drink. This is a celebration for the top scorer of the exam. What are you doing?"
With impressive nerve, Hwang Hui plopped Heo Jo down right next to me.
He gave me a look, signaling me to pour for their empty cups.
History says Hwang Hui could be fierce but was good at maintaining relationships—not quite Maeng Sa-seong level, but damn good at playing the brakes here.
Sure, the guy was corruption incarnate, but he saved my skin today, so for this banquet, I'd treat him like the incorruptible Prime Minister Hwang Hui and serve him with utmost respect.
"Please overlook this young scholar's excessive boldness, esteemed ministers."
As I bowed again, Heo Jo clicked his tongue.
"Back in my day, you'd have been hauled off right after the bowing ceremony for a lesson in proper respect for senior officials. You're lucky. Back in my day..."
Hwang Hui waved him off with a chuckle, cutting short the "back in my day" rant.
Ah! That smile, that laugh... it looked just like a professor kidnapping a grad student.
Naive young officials would see that kindly grin and think, "Ministers really are different—such magnanimity and care for their juniors born of experience."
But having seen guys get lured by that smile into grad school slavery, I knew better.
Never fall for it.
"Having risen to this position, I realize the court desperately needs young, capable talents like you. The Minister of Rites may grumble now, but in front of His Highness, he praised your keen insight into institutional flaws non-stop, despite your impudence."
"I apologize."
"It might sound trite to the top scorer, but someone with your discernment and insight is sure to be a pillar of the nation. Both His Retired Majesty and His Highness have high expectations."
"I am deeply grateful."
Hwang Hui poured me another cup.
I turned away and downed it in one gulp.
"But you know, having a good eye is useless without action. What's the point of reading a text a thousand times if you don't grasp its teachings?"
"Indeed. You must comprehend the meaning behind the words to truly make it your own."
"I still don't know if Jinhae's county magistrate merely reads words or truly understands and acts on their meaning—a true genius."
What Hwang Hui meant was: I don't know yet if you're all talk, a con artist, or the real deal.
"This world is full of fake gentlemen with flowery words. I'm eager to see which you are."
His words sent chills down my spine, every hair standing on end.
In Joseon, "fake gentleman" was one of the harshest insults among yangban.
Like saying "son of a dead-parent scammer" in Korean curses.
For him to say that while testing me...
"Well, man's nature is inherently evil, but education makes it good, right? If you're just an arrogant kid spouting pretty words despite your youth... our ministers can uphold Confucius and Mencius by strictly teaching you."
"Of course not."
"We'll see what you're made of through your duties as Jinhae county magistrate. Don't disappoint me."
With another chuckle, Hwang Hui dragged Heo Jo away.
Truly amazing.
The food and drink before me were the finest from the palace kitchens.
Yet I tasted nothing.
I thought: To avoid a "proper education" from the ministers (full of absurdities and guaranteed nightly overtime), I must deliver top results in Jinhae.
"Looks like resignation's off the table for now. Survive first."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ And so, I set off for Jinhae with Dol-soe and a few others.
A magistrate's custom upon arrival is receiving lavish local specialties as gifts, then sending them to his recommending officials and benefactors.
Yu Hui-chun, author of the Mi-am Diary, got a whopping 1,000 seok of rice when his exile ended.
In Joseon, securing these gifts matters.
The moment the local clerks saw me...
"Magistrate, Jinhae is famous for anchovies, dried persimmons, and paulownia crafts. So we thought to assist you by..."
"No need. Bring the tax ledgers right now."
I'd declared I had a way to normalize Joseon.
With Hwang Hui and Heo Jo expecting results, a mere magistrate nobody like me had to deliver beyond expectations.
"His Highness loves the people like his children, so I must do the same."