Chapter 5
Chapter 5
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 5
Chapter Title: Normalization of Tribute Goods (1)
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They say numbers don't lie. But that's only knowing one thing and not the other.
When you jot down fake information on paper, it turns into a lie right there.
But just like a long tail gets stepped on, lies in the ledgers are usually plain as day.
"Kim I-bang."
"Yes, Magistrate."
"According to this, the county collected 4,859 seom of grain in land rent. On top of that, the tribute goods are 300 geun of dried persimmons, 200 geun of dried anchovies, and 400 sets of paulownia wood bowls, dishes, and chopsticks. That's what's written here. Is that right?"
"Yes, exactly as recorded in the ledgers."
The total population of Joseon at this time is probably just shy of 7.7 million.
In Jinhae County, where I've been posted, there should be around 20,000 to 30,000 souls.
The townsfolk in the county seat—call it a town—number maybe 1,000 to 1,500.
So yeah, collecting tribute and land rent like that makes sense on paper... but here's the problem.
Did these guys actually collect the land rent properly?
Well, even leaving the land rent aside for now, what about the tribute goods?
Most folks in Joseon spend their lives farming rice, barley, beans—stuff like that. They couldn't produce or catch things like dried persimmons or anchovies to save their lives.
So the ones stepping in to handle it for them—think they played it straight?
If they did, it'd be praiseworthy enough to reward them. But I've got a hunch there's no reward coming from me anytime soon.
In this era, temples handled tribute by proxy, then used the cash to lavishly repair their buildings and live in luxury. All in a Neo-Confucian kingdom suppressing Buddhism.
"The people couldn't very well make paulownia bowls, dried persimmons, or anchovies themselves. So like other places, didn't you procure them through temples?"
"Yes, Magistrate. For the last ten years in our county."
"The people don't mind?"
"At first, some grumbled about the government collecting grain and handing it to temples for local specialties... but now everyone likes it."
That's half right, half wrong.
For example, say I tried making a single paperclip from scratch.
Mine iron ore, build a furnace to smelt it, pour it into molds, cool it, draw out wire, bend it—the whole process? For a box of dozens costing 1,000 won at the stationery store, it'd run me at least 10 million won. Self-sufficiency is brutally expensive.
Ordering farmers—who only grow grains—to cough up tribute goods? That was a massive burden.
Letting them pay in grain instead? In that sense, it was a relief.
No more shelling out 10 million won every time, right?
Instead, the temples used economies of scale to buy cheap, then billed a fortune.
The burden naturally fell back on the people. And some of that cash made its way into the pockets of local clerks like the runners, and various higher-ups.
In the end, folks shell out 20,000 won to cover 1,000 won worth of tribute.
Still better than 10 million, so hey—peace and prosperity. Joseon keeps on turning.
"So how much grain went into buying all those tribute goods?"
"We collected 8,234 seom from the people."
"Tribute costs more than land tax. What a clusterfuck."
For the record, I'd already declared I wouldn't take bribes from these guys.
Flip it around: they're skimming enough local specialties to bribe me and still have leftovers.
"But this is only natural, Magistrate. As you know, forcing people to produce tribute goods themselves would open the gates to hell for them. The palace demands the finest, and specialty prices are sky-high."
Lies are best hidden among facts.
Like stashing a tree in the forest.
"If the system's broken, shouldn't we fix it? And Joseon's a Neo-Confucian land—how can Buddhist monks meddle in state affairs?"
Deep down, I wanted to start with the clerks here and sweep up every yangban involved.
But pull that stunt, and it wouldn't end with me resigning. They'd pin "disrespectful to superiors" on me and come for my head.
Petitions to King Sejong would flood in, landing me in exile at best. Exile.
I said I wanted to resign and live easy—not rot like a beggar in some backwater.
So I'll hit exactly who needs hitting. Precisely.
Honestly, in Neo-Confucian Joseon, monks are fair game with the right justification—even conscript them willingly.
Punish them for profiting off tribute? No one's arguing that.
'The fortress they dragged monks to build was Namhansanseong.'
"Which temple handles the tribute?"
"Seongheungsa Temple."
"Seongheungsa, huh. Seongheungsa."
"Time to pay them a visit and settle this. A temple handling tribute instead of some other outfit? Unacceptable. I-bang, follow me."
I shot to my feet.
Strike while the iron's hot. Start today, or it'll never end.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Seongheungsa Temple was too gaudy for a house of worship.
Every wooden pillar was lacquered black, and the main gate painted bright red.
Before chemical paints, red like that cost a fortune—even yangban didn't splurge lightly. How's a temple this flashy?
The stench of overflowing wealth hung thick in the air.
"Where's the abbot of Seongheungsa?"
Hearing me, a venerable old monk stepped out cautiously.
"Namu Amida Bul. Welcome. Might you be the new magistrate of the county?"
"That's right. Word is Seongheungsa's handled all of Jinhae County's tribute... and amassed a fortune in the process."
"This humble monk merely helped the poor with their tribute. The people escaped great hardship thanks to us, and Seongheungsa gained modest income to maintain the temple."
...Modest? They raked in way too much.
By my calculations, the actual value of the tribute goods wouldn't top 500–600 seom of grain.
But to cover bribes to runners and cronies, plus upward tribute from the magistrate level—bam, 8,000-plus seom collected...
Is that even remotely legit?
Hell, if they'd collected just 1,000 seom and skimmed fees, bribes, and tribute from that, I might've let it slide.
Live and let live, you know?
But annals say they strutted like royal envoys, bullying magistrates.
"Temples stick to donations from now on. Between commoners and noblewomen, you've got plenty to live on."
"Namu Amida Bul. We only seek to aid the people. Before we took over tribute, their burdens were double—triple what they are now. With Buddha's compassion, we turned to lowly trade and eased their loads. Why forbid us now?"
I didn't want chaos on day one.
Obvious hit to my performance review, and how the locals would see me...
But this guy's pushing my buttons.
What are you, a cult?
Well, early Joseon Buddhism was better than late Goryeo, but still had cultish vibes.
Maybe that's why mid-to-late Joseon shoved monks into the lowest class.
Using religion and afterlife fears to brainwash the masses—who knows what they'd pull if treated as free men?
Not that yangban scholars, educated to the hilt, don't turn into political cliques without a leash.
Can't blame monks alone.
I was really trying to go easy since it's day one.
Screw that. Time for a lesson.
Not burning the place... but they need a taste of heat.
Monks chasing personal gain? Cultists, plain and simple.
"I-bang, listen up."
"Yes, Magistrate."
"Bind them all and arrest them. And investigate what it actually costs the county to buy tribute goods. If these bastards took more than double the value..."
"I won't let them off easy."
I-bang's face soured—twisted, even.
Then he grabbed my robe, pleading.
"Magistrate, please don't. It'll turn public sentiment against you. People are superstitious enough as it is—persecuting holy monks..."
"His Highness sent me here to comfort the people and ease their pains. How can I sit idle in the face of this?!"
I shoved him off and barked the order.
"Seal this temple's warehouse! Ransack the ledgers!"
If they're squeaky clean despite all this, I'm the one done for.
No worries.
I won't lose.