Chapter 7
Chapter 7
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 7
Chapter Title: Normalization of Tribute Goods (3)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Trade makes everyone wealthy.
Suppose there's a village perfect for rice farming and another where iron is abundant everywhere.
Even if a village has vast plains ideal for rice paddies, without proper farming tools, they'd have to improvise with stones... but you couldn't expect a decent harvest that way.
On the flip side, even if iron is plentiful enough to craft excellent tools, people can't eat iron, so they'd starve in the end.
But what if the iron-rich village makes farming tools, the rice-friendly village uses them to grow rice, and pays with rice in return?
The rice village's yield would multiply several times over, and both villages' people could live in abundance.
The same goes for tribute goods. Forcing rice farmers to procure local specialties is torture, but if they trade them for a fair amount of rice...?
Everyone gets to eat rice, dried persimmons, and anchovies.
What if we expand this from village level to all eight provinces of Joseon?
Our village would undoubtedly prosper.
"For now, increase the number of anchovy fishing boats and expand the persimmon orchards a bit more."
"Other magistrates tell us to minimize commerce, cut back on fishing boats, and warn that too many fruit trees will lead the people into the luxury of fruit-eating..."
"Rice is pricier than barley because it's harder to harvest. Fruits and anchovies are expensive for the same reason: limited annual supply."
You can buy a kilogram of shiitake mushrooms at the mart for under 10,000 won.
In Joseon, you'd have to offer five or six sacks of rice for a kilo, and even then, good luck finding any.
Are Joseon's shiitakes tastier or more potent than modern Korean ones?
Of course not. It's because they lack artificial cultivation tech, so yields are low.
Why are persimmons expensive? Pressure from above to skip the luxury of orchards and focus solely on rice and barley. Anchovies are similar.
Joseon has a strong tendency to force frugality on everyone, so instead of figuring out how to make expensive goods cheaper...
They just ban them outright since no one needs them anyway.
"His Highness wants the people to eat well. Persimmons, anchovies, and if possible, meat every few days without fail. To make that happen, folks like you need to scale up your businesses so the people can buy dried persimmons and anchovies cheaper, right?"
In Korea, this is common sense. In Joseon, the idea itself is abnormal.
No need for anything else—up until the 16th century, any natural market that popped up got crushed by the government without fail.
So, when this Neo-Confucian hardliner of a magistrate treated merchants like us with such understanding, they were left dumbfounded.
"Yes, that's right."
"As long as I'm magistrate here in Jinhae District and you don't cheat on taxes owed by law, you won't face persecution for no reason. The bigger your businesses grow—making dried persimmons, anchovies, and paulownia crafts easier to obtain—the lighter the people's tribute burden will be."
"We are deeply grateful."
Other magistrates would bully and belittle merchants, whipping them for backtalk as insolent traders.
But I just promised direct support for their expansion.
They'll offer "customary gifts" without me even hinting.
Like how conglomerate and SME chairmen shower politicians with holiday presents.
Some might call this contradictory.
If I purely prioritized the people's side and slashed taxes... could I guarantee their prior delivery prices?
I have no long-term plans for official life, but while I'm here, I need back-pocket support to survive.
Otherwise, you can't navigate Joseon's damned holiday gift culture.
Next year alone, as the new Jinhae magistrate, demands for holiday gifts will pour in from everywhere.
Even without that, can't I get rich too?
"And I'll change how taxes are assessed. Before, clerks arbitrarily guessed your wealth and levied seat taxes and such. From now on, we'll base it proportionally on persimmon tree counts and anchovy boat numbers."
Even with this system, they'll find loopholes to cut taxes.
Ships are visible, so if they can't reduce numbers, they'll fudge "catch volumes."
Or in a 10,000-tree orchard, sneakily remove 1,000 without detection.
Even chaebol tycoons dodge taxes by gifting buildings to three-year-olds.
These are the village's wealthy elite—no way they won't try.
"Magistrate, changing the tax system so suddenly is hard for us to bear."
"I'll stop those wicked clerks from shaking you down or collecting under pretexts like seat taxes. Long-term, it's pure profit for you—no losses."
The clerks don't know how much they earn.
But Joseon's weird tax system has central government taxes but nothing budgeted for local operations.
Clerks need to feed themselves, maintain dignity, and prepare holiday gifts for the magistrate—who else to squeeze? Merchants and farmers.
This isn't peak Three Reforms chaos, but merchants have likely lost 30-50% of income yearly to those crooks, plus abuse.
"And I'm pardoning you not because you're good folk. Didn't you inflate prices when handing tribute to those temple monks?"
"Yes..."
"Don't like it? Die then. Your choice?"
"We'll pay taxes properly."
"Good. Expand persimmon fields and recruit crew for anchovy boats, focusing on the idle in town. And don't set wages absurdly low. Otherwise, I'll have to practice my 'spirit of loving the people' as a shepherd of the flock."
Warning: grow your businesses and treat people right if you want to get rich.
Or become my loving-the-people experiment subjects.
Nah, with Yi Bang-won of the Iron Staff alive, these punks might get their heads smashed in Hanyang.
"We'll do as you say, Magistrate."
After wrapping up with the merchants, I had a fitting chat with the clerks and decided to return half of the 4,700 seom of white rice we'd reclaimed from the monks—2,350 seom—to the people.
One dim clerk suggested we here divvy up the 2,350 seom ourselves.
No matter how corrupt this world is, I draw the line there and gave him a mild warning.
The warned fool showed up next day with both eyes bruised purple, courtesy of the other clerks.
"With 2,350 seom going back to the people, they'll be thrilled."
So where's my stashed rice going? Somewhere truly worthwhile.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Someone once likened a Joseon magistrate to a city's police chief, court judge, and mayor all in one.
Three backbreaking jobs— no wonder you're worn to the bone.
But does that mean I slack on King Sejong the Great's assignments because my shoulders ache?
Would Heo Jo and Prime Minister Hwang Hui, waiting to indoctrinate me with "proper bureaucratic mindset" via the face-washing ritual (newbie hazing fest of abuses), let me slide?
I'd face military-two-years-looking-like-paradise levels of torment.
"Magistrate, preparations are complete."
Today was the day. The day to properly educate those temple-devouring monks via commutation scams.
They gave me headaches, so they'll pay with caning.
"I am the new district magistrate of this place. I will govern fairly and ensure His Highness's teachings reach you. Thus, today I punish the criminal who tormented you."
The townsfolk gasped at the criminal's face.
"Isn't that the abbot of Seongheungsa Temple?"
"Why are monks criminals?"
Monks held decent status in early, mid, or late Joseon.
Prime ministers' families quietly paid for sutra readings to secure the afterlife.
So, seeing respected monks like this, complaints were natural.
"The abbot of Seongheungsa and his monks claimed to pay your tribute to the state and embezzled a whopping 4,700 seom of white rice. That's why your lives were hard—how could I not punish them?"
One seom of white rice—stretching it a bit—feeds an adult man for a year.
4,700 seom sustains 4,700 people for a year. An enormous sum.
"Thus, I sentence these monks to 20 strokes of the cane, then escort them to Hanyang for due justice."
In Hanyang, their heads will roll for sure.
Heo Jo will rage that these monk scum deserve death for their gluttony.
Yi Bang-won will fury over disruptors of livelihood, iron staff at the ready.
"Flog them hard!"
The constables laid into the criminals fiercely.
Several monks passed out after 20 strokes.
The people's expressions were mixed. Deserved, but still their revered monks.
That's why I set rice allotments first—anticipating this.
Hand it out here? I become the hero who freed them from exploitation.
"People, go to the main gate of the yamen. You'll each get half a sack of rice."
"Half a sack each?"
"It's the blood those monks sucked from you, returned. From now on, we'll buy tribute directly from merchants. Your taxes will drop too."
Cheers and hurrahs erupted everywhere as I finished.
"Long live! His Majesty forever!"
"Long live the new magistrate!"
"Thank you, Lord Magistrate!"
...Watching this, I feel acing the civil service exam was the right call.
Even if it means getting worked to death by Sejong.