Chapter 78
Chapter 78
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 78
Chapter Title: Gunpowder and Hygiene (6)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Three months had passed since Kim Dae-bung rounded up every thug in Hanyang and turned them into the Excreta Corps, tasked with collecting dung.
At first, when folks saw the village loafers being hauled off by soldiers, they worried that some brutal purge was underway.
Sure, those guys were no good, constantly up to no good, but most of them just drowned themselves in booze and gambling.
They hadn't committed any heinous crimes, so dragging them away to be killed seemed a bit excessive.
But now, every citizen in Hanyang was raising both hands in full support of His Majesty's bold and decisive measure.
Kim Dal-su, who lived on the outskirts of Yeonggyeonbang, was one of them.
"I used to be scared of getting jumped even in broad daylight because of those thugs. Now I don't have to worry about them at all. It's great."
Back in the day, on his way to work for the merchant guild, he'd take a shortcut through the alleys and sometimes run into those punks on a unlucky day.
They wouldn't kill anyone—lest they get arrested by the Loyalty Corps and face execution or crucifixion for murder—but they'd strip you of every coin and stitch of clothing on your back...
And sometimes, rival merchant guilds would hire those thugs to smash up shops.
But now, those scum had long since been reformed into the Excreta Corps by His Majesty's decree.
"It's my day off today, so I should grab some rice and go have a drink."
Early in his marriage, he'd been at it day and night, building a Great Wall with his wife, but that fiery honeymoon passion had cooled off long ago.
Still, he wasn't impotent or anything; at night, he showed her what he was made of.
As he scooped some rice from the storage bin to head out, a familiar voice rang in his ears.
"Here to collect the dung! Come for the dung and the ash!"
Kim Dal-su flung open the thatched door and hurriedly ushered the Excreta Corps member inside.
They did smell a bit from the job, but unlike the old excreta collectors, these Corps guys didn't cause any trouble.
"All the dung's collected. Where's the ash?"
"You see it piled up over there, right? I get the dung, but why do we have to go to all this trouble collecting the ash too..."
"It's an important ingredient for making saltpeter. And the law changed recently—if you toss it out carelessly, it's ten strokes of the rod. So you have to collect it properly like this."
Dal-su's neighbor Cheol-su got caught by a passing runner for dumping ash improperly.
Caught red-handed with no excuse, he was dragged straight to the Hanyang Magistracy, where he took ten lashes and came limping home.
Better to collect and hand it over properly than go through that.
"Off you go, then."
"Yes, sir. I'll be back in half a month."
As the Excreta Corps member stepped outside, Dal-su's wife woke from her nap in the room, rubbing her eyes.
"Was that the Excreta Corps just now?"
"Yeah, came and took the dung."
"They're such a blessing, doing that dirty, backbreaking work for us. Thanks to them, we don't have to scoop it up and haul it off ourselves."
"Not having to play dung general is a real relief."
Before, on days off, Dal-su had to handle the dung and urine himself and dump it. Now the Corps took care of it all—total convenience.
"With the Corps hauling away all the waste, the neighborhood hardly smells like shit anymore."
"And the well water doesn't have that bad smell like it used to."
Mention of the well water reminded Dal-su how few people around him had gotten summer bellyaches this year.
Normally, by midsummer, plenty of folks would drink bad well water, get diarrhea, and suffer from dysentery—some even died.
But not a single person in Dal-su's circle had fallen ill from the water this year.
And lately, with all the talk from the physicians, he'd learned you had to wash your hands with water before cooking or eating, and bathe every two or three days with ash water and plain water.
They said it prevented all diseases.
Trying it just in case, he found not only himself but his kids free of every little ailment.
"When I was a kid, my mom said even the king can't fix poverty. But these days, that's all turned out wrong. Sure, I work for a guild, but my brother-in-law in Gwacheon farms as a tenant, and his taxes got slashed so much he's living large now."
Tenant farmers now paid only about 20% of their previous taxes—a whopping 80% reduction.
Thanks to that, as long as it wasn't a famine year, no one in Joseon starved anymore. Folks were cheering "Long live His Majesty!" without anyone telling them to.
"And maybe His Majesty looking after our health is why we're not getting sick anymore?"
Reports to Sejong noted a sharp drop this year in Hanyang cases of contagious waterborne diseases and diarrhea.
But no one had a clue what was causing it.
All of it was because Kim Dae-bung had spread hygiene rules disguised as a superstition that no one in this era could know—a top-secret Japanese tactic he'd used to blackmail the daimyo into becoming a meek lamb, no, a slave.
Frequent washing keeps you healthy—that myth, propagated covertly by Kim Dae-bung.
The oblivious commoners just thought, "Hey, no diseases and life's good—must be the king's grace," and let it slide.
"No matter how great the king is, he can't ward off every plague demon, right? Drop that nonsense. More importantly, no going out on your day off. Instead, fetch straw from the shed and weave some straw sandals. We need to save up and buy a plot of land nearby."
"Can't I go just today?"
"No. Make the sandals."
"But there's a rumor the new fish market in Noryangjin is selling cheap dried pollack—you and the kids love that stuff..."
In original history, fish markets outside Hanyang like the Outer Fish Market didn't appear until the late 17th century. But with the Bangwon Laws spurring commerce, one had popped up in Noryangjin.
Thanks to that, Hanyang's markets faced unexpected competition.
"You think I don't know you'll use the dried fish as an excuse to drink till curfew? Forget it. Hurry up and weave those sandals."
Kim Dae-bung's gunpowder policy was quietly transforming the daily lives of Hanyang's people, bit by bit.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Thomas Edison said there's only a thin sheet of paper between genius and fool.
Likewise, the genius investor who struck it rich with bold, decisive crypto bets is just a paper's width from the fool who blew his family's fortune on crypto and haunts the Han River.
Succeed in investing, and you're a crypto god. Fail, and you're human trash.
Do the exact same thing: good results, you're praised; bad results, you're scorned. That's the human world.
People say both process and results matter. Reality begs to differ.
Good results? As long as no crimes were committed in the process, everyone sings your praises.
The guy who invented potato chips was a restaurant owner who, for kicks, would piss off customers by slicing potatoes paper-thin and frying them.
Funny thing: they were so damn good he became the chip pioneer, turned his life around, and married five wives.
Put another way: good results, and no one gives a damn about the process.
"Washing hands and maintaining hygiene prevents disease—that result is what matters. Who cares about proving germs or whatever?"
I don't mean to downplay the hard work of those researching disease causes and treatments, developing antibiotics and cures.
Thanks to them, 21st-century folks enjoy health and longevity.
But that's that, and I'm no medical expert.
As a mere bureaucrat with little medical knowledge, it's hard to explain the reasons and necessities of hygiene to folks who wouldn't get it anyway.
Better to build a hygiene system based on the simple result: those who manage hygiene get sick less.
Even if I busted my ass explaining why hygiene matters, no one but King Sejong would care enough to listen.
His Majesty is the type who'd devour even an AI-written novel, endlessly pursuing new knowledge, so he'd hear me out and understand...
But why bother with everyone else?
And conveniently, my department isn't just anywhere—it's the Ministry of Military Affairs.
Joseon's Defense Ministry, the one that can make every soldier shit themselves on command...
So, I decided to use my unique rank 5 secret weapon.
A lowly rank 5 court clerk going straight to the rank 1 Minister of Military Affairs, Jo Mal-saeng.
Sounds minor? In company terms, it's like a section chief bypassing the entire chain to barge into the CEO's office.
In etiquette-obsessed Joseon, where breaching protocol gets your head bashed in, this is unthinkable insolence. Do it, and you'd face the beautiful tradition of the downward beating...
"Minister of Military Affairs, my lord."
Jo Mal-saeng smiled the moment he saw my face.
"Well, if it isn't our Ministry's lucky charm, Clerk Kim. What can I do for you?"
"......I heard a folk superstition going around lately, and it doesn't seem like something we can brush off lightly."
The superstition I spread, no less.
Washing your body clean keeps evil spirits away, so you don't get sick.
Time to spread it across all of Joseon.