Daehan Yanghaeng (2)

The name itself made no attempt to hide its ambition, and the men in the room let out more than a few murmurs of admiration. It was the fastidious Yi Yong-ik who recovered first. Something about the scheme clearly snagged in his mind; he frowned and put the question to me.

"...But how do you intend to raise the capital? Even at a glance, this is going to take a fortune."

"Ah!"

"You'll need several sizable steamships at the very least, and you'll have to station trading houses and resident offices in Japan and put men in them. That alone is no small expense. On top of that, you'll need to keep a constant watch on Qing market prices and manage the trade routes with the merchants based up north in Russia..."

He folded his arms and nodded to himself a few times, as if running the figures in his head, then shook his head.

Meanwhile, at Yi Yong-ik's point, Lee Ha-young's face lit ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with a look of sudden revelation, and he made a show of rummaging through his pitifully empty pockets for my benefit.

Look, everyone in this room already knows you haven't got a coin. Cut it out.

"Ahem."

Yi Yong-ik ignored him entirely. He cleared his throat a few times and addressed me directly.

"Listening carefully to your plan, Master Unam, I get the distinct impression you mean to pursue all three ventures at once. Am I wrong?"

"You're not."

"Then I have to say — that's close to impossible. Yes. It will be very difficult."

I nodded readily, and he gave a bitter smile as he laid out the situation in the north.

"To be frank, I haven't got spare capital to speak of either. Ever since the trade regulations with the Qing were revised, Qing merchants have been pouring into Incheon, Wonsan, and Gunsan. The northern houses — the Mansang of Uiju and the Songsang — have taken a beating like you wouldn't believe."

There was nothing wrong with Yi Yong-ik's assessment. During the Imo Incident, forty Qing merchants had settled in Incheon Chemulpo to handle military supply for the Qing troops stationed in Hanseong — and those men were the very root of the overseas Chinese community that would become Korea's Chinatowns in the twenty-first century.

I'll have to hold a proper exorcism one of these days.

While I filed away the thought that I would need to thoroughly clean out the overseas Chinese when the time came, Yi Yong-ik, who clearly had a great deal more to say about the venture's uncertainty and recklessness, kept talking without a pause.

"I imagine it will be hard, but even if you personally travel between Kaesong and Pyongyang, you won't hear anything encouraging from the merchants anytime soon. It's a fine business proposal, but they simply don't have the luxury of boldly shifting their operations down here to Jeolla and Gyeongsang."

"So they're too busy cutting away the rotting flesh just to cover their losses and keep their houses alive. That's what you're saying."

"Yes. You've got it exactly."

But what good was a brilliant business plan, and the talent to execute it, if there was no capital? The moment talk of raising funds turned sour, Lee Ha-young's face fell. He answered with a sheepish, sour look. If Yi Yong-ik couldn't help, the only man left in the room was himself — and as everyone well knew, he was presently the beggar among beggars.

"All I've got right now is this body of mine, haha..."

"Hmm. Don't worry about it."

I spoke with complete confidence. Did they really think I would have thrown a business plan at them without considering something as basic as that? I beamed at all of them, making a show of it, and thumped my chest with my fist.

"I'll take personal responsibility for hauling in the money — bundles of it."

Joseon still had plenty of wells from which money could be drawn.

Patriotism, for instance.

If you asked a citizen of twenty-first-century Korea what the largest city in Jeolla Province was, most would readily answer Gwangju.

But if you asked a person of Joseon — not the Republic of Korea — the same question, what would they say?

"That's right, my honored people of Jeonju! Is this ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠not the very birthplace of Joseon itself!"

A thunderous cheer erupted from the square.

I left the roaring crowd to their noise and flicked a nod of greeting toward the two men just below the platform: Seo Gong-sun, the Magistrate of Namwon, gazing up at me with a look of unabashed triumph, and the official beside him, who was watching the people gathered from every corner of Jeolla with an expression of thorough indifference.

The man regarding me with that bored look was none other than Shim I-taek, courtesy name Chieun — the Governor of Jeolla Province and Magistrate of Jeonju. I smiled inwardly at the sullen stillness of his face.

Just as well King Gojong holds a grudge.

By this point in the original timeline, Shim I-taek ought to have been rising steadily through the ministries — from Minister of Works to Minister of Personnel — a man Gojong was supposed to favor and promote. My intervention in the Imo Incident had thoroughly scrambled the order of his life.

To think this is what came of begging the Daewongun to kill fewer people and spare those who could be spared.

The truth was, Shim I-taek's family were mortal enemies of the Daewongun. His father and his aunt's husband had criticized the Daewongun's regency, the relationship had soured completely, and they had been exiled all the way to Jeju Island. He was one of those who had returned to court only after Gojong assumed personal rule.

But.

When the aftermath of the mutiny briefly made the realm the Daewongun's again, Shim I-taek should have been driven from his post as Magistrate of Hanseong. My intercession had kept him in office — and in Gojong's eyes, that looked like betrayal. He had escaped dismissal only to be demoted to a provincial post.

Still, the people of Jeonju are less hard-hearted than I expected. Prices are more stable here than in Hanseong, even. I suppose that means he's one of those rare magistrates who actually governs for the people.

In fact, unlike his family's feud with the Daewongun, Shim I-taek would leave his name as a conscientious administrator who governed well — through his tenures as Governor of Jeolla, Magistrate of Gwangju in Gyeonggi Province, and Magistrate of Hanseong.

At any rate, I mentally added the three characters of Shim I-taek's name to my list of future recruits, and began in earnest to lift up the people of Jeonju.

"Honored people of Jeonju! I am delighted to meet you. This man before you is called Syngman Rhee!"

The square erupted again.

"Unam! Unam! Unam!"

I received the crowd's roar with my whole body, spreading both arms as wide as they would go, and bowed to them as I spoke.

"Thank you for this welcome! I stand before you today with boundless gratitude and respect — for this place, and for every one of you."

At the same time, below the level of the podium where the crowd could not see, I signaled the Vanguard. They began quietly cautioning the cheering people, settling them down. The square fell quiet, and my voice carried more clearly, ringing out to the far edges of the Jeonju marketplace.

"But people of Jeonju — and you of the great houses that call this city home — there is something you too often forget. Does anyone here know what that is?"

No one answered. I had not expected anyone to. I addressed the suddenly speechless crowd.

"My friends, Jeonju is not merely the cradle of the Joseon royal house. It is the homeland of all the learning this nation has achieved, the land of wise sages. It is the last remaining earth that still remembers the true meaning of the Kingly Way and of Zhonghua — words that the barbarians flooding the world have reduced to a cheap joke — and it is the land where brave Confucian scholars still live and breathe, standing against a world ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that is changing too fast!"

Ah, of course this was shameless exaggeration. Pure campaign rhetoric — so don't take it too much to heart.

I clenched my fist and thrust it high toward the faces locked on mine as if under a spell.

"In the Imjin year, when the Japanese trampled this entire land with savage cruelty and the fate of the nation hung by a thread, Jeonju alone drove them back under the command of Chungmugong Kim Si-min! And in the Byeongja year, when the Jurchen horde came pouring in and threatened the king himself, this great land raised a loyal army of fifty thousand and marched to save the nation on the strength of righteousness alone! Is that not so?"

When I put the question to the audience, the carefully planted Vanguard members led the shout toward the platform.

"It is so! It is so!"

"People of Jeonju! Is this not the true land of loyal courage and righteousness — the land that plants its feet and rises whenever this nation faces a great calamity!"

The square roared its answer.

I felt the crowd's response beginning to catch fire, however slightly staged the first echoes had been. I arranged my face into a look of humble apology, planted both hands on the podium, and spoke.

"And so today, this Syngman Rhee must offer the people of Jeonju a word that pains me to speak. Honored and beloved people of Jeonju! This nation of Joseon now faces the greatest crisis in its history — a calamity without precedent — and stands at the very brink of existence or extinction!"

Even from here I could see their eyes go wide at the end of that sentence. The local notables and officials packed into the front row looked startled; behind them, the faces of the Confucian scholars and literati crumpled. I gave them no time to recover their wits. I pressed on.

"I will not insult you by pretending you have never heard of last year's mutiny of those poor soldiers in Hanseong. And I trust — I truly trust — that you know how, as a result, the Qing have made unreasonable and brutal demands upon a tributary state the likes of which the world has never seen, and are humiliating this nation of Joseon and its people. Yes! Our fatherland! Great Joseon! Is now facing the Qing's second invasion since the Byeongja year, people of Jeonju!"

To stand in an official setting — in a marketplace packed with ten thousand people — and criticize the Qing so directly, so nakedly, the empire that had already swallowed half this country: the people of Jeonju stared, wide-eyed and stunned. Men and women, old and young, commoner and outcaste alike — most of them looked less outraged than worried for my safety.

I turned on them the most pitiable expression I could manufacture, and with a voice of aching pathos I roared.

For a moment I forgot to breathe. With both cheeks flushed red and my eyelids raw from the dust, I bellowed at the top of my lungs.

"People of Jeonju! I beg you — make your decision!"

At that call, the people of Jeonju — with a generous assist from the Vanguard's fervent party members — answered with force.

"We shall help, as we must!"

A roar that shook the mountains. A shout that seemed ready to tear the sky. To put it plainly, the atmosphere in Jeonju was like a hospital ward where every patient had come down with the same mania at once.

At that hot, inevitable response, I leaped down from the platform, melted into the crowd, thrust my hand high, and began to shout.

"Let us purify this land together with Syngman Rhee! Let us restore the forgotten Kingly Way of the ancient sages! Let us drive out the barbarians!"

"And together with you, we shall plant the Three Principles of the People in this nation of Joseon!"

The Vanguard in the front rank took it up in a great voice.

Then the members of the Dongmaenghoe followed.

And at last the people of Jeonju, hearing the Three Principles for the first time today, shook the world.

And in that moment, I became one with the people of Jeonju.

When the speech was over, Shim I-taek stared in wonder, almost vacant, at the people of Jeonju lined up in an endless queue before the enormous collection box beneath the platform. Then he spoke to me.

"...These are the same yangban who wouldn't swallow a damn word when I raised hell about building weirs against the floods, and now look."

"That's patriotism for you. Patriotism. Local pride, too."

"Heh. Well."

In front of us, two or three armed Vanguard members grunted as they swapped out a collection box that was already ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠stuffed full. It was the third one already. Watching the scene, I opened my mouth.

"And if the people of Jeonju can come forward so willingly to give, one might say it is entirely thanks to Your Excellency the Governor's just and upright rule. They say generosity flows from a full granary. The people of Jeonju have something to spare, so of course they extend a helping hand to a man as wanting as myself. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Laying the gold leaf on thick, aren't you. I'll pretend I didn't hear that."

He waved the compliment away. For a moment he seemed lost in thought, propping his chin in his hand, then letting it drop as he turned to Seo Gong-sun beside him.

"Did they react this explosively in Namwon as well?"

"Don't even get me started. The yangban in our county are even worse. It got so bad Unam here had to throw out a man who tried to donate his entire fortune."

"Hmm."

"So don't be late joining the Dongmaenghoe yourself. Elder Chan-gyeom's already in, and the men gathering under those two characters — Unam — already number in the hundreds."

"That's... impressive."

Shim I-taek's eyes widened briefly at Seo Gong-sun's words, then he nodded. The claim that hundreds of gat-wearing yangban — not mere common folk — had gathered for a single purpose meant the Dongmaenghoe had, in a very short time, truly exploded in growth, armed with both widespread prestige and a rational case capable of persuading men like them.

"Don't take it personally. I didn't really know Unam myself until I was posted to Namwon."

Seo Gong-sun lifted his chin and pointed toward the Jeonju notables who still could not easily cross over to our side, the common people not yet having cleared out of the marketplace. Most of them were desperate to forge a connection with the boy hero who was busy raising his profile among the powerful court figures gathered here.

"Jeonju has a larger population than our Namwon, true — but those men over there are the real point, aren't they."

"Exactly. I sent someone to take a quick look earlier. There were already several wagons gathered in front of the government office."

"Oh-ho. If you're saying that, I can hardly wait."

"You..."

At Shim I-taek's reply, Seo Gong-sun rubbed his palms together eagerly. He had good reason: Seo Gong-sun had a rough idea of what I intended to do with the donations I was collecting.

But Shim I-taek, who did not know, found Seo Gong-sun's manner suspicious and turned to me.

"But what do you intend to do with all this money? You slipping out of Namwon and wandering around is a crime in itself, you know. It puts no small burden on me."

"Ahem. My contribution was considerable, I'll have you know."

And indeed, the man who had done the most to persuade Governor Shim I-taek was Seo Gong-sun. Not long after taking up his post in Jeolla, he had actively lobbied him — through every local official and distinguished family of eastern Jeolla with whom the Dongmaenghoe and Choe Ik-hyeon had built ties — to grant me a little more freedom.

And so I answered Shim I-taek, who was now in the same boat as the rest of us.

"Exactly what I promised the people of Jeonju."

"Hm?"

Yes. I intended to save the country.

Not alone — together with the people of Joseon.

And King Gojong might not be part of that picture.