Reform and Ten Thousand Soldiers (4)
All the ministers watched intently at Sim Ui-gyeom.
Amid this, the words tumbled from his mouth without pause.
'"Your Majesty, this humble and foolish thought of mine may sound short, but I do not believe we can immediately administer the past examinations in Hangul. The reason is simple: even for the minor examinations, one must master the Four Books and Three Classics before sitting for them. Yet there are still no complete Hangul translations available. Therefore, I have considered that first translating the Four Books and Three Classics into Hangul might be the more appropriate order. Furthermore, it would be wise to allow time and a gradual progression through stages—beginning with the preliminary exam—before applying Hangul to all future tests. This approach carries many advantages."
To everyone’s surprise, Sim Ui-gyeom’s answer proved logical and well-reasoned. Most ministers let soft smiles of satisfaction crease their lips.
Only a few, visibly displeased, frowned in irritation. One of them had been on the receiving end of the inspector general’s sharp tongue before.
He leaned close to his neighbor and whispered,
"This is outrageous. The man’s mouth is spewing such reasonable words now?"
"Indeed. They say when a person changes, it’s time to die. I don’t see him lasting much longer."
"Wishful thinking."
The two had seen enough of Sim Ui-gyeom’s erratic behavior to dodge an outright quarrel. They feared any slip could spark an internal affair or criminal case.
Though they agreed with the substance of his proposal, they refused to grant him any favor.
Yi Yeon, too, felt a knot of tension tighten in his chest when Sim Ui-gyeom stepped forward. His unpredictable actions lately made one never quite sure what to expect.
Fortunately, the inspector general’s words proved sound. A pleased smile curved the king’s lips.
As the king who ran the trade company with Stephen, Yi Yeon had negotiated with partners countless times. Each time he began with an extravagant demand, then graciously conceded just enough to close the deal and walk away with what he truly wanted.
This time he slipped a note onto the table—carefully worded to propose using Hangul for the examinations while securing education reforms in return.
Sim Ui-gyeom’s unexpected intervention resolved the entire issue in one breath. Yi Yeon nearly leapt from his seat to embrace the man.
'"You speak as I wish. Yet translating the Four Books and Three Classics is a matter of utmost importance. My lord and…"
Yi Yeon paused, his gaze shifting to the man seated beside Sim Ui-gyeom.
'"I would be grateful if you, President Ki, could lead this effort. Both of you belong to the Hongmun Office; I have every confidence you will succeed."
"We humbly accept Your Majesty’s command."
Sim Ui-gyeom spoke first, then Ki Dae-seung followed.
Yet neither felt entirely satisfied.
'Translating it alone? We have no teachers, no places to hold classes…'
The king’s words had been exactly what they longed to hear.
'"Furthermore, across the entire country I command the establishment of small schools. Teach Hangul not only to children but to every commoner who cannot read. I believe a nation prospers when its people are literate. Therefore, the entire cost shall be borne by the royal treasury. Your lordships shall form a dedicated agency to oversee the project and train capable instructors."
Ki Dae-seung dropped to his knees in a deep bow.
"Your Majesty…! The imperial grace is boundless!"
Tears streamed down his face in overwhelming emotion.
It was not the hoped-for subsidy to the Confucian academies, yet the creation of full educational institutions, supported by the throne itself, filled his heart to bursting.
Yi Yeon watched the scholar’s trembling shoulders and felt his own heartbeat quicken with warmth.
'I was right. His stubbornness was never aimed at me. He was simply passionate about education.'
At the Daejeon council and during the Gyeongnyeong audiences, Ki Dae-seung had repeatedly urged the king to build more academies and expand support for education. Each time Yi Yeon had refused outright.
Yet the scholar never gave up.
The other ministers grew displeased, muttering that he was too rigid and disrespectful to the throne.
Yi Yeon had always met their criticism with a light smile.
After all, his words were never wrong.
But deep inside, a hollow ache lingered.
He understood the importance of learning, yet poverty had left them powerless.
'The same emptiness I felt when I first heard the words of parting.'
The memory had been unbearable, which was why he had dared the impossible.
Anticipating ministerial backlash, he had pushed mining development forward—and won.
The result had been sweeter than any dream.
Gold had begun pouring in far faster than expected.
'They found gold veins at Unsan—huge veins, no less.'
The financial crisis that once plagued them no longer existed. Food shortages would soon be a memory.
So Yi Yeon had chosen to spend the gold rather than hoard it.
Only by doing so could they build the world Stephen had described.
'Otherwise, there would be no reason for any of it to exist.'
In his previous life he had lived extravagantly as a powerful man; he had no lingering regrets.
His only goal was to create the world Stephen envisioned.
Yi Yeon nodded toward the servants, and the court attendant immediately returned bearing a thick sheaf of books. He distributed copies among the ministers.
One of the ministers glanced at his neighbor and whispered,
"What is this book?"
"The cover says 'Mathematics for Beginners.'"
"Arithmetic, you mean?"
"Probably."
Yi Yeon had created both the Hangul primer and the companion mathematics book during his time in the 21st century.
He had once served as a temporary science teacher at the middle school where his older brother was principal. While preparing lessons he had examined every textbook, noting how the content differed and how vivid the illustrations were.
Mathematics had fascinated him most. In school he had never studied advanced math because computers handled the calculations. Yet when teaching science he realized children needed a foundation.
During the writing of the primer he realized the middle-school curriculum was too advanced.
'Even first-year middle-school math is too difficult for now.'
So he compiled only the basic essentials.
The mimeograph machine hidden in a corner of the middle-school office also came to mind. He ordered it duplicated, complete with instructions.
'I used mimeographs to print exams back then.'
Fortunately he remembered the process.
In his youth teachers had occasionally asked students to run off copies on the old machine.
Yi Yeon replaced paraffin and Vaseline with beeswax and linseed oil, mixing in rosin to create oil-soaked thin paper. He wrote with an iron stylus, then printed using oil-based ink. The result was a neat stack of mathematics primers ready for mass distribution.
Unfortunately the Hangul primer could not be duplicated the same way; the content had to be revised before printing.
While the ministers discussed the mathematics book, one man sat alone in thought.
Yi Jo Jorang, Lee Yi.
He flipped through the pages, unable to close his mouth.
The cover read 'Mathematics for Beginners' in Hangul. Inside, the book listed Arabic numerals and strange symbols—exactly the methods the king had promised.
The very idea of calculating numbers with such simplicity sent Lee Yi’s head spinning.
'Is there truly a method this easy?'
His own mastery of arithmetic was legendary. He could solve even simultaneous linear equations. Yet a way to calculate so cleanly had never crossed his mind.
'How could anyone think of this?'
He stared at the plus, minus, equals, and question-mark symbols and simply could not believe them.
'This system is astonishingly clean and easy to use.'
And the Times Table—'One times one is one, two times two is four, three times three is nine…'—was revolutionary.
Lee Yi had known a similar method, but the characters were in Chinese, written backward from nine, and far harder to memorize.
'Nine times nine equals eighty-one is so much easier to say than the old verse. Starting from one makes it even simpler.'
Beyond numbers, the book taught area calculation, conversion between different units, and solving for unknown values using variables. Every operation was clear and concise.
Lee Yi turned the page once, glanced at the king, then continued.
"Sine and cosine… "
He knew the concepts, yet they appeared in the book as simple drawings and symbols.
When he reached the final page, Lee Yi drew a deep breath, closed his eyes, and sank into profound thought.
He stood alone in a world where all sound and color had vanished.
Around him the symbols and Arabic numerals from the book wove themselves into endless equations, calculating, calculating, calculating.
How long had passed?
The minister suddenly opened his eyes, as if awakened from a daze in the midst of a heated debate. He straightened his robes, then bowed deeply before the throne, book in hand.
"Your Majesty! The imperial grace is boundless!"
His voice rang with genuine sincerity.
The symbols and formulas in 'Mathematics for Beginners' had unlocked a new world of numbers for him.
The feeling of gratitude rose from deep within his chest and spilled into his voice.
The ministers, startled by the gesture, exchanged glances.
'The man known as Nine-Degree Champion is a genius among geniuses. For him to be moved to such a deep bow before the king…'
Ministers who had barely glanced at the book out of disinterest now flipped through the pages eagerly.
Only then did the contents begin to make sense.
"Unlike Hangul, this is not read by sound but represented by numbers and symbols."
"Indeed?"
"Apples, pears, and persimmons are drawn, so I thought we were just counting and adding. But these symbols (+, −, =, ?) clearly have separate meanings."
"Is that true?"
"The explanation appears at the beginning. Did you not see it?"
"I can do simple calculations from this book… "
"Then, in this example, if we add one pear and one persimmon, how many apples do we get?"
"That would be…"
He could not answer.
Looking again, the problem was far more complex than he had realized.
(Pear 1) − (Apple 1) = (Persimmon 2)
(Persimmon 1) + (Apple 3) = (Pear 1)
(Pear 1) + (Persimmon 1) = (Apple ?)
No matter how many times he tried, solving for the unknown required tracking every equation logically.
Now every minister argued over how many apples there should be.
It sounded simple, yet it was not.
Yi Yeon smiled faintly.
Watching the ministers stubbornly insist their calculations were correct reminded him of his students in the 21st century—pure and unspoiled by power.
'Their dirty times have not yet begun.'
Power and profit had corrupted countless men with scheming and intrigue. Yet these ministers were still tolerable.
They did not speak like modern politicians who detached their souls from their bodies and talked about unrelated matters.
They either denied mistakes, stayed silent, or begged forgiveness.
Such behavior was something he had never imagined.
'If they did, they would know the king does not die alone.'
Betraying the sovereign was a crime comparable to treason.
Therefore, any such act would result in immediate extermination.
That was why the king had never experienced it before.
Yet suddenly he sensed the old king’s feelings.
The timid ruler now appeared eager to scheme.
'So this is what it feels like to taste true power.'
Yi Yeon understood the old king’s mind better by watching the ministers debate over something so trivial.
'On the other hand, I must be careful too. I cannot afford to lose this sweet power.'
Still kneeling, Lee Yi looked up. Yi Yeon turned to the court attendant.
"Summon Lee Jo Jorang, Sookheon, to my side."
"Yes, Your Majesty."