The Insufferably Poor Era (6)
Your Majesty! That simply will not do!
'No way, that bastard!'
Yi Yeon’s fury flared like a sudden blaze. The seeds of the Eastern and Western factions, planted by Sim Ui-gyeom, had already pushed Joseon into extreme political deadlock. Now the man was scattering ashes over a meal that was already done. The heat in Yi Yeon’s chest burned hotter than anything he’d ever felt. He worked out daily to tame his teenage hormones, but the urge to throttle the fool was impossible to ignore.
'How do I deal with him?'
Yi Yeon pinched his own thigh, swallowing the rage. Yet he didn’t need to do anything himself. The poultry business and the mining for coin-making were things everyone wanted, so voices boomed from every corner.
“Wusung-ji, what nonsense is this!”
“Do you actually think before you speak?”
“How dare you presume to know what kind of position you stand in!”
“How long are you going to stand there before you apologize to His Majesty!”
To everyone’s surprise, even Sim Tong-won stepped forward.
“Your Majesty, drive that unfilial wretch out at once!”
The hall fell into stunned silence. Yi Yeon could scarcely believe his ears. Sim Tong-won, whom he had thought of as on the same side as Sim Ui-gyeom, was now calling the man a rascal and ordering him expelled.
Chief State Councillor Lee Jun-gyeong shook his head slowly. The grand yet delicate ceiling of Geunjeongjeon hung above him; he muttered in a voice that rose and fell like the wind.
“Before wealth, neither friend nor foe stands firm…”
Lee Jun-gyeong had simply watched Sim Tong-won’s faction rush toward the poultry scheme, because the path of serving the people was clear. He had even supported mining development. Joseon had sealed off all silver mines after latent mining caused the Ming to demand tribute again. The economic sclerosis that followed was something he knew too well.
Therefore, when the king proposed re-opening mines, minting precise coins, and circulating them, he had thrown his weight behind the idea. Coins not made of silver would not trigger the Ming’s tribute demands. Yet, without warning, Sim Ui-gyeom had stepped up to oppose.
The coins he had just seen would not rot like grain, cotton, or silk; they were an ideal store of wealth. That was clearly what Sim Ui-gyeom truly wanted. And now Sim Tong-won was insulting him as well. Yi Yeon had no idea what was happening.
Sim Ui-gyeom was shocked. Two years earlier, as the queen’s nephew, he had overstepped and been impeached. Yet he still believed he and Sim Tong-won were on the same side. Hearing the man curse him in public was unbelievable.
'Is he trying to say something to me now, after ordering me to lead the charge?'
Yi Yeon could not hold his rising fury in check.
“What did you just say? Unfilial?”
Sim Tong-won frowned. ‘I never meant to put that filthy bastard in front…’ He had known Sim Ui-gyeom was stubborn, but not this reckless.
“Wusung-ji, why do you oppose the mine development?”
“Because of the tribute, of course!”
“If that is your reason, Your Majesty, please look at the coins again.”
“What?!”
Sim Ui-gyeom stared in confusion as the Finance Minister held up a coin.
“This coin is not gold, nor silver, but brass.”
“Ah…”
Only then did Sim Ui-gyeom realize his mistake and stand there with his mouth open. Yi Yeon smirked. ‘Not even middle-school syndrome, not menopause either, but the man’s temper is straight-up insane.’
Yet he could not simply expel him. The law was on his side, but Sim Ui-gyeom was his brother-in-law. To remove him, he would have to gauge Queen Insun’s reaction. The queen, who cared nothing for politics, would never wish to strip her beloved brother of office.
He had already heard the queen’s startled cry behind the screen. He would simply let it go.
'That's why you can't trust in-laws.'
Though Joseon exalted Confucian learning, blood ties could not be ignored. It was impossible to uphold moral principles and justice while rejecting family.
'I’ll have to adjust the Confucianism too.'
Not yet. The immediate priority was to fix the impoverished reality and equip the kingdom with military strength.
'I need to make those slamfire shotguns quickly…'
With them, there would be nothing in the world to fear. That was why he had planned to develop mines under the guise of coin minting and begin producing cartridges.
Yi Yeon had been searching for records of his Joseon ancestor who had ruined the Korean people’s history. He learned that the minerals needed in that age were scattered across the peninsula.
'Sulfur mines are in Jinshan, Geumsan, Chungcheongnam-do.'
One of the three ingredients for black powder was sulfur, which he had assumed did not exist on Joseon soil. Yet it did. Hot springs dotted the peninsula, so obtaining sulfur was easy. The third ingredient, potassium nitrate, was no problem either; raising chickens solved it. It was as simple as the chicken-and-egg routine he had done while filming YouTube with Stephen.
Once the chaotic courtyard meeting quieted, Yi Yeon turned to his ministers.
“If you have any other opinions, speak up without hesitation.”
The ministers glanced at one another. When no one moved, they bowed simultaneously and chorused,
“We have no objections to report, Your Majesty.”
Yi Yeon smiled inwardly.
'They won’t object. They shouldn’t.'
With a schedule already tight, he hated anyone who tried to stall. He had granted almost every demand his ministers had voiced. That was why they were content.
'I have no choice. Right now, national strength and military power come first.'
Yi Yeon believed a fed and well-fed populace produced a strong army. He therefore ignored the endless memorials accusing his ministers of corruption.
'As long as they stay within bounds.'
Treason, selling out the country, exploiting the starving people—none of those would be tolerated for the time being. He was still too weak; once he touched his ministers’ corruption, he would never escape.
There was another reason.
'They’re just pocket change anyway.'
He had once seized wealth beyond imagination from a single lithium mine in his previous life. Bribes from his ministers looked laughable.
'Just developing the gold mine in Mapo will overflow the royal treasury.'
Yi Yeon knew real wealth lay underground. That was why he had approved the poultry scheme and extracted the condition of mine development. He could not simply hand out money.
'The eggs are precious, but I have no choice.'
He wanted to give artificial incubation machines to the people who coveted the broken eggs. But he judged that forcing them to wait would make them appreciate his generosity. He said nothing.
'They’ll learn the hard way that I am the one who matters.'
His teenage hormones still surged with rage and rebellion at any moment, but his judgment remained clear.
“Then let us conclude today’s audience.”
“The honor is boundless, Your Majesty.”
As Yi Yeon left, the ministers turned their eyes toward Sim Ui-gyeom with looks of pure disapproval.
* * *
September 23, 1567 (Year of Accession)
Yi Yeon bit into a perfectly sliced apple and frowned.
“Ugh, tastes disgusting.”
Criminal: Political agitator, instigator of factionalism, instigator of Eastern-Western Party conflict, and promoter of corruption. Accused of treasonous remarks against the throne and endangering national stability.
He had just buried King Myeongjong’s funeral at Gangneung two days earlier. The Office of Observances had declared October unlucky, so the rites were held early. The summer had cooled, yet the sun still burned hot enough to drench him in sweat.
“Should I change clothes?”
The silk was fine, yet the robe was too large and loose, making it impossible to forget.
“I’d better start the mine development.”
Yi Yeon had decided to make chemical fibers with coal instead of oil. Cheaper, tough nylon from the polyamide family. Breathable acrylic fiber. Rayon, soft and glossy like silk, could be made from coal extract. But even that was years away; the country had no industrial base.
“I’m going to lose my mind…”
Showing Stephen how to film YouTube had been easy; he only needed to prove it could be done. Now he had to produce in bulk.
“That’s why they say iron is the grain of industry.”
As global warming accelerated, the U.S. president had condemned steel-making as “dirty iron” for its massive CO2 emissions. Yi Yeon felt the same pity. If only he could get iron, he could make anything.
“I’ll have to build a blast furnace first.”
Even to build one, iron was needed. Once made, the existing furnace could not be reused without destroying it—far too inefficient. He needed a modern blast furnace with a thick outer shell and refractory bricks inside to extract iron continuously. That would require a mountain of iron.
“Damn it! Who’s first, the chicken or the egg?”
He had thought it through a hundred times and always circled back.
“What about the rotary kiln that supposedly worked in North Korea?”
In his previous life, North Korea had imported no coke from the Iron Mountain and had succeeded in steel production using the rotary kiln used for cement. He had read the article.
“No. That method won’t work yet.”
To build a kiln you still needed iron, and to produce high-grade steel you needed oxygen too. While he was pondering, Kim Yang-bo approached at a brisk pace.
“Your Majesty, Ha-wonggun has arrived with Heo Jun.”
“Really?”
Yi Yeon shot to his feet and rushed toward Manchunjeon. He could not wait to see the physician he had summoned.
As he entered, the eldest brother and Heo Jun rose quickly and bowed.
“We greet Your Majesty.”
Yi Yeon waved them to their seats. The gesture now felt completely natural.
“You must have traveled far. Please be comfortable.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”
Unlike his brother, Heo Jun remained standing.
“Sit, please.”
“Forgive me, Your Majesty.”
“Huh? You said sit.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Heo Jun bowed deeply, loosened his robes, and sat with a bow. Yi Yeon studied him closely.
'He looks older than I expected.'
He had assumed Heo Jun was younger because he would outlive King Seonjo.
“How old are you this year?”
“I was born in the year Gyehae and am twenty-eight this year.”
“A bit old for this.”
“What?”
“Never mind. I heard your medical skills are outstanding. Where did you learn them?”
“I traveled the land and learned as I went.”
“Impressive. Yet you still make sense to me.”
“This humble one is honored, Your Majesty.”
Yi Yeon had many questions about the physician but decided to keep it brief. As a spy who stayed hidden, any slip could be recorded.
“You, work with me on one task for this country.”
“If you give the order, I shall give my all.”
The young physician’s heart pounded at the thought of serving the king together. Yet the unexpected words left him flustered.
“Do you know of the Umayangjeo Yeonbyeok Chiryobang?”
“It is the text that recorded the prescriptions used during King Jungjong to defeat the plague.”
“Then you know about the pox as well.”
“Are you referring to smallpox, Your Majesty?”
“Correct.”
“This humble one is honored. I do not know much about smallpox.”
“Have you treated it?”
“A few times, but luck was with me.”
“What method did you use?”
“I lowered the fever and bolstered the patient’s qi.”
Yi Yeon asked Heo Jun several more times about smallpox, but the answers he hoped for never came.
'I have no choice. I’ll just push.'
“You know that the symptoms of the plague and smallpox are similar?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. Although they are diseases that affect cattle and people, the blisters look alike, so I once suspected they were caused by the same pathogen.”
'Remarkable.'
Yi Yeon sighed in admiration as Heo Jun spoke of the germ. In modern times this was common sense; now it was almost unheard of.
'Then there’s nothing to fear.'
“I think the same. I’ve been wondering—if the pathogens are identical, perhaps we can treat smallpox with the plague virus. I’d like to try it.”
Heo Jun’s gaze remained fixed on the king. He expected some revolutionary method, since the king had reportedly discovered how to hatch chicks with eggs. But Yi Yeon’s next words shattered that hope.
“What do you think? I believe transplanting the plague pathogen that infects cattle into humans could prevent the disease.”
“N-NO?!”
Both Heo Jun and the eldest brother gasped in unison. A choked sob escaped from behind the screen.