The Measure of Salt and Shadows of Ezochi
Hokkaido. I was on night duty today. In the on-call room, I was mulling over work-life balance. Being a resident at a general hospital and helping King Munjong. It was clear that aiding Munjong from here on would demand even more time than before.
As midnight approached, first-year resident Park Se-jun burst into the on-call room, his face drained of color.
"Doctor, something's wrong with the patient in Room 3."
"Since when?"
"About an hour ago, during rounds. Her breathing seemed off, so I spoke to her, but her speech was slurred. No real response to stimuli. I started fluids, but she seems to be getting worse."
I rushed to Room 3 with Park Se-jun. The patient was a 70-year-old grandmother admitted today, slumped against the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. I sat beside her and gently shook her shoulder.
"Grandma, can you hear my voice?"
Her eyes moved slowly. There was a response, but no focus.
"Park, what fluids are you running now?"
"Looked like dehydration, so normal saline."
Park Se-jun dashed out. I checked her chart. 'Admitted with fatigue. Decreased appetite. Nauseous for two days.' No major underlying conditions. 'On three meds: antihypertensive, diuretic, antidepressant?'
My eyes stopped at "antidepressant" as I scanned down.
"No urine test on this patient? Oh, here it is. Sodium at 118. Normal's over 135. Low serum osmolality, high urine osmolality. Know what it is?"
"Ah... hyponatremia. Looks like SIADH."
"Stop the fluids right now."
SIADH—Syndrome of Inappropriate Antidiuretic Hormone secretion. The hormone overproduced inappropriately, causing the body to retain too much water. The opposite of dehydration: excess fluid dilutes blood sodium. Pumping normal saline into her had only made the sodium drop further.
"Stop fluids immediately and report to the attending. Symptoms mean we might need hypertonic saline, but don't raise sodium too fast. The brain can't adapt, and it could cause serious damage."
Park Se-jun's hands trembled as he jotted down my instructions.
"Doctor, I saw the sodium but missed the symptoms and started fluids. This worsening—is it my fault?"
"Anyone would've done the same without knowing it was low sodium. That's why we check symptoms and labs to set the course."
Park Se-jun bit his lip and nodded. We monitored her through the dawn, raising sodium gradually, checking obsessively. As day broke, Grandma opened her eyes. Her speech wasn't fully normal yet, but she mumbled much more clearly than before.
"I'm unusually hungry this morning."
Park Se-jun and I exchanged faint smiles. Her words made my own stomach growl.
"Park, you worked through the night. Breakfast together?"
We ate beef soup at the cafeteria. It tasted flat. Not that it lacked flavor—my exhausted body just couldn't savor anything.
'Sodium levels, though...' A good idea sparked in my mind.
On my way out of the cafeteria, a Gatong message arrived.
Yi Hyang:
This week, envoys from the King of Japan arrive. What shall we serve?
Munjong now fully trusted me on medicine and cuisine. Unlike the Ming envoy last month, when he cut off Gatong for a full month without consulting me—this was Japan. Joseon served Ming with tributary deference; Japan was an equal neighbor under neighborly diplomacy. Ironic that Munjong, who ignored me for Ming, now sought my input on Japanese fare.
No need to overthink. I suggested a modern Japanese favorite—already in Joseon, unknown in Japan.
Lee Do-yoon:
Japanese love fish, so serve eobyeong hotpot.
Yi Hyang:
Understood. My thanks.
Later, I worried if fish cake hotpot demeaned diplomacy. History buff or not, I didn't know Joseon-era envoy protocols.
'But eobyeong hotpot must be luxury cuisine back then.' Not machine-made modern fish cakes. I'd advised finer fish purees, longer kneading—court kitchen labor made it elite.
I shared my sodium-inspired idea.
Lee Do-yoon:
How do you salt-cure now?
Yi Hyang:
Salters handle it themselves.
Lee Do-yoon:
Precise salt amounts preserve food longer. Measure salt by volume.
Yi Hyang:
Standardize salt by measure? Father made a rain gauge in his time. Craft salt-measuring tools.
Lee Do-yoon:
Standardize per food type for widespread use.
Yi Hyang:
Excellent.
Lee Do-yoon:
Your Highness, I'll send related documents soon.
Yi Hyang:
Understood.
Not idle talk. I recalled the Food Code—standards from Korea's Ministry of Food and Drug Safety for manufacturing, processing, use, cooking, preservation of foods and additives.
Back home, I checked the backup Annals of the Joseon Dynasty. My hunch was right. Historically, this Japanese envoy never met Munjong—he waited for recovery that never came.
'This history is one Munjong and I are rewriting.'
"The envoys from the King of Japan have long been in Hanseong, and though my carbuncle is not urgent, its deep root may fester. Waiting for recovery before receiving them would take too long. How shall we proceed?"
Kim Jong-seo and others replied, "The Japanese envoys came primarily for incense offering. Grant them audience at Munsojeon on the 15th of next month after the offering; this preserves order and allows Your Majesty's health near recovery."
[Abridged]
Two days later.
The Japanese envoys received audience. The Ilyeongwon hosted a banquet; they raved over the eobyeong hotpot.
'Prince Suyang's already busy. The moment I send the Food Code, idleness vanishes from his life.'
The palace approved sharing eobyeong recipes. As Laozi said, a thousand-league journey begins underfoot—today's hotpot could spark lasting Joseon-Japan ties.
'Ah, so oden fades from memory entirely...' A touch of sorrow. I alone remembered it worldwide.
Musing on oden nostalgia, I texted Seo-yeon.
"Original Eobyeong Bar for dinner flash meet?"
"That regular spot near the hospital? Yeah. Might be late off work."
"Cool, take your time."
Napped deeply, then headed back late evening. 'Original Eobyeong Bar: 15th-Century Joseon Palace Traditional Eobyeong'—same as last December. Versus November... one word changed.
Seo-yeon craved eobyeong sinseollo today. New to me. Ordered Hokkaido uni too.
'Hokkaido. Japan's prime granary.' It came to mind with the envoys. I'd searched already—but hadn't told Munjong.
Hokkaido claims 25% of Japan's arable land, 70% potatoes, 60% milk nationwide. Without it, Japan's food self-sufficiency halves.
'Above all, 60% of Japan's wheat from there. Perfect for Joseon's grain shortages from population growth.'
Issues abound. Ming once hid Joseon-Japan exchanges, wary of ties. Joseon's navy and shipping lagged. But that was Munjong's to solve.
Modern info I alone held—that's how I aided him.
'Stole their oden already. Shall I take Hokkaido too?'
"Can I eat the Hokkaido [uni]?"
"You ordered it to eat—now you won't?"
Oblivious Seo-yeon fed me uni. Blissful taste. Uni's scent lingered homeward—perhaps from her kiss goodbye, uni on her lips.
Snapping to, I searched online, sent Food Code excerpts to Munjong. Then pondered.
'Overcomplicating? Duty-free Hokkaido uni awaits.' My self-built ethical walls crumbled simply.
Lee Do-yoon:
Your Highness, do you know of Haiji?