The Prince of Taste
My head felt like it was going to explode from preparing for the Misullang conference. Ever since the pollock mayo fiasco, I hadn't been in much contact with King Munjong through the Gatong. He insisted it wasn't my fault, but it still gnawed at me.
Messages from Munjong trickled in occasionally through the Gatong. The Crown Prince had gone to inspect Jeongseon and Yeongwol with Sejasi-gangwon Left Literary Scholar Yi Gae (a rank 5 position) and Gungigam Special Commander Choi Gong-son (a rank 6 position).
High officials had surveyed the area last year when building the fire chariot, but Choi Gong-son wasn't known for his sharp judgment.
Yi Gae is one of the Six Loyal Subjects, but who the hell is Choi Gong-son?
It rang a vague bell, but I couldn't pin it down, so I checked the Annals of the Joseon Dynasty.
He was the grandson of Choi Mu-seon, the father of Joseon's gunpowder and the greatest weapons developer of the late Goryeo and early Joseon eras, and the son of Choi Hae-san, another weapons innovator. By family lineage alone, he came from Joseon's premier firearms dynasty. No wonder I couldn't remember him—based on the annals, he didn't seem to inherit much of his grandfather's or father's talent.
Gungjo Left Attendant Choi Gong-son was sent to the Office of Special Counselors for interrogation because he failed to bring the stone-hauling soldiers from the royal tombs to their assigned posts on time.
Choi Gong-son was innately foolish and lacking in discernment, but he curried favor with Jeong Bin and was appointed Inspector Left Attendant—a move everyone scorned as lowly.
I replied to Munjong for now.
[To: Your Highness]
Your Highness, I've had some urgent personal matters come up, so I may not be able to check the Gatong frequently until the end of the month. Please take care of your health and cut back on fatty foods.
I understand.
The Crown Prince Yi Hong-wi heading to Yeongwol... In the original history, he'd lose his father in just ten days, ascend the throne at twelve, get pushed aside by his uncle, and end up exiled to Yeongwol—where his tomb still lies today. I wondered what had driven this kid to head there himself.
Anyway, it looked like Choi Gong-son, son of the man who built Joseon's first fire chariot, had completely overshadowed King Munjong, who made the second one himself.
The Munjong Fire Chariot is the real original Joseon luxury item.
With Munjong's understanding secured, it was time to focus on the conference.
It had happened a few days earlier. Choi Gong-son, the Gungigam Special Commander, got word in the morning to head to the Sejasi-gangwon. When a messenger arrived saying the Gungigam Director (rank 4) wanted him over some official document, he was in the middle of lunch. He set down his spoon, puzzled.
I haven't done anything major lately... well, nothing they haven't already chewed me out for.
But at thirty, Choi Gong-son knew from experience: being summoned usually meant you'd screwed up. Back when his father was alive, he'd prostrate himself and confess to faults he didn't even know about.
Why on earth is the Crown Prince summoning me?
Before he knew it, he was at the Crown Prince's chambers.
"Enter."
The voice was younger than expected. Crown Prince Yi Hong-wi was just twelve.
The room was quiet. The prince sat before his writing desk. Choi Gong-son prostrated himself deeply.
"Choi Gong-son here. I have committed a capital offense."
"I know your name. But what offense?"
Still bowed, Choi Gong-son peeked up. The prince was poring over a paper densely covered in writing.
So I wasn't summoned for a mistake? Being called somewhere without guilt was a second in his life—the first being the day his father died, when instead of a scolding, he'd been handed two books left by his grandfather with an uncharacteristically kind expression.
"Your Highness, I do not know what I have done wrong."
"You're a funny one. You're Choi Mu-seon's grandson?"
"Yes."
"Do you know how to make cannons?"
"Yes."
"Do you know how to make handguns?"
"Yes."
"You need iron to make handguns, right?"
"Yes."
"Is 'yes' the only word you know?"
"Yes..."
The prince gave him a pitiful look. Just then, Choi Gong-son happened to glance up, their eyes meeting.
"Sit comfortably."
Choi Gong-son hesitated, then knelt in the formal gweyo position.
"Where does good iron come from?"
"Mostly from Pyeongan-do and Gangwon-do."
"Where in Gangwon-do?"
The prince was jotting it down. Choi Gong-son felt a swell of pride, like he'd become the prince's tutor. His usually tight-lipped mouth finally loosened.
"There are iron ore deposits in Jeongseon, and coal and lime in Yeongwol."
He paused, wondering. Even for the Crown Prince, is it okay to reveal this much detail? Is this a test?
"Continue."
"Yeongwol has iron ore too, but it's said to be hard to use. Instead, it produces lots of coal and limestone. Limestone makes lime ash and can be used in gunpowder production. Coal burns hot and long, far better than wood for casting and smelting. Used well, it could improve handgun barrel quality. Especially if we thicken the bore..."
Choi Gong-son was normally taciturn, but talk of technology lit him up—from poring over his grandfather's two books to building fire chariots and handguns with his father.
"Hold on."
The prince halted his stream of words and finished transcribing everything into his ledger. The quiet room echoed only with the brush scratches.
The prince set down his brush and looked up.
"In three days, we're going to Jeongseon and Yeongwol."
"Pardon?"
"Is 'yes' the only— In three days, Jeongseon and Yeongwol."
"This humble subject... with Your Highness?"
"Of course. Don't I need to verify if you're telling the truth?"
Choi Gong-son clamped his mouth shut, unfolded from gweyo, and prostrated again. He hadn't said anything wrong. But with the prince planning to trek to Gangwon-do to check his words, better safe than sorry.
"I have committed a capital offense."
The prince looked baffled.
"You're dismissed."
Choi Gong-son bowed deeply and withdrew.
Three days later, the Crown Prince set out for Jeongseon with Left Literary Scholar Yi Gae and the entourage. Choi Gong-son still had no idea why he was in the procession.
Riding along, he quietly asked a nearby official.
"Do you know the purpose of this inspection?"
The man eyed him warily before replying.
"His Highness requested it directly from the King. No one knows why."
Four days later, they arrived in Jeongseon. Searching the area villagers pointed to for iron ore, they found an outcrop. Village men laboriously split ore chunks, which Choi Gong-son presented at the prince's feet.
"This is the iron ore."
The prince picked up a piece.
"What's special about it?"
"Harder than sand iron, but strangely, it doesn't melt easily in fire."
"How hard?"
"Barrels made from it would last far longer than now."
"Hmm... We'll take samples. Gather as much as possible."
Next was Yeongwol. The prince touched a coal lump and asked Choi Gong-son.
"How long does it burn?"
"Three or four times longer than wood, and much hotter, they say."
"For casting?"
"The metal would melt more evenly, leading to better handgun barrels..."
Choi Gong-son's mouth flew open again. Whenever the prince examined iron ore, coal, or limestone, he'd quiz him. Choi explained; the prince noted it down. They collected as many samples as the group could carry.
On the final day, after inspections, the Yeongwol magistrate hosted dinner. Choi Gong-son blinked at the sight: mackerel braised in sauce, topped with an unfamiliar wild green.
Asking a maid, he learned it was gondre greens.
"Wild greens on mackerel?"
"It's Yeongwol style."
One bite, and surprisingly, it paired perfectly. As he finished and set down his spoon, a summons from the prince arrived.
Kneeling before the prince's table, Choi watched him eat the gondre mackerel braise—eyes closed, savoring.
After a long silence, the prince opened his eyes and asked an attendant.
"What's this green called?"
"Gondre, Your Highness."
"Ho." The prince said once.
"Ho." Again.
"Ho." A third time, then to the attendant: "Record it."
"The aroma isn't overpowering, with just a faint bitterness lingering. It offsets the saltiness of the mackerel. The greens cut through the fish's oiliness. The broth is just right for rice—perfectly seasoned..."
The words poured out at the same volume and speed Choi used for technical talk.
"Did you eat it too?"
"Yes."
"How was it?"
"Delicious."
"That's all?"
"Yes."
Choi sneaked a glance; the prince looked displeased.
"Dismissed."
Choi bowed politely and left.
The next day, the entourage departed Yeongwol for Hanseong. To the bowing magistrate, the prince said,
"This place feels strangely familiar."
With that, they headed back.
Just before departure, the Yeongwol magistrate whispered to an attendant unheard by others:
"The Crown Prince is a true Misullang."
It was Sunday, but I'd been at conference prep since dawn. Seo-yeon texted in the morning.
"Oppa, tonight's plans, right?"
"Yeah, heading out soon."
That evening, we met at Gangnam Station.
"Reserving here was a nightmare."
"Where to?"
"Yeongwol Kitchen, a fusion Korean spot. The chef's from Yeongwol. It won MisullangI-ho."
Misullang? I-ho? Not Michelin two stars? Weird. For the past fortnight, Munjong and I had only exchanged greetings.
"It's the world's first to earn Misullang Il-ho. Signature dish is gondre mackerel braise, Joseon court style."
Butterfly effect from the Gatong? It felt familiar yet not—like knowing without knowing. Gondre mackerel was tasty, sure, but why "Joseon court style"?
I haven't told them anything...
* Sejasi-gangwon: Joseon agency for educating the crown prince.
** Yesok soldier: Soldiers hauling large stones long distances for civil engineering.
*** Gweyo: Kneeling posture.
**** Nodu: Natural rock or stratum exposure on the surface.