That Familiar Taste - 5
A messenger pigeon from Han Un arrived in Gwangju.
Gwangju was overrun with countless parakho vagabonds locked in fierce rivalries. Terrified merchants, seeking protection, had begun paying tribute to some of these groups. With the government's eyes and ears unable to cover every corner of Gwangju, its soldiers alone couldn't safeguard all the merchants—a lamentable and infuriating state of affairs.
An unpleasant report of tribute being paid in Gwangju, the greatest city beyond Guangdong and the pride of Yangguang.
However, the parakho who accepted the tribute recognized their crimes and bowed before the authorities. Merchants no longer needed to resort to such desperate measures for safety. The vagabonds, who had once sucked the blood of the common folk, underwent a change of heart and began truly serving the realm and its people.
Anyone could see that Han Un and Gwangdong's prefect had pulled some strings. It was obvious.
Any Daesong official or martial artist must devote themselves to the realm and its people. But if such noble duty goes unrewarded, who would respect and uphold the government? We offered a modest compensation to these reformed parakho, ensuring Gwangju need no longer groan under their infestations.
The final report detailed how murim factions' independent revenues had been severed, binding them to the state.
He really went all out.
Thinking of Han Un racking his brains for this outcome brought a chuckle. He'd struck numerous murim groups at once, leaving them unable to respond properly, and fitted them with collars only the government could control. From now on, for murim factions to maintain their "power," they'd have to beg for the state's mercy and rewards.
Not a bad result. They say money moves even dead spirits—what about living murim folk? These factions would now cooperate and submit actively, if only to survive.
When did that green kid grow into such a big shot?
Stabilizing Gwangju at the southern tip of the Central Plains in a flash. The boy, once so raw as a new official, had become a seasoned bureaucrat. It was deeply satisfying.
Yes, even this young man now at the center of every storm had started out green. Thanks to his royal backing as crown prince of Giwangga, he'd shouldered duties beyond his years and skill, sparking whispers in the Dochalwon that a headache had arrived.
But that lasted only a moment. Born of noble blood, he treated every official with respect and volunteered for all the grunt work, knowing his shortcomings. As if experience alone could fill his gaps.
Come to think of it, he'd advanced more through hard work than innate talent. And at not even thirty, he was achieving this much—what would he do with more seasoning?
No wonder His Majesty has his eye on him.
Another chuckle escaped. The Emperor paid Han Un no small attention.
"The Left Vice Censor-in-Chief will soon return to Kaepyeong. Who in this capital knows the Central Plains' affairs better than him?"
"Your Majesty, then..."
"Tell Us if he achieves even a small merit. He needs at least Third Rank to fully unleash his talents."
Just recently promoted to Sixth Rank Junior Grand Master, and now the Emperor wanted to bump him up again.
Of course, Han Un's current rank was the lowest Sixth Rank Junior Grand Master. With his promotions already swift, skipping steps would unsettle the bureaucracy, so he'd pass through Senior Grand Master and Grand Senior Master en route to Third Rank.
But what did the process matter? By the time he returned to Kaepyeong—or began real work there—he'd be Third Rank.
The vacancy will fill soon enough.
Conveniently, the Right Vice Censor-in-Chief had retired due to illness recently—a Third Rank post. Han Un might take it.
Congratulations in advance.
Silently, he sent modest cheers and encouragement to Han Un in Gwangju. Soon, not just rank but office would rise.
What the hell is this?
A surprise party?
I scrutinized the reply from Kaepyeong over and over, denying reality.
It's weird. Normal paper, normal brush script. No mind-bewitching spell, no bizarre technique I didn't know.
Sixth Rank Junior Grand Master and Left Vice Censor-in-Chief Han Un is hereby promoted to Sixth Rank Senior Grand Master.
What is this? Why is plain brush script shaking my mind?
Promotion...?
Why? Why me?
I'd just jumped from Fourth Rank to Sixth, and now this? Even within Sixth Rank, a promotion is a promotion. Plenty of officials toil a lifetime without reaching it— for some, Senior Grand Master is their peak.
Yet here I was, waking up to someone else's lifetime achievement. It felt like a bolt from a clear sky.
Giwangga must be wielding their thunder arts for such favoritism.
No way.
Reason and instinct screamed in unison. If I hit Senior Grand Master now, I'd likely reach Third Rank by returning to Kaepyeong.
Ride this momentum to Guangxi, tour the whole Central Plains? "You've worked hard—here's another promotion." More would come.
Back in the capital: "You've got merits. One more bump." They'd shove it down my throat. I'd suffered central bureaucracy's madness more than once or twice.
Two more promotions: Third Rank Grand Senior Master.
Dochalwon's Third Rank post is Vice Censor-in-Chief. Come to think of it, the Right one retired recently. Am I filling it? A twenty-something as deputy minister?
Damn it.
Horrifying just imagining it. What kind of messed-up life earns such punishment?
Plus, Vice Censor-in-Chief assists the Censor-in-Chief directly. Serving that Left Censor-in-Chief would be brutal.
...Right Vice would pair better with the Right Censor-in-Chief.
A small consolation, but not really.
- Kki-ing?
Staring at the letter so long, Kki-ing-i cried out beside me, as if asking what was wrong.
For a second, I considered feeding it to her—but gave up. If it were just from the Left Censor-in-Chief, I'd have chomped it blindly. But an official promotion carries the Emperor's will. Tampering invites disaster.
"Kki-ing-ah."
- Kki-ing.
"Ram me with your antlers once."
If a spirit beast attacked and hurt me, even the Emperor might say, "Looks like heaven doesn't want this promotion."
Getting struck by a heaven-sent spirit beast? Proof of evil villainy.
- Kki-iing~
But Kki-ing-i ignored me and started licking my cheek. Like, "Cut the nonsense and cheer up." It bummed me out.
- Kki-ong.
As Kki-ing-i licked, onlooking Kki-ong-i joined in. Washing with spirit beast saliva... a rare treat.
Ak I-yeon's and Jo Wi-cheo's reactions to my promotion were polar opposites.
"Congratulations, young master! His Majesty truly sees your dedication!"
Ak I-yeon, thrilled as if it were her own fiancé's win.
"Congratulations, sir."
Jo Wi-cheo, eyes twitching in fear of his own promotion.
Their stark contrast drew a chuckle. One purely joyful for her betrothed's rise; the other terrified of the same fate.
How do such people coexist?
"Feels awkward being the only one promoted. We worked together."
At that, Jo Wi-cheo's face rapidly calmed. I felt a twinge of guilt. Being the high-rank he'd seen up close twisted his view: promotions as ultimate despair.
My fault a promising warrior got such warped values.
"No, sir. I just recorded. Shame you didn't get it instead."
"The Jo-ma's role is recording, so you've fulfilled yours best. If I rise, you should too; if you don't, neither should I."
"Is that so?"
"Of course."
Ak I-yeon's words set Jo Wi-cheo's mouth flowing eloquently. Rare for him to talk so much.
He must hate promotions that much. Pity stirred.
"Young master."
"Yeah?"
"At this rate, you'll reach First Rank someday. If you become Giwang, His Majesty will be heartbroken."
Awkward smile at her giggling jab. Emperor's regret? Irrelevant. Escaping this bureaucratic hell meant only succession.
King means no official post.
Unlike regional Ilja Kings, stationary Ilja Kings like Giwang and Akwang just held court in Kaepyeong. Occasional security checks with troops—their only duty.
Problem: Grandfather and father so hale, it'd take 30-40 years for me to inherit.
I'll die first.
Vision of becoming Han Joda, not Han Un.
"By the way, sir. About the subdued sect and family warriors—sending them to Yunnam from here is..."
"Shanhaiguan needs them more than Yunnam. Send to Shanhaiguan."
"Understood."
I firmly named Shanhaiguan over quieter Yunnam. Both borders, but Shanhaiguan's volatility was urgent.
For realm and people—unavoidable. Not venting spleen. No way.