Last Dance (True Finale) - 4
Unlike with the Namyeong-bu branch manager, I used polite speech toward the Hyeongju-bu branch manager. The guy in Namyeong-bu deserved to have his head smashed on the spot, but there was no justification for dealing with the Hyeongju-bu one that way. Failing to control the Seokgosan Academy's wannabe scholars was proof of incompetence or weak resolve, but hardly grounds for slicing off his head.
Incompetence can't be a reason to die. Besides, no one who was 100% incompetent could have risen to branch manager in the first place—especially not in Hyeongju-bu, the second-largest city in Honam. So first, I needed to hear his side. What the hell had he been thinking to let things spiral this far? What had happened to turn Seokgosan Academy into that mess?
"I have no words to offer even if I had ten mouths, Lord Jwa-cheom Do-eosa..."
Fortunately, the branch manager knew he had karma coming. After Kki-ing-i and Kki-ong-i had their fun and we got to talking, he'd bowed his head, admitting his guilt.
"What you need right now isn't the virtue of silence—it's the courage to spill everything. I won't dismiss a word you say, so tell me it all."
Of course, what I really wanted wasn't a confession of guilt, but an explanation of the situation. Keeping his mouth shut in this mess would just mean he'd go up in flames with Seokgosan when I razed it.
"I am truly grateful for your mercy, my lord, but regarding Seokgosan Academy—"
"Seokgosan."
"...Seokgosan's atrocities, I have nothing to say except that they stem from my own shortcomings."
I looked down at the back of the branch manager's head as he bowed even deeper. His reaction suggested he wasn't in league with or supporting the Seokgosan wannabes. If he had something to hide, he wouldn't be prostrating himself so abjectly without excuses. Plus, he'd clearly used the word "atrocities," pinning responsibility on them while admitting his own share.
He's not the type worth killing.
The burning rage in my chest cooled a bit. I'd been worried I might have to smash Hyeongju-bu like Namyeong-bu, but hearing him out had been the right call.
"Was the name of Seokgosan really that heavy a burden?"
I spoke in a softer tone, and the branch manager flinched.
"Centuries ago, Emperor Renzong bestowed the name Seokgosan Academy on what was then Li Guan-zhong Academy. That glory endured even through the brutal reign of the Mongol barbarians, and in this day of our exalted ancestor's righteous rule, it shines brighter still."
First, I acknowledged that the name carried weight—to show empathy for why the branch manager couldn't touch Seokgosan lightly.
"Even the great families of Honam send their heirs there, don't they? As a local official, you need smooth relations with them, so I can understand your dilemma."
To empathize with the fate of bureaucrats who must keep on good terms with local powerhouses. Yeah, ignoring or reining in Seokgosan and the elites was a tall order for any ordinary official. Mess with deep-rooted local heavyweights, and administration grinds to a halt—or worse, your seat vanishes. But that's just for local bureaucrats. It didn't apply to me.
A academy named by an emperor centuries ago? I'm the grandson of my grandfather, appointed Earl of Ilja by the emperor just decades back.
The elites of all Honam? I'm the grandson of one of Daesong's two Earls of Ilja, the next Giwang. These provincial nobodies aren't in my league.
"Branch Manager."
"Yes... speak, my lord."
"I'll ask again. Was the name of Seokgosan—or the gaze of those elites—really that heavy?"
To his ears, it might've sounded like mockery, but he nodded bitterly.
"Shamefully, yes. It was a burden my meager abilities couldn't bear."
"I see."
It was exactly the answer I'd expected—maybe even secretly hoped for. He hadn't wanted this mess. He knew it was wrong but lacked the power to fix it.
Honestly, from my perspective of leisurely heading back to Kaepyeong, getting dumped with this shitshow was depressing, but I could sorta understand his position. The prestige of an imperial name, the practical value as a social hub for elite heirs—it was too much for a mere branch manager, let alone a prefect, to handle alone.
"Then, my lord, be silent for a moment."
"Pardon?"
So I needed to lighten that load for him.
"You don't need to do anything. Just close your eyes and cover your ears for a bit."
Someone who could ignore both prestige and practicality would shoulder the burden instead.
Damn these bastards.
The rage I'd just cooled flared hot again. These accursed wannabe scholar scum. No, not even worth calling them scholars—mere vermin who didn't bother complaining. I'd thought they were arrogant from colluding with local powers, but they'd spat in the face of those powers while committing atrocities.
Denying teachings, scorning officials. That meant scorning the people, the emperor, and Confucius himself. A grand slam with no excuses, even in death.
But I wouldn't kill them. If they were officials or real scholars, maybe, but slaughtering ignorant, arrogant commoners outright wasn't right. You don't kill the dim-witted—you educate them. Holding grudges is for equals. Seokgosan wasn't full of exam-passing officials or Confucian students—just spoiled brats with good parents.
Not even worth treating harshly.
Disappointment requires expectation; advice needs potential. Seokgosan was somewhere between ignorant masses and beasts.
I suggested to the Hyeongju Commandant that we go hiking up Seokgosan together. He gladly nodded to my cautious request, knowing it was for the physical health of Hyeongju-bu as a whole, not just his own. Truly grateful.
And so we headed to Seokgosan, where these ignorant somethings dwelled.
—Kkiieek!
Tactical Kki-ing-i and Kki-ong-i were followed by tactical Kkieak.
The Kkieak who'd been devouring grilled fish at the inn had to interrupt its meal. Smart spirit beast that it was, it pinpointed the cause: the Seokgosan wannabes who'd ruined its feast. And nursed a deep grudge.
—Kkiieeeeeeeek!
That grudge manifested like this.
Kkieak flew to where I pointed, pecking and tearing at Seokgosan Academy's plaque with its beak, screeching all the while.
"P-put that down right now! Do you know what that plaque is?!"
"It's a gift from Emperor Renzong! Even a spirit beast can't— You bastard! Don't pull so hard! What if it breaks?!"
—Kkiieek!
Works like a charm.
Watching the Seokgosan fools screech even louder than Kkieak brought a smile to my face.
The root of their frenzy was Seokgosan Academy's authority. Imperial bestowal, one of the four great academies—that combo made it untouchable.
But what if that history got soiled? If one pillar of authority crumbled? Especially if a heaven-sent spirit beast did the soiling?
No more authority.
They couldn't even protect an imperial plaque—from a spirit beast, no less. And they dared invoke the academy's prestige? No commoner would bow; they'd just laugh. Your academy's plaque got munched by a spirit beast!
"Jwa-cheom Do-eosa."
"Yes, Commandant."
"I-is this really okay?"
The Hyeongju Commandant, watching Kkieak mete out justice beside me, spoke with a troubled expression.
"My heart isn't at ease either, but what can we do? This isn't man-made disaster—it's a heaven-sent calamity from a spirit beast."
"A heaven-sent calamity from a spirit beast..."
"Indeed. Even if that one travels with me, spirit beasts are capricious by nature."
The commandant pondered my reply, murmuring to himself. We both knew it was an excuse. That thoughtful look was just acting—he had no real counterargument. He'd seen Kkieak move on my command, not of its own volition.
So what?
I stood tall. Even if commanded by a human, whether it obeys is the spirit beast's call. Anyway, this was a natural disaster by spirit beast will.
—Kkiieek.
"Good job."
Kkieak, gleefully shaking the plaque in its beak, sauntered back to me—plaque still in mouth, naturally.
"People of Seokgosan, hear me!"
I stroked Kkieak's triumphant head, then bellowed with inner energy.
"Your arrogance has pierced the heavens, your karma buried the earth! The honor and history bestowed by Emperor Renzong are not yours to bear—heaven has sent a spirit beast to reclaim Seokgosan's glory!"
I cut off the ignorant fools before they could babble. This was heaven's wrathful punishment.
"As Jwa-cheom Do-eosa bearing His Majesty's will, I humbly heed heaven's decree!"
In truth, even without heaven's punishment, I'd have crushed them myself.
"I will take this plaque! When you prove worthy of the name Seokgo once more, it shall return to you as rightful!"
I turned without hearing rebuttals. I'd collected what I needed; no point in pointless talk. Besides, ripping down an academy plaque was a burden even for me. This needed prior imperial report—but now it was act first, report later.
Damn these vermin. Making me do extra work.