Please Don't Raise Your Voice - 7
The fierce imperial debate, which had dragged on relentlessly, finally wrapped up by dumping an enormous burden on the Dochalwon. I felt like bursting into tears. The Akrok Academy scholars had wielded their tongues like weapons, and the founding merits had turned it into a participatory free-for-all. So why did I—the guy who just sat there watching—have to bear the fallout?
Even Jin-i and Pungseong, who were supposed to moderate, hadn't suffered as much as I'd expected. Whether the scholars held back because it was the imperial court or the merits stepped in before things spiraled out of control didn't matter. What counted was that a far clearer victim had emerged than those two moderators. And that victim was me.
Another nationwide tour? Cold sweat started beading on my skin. I'd just spent recent months scampering around the country like a dog, and now that I'd finally returned to Kaepyeong, they wanted me to assess the state of Murim across the realm? Launch another country-wide project? Just kill me. Kill me, cremate me, and scatter my ashes nationwide. That'd be quicker and easier.
"We shall conclude the debate here. In the end, those who should have listened stepped forward to argue—but that only proves how outstanding and compelling the scholars' arguments were, leaving them unable to stay silent."
As my insides burned, the Emperor calmly declared the official end to the court debate.
"It's no easy task to boldly voice one's opinions before high officials. Even newly appointed ministers tremble at their first court appearance. You have all fulfilled your roles admirably, proving the future of the realm is bright."
His presence had faded in the latter half, but he still praised the six scholars who had argued so fiercely. And they deserved it. Young scholars often fumble their words or tangle their logic in the heat of passion. But those six had poured out their arguments fluently, tongues oiled as if by magic, unflinching under the gazes of the merits and ministers. From the Emperor's view, they must have seemed like promising talents.
"Jeju."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"What do you think it would mean for the Imperial Academy to have such talents?"
"It would be a source of great joy and reassurance, Your Majesty."
The Emperor nodded in satisfaction at Jeju's reply.
"Yangjeon, Yi Suheon, Ju Gang, Yeo Jinwon, Wang Pyo, Pyo Il. You have displayed your abilities unfiltered before Us. Though you did not sit the examinations, you have proven yourselves here in court—what difference is there from the exams themselves? Is there not?"
"Your words are most just, Your Majesty."
At Jeju's smooth response, the six scholars began to stir. Anyone with a shred of wits or street smarts could grasp the implication. When the Emperor personally named them with evident pleasure, the outcome was obvious.
"We appoint you to the rank of Junior Grade Ninth-Rank Academic Aide and assign you to the Imperial Academy. Display the same passion and ability there as you have here."
"Th-thank you for Your boundless grace, Your Majesty! We shall surely live up to Your mercy and trust!"
"""We shall surely live up to Your mercy and trust!"""
The six scholars, freshly leveled up from young academics to newbie officials, prostrated themselves flat on the floor. Indeed, the fastest path to promotion was either becoming kin to the high and mighty or catching their eye. Just yesterday, they'd been unemployed; now they were bureaucrats in a blink. Of course, their performance in the court debate had proven their competence and character—no one could call it freeloading, even if it was a fast track.
"Pungseong."
"Y-yes! Your Majesty!"
"You too aptly unified and soothed these bold, spirited scholars, proving your own abilities more than sufficient. We appoint you Junior Grade Eighth-Rank Merit Aide and assign you as a tutor."
"I am deeply honored!"
At the Emperor's unflinching appointment, Pungseong prostrated just like the six. Though he had already passed the exams and was slated for officialdom, he caught the Emperor's eye before even donning his robes and started at Junior Eighth-Rank. And his posting? The Imperial Academy, which oversaw national education. Considering he was kin to the Duke of Weiguk, his career path was now wide open. Proof came from Weiguk Gong himself, gazing proudly at Pungseong from the court. His nephew-bragging would echo across Daesong for a while.
"Finally, Han Jin."
"...Yes, Your Majesty."
And at those words, Grandfather and I wore expressions akin to Weiguk Gong's. Yes. If everyone else got promoted, our Jin-i deserved it too. Among them, he had the noblest blood and deepest knowledge.
"You too could take office immediately without issue. We have long heard the admirable tale of the scholar at Song Mountain who never grows arrogant in his talents and constantly refines himself."
"I am ashamed to have sullied Your Majesty's ears with undeserved rumors."
"This court has proven those rumors no mere flattery. Thus, We would appoint you Junior Eighth-Rank Merit Aide and Fifth-Rank Erudite—but—"
The Emperor paused, gazing steadily at Jin-i.
"You seem not yet satisfied with yourself."
Jin-i's body twitched at the words.
"We are filled with anticipation. How far you will go. What brilliant luminary you will become by the time you satisfy yourself."
"How could a mere scholar ever be content with himself?"
"Well said. Then come to the palace not when you are content with yourself, but when you wish to wield not mere knowledge, but wisdom. We shall welcome you anytime."
With that promise of a free pass to officialdom for Jin-i, the Emperor rose, and all the ministers bowed in unison. Gratitude for staging the rare spectacle of the court debate. Respect for boldly appointing new talents. Submission to the order for stricter Murim oversight. It was a bow laced with all those emotions.
The moment the Emperor withdrew, I rushed to Jwa Do-eosa. Right now, consoling Jin-i could wait—confronting her came first. I had to demand if this meant starting a second nationwide tour. If it did, I had to beg her to send someone else, anyone but me.
"Do you think the inspectors are just lounging around? The ones scattered nationwide will report on their own. No need for you to move."
"Ah."
Her curt yet beautiful reply left me deflated. She was right. Over a hundred inspectors dotted Daesong's territories. Surveying Murim's scale and realms was something local inspectors and officials could handle. No need for a high-grade Right Assistant Censor-in-Chief like me to step in.
"Of course, compiling and refining those reports is your job."
"That's fine. No big deal."
I nodded vigorously at Jwa Do-eosa's words. Dodging a second tour? Compiling reports was nothing. I could do that with a smile.
"No big deal, eh? We'll see if it's that simple."
"Pardon?"
"Nothing. Some things you have to experience yourself." She chuckled dryly, massaging her tense neck wearily, then patted my shoulder lightly. "It'll take time for provincial reports to reach Kaepyeong. No rush—take it easy and enjoy your honeymoon. Might be your last break ever."
"Thanks for the well-wishes."
"Of course. Gotta give that much to a hardworking subordinate."
I watched her leave, those pearls of wisdom trailing behind, then turned without regret. With my major worry lifted, my steps toward Grandfather felt feather-light. This was only natural, really. Two nationwide pilgrimages? No human could endure that. Even migratory birds didn't fly that much.
I strolled alone through Gonghuwon, sorting my thoughts. The young scholars fiercely clashing as they shouted their views. The merits, spurred by those youths, jumping in themselves. And after the heated debate, the conclusion: strengthen oversight of Murim without fully forgiving or oppressing it. Maintain the current policy, but tighten surveillance.
- Kiriring.
"Whoa. Come to comfort me?"
- Kiriring!
Sighing at the disappointingly ambiguous outcome, the qilin had sidled up and rubbed its face against my leg.
"Do-cheol. You too."
- Don't expect much from me—
- Kiriring!
- That damn punk's temper...
Do-cheol grumbled but crept closer at the qilin's nudge. Once ready to fight at a mere glance, the two now coexisted decently, avoiding scraps. Only possible with Mu as mediator—and me caring for them properly.
- Moooo.
"Haha. You popped up too."
- Moooo.
Soon, Mu peeked from the pond. Such grateful beasts. Rulers were said to be lonely, but I had Mu, so no solitude. Qilin and Do-cheol filled any voids.
Thank you.
Petting the qilin and Do-cheol beside me while gazing at Mu on the water's surface, I smiled. My tangled heart warmed and unraveled.
This debate's middling result couldn't have sat well with the Emperor. He neither fully vented the merits' grudges nor granted Murim undue leniency for the greater good. But no choice remained. Maintaining the status quo was the late Emperor's will—the intent of one far greater than I.
"Crown Prince."
"Yes, Royal Father."
"Do you think we should decisively purge Murim... or embrace them generously?"
Back when Royal Father was rectifying the realm, he'd asked me that.
"That is..."
"Speak freely. This is not the Emperor testing his heir, but a father seeking his son's thoughts."
"Forgive me, but I believe Murim is part of the realm, subjects the Son of Heaven must embrace."
"Is that so."
He'd smiled at my answer—proudly, pityingly, bitterly. A complex smile.
"Your choice is the righteous path. The merits advocate the hegemonic path. Then what path have I chosen?"
"Royal Father has taken the noblest path in this world—"
"The evil path. I have chosen neither righteousness nor hegemony, but evil."
A smile tinged with self-loathing toward himself.
"Do you know why I made that choice?"
I couldn't reply. How could I, trailing behind such a great man who called his own path evil?
"To make Heaven's mandate unshakeable. Harshly purging Murim for their silence against injustice would inspire all future generations to rise against evil."
"What do you—"
"In the founding war, we challenged Heaven's tepid mandate. Now, House Han upholds it. Should House Han falter, the realm's righteous youths will eye our mandate."
How could I speak after hearing his extraordinary vision?
"Murim is cowardly, kowtowing to official eyes. Even if House Han's mandate wavers, they must remain silent and obedient."
"...Your Majesty. Then shouldn't we forgive Murim?"
"That would thicken their ills. Beyond silence, they'd become the court's lackeys, committing atrocities and hastening House Han's fall. Thus, this neither-nor evil path."
The late Emperor's eyes had been deep and dark. I glimpsed the karma he bore then.
"Crown Prince."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"You are kinder and wiser than I. Someday, you will forge your own beautiful path, not mine of evil."
Those words resurfaced. The late Emperor's expectations brushed my mind.