The Name He Chose for Himself
"Forgive me, but I'm not quite ready to say just yet."
Cha Gyeong-yeon dodged the question with a smile.
Hong-wi and Ho-in were curious about who this person might be, but they decided to let it go for the time being rather than press him.
"You're not a man who speaks idly, so I'll trust you. In that case, we must go find Hwang Ga."
"He should be in Manpo, most likely. How shall we travel?"
"The same way we came, of course—by smuggler's boat. Since it's come up, shall we leave at once? Ah, but before that..."
Cha Gyeong-yeon clapped his hands together softly.
"...I nearly forgot. From this moment on, Your Highness must choose a name to use before others. You can hardly go about revealing your true one."
"That's true enough."
Hong-wi agreed.
Come to think of it, he had never told Hwang Ga his real name, and Hwang Ga had never thought to ask. Smugglers neither questioned the history of what they carried in their boats—whether goods or people—nor cared to know.
"Since you'll be living among the wild folk, why not take a name in their style?"
"Is that all right? I mean, Hwang Ga will plainly know I'm a man of Joseon..."
"He won't mind. He surely already suspects you had reasons enough to flee Joseon soil and cross into the wild lands in the first place. Smugglers don't quibble over such things. All they weigh is whether a man can be trusted going forward—and above all, whether he's useful."
"Very well. Let me see, then—what would make a good name? I'd prefer something inconspicuous and common, if possible."
"The wild folk are fond of the character for iron in their names. In their tongue it's temu, and in Mongol, temur. Not only the Jurchens but the Mongols as well often work it into their names. Even Temujin, the founding khan of the old Yuan dynasty, bore that character."
"I like that. Then to it I'd like to add mokja—wood and child—broken from my own family name, Yi. So... how does Temusi-i sound?"
"Temusi-i—a splendid name!"
It carried within it a quiet resolve never to cast aside his roots entirely.
Ho-in and Cha Gyeong-yeon both agreed that it was a fine choice.
"From now on, call me Temusi-i."
Hong-wi smiled as well.
From that day forward, he introduced himself to everyone as Temusi-i, and Temusi-i he was called.
"Your Highness adopting a name in their own fashion won't make the wild folk open their hearts at once, but it will soften their guard. Now then, let us be off to Hwangseongpyeong. From there, find a boat and make for Manpo."
While Hong-wi and his companions were laying their plans for Hwangseongpyeong, Yang Jeong, Provincial Military Commander of Hamgil Province, was receiving visitors in a distinctly sour mood.
"I trust the journey was not too arduous, Lord Dochechalsa. It has been some time."
"Nothing worth mentioning."
Park Won-hyeong, Minister of Punishments and Dochechalsa of Hamgil Province, a man with a hard, unyielding face, gave a curt nod.
Yang Jeong very nearly snorted.
'A country scholar who's never once set foot outside Hanyang, putting on airs.'
Yang Jeong held Park Won-hyeong in deep contempt, though he showed none of it.
Park Won-hyeong, too, had been a comrade who aided Suyang during the Gyeyu Coup—but to Yang Jeong, who had been at the front and soaked his hands in blood, the man's pretensions rang hollow. Even Im Eul-un, who was nothing more than a lackey, had surely earned more merit than this bookworm!
And yet now the man had come descending out of nowhere as an inspector—the Dochechalsa himself—swaggering about like some great lord.
Yang Jeong found it absurd.
What could a scholar like that possibly know, running his mouth as he did?
'What in the world is His Highness thinking?'
Yang Jeong harbored his resentment inwardly, but he swallowed it and bowed deeply instead to the man standing beside Park Won-hyeong.
"And to you, Lord Minister of Personnel—you honor us old frontiersmen with your presence despite your years."
"The Provincial Commander labors under a heavy charge for the state himself, I see."
Han Myeong-hoe, Minister of Personnel, replied with a slight nod.
His voice was soft, and yet it carried a chill, creeping gravity all its own. Even the bold and blustering Yang Jeong found himself unable to move, and could only bow his head lower.
If Yang Jeong had served as the Coup's enforcer, then Han Myeong-hoe was the man who had designed the coup itself.
"His Highness places great trust in your labors, my lord. He bade me convey his personal regards."
Nor did Han Myeong-hoe forget to dangle the carrot.
Even in that brief exchange, he had read the look in Yang Jeong's eyes as the man regarded Park Won-hyeong, and concluded that his journey here had not been wasted. Had he sent only Park Won-hyeong, Yang Jeong would unquestionably have arrived defiant and unyielding.
"Please, come inside."
"Hmm."
Park Won-hyeong cleared his throat and went in.
He, no less than Yang Jeong, was none too pleased at having abandoned his life in Hanyang for this remote corner of Hamgil. He was a man who did what needed doing, but dislike was still dislike. It was a small mercy to him that the Dochechalsa post was a special, temporary appointment lasting barely a year.
"I'm afraid the fare is poor. Forgive the modesty."
Yang Jeong said.
But that modest fare would not have suffered one whit by comparison with anything in Hanyang. Considering how barren the land of Hamgil Province was and how difficult the farming, white rice entirely free of mixed grain, paired with fine clear wine, was a luxury by any measure.
At Yang Jeong's clap of the hands, prettily adorned kisaeng girls filed into the room.
At that moment, Han Myeong-hoe spoke.
"Send the kisaeng away. This is no occasion for pleasure."
"Y-yes..."
Yang Jeong was caught off guard.
Park Won-hyeong said nothing, only nodded. Thoroughly embarrassed, Yang Jeong found himself brusquely shouting at the girls to hurry out, for no good reason.
Over a quiet meal, the three of them turned to the state of the northern frontier.
"His Highness's instruction is to investigate whether any of Yi Jing-ok's faction yet remain within the province."
"Jing-ok's faction was wiped out years ago."
Yang Jeong twisted his head sideways at Park Won-hyeong's words. He shot a furtive glance at Han Myeong-hoe, but Han Myeong-hoe said nothing.
Park Won-hyeong spoke again.
"Has it escaped you that Jing-ok's youngest son has still not been located?"
When Yi Jing-ok's rebellion was put down, his eldest son Ja-won and second son Yun-won were killed alongside him, and his daughter was reduced to slave status. But the third son, Yi Yeon-won, had vanished without a trace.
Yang Jeong shook his head.
"He was a child of eight when Jing-ok was executed. Even if he lives, he'd be thirteen now."
"That is precisely my point. You mean to say a child that young fled alone? Someone was surely watching his back for him."
Park Won-hyeong's incisive rebuttal—the mark of the man who had led the interrogations during the Sayuksin affair—left Yang Jeong with no answer. He swallowed his irritation.
'That insufferable wretch.'
"Beginning tomorrow, identify every official in the province who has served since Jing-ok's time, compile a roster, and bring it to me."
"As you say."
Even Yang Jeong's answer carried a cold wind.
At that, Han Myeong-hoe leaned toward Park Won-hyeong and spoke.
"Lord Minister of Punishments—might I ask that you leave us alone for a little while?"
"...Very well."
Park Won-hyeong regarded Han Myeong-hoe steadily for a long moment before nodding. He knew better than anyone that Han Myeong-hoe was Suyang's foremost confidant and the true power behind the throne. If the man had come all this way in person, some secret errand must be behind it. Like any bureaucrat who had been battered and seasoned by Hanyang politics, Park Won-hyeong, too, knew precisely when to intrude and when not to.
"I'll retire to the guest lodge and rest."
"Travel safely."
Until the door closed behind him, Han Myeong-hoe said nothing at all. Yang Jeong likewise sat in silence.
"Now then—what is it you wished to discuss?"
"Are you not curious why His Highness has retained you in your post as Provincial Military Commander?"
At Han Myeong-hoe's question, Yang Jeong held his silence for a long while. Han Myeong-hoe waited with unhurried patience.
After a moment, Yang Jeong bit his lip.
"...I'll speak plainly."
Yang Jeong was far too blunt a man to hide behind mere silence at a time like this.
"Speak without reservation, then."
"Frankly? I have many grievances."
"Hmhm."
The ignorant soldier shows surprising restraint, Han Myeong-hoe thought.
In the very next breath, however, Yang Jeong began pouring out everything he had been holding back.
"I can understand being sent down here to clean up after Jing-ok, fine. But a year has passed—a year! His Highness promised as much at the outset. Fill a short term of one year, a long term of two, and I'd be given a post in the capital. And now what is this? Retained, he says!"
"There are reasons enough. It is not that His Highness holds you cheap."
"Then what is it?"
Yang Jeong had resolved, on this occasion, to deliberately cross the line. If he didn't, some dark instinct warned him, he might rot in this place for the rest of his days.
"Since the matter's been raised, let's lay it all bare. Aren't you being called 'Lord Minister of Personnel' yourself these days? Even Bak Ji-gu, who did nothing more than set his spoon at the table when the deed was done, gets 'Lord Minister' from men's lips. Hong Ga-chik and Hong Su-ong are each riding high in their careers, are they not? Among the comrades of the coup, who besides me has been treated so shabbily?"
As the words poured out, Yang Jeong's own indignation swelled with them. Gu was Park Won-hyeong's courtesy name, while Hong Ga-chik and Hong Su-ong stood for Hong Dal-son and Hong Yun-seong respectively. They had started as fellow merit subjects, but set against Yang Jeong's lot today, the gulf between them was enormous.
Having made up his mind, Yang Jeong vomited out his bile in full.
Han Myeong-hoe, his face frozen cold, silently tipped his wine cup.
"Surely by now I might return to Hanyang, hear myself addressed as 'my lord' at least, and enjoy some office—a Third Councillor, a Minister, something? Why must I alone rot away in a place like this for years on end?"
The instant Yang Jeong's outburst ended, a sharp crack rang through the room. Han Myeong-hoe had slammed his wine cup down, and now he was glaring at Yang Jeong.
"Enough, Provincial Commander! Do not behave so gracelessly!"
Yang Jeong's mouth snapped shut.
By invoking the offices themselves, Han Myeong-hoe had made something unmistakably clear to the man drowning in grievance and wounded pride: whatever the past may have held, as of this moment, who was master and who was servant.
Only when Yang Jeong fell silent did Han Myeong-hoe continue in a voice like ice.
"I did not come here as your comrade of the coup. I came to deliver His Highness's will."
His voice rang with the frigid authority of the man who had once authored that infamous 'Register of Life and Death.' The air in the room froze in an instant. Yang Jeong dropped his gaze.
"I am well aware you wish to return to Hanyang as soon as possible, my lord. Once I go back, I fully intend to report your circumstances to His Highness. But for that to happen..."
Watching Yang Jeong's face brighten visibly at his words, Han Myeong-hoe raised a staying hand.
"...for that, you must first resolve the matter of Prince Nosan. That is His Highness's will."
"The matter of Prince Nosan?"
Yang Jeong's eyes went wide, and the next moment his head sagged.
"So that's what this has been about."
"The very same."
"Ughhh!"
Yang Jeong hung his head and let out a low groan.
"...Does His Highness truly believe that Prince Nosan is hiding in the wild lands?"
Ever since Hong-wi had escaped Yeongwol, countless conjectures about his whereabouts had run rampant. Song Hyo-bin kept her lips sealed, but in the end, after a long delay, evidence was caught of Hong-wi's party heading north. Yang Jeong too had received Suyang's secret directive—the prince had likely fled toward the northern frontier, so devote yourself to flushing him out—yet he had never taken it all that seriously.
"Prince Nosan is sixteen. The wild lands are a place where even seasoned scouts must watch their step—a boy could freeze or starve to death all too easily. And Hamgil Province is scarcely gentler than the wild lands themselves."
"It has been a full year since Prince Nosan vanished. We have combed every corner of the eight provinces and found no trace of him. Of course, he may well be dead. I hope for that myself, in fact. But if he lives—where would he be? There is evidence that he headed north before he disappeared from sight."
Yang Jeong said nothing.
"Prince Nosan must be found. If he lives, seize him and bring him in. If he is dead, send proof—his corpse, anything—to Hanyang. Only then will His Highness summon you back."
This is too much, rose in Yang Jeong's throat, but he barely managed to choke it down. He knew all too well that this was no request. It was an order.
Han Myeong-hoe watched him like an eagle circling its prey.
"Have I made myself understood?"
"...Understood."
Yang Jeong answered.
"I will find him. But there is truly nothing to be unearthed in Moryeonwi. Nangbal-ahan's people are somewhat insolent, granted, but our scouts have been watching Moryeonwi since winter. There is no possibility the prince went there."
Yang Jeong, for his part, had not been sitting idle in the matter of tracking Prince Nosan's movements. He had his complaints, but if he were the one to bag the prince, the merit would be beyond ignoring. Hamgil Province lay directly across the Tumen River from Moryeonwi, and the duties of its Provincial Military Commander were in any case concentrated on countering Moryeonwi.
"Understood. But do not let the surveillance slacken. What of Jianzhou?"
Jianzhou was a fairly broad territory; it straddled even into Hamgil Province across the Tumen River. But Yang Jeong only shook his head.
"That is Pyeongan Province's jurisdiction."
From where Yang Jeong stood, the Jianzhou question was none of his concern. The border between Jianzhou and Hamgil was walled off by rugged mountains. Roads there were—there were roads—but when the wild folk of Jianzhou came into Joseon, they invariably passed through Manpo in Pyeongan Province; they seldom troubled themselves with Hamgil.
Han Myeong-hoe, however, did not care for that attitude one bit.
Twisting away like this, just because it falls outside your jurisdiction.
"I will say it once more. When it comes to the matter of Prince Nosan, there is no such thing as jurisdiction. Keep it firmly in mind that this is His Highness's will—more than mine."