Each to Their Own Thoughts
Michelangelo’s sculptures and artworks were hardly mass-produced commodities; there was no way he could casually turn out several pieces in a month or two.
Even at its longest estimate, the construction period for Caffe the One would take no more than a year—and a year was already a tight schedule if one intended to produce a painstaking masterpiece.
Yet Hui-yeom said to Michelangelo,
“Just rough them out. Roughly.”
“Roughly?”
“That’s right. Ordinary people won’t recognize the true worth of a work you’ve poured your heart and soul into anyway. Think of it as practice sketches and make them with an easy mind.”
From Michelangelo’s perspective they might be rough practice pieces, but to mediocre artists they would still be masterpieces they could never create even with a lifetime of effort.
If one considered how Leonardo da Vinci’s casual notebook scribbles and half-formed ideas were treated in the twenty-first century, a teahouse filled with Michelangelo’s studies needed no further explanation.
Michelangelo, however, bristled at Hui-yeom’s words.
“What kind of artist does that?! I already nearly burst a blood vessel when I heard you’d taken my practice pieces and stuck them in that damned teahouse!”
“Ah, so you don’t make practice pieces?”
“Making practice pieces and putting them on display for people to gawk at are two completely different things!”
“Then make them and throw them away. I’ll handle the disposal.”
“Putting them in a shop is not the same as throwing them away!”
“Put a little more care into them than last time, then. The Beijing flagship of Caffe the One won’t be finished for at least a year. You can work steadily throughout that period.”
“Are you even listening to me, you damn patron?!”
“I’ll pay you a performance bonus! I said I would!”
“Are you trying to insult me?! Are you trying to buy me with money?!”
A noisy argument raged for a while, but Michelangelo would not yield.
Yet no negotiation lasts forever, and in the end an agreement was reached.
“If you’ll bear with it just this once and make them, I’ll give you the blueprints for the model of St. Peter’s Basilica I gifted you earlier.”
“I’ve always dreamed of a life spent making sculptures that would be displayed in cafés.”
…It was far too tempting a condition for someone who had just shouted, “Are you trying to insult me!”
With the dramatic conclusion of the negotiations between Michelangelo and Hui-yeom, Hui-yeom went so far as to set up an entire workshop for him in Beijing.
While Beijing Construction—owned by the Gongjonggol Family—demolished the buildings on the site where Caffe the One would stand, equipment, materials, and personnel from Sichuan’s Hwi-eon General Construction would come up.
And then:
“If we’re going to do this, we might as well do it properly. Patron, get me some marble.”
“How much?”
“As much as there is—why are you even asking something so obvious?”
“…Could you perhaps carve something like the Twin Dragons this time, out of granite?”
“That wouldn’t even let me show half my skill. If you want to see my real ability, bring marble.”
“Understood.”
Yunnan’s ancient name had been the Kingdom of Dali, precisely because it produced vast quantities of marble. Obtaining it was therefore no problem.
Marble was an extremely expensive luxury, so purchasing large amounts would have been burdensome even for ordinary wealthy men… but the scale of the businesses Hui-yeom ran had grown so enormous that securing enough marble for the statues of a single café building was not that great an expense.
With this, I’ve already achieved two of the three goals I came to Beijing for.
By presenting gifts to the Emperor and flaunting the Sichuan Dang Family’s capabilities, he had seared their existence into the minds of Beijing’s politicians while simultaneously completing the first button of the plan to split the Eight Great Families—the alliance with the Gongjonggol Family.
Furthermore, he had secured the Emperor’s promise of patent rights, obtained business licenses, and won the right to supply flintlock muskets to the Imperial Guard.
The set price for a flintlock musket was one tael of silver.
A direct one-to-one comparison with twenty-first-century prices was difficult, but one tael of silver equaled a junior officer’s monthly salary—roughly two to three million won.
Considering the production cost of each musket and the size of the Imperial Guard, this too was a highly profitable venture.
The muskets themselves were one thing, but the powder pouches (complete with shot) could be sold continuously.
Wasn’t military supply always said to be the most lucrative business of all?
Moreover, if this had been a normal military contract we would certainly have had to pay kickbacks under all sorts of pretexts and get bled dry by the Ministry of War—but we don’t even have that.
This was a venture personally authorized by His Majesty the Emperor. Anyone foolish enough to stick a straw into it would already have been purged long ago.
The basic rule of fleecing people was to pick only those who wouldn’t cause trouble when fleeced, wasn’t it?
Those were the goals already achieved.
The remaining one is to lay down a smoke screen for the breech-loading rifles the main family will use later.
The muzzle-loading flintlock muskets he had brought to show and present to the Emperor would not be used by the Dang Family going forward.
The Dang Family already possessed breech-loading rifles that used paper cartridges—the “Dreyse needle gun.”
Strictly speaking they were still half-measures that combined an integrated percussion cap with black powder because smokeless powder was not yet available, but smokeless powder would be ready soon enough.
The decisive differences between muzzle-loaders and breech-loaders were the speed of reloading and the fact that a muzzle-loader could not be reloaded while lying prone.
The second point was especially fatal.
A muzzle-loader required powder and ball to be rammed down the barrel with a rod; reloading while prone was extremely difficult. Compared to a breech-loader that allowed a shooter to reload and fire while lying flat under a hail of enemy bullets, it was disastrous for the shooter’s survival.
Hui-yeom’s plan was to present the muzzle-loading flintlocks to the Emperor while the Dang Family used breech-loaders with smokeless powder, thereby maintaining a technological gap.
Naturally that would invite the complaint, “Hey, why aren’t you offering up the new weapons? That’s treasonous!”
So Hui-yeom had brought the Dang-chong—whose firing method was similar to a breech-loader but which used the Dang Family’s secret Pokdok-gong (Explosive Poison Art) instead of paper cartridges—to demonstrate this time.
Even if, later on, ordinary soldiers who had not mastered the Explosive Poison Art were caught using breech-loaders, he could make the excuse, “That’s Dang Family martial arts.”
It was nothing more than a transparent cover, yet such a pretext was still important.
Blatantly advertising “Actually, our family uses things like this” would be too obvious, so I’ll need a natural opportunity to expose it…
Hui-yeom decided to take it easy.
Well, if business in Beijing drags on long enough, the opportunity will come whether I want it or not.
Contrary to Hui-yeom’s expectations, however, the Eastern Depot had already obtained information on the Dang-chong.
“…That concludes the report on the Dang Family’s Dang-chong.”
When Baek Beon finished the report he was delivering personally to the Director-General, the Director-General stroked his chin for a moment.
“Indeed—a musket that can fire without gunpowder. Yet to do so one must master the Dang Family’s secret art… and it requires at least ten years of internal energy, you say?”
“Yes, that is correct. Manifesting an explosive poison is difficult, and handling it with proficiency demands that much time.”
“Unsuitable for military use. For a limited number of elite agents or the Emperor’s close bodyguards it might be another matter…”
But people of that caliber had already mastered their own martial arts to a high level; learning another internal energy style would only cause conflict and render it useless in practice.
“Well… I understand. The obsession of martial artists with their arts needs no further comment. Seizing it would only earn us enmity.”
Having made that judgment, the Director-General lost interest in the Dang-chong.
“Capable of loading without powder—naturally the loading posture is free as well. If equal numbers of troops armed with Dang-chongs and flintlocks faced each other, the Dang-chong force would of course win. But with operational conditions like that…”
Even if the Dang Family fully armed its three elite forces—the Hwamangdae, Dokwadae, and Heukjudae—the total would still be under a thousand.
Even if the Dang Family set out to raise an army in earnest, it would take at least ten years from now.
And how many could they raise even then? A hundred thousand? Two hundred thousand? Ridiculous.
Raising even ten thousand would be a miracle. For a single family to maintain a private army of ten thousand was already an extraordinary feat.
And no matter how fine the weapons, ten thousand troops could never match the imperial armies.
The Sichuan Provincial Military Command would handle them easily enough.
That was what the Director-General believed.
“Return and continue monitoring their movements. There is no need to pressure them, but report every single step they take and ascertain their intentions.”
Baek Beon bowed deeply.
“I receive your command.”
As he withdrew backward, a figure suddenly rose from the shadow of the Director-General, now left alone in the room.
The shadow that rose from a shadow—Biyeong—asked,
“Director-General, can that one be trusted?”
Even though a person had risen without a sound behind him and spoken in a voice like scraping brass, the Director-General did not so much as stir.
“He can.”
The Director-General nodded.
“He acts the frivolous rake, yet his loyalty to the imperial house is stronger than anyone’s. He has ability as well. We have verified him dozens of times; there is no room for doubt.”
“If the Director-General thinks so…”
“Rather, the one who needs verification is that other fellow.”
The Director-General’s gaze fell to the desk.
On the sunlit table lay a thick volume.
Its cover bore the title:
“He claims it is still only at the conceptual stage, yet he is the sort who can devise a scheme of that scale. A true grand design that could overhaul the entire nation and lift it to the next level.”
The usually smiling eyes of the Director-General turned cold.
“Plans like that do not simply appear. Perhaps… perhaps he is the seed of a traitor who means to overturn this Great Gyeong and raise a revolution that changes the dynasty.”
“Then should we move first?”
“We do not yet have sufficient grounds. Not yet.”
When the Director-General set the Grand China Connection Plan aside, other planning documents appeared beneath it.
“A capable minister and a treacherous one are separated by a single sheet of paper. Cao Mengde was called a capable minister in times of peace and a crafty hero in times of chaos, was he not? Casting aside this man’s ability now would be far too wasteful. His Majesty the Emperor has spoken: observe him for the time being. Unless we obtain solid proof that he is plotting rebellion, there is no need to cut open the goose that lays golden eggs. Let us watch a little longer.”
“As you command.”
Biyeong vanished as abruptly as he had appeared.
Alone at last, the Director-General ran his hand over the various planning documents on the desk, then let out a soft chuckle when his eyes fell on one of them.
“…This old body has found the weight of years rather burdensome of late. I should put some pressure on to get this one processed quickly.”
The planning document on which his hand rested read as follows:
Hui-yeom decided to return to Sichuan for the time being.
There was no reason to remain in Beijing throughout the entire construction period.
Michelangelo and the ten members of the Sakpungdae assigned as his escort (they were better suited than the pure combat force of the Hwamangdae, since counter-intelligence as well as physical protection was required) remained behind in full, as did the second section chief of the Architecture Department, who would serve as the principal supervisor of the works.
Hui-yeom, Sama Yun, Dang Su-jeong, and the rest of the party planned to stop in Henan, meet with Shaolin Temple, and then continue on the road back to Sichuan.
Before departing, Hui-yeom had an audience with Emperor Sungui.
“Leaving already?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. There is much that must be done.”
“Indeed. Looking at your plans, you will be busy for some time to come.”
Emperor Sungui smiled, then grew a little more serious.
“Intelligence has arrived. The movements of the Chagatai barbarians are unusual.”
“In what way, Your Majesty?”
“Their khan has gathered every tribe of the steppes, ascended to the seat of Great Khan himself, and proclaimed the founding of the Chagatai Khanate. If they were content merely to play at being kings of the western plains there would be no problem… yet…”
“They might set their sights on the Central Plains.”
“In that case, Qinghai Province, Yunnan Province, and Sichuan Province will become the front line. Yunnan will likely serve as the gateway that meets the enemy. You may need to prepare.
Should it come to that, Our armies will move, but the initial response will rest with you and the Yunnan Provincial Military Command.”
Emperor Sungui drew a golden tablet from his robes and pressed it into Hui-yeom’s hand.
“This is a Military Command Token. When the day comes that it is needed, present it to the Yunnan Regional Commander and take over command of the army.”
“…Even so, how could I possibly surpass the military talent of a man who has spent his entire life as a general?”
“In an ordinary clash of armies that would be true… yet the defensive systems you have built, the weapons you have created, and the tactics for employing them are entirely different from traditional military science, are they not?”
At Emperor Sungui’s penetrating insight into the difference between cold-weapon and hot-weapon warfare, Hui-yeom fell silent for a moment, then slipped the Military Command Token into his robes and bowed respectfully to the Emperor.
“Your servant is overwhelmed by Your Majesty’s boundless grace.”