This Is Lobbying
This is lobbying.
Hui-yeom spoke to Elder Bak Chang-eon.
“We need to change the boxes for the products we’re currently producing.”
“How so?”
“Quantity doesn’t matter so long as they’re extremely luxurious. Fine enough that even noble ladies of the upper class would find nothing wanting.”
“Then there’ll be no profit left, will there?”
“We don’t need large quantities, and the materials for the boxes themselves don’t have to be expensive. I’ve heard the craftsmen of our family are exceptionally skilled with their hands—especially when it comes to fine work on small objects. Is that true?”
“It is. Carving metal into tiny hidden weapons demands precisely that skill.”
“I’ll speak to the Family Head and requisition a few of them for us. If we engrave ornate intaglio or relief work, the material cost of the boxes barely changes, yet they’ll look several times more luxurious.”
“Well, if it’s merely a matter of transferring the finished products into new containers, I don’t see any problem….”
Elder Bak Chang-eon wore a dubious expression that clearly said, You think pretty boxes will solve this? Hui-yeom flashed him a sly smile.
“Trust me, Elder Bak. Soon every shop in Seongdo will come crawling to you of their own accord, begging you to please let them sell our products.”
“If that truly came to pass, I would ask for nothing more.”
Hui-yeom went straight to his father, Dang Un-sang. After receiving the formal greeting, Dang Un-sang’s face twisted the moment Hui-yeom reported the present situation.
“That bastard Gong Duchan… How can a man who calls himself an elder of the Dang Family threaten merchants not to buy Dang goods? Perfect. I’ll use this as the pretext to cast him out.”
“I understand your feelings completely, Father, but for now it’s only circumstantial. Even if we press him hard, we lack the justification to expel him from the Council of Elders. It would simply fizzle out, wouldn’t it?”
“Mmm… True enough. At present we don’t even have the means to repay the debts of the Chahwa Bank he backs. Infuriating.”
Dang Un-sang’s expression was bitter.
“What’s more galling is that I, the Family Head, am hearing this from you rather than from another elder or a report from the Sakpungdan—our own intelligence organization.”
“Is the Sakpungdan trustworthy?”
“Until now I thought so. Now… I no longer know.”
“Well, so long as they aren’t actively hostile, isn’t that enough? They say there are no eternal enemies or eternal allies in politics. How much more so among family, among our own blood? Those foolish enough to sit on the fence or side with the Elders’ Council will come crawling back the moment you seize real power and strength, Father. And strength comes from money.”
“Strength comes from money… As one who manages the clan, I can’t entirely disagree. Still, isn’t the root of a martial house its martial arts? Restoring our lost hidden-weapon techniques and martial arts, recovering the secret methods of crafting those weapons—surely that is the true path to setting the family right again?”
Here the difference in their thinking became clear. Unlike Hui-yeom, who had once been a businessman, Dang Un-sang had been born into a martial house and raised as a martial artist; the very center of his thought was utterly different. It was less a matter of dullness than of the temperament forged by the life he had lived—but to Hui-yeom’s eyes, this was precisely why the Dang Family had been flailing for so long.
Searching for a way to persuade his father without bruising his pride, Hui-yeom rolled his eyes thoughtfully for a moment before speaking.
“In this son’s limited view, Father’s words are a hundred times correct—yet they will take far too long. When traveling a thousand-li road, the most important thing is a map that shows the true path, is it not? Martial arts are the family’s roots and the direction we must advance; so one might say Father is presently trying to draw that map.”
“Exactly so.”
“But Father, no matter how accurate the map, one cannot walk a thousand li without packing rice and a pot, can one?”
“Mmm. That’s true enough.”
Dang Un-sang grasped the metaphor at once.
“I see what you mean. The restoration project is a long-term plan whose time and cost are unknown. First we must gather wealth and place the family in a position to stand on its own.”
“Precisely.”
It was not a speech that sat comfortably with a man who had lived as a martial artist, yet Dang Un-sang made a genuine effort to regard it positively. Watching him, Hui-yeom thought quietly:
I’ve heard martial artists are pig-headed creatures with nothing but overblown pride—but my biological father is surprisingly flexible in his thinking. There’s hope yet.
“Very well. We’ve drifted a little. Back to the matter at hand. How do you intend to solve this problem? Do you have a plan?”
“Please assign me three or four craftsmen from the Hall of Iron Rain—the department that forges and researches hidden weapons. I mean to put them to work elaborately crafting boxes for Bulgeonyeon, Micheopmuk, and Hogol-go.”
“Craftsmen are proud and stubborn. They will obey if I command them… but will it truly be all right?”
The concern in Dang Un-sang’s voice was clear: you can order the work, but you cannot stop deliberate malingering. Hui-yeom answered,
“I hope Father will persuade them well. Tell them we are not demeaning their skill for mere commerce, but that this is work essential to the Dang Family’s future.”
“…Very well. And? Will that be enough?”
“Does the family have any connection to high-ranking officials in Seongdo?”
“The head of the Sichuan Provincial Administration Commission—the Provincial Commissioner himself—once had ties with your grandfather. Even now, if I request a private audience, he will see me. Though it may cost a considerable bribe.”
The Provincial Administration Commissioner was, in modern terms, a provincial governor of immense authority. Hui-yeom, who in his previous life as a mid-sized company president had been forced to grovel even before the secretary of a mere city councilman, found his mouth falling open of its own accord.
“Our family was said to be declining, yet it’s more formidable than I thought.”
“Even a ruined rich man lasts three generations, doesn’t he? So—am I to meet the Commissioner and grease palms? Ask him to have the government offices use our products?”
“No. That lacks elegance. It would also cost a great deal of money and, more importantly, be rather ineffective.”
“Then what?”
“Father, according to something I once read in a book called the Eastern Miscellany….”
Of course no such book existed. Hui-yeom had invented the imaginary volume for precisely those moments when he needed to conceal the source of his knowledge or tell a convenient lie. Smiling sweetly, he continued,
“From ancient times, lobbying—or rather, solicitation—is most effective when you make the recipient more anxious to receive it than you are to give it.”
Dang Un-sang immediately sent three craftsmen to the Poison and Medicine Bureau. Whether he had explained the situation thoroughly and obtained their consent, the craftsmen entered without any sign of grumbling, their attitude cooperative.
“What would you have us do?”
When Master Han, the head metalworker, asked, Hui-yeom replied,
“Master Han, first of all I wish to thank you for coming. The same gratitude to the other two masters as well.”
Hui-yeom bowed his head—stiff as a ramrod even before the elders—and offered the metalworkers a greeting that came from genuine sincerity. The only way to save this crumbling family was technology, commercialization, and innovation; without those three, nothing was possible, and for that the craftsmen’s hearts had to be won. That calculation lay behind the gesture.
Back when I ran a company, I never let the factory managers’ corporate cards run dry of drinking money, you know~.
Of course the head metalworker and his colleagues, ignorant of such inner thoughts, stared in flustered surprise at the Young Master’s bowed head.
“R-raise your head, Young Master. This is embarrassing.”
“Yes, of course….”
When Hui-yeom lifted his head as though reluctantly yielding, the head metalworker cleared his throat. The rigid expression he had worn at first had softened somewhat.
“So, you wish us to put special care into making boxes for the products?”
“Yes. They will become items used by the lady of the house in the most prestigious households of Sichuan, and by the highest-priced courtesans of the finest pleasure houses. Please make them as splendid and exquisite as possible. Engraving flowers and butterflies, or phoenixes and peacocks—things women favor—would be ideal.”
“We can do that for the two cosmetics, but Hogol-go as well?”
“For Hogol-go, the opposite—carve a majestic, valiant tiger. Hogol-go will be used by military officers and generals. We’ll also send some to the main halls of the Qingcheng Sect and the Emei Sect.”
The Qingcheng Sect and Emei Sect had been long-standing allies of the Sichuan Dang Family. With hundreds of martial Daoists and warrior-monks residing there, they were potential major customers for Hogol-go that could not be overlooked.
“What is the deadline?”
“For now, as a trial, I’d like twenty boxes each of Micheopmuk and Bulgeonyeon. Hogol-go has more time, so you may take it slowly. How long will it take?”
“Twenty each, forty total… one day for the designs, two days should be ample.”
“I’ll give you three. These are tribute gifts for the wife and daughter of the Sichuan Provincial Commissioner, so pour your very soul into them.”
“We’ll make something that would not shame an empress.”
“I place my trust entirely in you, Master Han. And this….”
Hui-yeom handed the head metalworker a purse he had prepared separately.
“What is this?”
“A personal request of mine. A few for my mother and aunts as well….”
“Ah.”
The head metalworker grinned.
“You could simply have asked us to make extras while we were at it. Why hand over money separately?”
“Public and private must be kept distinct.”
“I heard Your Young Mastership is only seven this year, yet your depth is truly remarkable.”
“You flatter me. Then I’ll take my leave.”
After a respectful bow, Hui-yeom left the Poison and Medicine Bureau. Watching his retreating back, the head metalworker scratched his head.
“Well now, I feel as if I’ve been bewitched by a fox. That boy’s only seven? Not seventeen?”
“Even at seventeen he wouldn’t be like that.”
“They called him a prodigy—seems the rumors weren’t wrong, Brother Han.”
“Hmm….”
After a moment’s thought, the head metalworker shook his head and clapped his hands sharply.
“Remember the Family Head’s words? The goods we make will become the seed money that raises the family. Let’s give it our all.”
“Yeah!”
The craftsmen set to work at once.
A week passed.
Hui-yeom presented the luxury cosmetics as gifts to his mother, Eun Seol-ran, and the aunts of the Dang Family, and found himself surrounded and smothered with affection for quite some time.
“My word, for the Young Master to produce something so precious….”
“A prodigy, an absolute prodigy! Sister Seol-ran, you truly have nothing to envy. Your husband is so dashing, and now a son this brilliant. Ah, I’m dying of jealousy!”
“Honestly, my own child is still struggling just to finish the Thousand Character Classic….”
“Share your child-rearing secrets, Sister!”
The heroines of the Sichuan Dang Family possessed tongues every bit as formidable as their reputations. Only after being tossed about like a pirate ship wrecked in a tidal wave of feminine chatter was Hui-yeom able to stagger out with a farewell and retreat from the inner quarters.
At any rate, it was not merely delight at receiving gifts that had been proven; even under the women’s exacting scrutiny, the quality of the cosmetics themselves left nothing to be desired. The women of the Sichuan Dang Family, by the very nature of the clan, handled poisons frequently and were therefore extremely sensitive to the scent of medicines and their reactions on the skin.
Observing them, Hui-yeom returned at once and blended into Tangga Manneung-go such ingredients as aloe and cucumber juice—medicinals outstanding for soothing and moisturizing the skin—creating a new product, then sent trial samples to the women. The response surpassed even that of Micheopmuk and Bulgeonyeon. The Vaseline base that moistly protected the skin proved superb at calming the complexions of women roughened by constant exposure to medicinal and poisonous fumes.
One of Hui-yeom’s aunts was so taken with the preparation that she named it Three-Day Snow, declaring that it kept the skin it touched moist and soft for three full days. Hui-yeom cheered “Yes!” and immediately expanded production of Three-Day Snow. Only after having the head metalworker craft the bribe boxes for it as well did he report to Dang Un-sang that everything was ready.
And so, on a fine early-spring day around the lunch hour, the family of Dang Un-sang and Eun Seol-ran, together with Dang Hui-yeom, kept a luncheon appointment with the Provincial Commissioner of Sichuan and his wife.