Chapter 18
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 18
Chapter Title: Um, Well... I'm Deeply Grateful for the Royal Favor
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***
"The king is resuming the Regular Audience."
The voice of the royal messenger came from beyond the door, and my father gripped my hand tightly.
His palm was slick with sweat from how tense he was, trembling uncontrollably.
"Gyun, my son, just trust your father."
"Yes... Father."
"Don't worry, my lord. We'll do everything we can to protect you."
"Even if his stomach hurts, how could anyone submit a petition based on a five-year-old's writing?"
"Child, don't be nervous. Just relax. We'll handle everything."
"Yes... Thank you."
Despite the encouragement pouring in from the Easterners all around, my mind was blank.
Because I truly had no thoughts at all.
Hmm... Is that right?
From what the messenger said at dawn when he delivered the royal command, it seemed the issue was receiving fabric from the merchant guilds. So, if we just stopped taking it from now on, that should fix it. We had more than enough wealth at home anyway.
Even if things escalated, the worst they'd demand is that I stop writing Culinary Duel: Jang Geum.
And honestly, I'd welcome that. It had been stressful glancing at Father's reaction every time I wrote a new chapter, and writing itself was starting to feel like a chore.
The Westerners had to have some conscience; they wouldn't seriously suggest exile or demotion for a mere five-year-old. And if they crossed that line, our sturdy Easterner brothers would step in to shield me. No way this would lead to a full-blown purge of scholars, right?
Yeah, no big deal.
With my calculations done, I followed Father into the throne room. The ministers took their positions on either side, and King Seonjo, seated on the throne, began the Regular Audience.
"Heo Yeop's third son, Heo Gyun, step forward."
"Uh... Yes, Your Majesty."
This should be right, yeah?
Imitating the historical dramas from my past life, I stepped forward. In the center of the throne room sat a small cushion. That must be where I sit. I glanced around stealthily and knelt on it. King Seonjo then pulled out a long scroll from beside him.
"Let the Regular Audience commence. We'll address the issue of the recently submitted petition regarding Culinary Duel: Jang Geum. First, Heo Gyun, I ask you: Did you truly write this?"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Hmm... A five-year-old writing something like this. If I had my way, I'd lock you in a room and make you write for the rest of your life..."
"Pardon?"
"Ah... Nothing. Just talking to myself. Historian, don't record that!"
That sounded kinda creepy.
Nah, must've misheard.
After glaring at the historian for a moment, King Seonjo turned his gaze back to the scroll and read the petition aloud. After a long while, once he'd grasped the contents, he spoke.
"Having read the full petition, it's not entirely without merit, but there are points that must be addressed. Therefore, Heo Gyun, from now on, answer my questions with absolute truth. Understood?"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"First... The seven-year rule separating boys and girls. You're only five... yet you wrote about romance. Tsk! Do you think these petitions are your personal diaries? Bringing this drivel as 'misconduct'—what am I supposed to do with that? Should a five-year-old be bound and punished for admiring the girl next door, debating Confucian propriety?!"
"I beg your forgiveness, Your Majesty!"
"Please show mercy, Your Majesty!"
"Know your shame! And having read Culinary Duel: Jang Geum in full, I can say its true message has nothing to do with romance!"
Wow, they even nitpicked that?
What crazy bastards.
No wonder the Westerners seized power later, bypassing the Easterners. I was admiring their unique footwork when King Seonjo turned to me again.
"Hmm, but this needs addressing. Child, the Golden Fried Chicken in Culinary Duel: Jang Geum requires vast amounts of oil and chickens—a luxurious dish. Filling cauldrons with oil needed to light scholars' lamps all night, slaughtering hens that could lay eggs to enrich households... Our nation's resources would deplete in no time. What say you?"
"Uh... That's a misunderstanding, Your Majesty."
"Misunderstanding?"
"Yes. Golden Fried Chicken is absolutely not a luxury. It's food for the starving, ragged commoners and ordinary folk."
Fantasy, martial arts, romance, modern, sports, cooking.
While smashing all those genres together to create the mess called Culinary Duel: Jang Geum, I had one principle I vowed—and stuck—to uphold.
No seditious teachings against the state, no misleading the masses, no unnecessary ideologies, and above all, write in a way that gets me the least scolding from Father.
That's how I arrived at chicken.
A steady seller beloved by the masses in my past life, and at its root, soul food born from the poignant struggles of black slaves in American cornfields. The result of racking my brains to avoid even one extra beating from my father, who always stressed a scholar's integrity.
Luxury? Please.
I replied in my clearest, most innocent voice.
"I heard Your Majesty read the book. Do you remember the ingredients Jang Geum used for Golden Fried Chicken?"
"Well... Tough old hens and stale rice... Oh, I see. Chickens too old to lay eggs, which had to be culled anyway."
"Exactly."
"Hmm... Good. But the oil issue remains. Using that much oil for one tough old hen still seems extravagant to me. Anything to say?"
"Of course. It's a misunderstanding from not fully understanding Golden Fried Chicken."
"Understanding?"
"Yes!"
I sprang to my feet and scanned the throne room.
Roughly fifty or sixty people.
Perfect. Sixty chickens' worth.
"Golden Fried Chicken isn't for eating alone. It's a feast for all the people together. The oil for one cauldron would feed everyone here in the throne room and still have plenty left."
"Is that true? Enough for all these people and more? If you're lying, I'll punish you severely."
"Yes, I can prove it."
"Hmm..."
From personal experience, Golden Fried Chicken was a delicacy fit for the king's royal table. Even the president of the National Gourmet Unicorn Association had applauded it as the best...
And now it turns out it's for communal feasts?
Intrigued, King Seonjo said to me directly.
"Then prove it. It's not time for the royal meal, but it can substitute for lunch. Will the Royal Kitchen suffice?"
"Yes!"
I headed to the Royal Kitchen at the king's command.
***
"Head chef, shake off every drop of oil."
"Yes, young master."
"Maid sister, the ingredients I mentioned?"
"All prepared. What should we do with them?"
"Add them the same way as for Golden Fried Chicken, but blanch them lightly, so take them out early."
"Understood."
The cooking was done in no time.
King Seonjo must have tried it a few times; everyone in the kitchen knew how to make chicken, and ingredients overflowed here. Of course, we didn't have enough for one chicken per person as I'd hoped, but since it was just for lunch, no big deal. With boiled eggs and veggies fried alongside, it worked out to one chicken for every four.
I loaded huge strainers with chicken and fritters and stepped out. King Seonjo and the court ministers waited. Holding the strainers with the head chef and staff, I bowed and said,
"Your Majesty, this is how much Golden Fried Chicken we made, using less than half the oil."
"What... Is this real? Golden Fried Chicken for feasts?"
Twenty birds? No, more.
As promised, the huge strainers brimmed with enough for every minister in the throne room—with leftovers. And we used less than half the oil. At this point, it was no different from regular frying, just a different method. Unbelieving, King Seonjo picked up a chicken leg from the strainer.
"Heavens, the taste is identical. You spoke the truth. How did you come up with this?"
"Well..."
Gathering my thoughts at the king's question, I pondered.
How to phrase it to save the yangban's face and slip out smoothly.
Soon, with my answer ready, I spoke up.
"Your Majesty, as the third son of Heo Yeop, former Vice Minister of Works, I grew up without want. Thanks to Father's wealth, I ate the finest foods."
"I know. The Yangcheon Heo Clan takes fine dining seriously."
"Yes. But coming home from such meals, I always thought of the household staff. Dori, who works for me; Haksae, who handles all the dirty chores; everyone else—I wanted them to taste what I enjoyed."
"Such deep thoughts at your age..."
"That's how Golden Fried Chicken was born. The first time we made it, our whole family, including the slaves, laughed and ate our fill together. And one more thing!"
I picked up a vegetable fritter next to the chicken with my chopsticks.
"Your Majesty, try this."
"What's this? Not chicken, long and slender."
"Eggplant."
"Eggplant?!"
King Seonjo recoiled at my words.
Yeah, I get it. Who likes that monstrous veggie tongue, that vegetable assassin?
Some might have bizarre tastes, but thankfully, the king wasn't one.
"I hate eggplant..."
"Your Majesty, picky eating is bad for your health."
"Still hate it..."
"Your Majesty, you must preserve your precious body."
"Urgh."
Resigned, King Seonjo took the eggplant fritter I held out.
Yum! Come on, try it.
Unable to ignore my sparkling eyes, he squeezed his shut and bit in. Amazement burst forth.
"Heavens! How can eggplant taste like this?!"
Nice reaction.
Now to wrap it up. I lifted the eggplant and other side fritters.
"Your Majesty, as the petition says, slaughtering chickens indiscriminately is wasteful. Even using only spent hens has limits. Commoners can't fill up on chicken alone. But like this eggplant, these eggs— the wealthy take from their storehouses, the poor forage from fields and streams. I wanted food everyone could share and enjoy laughing."
"Heavens... Your heart runs deep."
King Seonjo was impressed.
It was sincere. Truly for the people.
Even eggplant tastes this good? No sin there.
Munching the last eggplant fritter, he asked,
"I acknowledge it. Golden Fried Chicken isn't luxury—it's a recipe for all the people."
"Thank you."
"... Finally, one last question. You made a fortune selling Culinary Duel: Jang Geum with the Hanyang merchants, yes?"
"That's true, but..."
No escaping this. No point lying.
We already took the money. Whatever—be honest and done.
Stop writing? Fine. Spit it back? We'll see.
As I steeled myself, King Seonjo asked,
"What did you do with the money?"
"Well... Winter's coming, so I bought firewood and grain."
"What?! Firewood and grain?"
"Yes... The day the money came in, I told Father to convert it all."
King Seonjo burst out laughing.
"Ha... Hahaha!! Haha! Ministers, did you hear? The Heo family tossed aside yangban dignity, pocketed filthy merchant gains, and bought firewood and grain!! This child played you all from the start, perched atop your heads! You look like monkeys toyed with by Buddha himself! Hahaha!"
What the... Why's he like this?
King Seonjo suddenly cackling madly.
Westerners' faces red as persimmons.
Easterners snickering at the Westerners.
As I glanced around confused, King Seonjo patted my shoulder.
"Buying firewood to save those freezing in winter, stockpiling grain against famine at the hungry gap—your heart is a model for all yangban."
"...?"
Wait, what?
"Hear this, historian!"
"Yes, Your Majesty!"
"Heo Yeop of the Yangcheon Heo Clan, his third son Heo Gyun, has proven himself today. His talents and heart benefit the people widely, revealing unyielding yangban spirit to all under heaven. I grant Heo Gyun a royal gift: ten bolts of silk and a feast, to be delivered to Heo Yeop's home by tomorrow!"
"Your grace is overwhelming!"
"Your grace is overwhelming!"
"Um, well... Your grace is overwhelming."
Hey, if you're giving it, sure, thanks.
But... is this for real?