The Sparks of Filial Devotion
"A filial son, a truly filial son. At five years old, he shouldn't even know what a funeral means, yet he's wailing all by himself after his parents passed..."
"Shh. What if the young master hears you?"
"What kind of five-year-old stays awake this late anyway?"
Me. Well, strictly speaking, I wasn't actually a five-year-old. But since I was the one who did the wailing and cried myself to exhaustion just moments ago, accepting that praise wouldn't exactly be stealing.
My heart bled tears of frustration. I hadn't wept out of some deep empathy for a five-year-old's heart (using East Asian age reckoning, since this was the Joseon Dynasty). Even if losing both parents at an early age was now 'my reality,' that wasn't the reason either.
Even in 'my memories,' until just a moment ago, the terror of being lost far outweighed any thoughts of my parents. And it was much the same now.
"Hic... *gasp*... Please... go back! Go back! Log out! Return!"
I had definitely lost something. Whether it was the era I originally lived in or my own sanity, I couldn't be sure. But looking at the blue tiger cub pacing in front of me, it had to be one of two things: either I was a crazy five-year-old in Joseon hallucinating, or I had actually plummeted from the 21st century straight into the 15th.
And as far as I knew, the developmental milestones of a five-year-old did not include 'falling into abstract existential crises about one's temporal and spatial coordinates and mistaking the era.' It was highly likely the latter.
*Gag.* I watched as the slip of paper spat out by the blue tiger dissolved into thin air. Along with it, the long, densely packed letter of apology sent by the 21st-century Yi Hongwi vanished. I wasn't particularly amazed; I'd already seen it happen a few times.
Judging by the reactions of the servants—no, the *nobi*—it seemed this tiger was only visible to my eyes. In that case, it made sense that the notes it spat into the air would disappear quickly too. I decided to think of them as Instagram Stories with a very short expiration timer.
As I rationalized the situation in my own bizarre way and sorted things out... the reality of the situation slowly began to sink in. I was truly, utterly screwed. And I didn't even need to look far to understand why—the conversation of the *nobi* drifting in from outside said it all.
"But... isn't our young master truly a helpless orphan now? What are we to do..."
"What else can we do? There's no one left to look after him but us..."
The year was 1435. The 17th year of King Sejong's reign. In other words, it was the exact moment when the legendary King Sejong the Great was rallying settlers with the battle cry of "To the North!" to conquer and develop the **Four Outposts and Six Garrisons**.
The land was brutally cold, wild beasts ran rampant, and the native Jurchens were burning with hostility. Since no sane person would willingly move to such a place, King Sejong offered incredibly generous incentives. And the one who fell for those incentives was my father.
My 'father,' who had been respected as a prominent local elder back in the south, heard about the development of the northern frontier and declared, "Let's go! The first one to plant their flag there will be the lord of the land!" He dragged his entire household along. The result of that ambition was spectacularly tragic.
An elder from Gyeonggi Province, whose name would never have made even a single line in the history books, had succumbed to illness in the freezing snow. My grandfather, who insisted on supporting his eldest grandson's grand ambition, and my mother, who had burned with the same pioneering spirit instead of stopping my father, had met the same fate.
Consequently... all that remained was the local office of *togwan* (a native official—not just a village elder, but an actual 'lord') that my father had been granted. Though it felt like being a glorified village chief in the middle of nowhere, it was an official government post, complete with official robes and a sword. They hung over there now, devoid of an owner.
Aside from that, there were only the *nobi* who had followed our family out of loyalty. In other words, I was the highest-ranking and most well-off person in this entire neighborhood. ...All by myself.
So, if I were to disappear right now, who would inherit this (shabby) house? If I were to 'tragically freeze to death,' what would happen to the (barren) fields and (scrawny) livestock? What would the local *nobi* and farmhands be thinking?
When those servants muttered that their young master was a 'helpless orphan' and that 'there's no one left to look after him but us,' what were they *really* thinking? As the fragmented historical knowledge of a five-year-old Joseon child merged with the brain of a modern adult, catastrophic conclusions began to multiply. No matter how I looked at it, a peaceful death seemed out of the question.
...No, wait. They weren't necessarily bad people. If they had harbored malicious intent from the start, they would have just abandoned me to my fate when I was crying earlier. That would have been the end of it.
More than anything, the bond that people of this era shared could not be underestimated. This was a fact I could easily glean just by skimming through the memories and emotions of this five-year-old body. The relationship between the *nobi* outside and myself could not be understood through a 21st-century lens. It was on a completely different level from modern relationships, which instantly severed the moment you moved, changed jobs, or transferred schools.
In this era, people were destined to live and die alongside those they met at birth. The master and mistress they had served their entire lives had suddenly met untimely deaths. Would they really think to quietly dispose of the sole surviving young son just a few days later to split the inheritance among themselves? Would that really be so easy?
They, too, must genuinely worry about me and feel pity. If a dark thought crossed their minds, they would likely torment themselves with guilt, wondering how they could ever harbor such wickedness.
But there lay the problem. Dark thoughts *would* cross their minds from time to time... because they were only human...
They might feed and clothe me out of pity for a few years, but what if I made a slip of the tongue and our relationship soured? What if they started having 'other ideas' then? I had no family, and I was just a five-year-old child abandoned in a freezing wasteland colder than Norway.
"..."
Honestly, I was terrified. Could I not just live with the intelligence of a normal five-year-old? Could I not just sleep without a care in the world, and then, if someone pressed a pillow over my face one day, just accept it and think, *Ah, I guess my time has come,* as I drifted off to the afterlife?
I instinctively glared at the blue tiger. Perhaps intimidated, the tiger bristled its fur.
"Hey, is there really nothing else?"
...Was there really nothing?
[SYSTEM: You have contracted with the Constellation—The Young King of Mount Taebaek.]
Since a message like that popped up, shouldn't it be fair to give me a few skills like [Summon Tiger Legion]? What on earth am I supposed to do?
Even so, as a 21st-century modern man equipped with scientific rationalism, I used the clues currently available to deduce a plausible conclusion.
Blue fur. Tiger. Pretty cute.
"Uh... by any chance, to go back home... do I need to sing a song to open some kind of spirit portal? Will that exorcise the evil spirit of Grand Prince Suyang, Yi Yu, who was targeting the soul of Yi Hongwi, and then..."
*Gag.*
...The tiger spat out a note filled with such frantic, desperate words.
Y-Yeah. I get it. I just have to stop Grand Prince Suyang somehow, right? Simple enough.
Thinking about it, a well-made movie about the Gyeyu Reconstruction (Gyeyu Jeongnan) that came out a while ago crossed my mind. The scene where a handsome middle-aged actor wearing a black fur cloak appeared after a hunt, with eyes that looked like they could easily kill a man or two, had been a massive sensation.
In the end, the Grand Prince Suyang played by that handsome actor destroyed the protagonist, the protagonist's backer Kim Jong-seo, and even Danjong, painting the palace in blood as the ultimate victor. It was a highly memorable ending.
Right. So you're telling me to beat Lee J-jae. Now I understand perfectly. I am truly, utterly screwed. If you fail a quest like that, the bare minimum penalty is death or regression, and usually, it ends with something like 'too horrific to even describe.'
I clutched my head again, wailing and rolling around on the floor. This time, the *nobi* outside seemed to hear me, as they suddenly lowered their voices.
"Oh, what are we to do... The master and mistress leaving such a young thing behind..."
"Should we go in?"
"Don't. The child's heart must feel like it's being shredded with a knife. How could you possibly comfort him?"
"Sigh... but he's crying so pitifully..."
"Let's serve him the meat we caught yesterday as a side dish. At this rate, the poor child will cry himself to death."
From their whispering, it sounded like I was about to get a meat dish, which was very nice of them, but it didn't offer a shred of comfort. Honestly, who could blame me given the circumstances?
After rolling around for several hours, the presence outside finally faded, and my insides felt completely hollowed out. Feeling a sudden surge of heat, I opened the door to cool off.
*Thud.*
...And closed it immediately.
Right. This was Hamgyong Province. Its current name was Hamgil-do. Still, seeing that there were padded cotton clothes for a child to wear, this family was reasonably well-off (by the standards of this godforsaken northeastern region).
I bundled up tightly in my coat and stepped outside again. There was no one around. Of course. It was time for everyone to sleep. Sleeping rough in a place like this was a one-way ticket to the grave, so everyone must have retired to their rooms.
I looked up at the sky. No particular reason—it was just that the ground was pitch black, and I was terrified a real tiger might leap out of the shadows. The stars were incredibly bright, making the night sky a masterpiece unlike anything I had ever seen in my life.
But even that didn't feel like a particularly good omen. It only meant there was absolutely zero light pollution on the ground. There were simply very few people in this area. Ransacking my memories, wild beasts outnumbered humans here. I didn't even need to worry about the villagers; I was more likely to end up as tiger or leopard bait.
I let out a long sigh and stared up at the sky.
"I mean... you've got to give me *something*, right?"
Of course, there was no answer.
"How... how am I supposed to farm and feed myself here?! This crazy place doesn't even grow rice! No rice!! And I'm Korean!!"
What am I supposed to do now... Hm? Wait, what was that? It felt... strangely familiar. It was the sensation of something falling, much like when I 'dropped' into this world earlier. I furrowed my brow and looked closer. Small grains of some kind were... *pitter-patter-patter-patter!*
...W-What? What is this? Is this crazy northeastern region finally targeting me with precision-guided hail? Or is the evil deity of King Sejo already sending curses to assassinate Yi Hongwi's proxy?
*Gag.*
...Huh? I turned back to the tiger, which had just spat something out. Then I bent down to examine the grains that had fallen to the ground.
Hmm... This... is grain?
By the time I came to my senses, I was already back in my room. I had gathered every single grain into the front fold of my jacket. It was a bounty collected by frantically sweeping the freezing dirt floor with my tiny, five-year-old hands.
Panting, I sat down on the floor (careful not to let the grains scatter). The tiger, watching me placidly, made another sound.
*Gag.*
It spat out another note. Right. I guess its divine power was running low, so it couldn't send long messages anymore. What a shame. If the movie had surpassed 15 million viewers, maybe he could have attached images too. I unfolded the note once more.
Any irreverent thoughts about image attachments instantly vanished. Uh... Uh-huh... First, I slapped my own cheek. Then, after shouting "Status Window!" a few times and seeing nothing appear, I slapped myself again. Only then did my mind clear.
Crazy. I collapsed onto the floor. Letting out a hollow laugh, I found myself prostrating on the ground, trembling uncontrollably. Tears welled up in my eyes. I could see hope. It was still a microscopic sliver of hope, but that didn't matter. The moment zero becomes one is the glorious turning point where all possibilities multiply infinitely.
I almost roared while pounding the floor, but managed to cover my mouth just in time. Perhaps because I was in a child's body, the rush of emotion was overwhelming.
I stared at the contents again. Wheat. Modern wheat. With this... in this horrific land, I could somehow keep myself alive!
...Normally, a protagonist in a novel under these circumstances would think like an iron-blooded monarch: *With the nation's productivity soaring, it is time for northern and southern conquests!* But I wasn't in a position to think like that. My most pressing concern was not starving tomorrow and not getting eaten by a leopard the day after.
If I could just propagate this, I could do anything. Yes. As an awesome future man, I would introduce the fruits of civilization to these primitive 15th-century people. I could revolutionize farming methods, introduce livestock breeding, build furnaces, and with just a few commands? Game over. This village would become wealthy, and I would become the hero of a prosperous town.
Yes. I can do this. I could call the farmhands tomorrow and say: "I know I'm just a five-year-old kid who has never even held a sickle, and you probably still remember me babbling baby talk just a few days ago, but trust me. Yesterday, while wailing for my parents, I suddenly unlocked the secrets of agriculture and obtained these miraculous seeds. So, cultivate this exactly as I command."
...Hmm, change of plans. If I did that, even the sympathetic farmhands might sneak into my room at night holding sickles, lost in deep thought. Let's not provoke good people unnecessarily. I'm anxious enough as it is. I need to find another way.
First, I need a place to plant this. I have to plant it somehow, and only when people see the grains ripening will they decide to plant it themselves. It shouldn't be a five-year-old bossing them around. The best-case scenario is for them to 'discover' it and plant it on their own.
But... what if I just plant it anywhere? There's a 99% chance people will just harvest it without a second thought. The mere thought of someone casually cutting down my half-grown 21st-century winter wheat to roast it over a fire makes my heart ache. Is this what it feels like to lose a loved one? Oh, right, I actually *did* just lose my family.
Anyway, the crucial point is that I must protect these crops until they fully mature. Since it's autumn now, winter wheat needs to be planted soon, and it will mature around next summer. How... how on earth do I do this? How can I protect them?
To make matters worse, I'm a parentless five-year-old, so I can't even wander outside every day to keep watch. If my parents were alive, I could have followed them to the fields every day. Wow, the orphan handicap is striking again. It's incredibly frustrating. What should I do...
"..."
Wait. What did I just think?
"..."
Wow, seriously. Wow, I think I just had an incredibly wicked idea. Is it really okay to do this?
After a deep and profound contemplation of timeless ethics and morality, I finally made my decision. Of course it's okay. I've chosen the location.
Somewhere near Gyeongwon. A place that would later become infamous under the terrifying name of Aoji and its 'special purpose.'
The villagers gathered at the crack of dawn, tilting their heads in confusion. They had heard that the young master had desperately pleaded for everyone to assemble. They had to at least hear what he had to say.
"I... I wish to observe... the three-year mourning period..."
The words that came out of his mouth were shocking. The villagers gasped in horror and rushed to hold the young master back.
"N-No, you mustn't! Even healthy, full-grown adults drop dead while observing the three-year mourning period in sunny, pleasant places! If you do that here, young master, you will surely die!"
"He's right! If you do that in this freezing wasteland, you will surely not live out your natural lifespan!"
Of course, since they were all uneducated commoners, none of them could point out that 'a five-year-old child is exempt from the three-year mourning period.' However, anyone could tell that this was sheer madness.
"I do not know where you heard such things, but please, young master, do not push yourself so hard..."
The last to speak was an old female servant. She was someone who had been there to hang the sacred straw rope when the young master was born. Speaking in a trembling voice, she rushed forward to embrace him, glaring fiercely at the surrounding crowd. Her eyes demanded to know which bastard had filled this poor child's head with crazy talk about a three-year mourning period.
It was almost comical to see the villagers avoiding her gaze and clearing their throats. Shouldn't they be treading on eggshells around a child who had just lost his parents? Everyone began scanning the crowd, trying to identify the culprit who had whispered such nonsense to ruin the poor child's health.
But... the young master, who had gathered them all, suddenly pulled away from the old servant's embrace and spoke.
"E-Even if I am young, I am still the only child of a sajok family... and my parents... departed in such a manner..."
And at his next words, even the old servant was struck utterly speechless.
"Where... where would I have heard such things to know them...? It is simply that my parents taught me the proper path of humanity from a young age... If I fail to uphold it... no matter how y-young I may be..."
Unable to continue, the young master broke down into choked sobs. Naturally, several of the villagers felt their eyes grow red, unable to utter a single word.
How could such a young child possess such a noble and magnificent heart? What had heaven ever done for him? If anything, heaven had only taken away his parents and countless neighbors.
If he were to perish after struggling to survive for three years, who would ever know or care? Conversely, even if he survived, who would look after him? Would the state erect a gate of filial piety in his honor just because he survived? Would they exempt this village from taxes? Would they reduce their forced labor...
"...W-Wait. Wouldn't they actually do that?"
"What do you mean... Huh?"
"..."
"..."
"..."
It was a very brief whisper. But it did not take long for that whisper to ripple through everyone present. A sudden 'possibility' flashed in their minds.
A five-year-old child building a straw hut to observe a three-year mourning period for his parents... The villagers, deeply moved by his sublime devotion, unite to care for the child so his health remains unharmed... And then, a high-ranking official reports this tale of a village bound by loyalty and righteousness to the King... A gate of filial piety is erected... and along with it, tax exemptions, relief from forced labor, and all sorts of royal rewards...
"..."
"..."
"..."
This region of Hamgil-do, which would later be renamed Hamgyong Province, was brutally cold and barren. It was originally Jurchen territory, so bloody skirmishes broke out constantly. In truth, rather than dying in battle, one was far more likely to be mauled by a tiger or shredded by a bear. In short, both the people and the environment were so hostile that it was the perfect place to die.
And here they were, outsiders from the warm south who had suddenly relocated to this hellhole. In such a desperate situation... there was one thing that could exponentially increase their survival rate: a gate of filial piety.
Suddenly, everyone's eyes began to waver. They started exchanging glances. Meanwhile, the solemn young master was already trudging toward his parents' gravesite all by himself, without anyone prompting him. Seeing his small back...
"C-Come to think of it, aren't we all being far too heartless?! The young master holds his late parents in such profound devotion!"
"Indeed! Is stopping him the only solution? We should be helping him instead of standing in his way!"
"Y-Yes, exactly! I think so too. Can none of you imagine how much pain the young master must have endured to make such a resolve?"
Suddenly, they all wanted to support him. No, this was a guaranteed success.
"Y-Young master! Do not go alone!"
"Your coat! You must at least wear a coat! You will freeze to death!"
"Uh, excuse me, then who will build the straw hut for the young master to stay in..."
"I will!"
"Me too!!"
Every single one of them had just calculated their real estate prospects based on the 'Filial Piety Gate (5-minute walk)' development plan. The conclusion was crystal clear. The young master had to be protected at all costs. He had to remain in perfect health.
They swarmed the young master, wrapping him in layers of clothing until he was practically on the verge of sweating. He absolutely could not freeze to death.
"Ack, u-uh... I can't breathe... just a bit..."
In everyone's hearts, the sparks of loyalty and filial piety began to blaze. In their excitement, no one noticed what the admirable young master was scattering over his parents' gravesite.