The Nuclear Bomb

Ah, my head is a mess.

The grand strategy I had poured years of my life into has been utterly shattered. I couldn't even pivot to Plan B, C, or D. The entire foundation was ripped out from under me, leaving me completely ruined. It was right when I was reluctantly contemplating Plan ZZZ—the absolute final, ultimate, last-resort option I had sworn to keep locked away forever—that he arrived.

"It is an immense honor, Your Highness, for you to grace such a remote mountain village with your presence."

"A remote mountain village? Ahahaha!"

Grand Prince Anpyeong had arrived.

...At this point, I gave up on thinking.

I had no idea what to do. Just when I needed to activate my final plan immediately, I had received a guest I absolutely could not turn away.

In any case, to escape this headache of a situation, we walked slightly out of the village and headed up toward the nearby Tumen River. Grand Prince Anpyeong had briefly mused about launching a boat, but he quickly thought better of it after the others warned him to be cautious, given that this was still the border. Thus, we were simply strolling along the riverbank.

Over on one side, the court painter An Gyeon was busy framing a composition. Beside him, Gang Hui-an was deep in conversation with Yi Hyeon-ro, likely searching for poetic inspiration.

...These legendary historical figures were currently enjoying a leisurely outing right in front of my neighborhood.

It was a surreal sight. Lest we forget, this was Aoji.

Watching them, I managed to briefly forget the chaotic storm that had been raging in my mind just moments ago. As I stood there dazed, Grand Prince Anpyeong spoke up.

"Rarely have I seen such a prosperous town in the northern territories. If this is a remote mountain village, then Pyongyang must be a mere hamlet where a market barely opens."

Anpyeong had exchanged brief greetings with me before immediately dragging me out here. He had shown zero interest in being properly hosted. He was a true 'sightseer' type of guest, a breed I hadn't encountered in a very long time.

"Your Highness flatters this country bumpkin. I am unworthy of such praise."

At my words, Anpyeong ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠let out a soft chuckle and turned his gaze. He seemed to be observing the brick kilns and the fishing weirs operating in the distance.

"...My journey to this place was not merely to inspect the one who might marry into the royal family."

He murmured in a voice so quiet it was barely a whisper. My body stiffened slightly.

"Back in Hanyang, I met a child named Kim Si-seup."

Yet, Grand Prince Anpyeong's voice remained as gentle and melodic as ever. The slight, pleasant curve of his lips did not falter.

"I have seen many child prodigies in my time, but that boy was exceptionally brilliant. He had already mastered the Great Learning and the Doctrine of the Mean. There was hardly any friction when conversing with him."

I, too, had heard of the situation in Hanyang through letters from my mentor, Shin Sukju.

For the past few years, the capital had apparently been swept up in a frenzy over 'child geniuses.' Three or four years ago, I had briefly passed through Hanyang before departing. Those who invited me didn't get to observe me for long, and many scholars never even had the chance to converse with me. Since then, the thirsty Sadaebu were left with only a few options.

They could pester Shin Sukju and Heo Jo—who at least had connections to me—with endless questions. My mentor had apparently been run ragged because of this. Or, they could make the arduous journey all the way to Aoji to meet me. While no simple task, a surprising number of scholars actually chose this path. And if neither of those worked...

They looked for other geniuses.

That was when Kim Si-seup and several other 'child prodigies' began drawing immense attention and fame. It seemed Grand Prince Anpyeong had also gone around meeting such geniuses. Well, unlike me, Kim Si-seup is an actual, natural-born genius.

I was nodding along to my own thoughts when Anpyeong suddenly turned to look at me.

"However, with him, there was merely 'hardly' any friction."

His eyes locked onto mine.

"Yet with you, not a single word is blocked."

"I am deeply humbled that you hold my meager talents in such high regard, Your Highness."

"You do not merely memorize the classics well. Do you not discuss matters that no sage of the past or present has ever dared to touch?"

The prince's eyes sparkled once more, bright as falling stars.

"I did not come to see a boy destined to become a royal relative. I came to see a true scholar. Does that seem strange to you?"

Right then, something dropped with a soft thud in front of me. Anpyeong didn't even notice.

It was a note spat out by Dolbi, who was currently wagging their tail.

Spirit Hong-wi's words left me deep in thought. I knew exactly why he was acting this way.

Historical interpretations of Grand Prince Anpyeong had always been highly polarized. They spanned from one extreme to the other. After Grand Prince Suyang usurped the throne to become King Sejo, Anpyeong was branded a treacherous rebel. After Danjong was posthumously restored, he was remembered as a loyal subject to the young king. Even the evaluations of modern historians born long after the fall of Joseon varied wildly.

A tragic prince who met his end trying to protect Danjong; just another Suyang who simply lost the power struggle; an artist; a conspirator; an ambitious politician; a romantic aesthete...

What was the truth? Probably no one knew. Not even Spirit Hong-wi.

But at least, the Anpyeong I saw before me right now was this:

"To my eyes, Your Highness appears to be a scholar who truly understands elegance."

A scholar. I didn't mean it in a particularly positive or negative way. He was, quite literally, just a scholar. The kind of man who stepped straight out of a landscape painting or a poem, chasing an exquisite, lofty taste, as if 'lying down in a bamboo grove because his love for rivers and lakes had grown into an incurable illness.'

Of course, he would still desire power. He would want influence, reputation, and the adoration of the people. ...But he did not covet the throne itself.

Was it because he truly had no desire for it? Or was it because he knew the throne could never be his? Perhaps it was both.

Anpyeong was the third son. Naturally, he could never be a legitimate usurper. If Crown Prince Munjong had failed to produce an heir, Suyang was the one who would have 'rightfully' ascended the throne. Anpyeong's position was fundamentally different from the start. If one of Munjong's brothers were to take the throne, it would have to be the second son, not the third.

Many people wished for him to paint better, and many wished for him to study harder. But no one expected him to possess the magnetic pull of a king. Similarly, wouldn't the throne have felt distant and foreign to Anpyeong as well? An honorable royal relative holding immense influence in the court of his brother and nephew—that was likely the extent of his desires.

He did not possess the seed of a king. And that was precisely why he was a scholar.

I recalled the secret letter Princess Jeongui had sent me. An Maeng-dam had told me to burn it. In the shadows, she was likely orchestrating a plan to make me a royal son-in-law, weaving political strategies to prepare for the future. Grand Prince Suyang, who was close to her, was probably doing the same.

Yet, Grand Prince Anpyeong had simply strolled in like this. He casually brought up the matter of the royal marriage proposal without a care in the world, even though his companions were standing just over there. I understood exactly why he behaved this way.

"Well, to be frank, I came here more to compose poetry and paint. The Crown Princess Consort is due to give birth to a royal grandchild soon, after all."

He truly lacked any real greed for power. Consequently, he had very little anxiety about the future. He was pure.

A sigh of admiration escaped my lips. Wow.

These royals... their mere existence shifts the entire political landscape. And that's why they don't have to worry. A princess's secret envoy arrives. A grand prince pays a visit. Every time these things happen, Spirit Hong-wi and I are practically weeping and throwing fits. But these people were simply born as giants.

Anpyeong... he was handsome. His artistic taste and scholarly cultivation seemed reasonably refined. But if my cultivation had been merely 'reasonably' refined, I would have frozen to death in this place long ago. Yet, he stood at the center of the political world with those exact same traits.

These people started with a completely different set of baseline conditions than I did. No matter how hard I worked to be hailed as a 'seven-year-old sage,' for now, I was still just a 'promising candidate for a civil official.' So, even when they threw light jabs, I reeled. It was because my innate weight class wasn't 'noble clan' or 'royal family.' My weight class was merely 'local landlord who lost both parents.'

Yes. It was a matter of weight class. In the end, everything came down to weight class.

"Should we not prepare something for her, my brother the Crown Prince, and the child about to be born?"

That Crown Princess Consort is going to die. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠And that child will die too. Along with you.

If I intervened now, could I guarantee the Crown Princess's survival? I couldn't enter her birthing chamber, nor was I a medical professional. Even if I managed to save her this time, there was no guarantee she would survive until Yi Hongwi's ascension. It was a hundred times safer to construct a plan assuming the death of Crown Princess Consort Kwon as a constant. Though, of course, that very plan had just been blown to pieces.

Now, I had to increase my weight class to an extreme degree. To do that...

...Do I really have to resort to the 'final plan'?

Let's think this through one last time. What if I went ahead, became the royal son-in-law, and entered the bureaucracy? How much influence could I actually amass?

No, that path was a dead end. The King was determined to keep the royal relatives in check. If I gained power in the court as a royal son-in-law, what would happen? It would set a precedent that prevented the court from curbing the power of the royal family. Sejong and Munjong's efforts to keep the royal relatives in check would be neutralized because of me. The situation could end up even worse.

Conversely, what if I used my status as a royal son-in-law to exert influence over the royal relatives themselves? ...That seemed even worse. Fundamentally, the royal relatives were all part of the Jeonju Yi 'family.' Could an outsider with a different surname ever win a family feud against Grand Prince Suyang? If I aligned myself too closely with the royal relatives, I might just end up swallowed whole by Suyang.

Whichever path I chose, it was a disaster. As long as I became a royal son-in-law, entering office and building power in Hanyang would be a self-defeating move. Especially with the death of Crown Princess Consort Kwon looming.

"If we are to present a painting and calligraphy, it would be fitting to capture the landscape of this place, which is said to have birthed a sage."

"..."

"Whether it be a son or a daughter, would it not be wonderful if the child grew up to be like the seven-year-old sage?"

While I was agonizing over a dilemma that carried the very fate of Joseon and myself, Anpyeong was still discussing what kind of painting he should create for the Crown Prince couple and the royal grandchild. How to arrange the pine trees, what the first character should be, which calligraphic style to employ, and so on.

"To reflect the virtue of a sovereign, mountains would be far better than rivers. I wonder if there are any scenic peaks nearby."

He couldn't even begin to imagine that the Crown Princess Consort would soon pass away, leaving only the Crown Prince and the young heir behind.

"I wish to write a poem, but I am already struggling with the opening line. I cannot decide which characters to choose..."

Neither General Kim Jong-seo, nor Grand Prince Anpyeong himself, nor his descendants had any inkling of the miserable deaths and desecration that awaited them in the future.

"I plan to ask Grand Prince Suyang to write a commentary as well. If two brothers present a painting adorned with their joint writings, would it not be a beautiful display of brotherly love?"

Nor did they know who would orchestrate that blood-soaked night.

But that was only natural. After all, it was a future that even Suyang himself likely did not know yet.

I offered Grand Prince Anpyeong a gentle smile and nodded.

"Your Highness's intentions are truly beautiful."

"I am glad you think so," Anpyeong replied, his face lighting up with a brilliant smile.

"Would it be possible for me to add something to Your Highness's beautiful endeavor?"

"Ah! Do you mean to write a commentary as well? I could not be more delighted! Who on earth would refuse a commentary from the seven-year-old sage? Look here, Hyeondongja! On your painting..."

"Not in that manner."

"Oh? Then what do you mean?"

I had made my decision. Rather, I finally faced the conclusion I had been putting off.

If the Crown Princess Consort dies and my path to the bureaucracy is blocked, there is only one road left. Truly, only one.

Don't become a scholar-bureaucrat in a nation of scholar-bureaucrats? Isn't that basically telling me to die? Or should I shave my head, gather the Jurchens, and declare myself the Emperor of Jin? Maybe I should just kidnap the King of Joseon, Yi Hongwi, and keep him safely locked away in a small, precious wooden chest for the rest of his life. My pet Hong-wi would at least die of natural causes that way, right?

Blegh.

Don't worry, Hong-wi. We already have the failed precedent of Yi Jingok for that kind of stunt—even if that's according to the highly fabricated Danjong Sillok. Since I can't use those methods, isn't that why I'm resorting to the 'final plan' after all?

"Actually, there are some crude books I have been writing for a very long time."

I opened the opening salvo.

"I dare to offer these humble writings to the royal grandchild who is soon to be born."

"Writings by the seven-year-old sage? May I see them myself?"

"Of course. Indeed, if Your Highness would deign to look upon them, there could be no greater honor."

"Then let us go at once!"

I possessed a nuclear bomb that I had been preparing for a very long time.

"...Is this all that 'book'?"

"Yes, Your Highness."

"When did you begin writing this?"

"Not very long ago. It has only been about four or five years since I began this work."

"I... I do not even know where to begin reading."

"Please, start with this volume here."

"Let us see, then..."

"..."

"..."

And, as is the nature of most nuclear bombs...

"..."

"..."

"How do you find my humble writings, Your—"

"Do... Do not lie to me."

This was something that absolutely should not have been detonated until the very, very end. Even if I had to take it to my grave, I shouldn't have unleashed it.

I wasn't even a specialist in this field. My area of interest back in my past life had been late-Joseon Sino-Korean literature, sijo, and gasa. I had only dabbled in diachronic linguistics because it was necessary for my studies. To flesh out the references, I had skimmed the classics. Through that, I became familiar with Eastern philosophy and received newly published research books as gifts. Because I worked with Sino-Korean literature, Chinese studies departments sent me their research papers...

"This... you, an eleven-year-old boy, could not possibly have written this...!"

"..."

"No... No. That is not it either...!"

And that was how things had ended up like this.

"This... this is not something a human could write...! A single person could never have produced all of this!"

Seeing Grand Prince Anpyeong's eyes trembling wildly as he stared at me, I subtly averted my gaze. I don't know how he interpreted my silence, but for now, Anpyeong collapsed weakly to the floor.

"This... this is something that tens of thousands of men... taking hundreds of years... could never write..."

"..."

"Even if the Emperor of Beijing gathered every living scholar in the world, they could never write such a text... How can this be...!"

I wasn't even a specialist. But I, too, knew exactly what 'this' was.

"Could it be... that within your mind... all the sages of the Hundred Schools of Thought are alive and breathing?"

This was a Cretaceous-Paleogene extinction-level asteroid dropped straight into the 15th century.

"How... how could anyone write such a thing...!"

"Your Highness, please calm yourself. You must breathe..."

"How... how could I ever dare to raise my head in the presence of a sage!"

"..."

"Where in the world... has there ever been another like you throughout all of history..."

Anpyeong babbled incoherently as he stared at me. Before I knew it, his manner of speech had completely shifted to a highly respectful register.

...I really had no choice. In Joseon, the path to office was blocked for a royal son-in-law. If I couldn't be a scholar-bureaucrat, what else could I do but 'become a living sage'?

"Ah... Master An!"

"..."

Grand Prince Anpyeong just happened to be the one standing in front of me when the bomb went off.

Ah, right. There was someone else I needed to show this to.

When Kim Jong-seo woke up one morning, the sky was exceptionally clear. The weather was so pleasant that the grass seemed uniquely vibrant, and the chirping of the birds sounded remarkably cheerful. It was the kind of morning that made him feel as though something wonderful was about to happen.

Waking up in such a refreshed mood, Kim Jong-seo headed to his office with a light heart.

"Commander, a letter has arrived from Aoji."

"Indeed. Bring it in."

Thud, thud, thud, thud.

"...Is there any reason for so many documents to be sent from Aoji? Have the Jurchens shown suspicious movements?"

"No, Commander. Master An stated that these are 'writings to be delivered to you personally, separate from state affairs.'"

"..."

And so, the moment he arrived at work, a mountain of paper was piled high before him. Wondering what this sudden deluge was about, Kim Jong-seo picked up a single sheet.

"..."

And dropped it.

Before his subordinates could ask what was wrong, he picked up another sheet. He dropped that one as well.

Just as everyone was beginning to wonder if Kim Jong-seo had finally lost his mind after spending too ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠many years braving the cold winds of the northern frontier, he spoke.

"What... what is this?"

Naturally, it was a nuclear bomb.

To be more precise, it was a comprehensive overview of Eastern philosophy containing hundreds of years of intellectual history. Whenever An Heon had free time, he had transcribed the developmental trajectory of Neo-Confucianism in Joseon, Ming, and Qing, along with summaries of various philosophical theories.

It was a compilation of theories from dozens of scholars—including Yi Hwang, Yi I, Ki Dae-seung, Jo Sik, Jeong Yak-yong, Wang Yangming, and Hayashi Razan—complete with An Heon's own commentary and evaluations. The establishment of Yangmingism and the debates over heresy, the Four Beginnings ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and Seven Emotions debate, the formulation of the study of mind and energy, and the debate over whether human nature and animal nature are identical. It summarized hundreds of years of philosophical history spanning Joseon, China, and Japan.

Of course, the minor linguistic analyses appended as footnotes were also not to be missed.

Naturally, this was not something a single person could write. Even less so for an eleven-year-old. ...And in truth, it was never meant to be made public. He was a 15th-century man who had regained his 21st-century memories. Naturally, he had to record his 'future knowledge' somewhere.

"C-Cough...!"

Kim Jong-seo had just suffered severe Neo-Confucian radiation exposure. He was the second victim in history, following Grand Prince Anpyeong.

A seven-year-old sage...? No...

Is he the Confucius of the East?

Kim Jong-seo stood frozen in place like a madman for a full hour. Then, suddenly snapping back to his senses, he reached out and grabbed his brush.

He had to transcribe it. As a scholar, this was his sacred duty.

His own hands alone were not enough. He summoned other scholars and had them read it. They, too, foamed at the mouth before waking up. As they transcribed it, they summoned even more scholars to read it. And those scholars, in turn...

...The nuclear weapon was proliferating at a speed that would have horrified the IAEA.

Meanwhile, Grand Prince Anpyeong arrived back in Hanyang.

Soon, July arrived. It was the month Crown Princess Consort Kwon was due to give birth.