Chapter 101
Chapter 101
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 101
Chapter Title: Piñata Effect (1)
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King Yi Geum widely proclaimed the victory in the Ginseng War.
Of course, Joseon didn't stoop to tasteless tactics like plastering crude posters everywhere or wining and dining reporters with bribes to push biased press releases.
A king's direct boasting lacked dignity. Thus, the propaganda fell to his ministers.
This spring, when the king had stormed out of the capital again, ignoring the (Lesser Noron) ministers' advice and returning to his hometown—only to be hastily recalled due to the war, unlike in history—the Chief State Councillor Yi Jongseong stepped forward as the ministers' representative to present a memorial.
"This achievement of sternly disciplining the Japanese can be said to have illuminated Our Lord's virtue and righteousness like the sun, thoroughly avenging the grudges of Imjin and Jeongyu years. The feats of Yi Jongmu in Gihae and Kim Jongseo in Seondeok eras were admirable, yet they did not spare even a single soldier or officer from harm as in today's benevolence. Which ruler of Tang or Song could dare compare?"
The other pro-scholar association members also flaunted their honed talents, offering the king poems and congratulatory odes.
Anyone hearing it might think Yi Geum had personally led a great army to crush the barbarians.
Yi Geum demurely deflected their praises in accordance with propriety.
"It was solely due to the aid of my late brother the king (Gyeongjong), my ancestors including King Sukjong, and Heaven's grace—what virtue or wisdom could an unworthy one like me possess? Initially, the customs officials bypassed the Board of Revenue and importunately reported the ginseng matter directly to me, so against my better judgment, I issued the orders. Henceforth, ensure I more firmly adhere to the principle of regency by proxy."
In other words, since the crown prince couldn't handle it properly, I had to step in.
It wasn't the crown prince who sent Kim Unhaeng to resolve the matter, so don't waver like reeds—uphold the current regency system, crediting all merits to the king and pinning all faults on the crown prince. That was the pressure.
Moreover, Yi Geum immediately flipped the "must refrain" in his edict on its head in the very next line.
"As the Governor of the Office of Diplomatic Correspondence said, not a single soldier was harmed, so though it was an inauspicious military affair, we can boldly call it auspicious. Open the granaries to distribute grain and release the prisoners from the jails."
And as if tacking on one more celebration for good measure, Yi Geum naturally announced a delicate matter.
"We cannot assume the Japanese have entirely abandoned their treacherous intentions. Even if we cannot abolish the Naeodong Japanese settlement outright, we must suppress its wicked influence. We enfeoff Royal Grandson Yi San as Lord Yongdu (Dragon Head Lord)."
This was the military title for the king's second grandson, Yi San, who was about half a year old.
Military titles were feudal remnants akin to ancient marquises or earls, typically drawn from place names.
Yongdu was the name of the mountain where the Naeodong Japanese settlement was located. Standing atop it overlooked the settlement, so the name sounded plausible.
Some pedantic ministers worried that using "dragon" (龍)—a word tied to legitimate royal succession—in a title for someone without succession rights could sow discord. However, "Yongdu" also evoked the term for top exam scorers in the past. In the 18th century, such linguistic taboos felt somewhat quaint.
Most ministers focused on more pressing implications.
There was no real reason to hastily enfeoff Yi San now.
With the royal great-grandson healthy, there was no need to bolster authority, and as a mere infant far from weaning, infant mortality remained a risk.
It wouldn't be too late even after a major event. This had clear political intent.
And the pedants' concerns weren't entirely laughable.
The word "dragon" aside, the mountain name felt oddly suspicious upon reflection.
A famous figure had once held a military title matching a mountain name. Hwanghae Province's old Haeju region was Suyang Prefecture, and its mountain was Suyang Mountain.
The traitor who betrayed his father-in-law for the throne and murdered his nephew.
By this era, not only King Danjong but Kim Jongseo and the Six Loyal Subjects had been rehabilitated, marking an ideological break from early Joseon.
Thus, Sejo wasn't blindly exalted as a founding monarch. No one called him a usurper outright, but holding him up as a model for descendants was a stretch.
Of course, Grand Prince Suyang's title derived from Suyang Prefecture, not the mountain directly—no literal connection.
But public imagery didn't work that way. Seditious rumors were inevitable.
Court scholars and high officials weren't swayed by superstition, but they couldn't ignore a name that seemed tailor-made to stir trouble where none existed.
"Tailor-made?"
The ministers exchanged glances.
Now they grasped the reason for this unnecessary, suspiciously named enfeoffment.
The king had always disliked the crown prince.
They'd forgotten amid the quiet after the Mun clan's incident, but Yi Geum wasn't the type to let slights go.
Having justified his own hatred, Yi Geum now vented far more openly against the crown prince. Face was out the window.
This enfeoffment was the father's lethal jab at his son.
The crown prince gazed at the corner of his heated room—his hiding spot for Chinese classics—lost in thought.
It now held a copied merchant ledger from the Huaibi pervert commerce too.
Before it was seized as "evidence" by royal order, he'd urgently commissioned a painter to transcribe it. With a few Joseon erotic works added, it was a comprehensive East Asian knowledge repository.
No scoffing. The crown prince's decision aligned perfectly with the ancestors' precedents.
Despite Korea's myriad calamities, why could 21st-century people access the annals?
In an era without computers or even typewriters, they'd prepared multiple copies of those vast documents. No other nation matched this feat.
The crown prince merely emulated them, harboring no shame.
Above all, astonishingly, "that thought" wasn't in the crown prince's mind now.
He was pondering the man who'd filled that space.
"If Kim Unhaeng were here, he could advise me through this crisis."
Yet the crown prince had grown.
He'd had similar thoughts before, but no longer despaired helplessly.
Kim Unhaeng's deeds in Dongnae had greatly elevated the crown prince's standing.
Now ministers brought matters to him as Yi Geum wished—though oddly, the king seemed more irritable.
With such results, sending Kim Unhaeng to Dongnae was a success.
Even Kim Unhaeng couldn't be in two places at once outside the Training Command. Seoul's affairs required self-reliance.
Rights came with duties for the crown prince. He could no longer just endure silently.
Unlike past days as mere victim of familial abuse, he now stood as a "political force" against the king—with followers.
But how?
The crown prince couldn't stop his eyes drifting to the sword.
Then a voice reported from outside.
"Crown Princess has arrived."
Exceptionally, the crown princess had come for morning greetings with royal great-grandson Yi Jeong and Lord Yongdu Yi San.
His thoughts interrupted, the crown prince irritably considered dismissing her but changed his mind.
"Let her in."
From her wary demeanor, it was clear: fearing the crown prince's displeasure over the enfeoffment might lead to abusing his wife and children, she appealed to his paternal instincts.
The crown prince felt pity for such a family.
Unaware of history, the history-illiterate crown prince couldn't know, but for a Sado Crown Prince once wholly surrendered to violence and lust due to his father's ruin—this mindset shift bordered on miraculous.
Lord Yongdu Yi San nestled in the crown princess's arms. The neatly bowing one was four-year-old royal great-grandson Yi Jeong.
"Father, I trust you slept peacefully."
"Yes. And you, great-grandson?"
"Yes."
Dark memories flashed in the crown prince's mind.
He exchanged such words with his father each meeting—only for Yi Geum to brush them off. Perhaps he too would one day...
In that instant, the crown prince grasped his father's intent.
The Yongdu title would spawn ominous rumors, and as history proved, such taint ignored the bearer's will.
The crown prince would suspect Yi San despite himself; Yi San would sense crisis from brother or father.
The father sought to corrupt grandson-father bonds as his own with the crown prince.
No proof. But blood ties gave instinctive certainty amid hatred—they were still father and son.
Rationality yielded to emotion in rejecting the wedge.
He refused to heed his father on anything.
First times were hard; seconds easy. Bolstered by the Mun incident and propelled by the ginseng war, the crown prince resolved to defy his father once more.
He turned back to Yi Jeong.
Not matching his own two-year-old Thousand Character Classic feat, but the great-grandson seemed sharp to the crown prince.
"Now that you discern right from wrong, great-grandson, I'll tell you. Once, you fell gravely ill, your life in peril."
The crown princess watched anxiously, but the crown prince ignored her.
"A loyal retainer brought wondrous medicine to revive your failing breath. Never forget to repay his loyalty in future."
Kim Unhaeng would've been pleased. But the crown prince continued.
"You're not alone. People will always love and revere you—cherish and protect them in turn. No matter what anyone says, never doubt kin."
"I humbly heed Father's teaching."
His reply rang clear, but the great-grandson couldn't grasp it. The crown princess realized it was the crown prince's oath to himself.
Thus, she found relief.
Lord Yeongsung Park Mun-su, as a trusted minister, took overall charge of sorting the mess at the Japanese settlement.
In five characters: Naeodong Pacification Commissioner. A new post created by the king.
Dongnae Governorate, various garrisons, and even Gyeongsang Governor had to obey and cooperate, giving Park Mun-su vast resources.
But above all, he clearly needed this Kim Unhaeng most. I'd been involved from start to finish.
Offering insights as prime executor to the field-inexperienced Park Mun-su seemed useful for the project.
Yet when I visited, Park Mun-su stared aghast instead of welcoming me.
"I've reported all your merits. But forget expecting promotion beyond mountain pass advisory roles. You're already too young for your current rank. As a mid-level official, the Three Offices overlooked it, but senior ranks make super-seniority promotions excruciatingly hard. You know this?"
"...When did I ever ask Your Excellency about my promotion?"
"Isn't that why you're here?"
Does this man think I'm some rank-obsessed maniac? And stop solo brain-upgrading and jumping ahead?
"I've never chased glory in life. I merely emulate the ancients, awaiting honorable retirement to quietly pursue scholarship. How could a scholar cling to office?"
Seeing Park Mun-su's "Really? I'll petition your dismissal—no, stripping of office—tomorrow as wished" face, I swiftly continued.
"I came today to advise on punishing the Japanese slaves."
Tsushima needed the settlement as much as Joseon did.
From livelihoods of Naeodong villagers—a de facto camptown leeching off it—to endless others.
Prime examples: two scarce resources imported solely via the settlement.
Silver and copper.
Copper was a strategic material; silver critically needed too.
To avoid the national black history of penniless envoys marching to Beijing in half a year, long-term closure was impossible.
Thus, postwar ginseng negotiations preserved the "Joseon rebuking Tsushima" narrative domestically and abroad while minimizing official trade cuts—meticulously designed.
Not just anyone's job. That's why Park Mun-su came.
The national alchemist's conclusion:
Prisoner exchange: new "unoffending" arrivals with tribute ransom existing "criminals."
Meanwhile, the settlement halts naturally. That's the business suspension penalty duration.
Tsushima compliance could shorten it greatly. Joseon hoped so too.
Compromise between moral duty to punish and fiscal reality barring total trade cutoff.
Only then did I truly feel working with a historical giant.
Private trade? No mercy. Naeodong reopening: indefinite closure.
Park Mun-su slyly suggested peacetime revenue like Seoul's Seondeok Hall, but I hoisted the Noron isolationist flag high and vehemently opposed.
Of course? Depraved, cunning Japanese trading freely without oversight, roaming villages—that's the problem. Lockdown, absolute lockdown.
Then desperate merchants open smuggling routes.
Bringing my desired inkstone sans settlement. Perfect.
But groundwork needed now.
Park Mun-su's swift processing meant first slave trade—no, prisoner exchange—in days.
So I asked him to delay "key prisoners'" quick ransom sales for "more meticulous investigations."
Official reason: suspected of holding vital secrets.
Executives sketch big pictures; staff handle details—that's division of labor.
Thus, I diverted eyed prisoners.
Regarding the brothel incident sparking the settlement raid, the Joseon pimp and woman faced Joseon law.
Pimp: decapitation; woman: flogging and exile.
As attempted crimes, both penalties reduced one grade. Only Japanese collaborator Gen nosuke—fatally injured by Eoji—felt aggrieved.
As for Mido, whom settlement head Yoshida Shichizaemon prepared as Kim Unhaeng's fatal seduction weapon: caught alongside, but no punishment.
Naturally, Kim Unhaeng erased the "Mido reception" incident entirely for face.
Law mitigates for attempts; society doesn't. Even rumors doom—one must uproot.
Thus, documents and Park Sang-sun were doctored, but Kim Unhaeng balked at silencing by murder. Plan: menial tasks and surveillance to muzzle loose talk.
Thus, that Mido—or Kaoru [薰, fragrance/incense] as nicknamed in the settlement—became Kim Unhaeng's page-like attendant.
Kim Unhaeng's official busyness left Jangbok scampering too; perfect timing for Kaoru as backup phone.
Kaoru had thoughts. No one to ransom him anyway.
Unable to return, curry favor with this high official who "seemed pleased."
What Japanese and settlement folk—who dealt with them—whispered, knowing the implications, remained unknown.
Anyway, Kim Unhaeng was too busy for rumors.
Among "key prisoners," top priority: Matsuura Keisen, scion of Tsushima's Matsuura clan.
The boy who'd yelled at marines during blockade, stripped humiliatingly—that one. Now a prisoner.
Kim Unhaeng eyed him for Matsuura's prestige in Joseon diplomacy, per his own connections.
Rare international trade asset this era.
Kim Unhaeng ordered clean clothes, solitary cell, good food for the mistreated Matsuura.
Three days later, assuming gratitude, Kim Unhaeng entered alone—no Kaoru or others—for confidential talk.
Regrettably, Matsuura misinterpreted.
"I-I'm not a koshō [page; here, shudo partner]! I'm samurai stock! Sixteen's already old..."
"Already freaking out with such shallow thoughts. You'll make a fine crown prince friend."
Muttering in Korean, Kim Unhaeng firmly signaled otherwise.
He grabbed the room's pipe and smacked Matsuura's head to the floor. Whatever in Japan, this was Joseon adult-boy camaraderie.
Matsuura shut up terrified; Kim Unhaeng plopped down before him.
Preempting more nonsense, he rapidly switched to Japanese.
"Surely a Matsuura elder serves as Nagasaki kikiyaku [Nagasaki hearing officer; Tsushima's Nagasaki branch manager]?"
Author's Notes
1. Royal grandsons below a certain age seem unbound by strict etiquette. Referencing King Sejong's case, the young great-grandson calls the crown prince "Father" simply.
2. No actual cases in Joseon history of a (non-great-grandson) grandson enfeoffed while grandfather lives as king, but Gyeongguk Daejeon stipulates: crown prince's sons get military titles.
3. Copper and silver mainly from Japan; spices, refined salt via Southeast Asia-Dutch East India-Nagasaki-Tsushima-settlement to Joseon. Buffalo horns imported until early Yeongjo reign, then banned—one sign Joseon no longer prioritized composite bows.
Each Japanese domain opened Nagasaki branches, dispatching retainers for trade/admin—the role called Nagasaki kikiyaku. Tsushima's was Matsuura clan.