Chapter 107
Chapter 107
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 107
Chapter Title: Radical Reformists (2)
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At that moment, Park Sangsoon—the interpreter to whom Kim Unhaeng had delegated full authority—was meeting with Matsuura Keisen.
The original plan between Kim Unhaeng and the Matsuura clan for the Ulleungdo rendezvous had been strictly for smuggling. The Dutch had just barged in, forcing a major revision to the scheme.
Thus, some elaborate cover-up was needed.
While Kim Unhaeng was handling the incidents in Ulleungdo and Uljin, the Matsuura clan had aligned their stories accordingly.
The Matsuura fleet had been at the Waegwan trade post from the start, as Kim Unhaeng reported in his official dispatch. The Dutch ship had bolted on its own to Ulleungdo.
Therefore, the Matsuura fleet had to stop by the Waegwan before returning to Tsushima. And that's when the originally planned smuggling took place.
Kim Unhaeng had never cared much about anything beyond inkstones from the outset.
The Matsuura clan had treated this trip as a test of Kim Unhaeng's credibility, so they hadn't brought much in the way of trade goods. There were no inkstones, just as Keisen had initially stated.
So the first smuggling deal was little more than a small bundle trade.
"Even so, isn't it too much to claim that a few roots of ginseng in a tiny box can cover the value of all the silver and water buffalo horns we brought?"
Matsuura Keisen scowled.
What Park Sangsoon had offered in exchange for all the Japanese trade goods was just three or four roots of red ginseng packed in a small box.
It was travel money that Se-hwa had packed for her husband.
Of course, in silver terms, it was worth at least two or three hundred taels—a fine treasure.
But even for a test-run bundle smuggling operation, the counterparty was the Matsuura clan, no small player in Japan's international trade. The value they brought far exceeded a mere two or three hundred taels of silver.
Yet Park Sangsoon slyly raised his dull eyes.
"If you don't like it, just turn around and go."
Of course, he knew Keisen couldn't simply leave.
If Joseon escalated this into a diplomatic incident, Tsushima's position would become utterly untenable.
Even if Tsushima enjoyed official privileges in Nagasaki for Western trade, just like in modern times, a piece of paper alone wouldn't get things done.
The key pillar supporting Tsushima's triangular trade was Nobumasa Matsuura, who currently dominated Nagasaki's commerce.
But if Joseon lodged a severe protest over the Dutch pirate affair, Nobumasa wouldn't escape unscathed. He already had the tribute payment issue hanging over him.
Not to mention his infamous self-dissection show. They might even revoke Tsushima's Western trade permits entirely.
Not out of respect for Joseon from the shogunate, but because a disliked subordinate had lost face. The national subsidy would naturally vanish too.
So the Tsushima domain desperately hoped the diplomatic missive wouldn't reach the shogunate.
More precisely, they planned to alter history midway if it did. There were illustrious precedents like Konishi Yukinaga forging the Chinese emperor's edict or the Kwantung Army inventing an emperor outright, but Tsushima reigned supreme in tradition and history for such feats.
However, altering history came with powerful temporal backlash. Only someone like Joseon's King Yeonjo of the previous dynasty could bear the risk.
Tsushima preferred Kim Unhaeng smooth things over in the middle so no such missive emerged at all, rather than resorting to forging diplomatic documents. They were the ones in a bind.
The young Matsuura Keisen, barely in his mid-twenties, lacked the poise to handle it stoically or any sharp countermeasures from experience. He swallowed his rage.
'I went along thinking we could quietly wrap up the Dutch fools' antics in Joseon, but now we're groveling to Kim Unhaeng!'
Exposing Kim Unhaeng's bizarre fleet ambitions to the Joseon court was useless. The Matsuura clan would go down with him the moment it was revealed.
Besides, to Keisen's eyes, Kim Unhaeng clearly hailed from a powerful Joseon house. His punishment would be a mere slap on the wrist, making joint suicide impossible.
Matsuura Keisen couldn't help suspecting Kim Unhaeng was some tanuki yokai bewitching people with leaves.
But the seasoned interpreter Park Sangsoon didn't corner Keisen without options; he provided a convenient excuse.
"With the Dongnae markets gone, ginseng sources have dried up, so prices naturally rise. Once the market stabilizes and people calm down, they might drop again."
And stabilizing the market depended on Kim Unhaeng's whims.
That was excuse enough for Keisen to recite as the "official domain reason" back home.
Tsushima's retainers all knew the real reasons Keisen had in mind.
But they couldn't voice them. Framing it as an investment to adjust ginseng prices amid volatile trade conditions would let everyone save face.
And Park Sangsoon's gifts didn't end there.
"These are the 'pictures that came from Japan, so back to Japan they go.' Along with a message: never bring such obscene items to Joseon again."
Kim Unhaeng's purpose in printing the erotic art commercial prints had been achieved. No longer needed, he'd set aside a few high-quality ones for the treasury and export the rest overseas to destroy the evidence.
Of course, as Park Sangsoon said, Matsuura Keisen had no intention of ever bringing them back to Joseon.
"Thank you for your consideration in every way. As Chun-sik mentioned, I'll make sure to procure those inkstones next time."
"I'll pass that along. He'll be delighted."
Only now did Matsuura Keisen take his first true step toward adulthood.
Not about the erotic art. The ability to compromise with reality was the mark of a true adult.
Tsushima's retainers, receiving "Joseon gifts" of incomparable quality to their old "Edo gifts," felt the same.
Once Keisen departed, Park Sangsoon launched a new venture with the "remaining ginseng."
To list them: buying up large ships around Dongnae and Uljin, entertaining magistrates and local powers, and establishing regular civilian routes between Ulleungdo and the mainland.
In the most generous view, he'd started a trading company.
For plain smuggling, just coming from Japan sufficed, but the added goal of "sending non-official ships to Japan" necessitated this business.
Cynics might call it prepping Ulleungdo as a pirate island cum smuggling base.
But after all, traditional trade worldwide—from the Dutch East India Company onward—had started in such forms.
State-designed artificial international exchanges and trade management came much later. In this era, Kim Unhaeng's approach was natural.
Thus, as Kim Unhaeng had foreseen with the piñata effect, droves of people in both Joseon and Japan were scheming and executing similar ventures.
The Dongnae area began boiling with a surge of radical reformists.
More concerned with quests than trivial matters like Japan or the Dutch, I still couldn't stay in Dongnae. I had to escort these pirate scum to Seoul by sea.
The crown prince had named me the escort in charge.
You bastard, I was gonna give you some "Edo gifts," but that's canceled. I'll have to sell these pictures on the sly—me, no, Hong Daeyong.
I stomped across Denis Velt's deck, not hiding my irritation.
The senior-most sailor left on this Dutch ship was the armorer named Uystra.
The captain—who "died resisting with weapons despite espionage charges"—had brought mostly his elite crew to my "banquet." Loyally, they'd all shared his fate.
With all Dutch witnesses from the Ulleungdo Hongmunyeon incident vanished, reshaping the remaining Dutch sailors' perceptions was up to me.
I addressed the departure-ready Uystra with authority.
"Your captain, navigator, bosun, and such committed espionage and attempted to threaten diplomats, so I had them all executed."
With the Japanese interpreter under Yi Mun—some heavy from Han Jung-ryang—sent back, I was the only one left who could communicate with the Dutch sailors.
I exploited that monopoly for some gaslighting.
"By Joseon law, you're all slated for execution, but by the merciful will of our king and the regent prince, you're being sent to the capital. If you have any shame as humans, cooperate obediently."
Uystra, blood still seeping from his head bandages, stammered a rebuttal.
"I-I never heard of any such plan! The Dutch East India Company has no reason to..."
Then Uystra trailed off unwittingly. Yeah, even you think your company's the type to pull that off, right?
I seized the moment.
"Exactly. Stick to statements like 'I knew nothing.' That's how your head stays on your shoulders."
Uystra glanced around, his face ashen as a bullet.
At both rails, spears held the severed heads of his former comrades and superiors, labeled with their gruesome crimes.
Not my doing. I'm a 21st-century civilized man.
If anything, blame Joseon for upholding 2,000-year-old laws. Before I even ordered, the Joseon officers had casually beheaded them as routine.
I nailed Uystra's profile.
"I've been granted authority to execute you at any moment if needed. Also, our soldiers don't speak Dutch and greatly fear your mutiny, so remember: a twitch in your expression or eyes could bring an instant blade."
Not so unjust, is it? That's what you do in Indonesia.
Three days in, the voyage stabilized.
Uystra hadn't forgotten my warning; he called me over for every task, explaining purposes to the officers in front of them.
"This log tied to the line we're tossing is to measure the ship's speed. We time how long it takes to unspool the marks. Combining that with precise clocks gives our exact position here. For safe sailing, please have Your Excellency explain to your men."
Fearing I'd erase another technique, Han Jung-ryang—who tagged along—listened to the translation and marveled.
"Such a method exists! But it must require precisely measuring time."
Then he eyes me.
Want me to ask? Is this orthodox Noron scholar treating me like some interpreter now?
I knew Han Jung-ryang's intent.
Joseon people weren't clueless about mechanical clocks.
I'd heard of pendulum clocks like grandfather clocks sighted in Beijing; Han Jung-ryang likely knew too.
But pendulums obviously wouldn't work on a rocking ship, sparking curiosity.
Of course, I couldn't care less. But ties with Han Jung-ryang were quest-essential.
I asked Uystra in as bored a tone as possible.
"Do you have a precise clock?"
Misreading my glance, Uystra flashed a sly grin.
"Yes. Rare even in Europe. It'd make a fine gift for the Joseon king."
He led me to the cabin, showing a clock clearly independent of pendulums.
Sturdily boxed in wood and glass, fixed where a modern ship's console would be.
Damn, that was the clock?
I regretted not taking it—I'd mistaken it for some elaborate compass (needed for navigation).
"Spring-wound?"
"As expected of Your Excellency's knowledge. Even the Chinese emperor hasn't seen this. The British barely invented it with bounties—the marine chronometer. Unofficially imported, if I may say."
Don't bring such needless trouble to my country?
With our bio-AI network enabling cutting-edge ubiquitous tech, we don't need that crap. It wakes us when needed. Oh, right—you're the evil ones popularizing alarm clocks, killing livestock and aborting fetuses.
But with Han Jung-ryang having seen it, "no clock existed" was off the table.
I clicked my tongue and turned away.
Old wisdom: fishless waters run too clear; overly upright ministers face slanders. More exclusion of foreigners would seem too extreme.
No need to worry. A chronometer wasn't a toy; Joseon's engineering couldn't replicate it.
The crown prince's designated spot was Ganghwa Island.
Its fierce currents made approaches tough (hence a royal refuge), with few usable ports.
After anchoring near Gyodongdo, we transferred to Joseon ships or rowboats for landing.
And even Joseon folk could manage that.
The Wolseong Liberation Unit officers sighed in relief, swiftly binding the now-worthless Dutchmen.
Some Jan Ferridon or Dom Pérignon yapped about "we upheld honor, so honor us"—taking five times the punches he should've—nothing notable otherwise.
I relaxed too.
Exposing Ganghwa—packed with treasuries, fortresses, key military sites—to foreigners so easily meant one thing.
The crown prince and court had no intent to send them back alive.
Not sinking them like our founder might, just "exhibiting" them, probably.
And seeing who awaited on Ganghwa dashed even those hopes.
By Joseon standards of "house prestige," he seemed the man most likely to torch a foreign ship.
But currently, he lacked the qualifications. At least as I knew.
So, once ashore—carried piggyback by Eoji, as proper yangban do to keep legs dry—I shook off the damp and asked him directly.
"Why are you here? Climbed the ranks in the meantime?"
Park Jiwon—grandfather of Park Gyusu, who’d later burn the future pirate General Sherman—gave an awkward smile.
"Too young for an official post yet. I'm the only first Dae-seong Academy student without one."
"As you say, youth's no shame. But why lead soldiers...? Don't tell me Lord Yado (Park Pilgyun) is coming?"
Park Pilgyun as Minister of War made it his purview theoretically.
But dispatching a vice-minister-level dignitary was bad news. It meant the court viewed this gravely.
"Yes. I'm just attending my grandfather. How could a powerless youth like me command state troops?"
Attending my ass. Stark display of power dynamics.
This kid sneaking into a national military secret project using grandpa's clout was equally bad news.
And sure enough, Park Jiwon revealed his scheme.
"Folks might tsk-tsk, but I wanted to see a Western ship firsthand. Sketch its systems and laws—how's that not comparable to Sin Sukju scouring nations for Sejo's warship designs?"
Don't. You seed of reformism.
And practical learning via such conservative methods? Wait, didn't you pull strings with cousin kin to China later? Insiders really milk connections dry.
Park Jiwon added innocently.
"Oh, and they plan to attach these 'Hollanders' to the Training Command like old Park Yeon."
Not the politically charged Jangyongyeong, but neutral Training Command. Likely unseen compromise between prince and king.
I handed the ship to arriving Park Pilgyun, then pondered aboard the rowboat to the mainland.
'Why are radical reformists surging in Joseon?'
Even if Neo-Confucian morals had fallen, for entrenched elites, social change meant losses. I couldn't pinpoint the reason yet.
What Kim Unhaeng overlooked was Joseon people's highly rational approach to military matters.
Late Joseon clashes between isolationists and radical reformers were fundamentally about politics and diplomacy—"substitutes"—not weapons or machines—"end goals." Even Heungseon Daewongun, whom Kim Unhaeng emulated, tried replicating steam engines.
Thus, Kim Unhaeng's attitude toward the Dutch ship struck generals, scholars, and even literati as odd. No wonder Han Jung-ryang was frustrated.
Japanese foes armed Hwanghae rebels; Ulleungdo saw illegal fishing and logging.
Waegwan tried polluting the nation with obscenity; now Hollanders invaded.
Something ominous brewed at sea—that was clear.
Thus, bolstering naval power was quintessentially "Joseon."
Moreover, Kim Unhaeng's fleets were now proven money-makers. Money equaled power.
Both Yi Geum and Yi Hwon grasped that.
Competitors over the national asset, yet co-owners of the national treasure.
The only issue was who ruled; both cared about strengthening royal authority.
Situations change attitudes.
Isolationism or radical reform—both just ways to survive.
Back in Seoul, Kim Unhaeng felt it keenly.
Author's Note
1. The timeline is well after the chronometer prototype's invention and refinements in Britain, but not yet widespread. Usable ones emerge about 10 years post-story; the Dutch East India Company's use here is fictional.
2. Springs were among the trickiest parts to replicate in precision clocks. Pre-modern East Asia (all three nations) used substitutes like whalebone.
3. "2,000-year-old law" refers to the Qin dynasty's head-based merit system. Then, it literally meant promotion per head (首級); Joseon's version differs.
4. Byeongjoseon: War-transport ships designed by Sin Sukju for Sejo, referencing vessels from various nations.