Chapter 109
Chapter 109
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 109
Chapter Title: Eastern Way, Western Tools (2)
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Kaoru wasn't particularly targeting Kim Unhaeng.
Just as official courtesans didn't become courtesans because they wanted to meet men, Kaoru simply needed wealth or a patron. There was no need for him to resort to male prostitution, which wasn't even to his taste.
Above all, Kaoru was terrified of the lady of the house, whom he'd met once before.
Sehwa had once disguised herself as the daughter of Yi Jae-un from the Siksindang faction to visit Kim Unhaeng. The face she'd seen then was a major reason she'd decided to marry him.
Having done so herself, she couldn't help but suspect that Kaoru might be doing the same.
So for the past month or two, Sehwa had watched him closely under the pretense of teaching him.
But her observations proved Kaoru wasn't a woman in disguise.
When she'd sent Jangbok to fetch clothes under the excuse of wanting to see Japanese attire, he'd reportedly snatched up the new Joseon garments and stripped off his old ones right there on the spot.
Jangbok had cursed it as the "cunning greed of the Japanese," but Sehwa had dropped her guard and treated Kaoru kindly from that point on.
Thinking he'd grasped Sehwa's intentions, Kaoru hadn't acted rashly either.
He hadn't properly plied his trade yet, but he'd heard the stories.
Edo's noblewomen might forgive their husbands' female concubines, but never their pretty boy lovers. Those boys threw themselves in so recklessly that they'd squander fortunes without a care. Mess it up, and you'd end up dead.
So Kaoru decided to prove his worth another way. He had to eat to live, after all.
Then Kim Unhaeng's order struck him as a golden opportunity.
By chance, Jangbok and the other servants had all stepped out, leaving Kaoru loitering in the courtyard. Kim Unhaeng had turned to him as a last resort.
"A distinguished guest has arrived—from the Crown Prince, no less. Prepare a proper spread."
Kaoru's eyes lit up. A distinguished guest meant someone powerful.
It could be a chance to build connections (unaware his name was already on the household registry), or at least to impress Kim Unhaeng.
Kaoru went all out and raided the high-grade Uji tea reserved for entertaining officials.
A top-shelf item, rare even in Japan. It was something Kaoru had owned because the Japanese interpreters at the bureau had valued him as their ace.
But the results were disappointing.
Kaoru should have wondered why the Joseonites hadn't looted the tea leaves when they razed the bureau.
* * *
Our king had pushed the alcohol prohibition as a national policy, promoting tea as the alternative.
Yet records rarely praise Yeongjo as the king who flowered Joseon's tea culture.
He's remembered instead for internationalizing the private liquor trade and economic booms—or as the developer of Joseon's first royal drink, "omija tea that tastes like soju."
In short, no one in Joseon took the prohibition seriously. Not even Yeongjo himself.
So there was no one noble enough to think, "Liquor's banned now, so let's drink tea instead."
Thus, Kaoru bringing tea wasn't wise—it was tone-deaf.
Tsk. Jangbok would have slyly tucked away a bottle or two of private brew. Hadn't Sehwa replaced that kid's brain chip yet?
Anyway, like Choi Cheon-yak, I couldn't openly rage about tea amid the prohibition.
But Choi Cheon-yak seemed to have the dignity of age. He strained polite words over the weak brew.
"Unlike liquor, tea clears the mind. Truly, the Kim household of Jangdong has refined airs."
I sent Kaoru off with kind words and apologized to Choi Cheon-yak.
"I told the boy to bring something fitting for a distinguished guest, but since he's Japanese, he must have fetched something precious in their customs. Please overlook it."
But surprisingly, Choi Cheon-yak seemed delighted.
"Oh? A Japanese? That explains it. They revere Buddhism, after all. I'm from Dongnae myself, so I've seen plenty. I frequented the bureau quite a bit."
Choi Cheon-yak's expression grew wistful.
"I was even suspected as a spy for it once, but no regrets. Most of my skills came from there—from working iron, wood, and stone to the principles of intricate mechanisms."
"I had no idea the bureau was such a place."
I really hadn't known it was Tsushima's Silicon Valley.
What a shame. Talented folk must have commanded premium pay. If I'd known sooner, I could've squeezed out multiples of that.
Back then, everyone on their knees peddling Japanese porn rags—I figured they were all shady types. Sneaky Japanese bastards.
Choi Cheon-yak turned back to the letter he'd been writing.
"Well, nothing for you, descendant of the great scholar, to fret over. Let's see... From the bureau days, folks like Hong Suhae in Seoul, Yeom Yeongseo and Na Gyeongjeok in Honam. Na Gyeongjeok uses the art name Seokdang. Not just him—the whole family excels in astronomy, math, and mechanics. Worth inviting."
What? More Silhak scholars? No wonder this old man's got such flair.
You weren't planning to summon all those letter recipients here for a fun science class, right? Unless you're top-tier Silhakker Hong Daeyong with skin thicker than...
Just then, a roar erupted.
"You bastard, Kim Chun-sik—! Get out here!"
It was a tiger's bellow.
Spoken of, and he appears.
Choi Cheon-yak startled.
"Who was that?"
For social face, I couldn't say my brother-in-law. I bluffed.
"Some lunatic, I suppose. Please finish your letter and examine the device at leisure. I'll handle it and be right back."
* * *
The best conclusion from my hasty exit: Hong Daeyong had suddenly fixated on wakashudo.
He had Kaoru—who'd been lurking by the salon for some reason—in a death grip. Small wonder.
I could've sent the kid if asked, but broad daylight in Hanyang? Edo's one thing, but that's bold.
Being Sehwa's brother, even Eoji couldn't touch him and just hovered awkwardly. I wanted to know how Sehwa trained the staff when I was out.
As I opened my mouth to preach "coercive affection harms both sides," Hong Daeyong shoved Kaoru off.
Kaoru, proving his obliviousness yet again, fled my way. Hey, go elsewhere.
Hong Daeyong strode forward knowingly.
"I half-doubted it, but seeing you with a new catamite makes it all clear! What's this 'Hong Jinsa' nonsense? Why are those painter thugs swarming our house, whining you won't buy their filthy scrolls?!"
Damn, where'd the leak spring?
I'd paid Jeong Seon and Byeon Sang-byeok in full and shut their mouths. No way those guys blabbed to cash-strapped buddies?
"I heard some hack wants direct deals bypassing Kim Chun-sik—that tipped me off. If you're smearing me with that lecher rep, no mercy for brother-in-law or otherwise! I'll drag Sehwa back home immediately!"
Sehwa, drawn by the racket, tilted her head.
"I'm not going."
"You can't stay in this conman's house anymore!"
"Brother. This is my house. With two kids—what's this midnight rapping?"
"Do you even know what your husband's done?!"
"Probably more than you. As long as it's not concubinage, I'm fine."
"Anything but! Concubinage would be better! This is...!"
Good thing the house was big—Mom and Dad wouldn't hear.
Before Hong Daeyong spewed more false accusations, I swiftly reframed.
"No need to hide from me. Japanese fads like that's trendy in the capital anyway—not some huge scandal. You're embarrassed for nothing, brother..."
"Gah!"
Hey, the Treasury Auditor grabbing the Inspectorate Reformer's collar? Treason?
Eoji was off-limits, no bow handy. Useless. Next time, hope for "Lu Bu's Might" or something.
My savior was Choi Cheon-yak.
"Hey now, isn't he your benefactor? What is this?!"
Hong Daeyong glanced over without releasing me. His eyes bulged.
* * *
Hong Daeyong and Choi Cheon-yak weren't just acquaintances—they were mentor and pupil. The old man had taught young Hong basic astronomy (useless trivia).
Once calmed, Choi Cheon-yak chuckled and mediated.
"These past years, I've been swamped fixing palace clocks and overseeing projects—no visits. Had no idea you were Kim Chun-sik's brother-in-law."
But Hong Daeyong still sulked.
"That bond ends today. Smearing a family man with lechery?"
No violence? My specialty. I smoothly persuaded.
"As I said, it's another Hong Jinsa. Think, brother—if it were you, would you use 'Hong Jinsa' as an alias? Everyone knows you, like those painters."
"Then who?"
"Someone too exalted—my lips might split if I say. Ugh, do I have to?"
I truly clammed up.
But the Silhak duo inferred wisely.
In their circles, Kim Chun-sik's "most exalted friend" was obvious. Dig deeper, and lips really split.
Hong Daeyong cleared his throat, back to normal.
"Ahem! I'll send those painters soon—explain well, Chun-sik. To that exalted one too."
Got it. I'll relay you're the loyal martyr shouldering the Crown Prince's dirt.
With the Hong Jinsa fiasco wrapped, I showed Hong Daeyong the chronometer too.
Like dangling a toy before a wailing toddler. Silhak types love this stuff?
Sure enough, he did. They chattered in jargon beyond me. Then Hong Daeyong turned.
"Mind if I disassemble it? Want a closer look."
"Of course. Scatter it to bits—no issue."
Choi Cheon-yak waved frantically.
"No, no. What if we can't reassemble? Others should see it run first, then disassemble after. You know Seokdang—Na Gyeongjeok? Invite him too; even from distant Honam, he'll come."
Hong Daeyong clapped.
"Was about to mention—he's in Seoul now."
"What?"
"Not like this guy Kim Chun-sik, but Uncle Hong Eok passed the exams, mingling with more scholars—family fortunes rose a bit. Invited him to build an armillary sphere and clocks at home."
So you're starting to skim off the top everywhere?
Never heard of Hong Daeyong taking bribes (failed exams), but I recalled his private observatory from the 21st century. Wasn't his solo gig.
True to Silhak form, Choi focused on business prospects over graft.
"Perfect timing! No delays. The Crown Prince's order is law—can't dawdle."
The Crown Prince's command equals the king's in many ways.
Like identical penalties for delay.
I shuddered. Joseonites' knack for cherry-picking laws for gain is unreal.
I tried shifting the project to Hong Daeyong's gadget-friendly home.
But estimates showed it impossible. Labor costs for Silhak experts and craftsmen alone overwhelmed them.
Ultimately, with the Crown Prince's approval, I set up a workshop in a royal ranch corner (not Chun-sik Ranch—my prized horses spook).
But Kim Unhaeng wouldn't burn cash like a sucker. If it benefited the people (me), fine—but toys?
So I struck a deal with the Crown Prince, launching my specialty: national development.
First, formally appointed interpreter Park Sang-sun in Dongnae as Ulleung Island Deputy Commander, tasking him with the Moonpine Liberation Unit to "defend against pirates" and "crack down on poachers and abalone thieves."
Naturally, facilities rose, soldiers stationed, merchants and officers' families followed.
Joseon's ports policy—never officially scrapped—finally cracked open.
Modern man's moving. "Dutch pirates" as pretext—no court opposition.
Meanwhile, Tsushima replied: inkstones next year.
Not an export good—souvenirs for envoys. Off-season since last visit years ago. Must order ahead.
What? All that "ready anytime if you play nice" bluster was hot air? Incompetents.
No rush on my end.
Best to send my ships meanwhile for side gains.
But easier said. Japanese private ships to Joseon? Plausible. Joseon private ships to Japan? Big news. Decentralized feudal Japan vs. centralized Joseon—worlds apart.
I was pondering methods.
Then Kaoru slunk in, gauging moods. Green tea again.
Time to market this kid off. Pretty face—women'd love him. Marry him out.
No in-laws? Popular. Hwawan Ongju fancies fun like her brother—gift him as page?
Mid-thought, Kaoru whispered in Japanese.
"Last time, some thug caused a scene—I couldn't speak. But about that device you examined with the guest... urgent intel. That's why I lingered."
I agreed on Hong Daeyong as thug. The rest intrigued.
"You know astronomy and timepieces?"
"Can't make a full wadokei myself. But I've entered the tokeinoma a few times—noble clock display rooms—so some knowledge."
Why I call clocks toys.
East Asian daily time isn't Western fixed divisions.
Variable hours by daily twilight (not exact sunrise/sunset). Western clocks useless without heavy mods.
No joke—mere novelties. As Kaoru said, Japan treats them as luxury displays.
A sudden curiosity hit.
"Why were you in nobles' private rooms?"
Kaoru's hesitation—I regretted instantly. Answer as expected.
"Rarely opened—perfect trysts. Ah, I was young then, just pouring drinks..."
"Enough. Back to mechanisms."
"Yes. Overheard fun tales. Copying that device's fine, but Japan has better toys for Joseon's ooku or idle lords."
I skipped saying no ooku or daimyo here. Analogues exist.
If toys, substrate gimmicks lose to Kaoru's "real playthings"—obvious hit.
Then it clicked. My brain aligned.
Crown Prince, Choi Cheon-yak, Hong Daeyong, Jeong Cheol and Byeon Sang-byeok, even Park Sang-sun and smugglers—all strung in a line.
Perfect. Time to piggyback the Crown Prince's dead-end research.
Western tools unfit for Eastern way? Nonsense.
My isolationist line shifted slightly: Eastern Way, Western Tools.
I embraced the idea gleefully. Guessed Kaoru's toy—high-margin if made.
But "actual" era knowledge diverged from my guess.
Kaoru's explanation included—and surpassed—what I'd heard in the 21st century.
Author's Note
1. Foreigners' clothes fascinated this era most. Common to strip them first. Europeans landing mobbed, peeling layers to touch—no consent, language barrier.
Park Jiwon faced it in China too—a noble lady demanding servants strip for Joseon garb preview. Sehwa's no outlier.
2. Choi Cheon-yak's hometown and bureau lessons factual. His construction fail drew audits: treasury waste? "Spy mistaking our king for Baekje's Gayo, plotting as Japanese 'Dorin'?"
3. Post-storyline, but Hong Daeyong did invite Na Gyeongjeok for private observatory. Protagonist's dad Kim Yonggyeom interested. Acquaintances factual; Choi teaching Hong creative.
4. Less than Sado Crown Prince, but sister Hwawan Ongju had shady rumors (slim evidence). Might reappear.
5. Night divisions: first watch, etc.—variable hours, simply put.
Used 12-hour too, but save military/bureaucratic precision, daily life didn't map them rigidly like our 24-hour. No clocks anyway—hard to share. Sun-judging intuitive.