Chapter 110
Chapter 110
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 110
Chapter Title: Puppet Service (1)
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Salgoji Institute of Technology.
Abbreviated as SIT. Careful with the pronunciation.
Calling it a 'workshop established by gathering all the prominent engineers of modern Joseon in a corner of the vast Salgoji Ranch grounds' is just too wordy.
Come to think of it, there was even a tech university in Wangsimni back in the 21st century. Is this the restorative power of history?
Gangnam Daeseong's the same—looks like I'm destined to go down in the annals as a great figure who devoted his life to Joseon's education.
Choi Cheonyak, Joseon's foremost mechanical sorcerer, generously shared his knowledge not just with old acquaintances and friends, but even with various artisans eager for his expertise (and the free meals I provided).
To me, it was baffling how he could so freely give away his own rice bowl like that. But with his advanced age and no telling when he'd head to the afterlife, plus his staunch pride as a craftsman—who'd even refused awards alongside past artisans—it seemed he couldn't stomach the idea of hoarding techniques.
So two months after Hong Daeyong barged into my home, Wangsimni was buzzing with practical scholars from across the nation, hammering away like kids in a candy store.
"I've got the standard precision ruler here!"
"Perfect. Now we can finally make proper gears. This book's one I brought back from China..."
"Whoa, what precise blueprints!"
"The ironworks botched the copper smelting and ruined a batch. What now?"
"Tie up that hack and give him a beating... Guess we buy new stock. Tell Kim Chunsik. Where's Lord Deokbo at?"
"Why always me? I've got official duties to attend to!"
"Quit acting like some lofty official. You're family—easier to talk to, right?"
"Like that money-grubbing ghost will cut his in-laws any slack!"
More or less like that.
(After thrashing Hong Daeyong) I let out a sigh. Yeah. How nice must it be to indulge in your hobbies without a care for household worries.
I cooperated in rounding up the practical scholars, but my personal funds have limits. Since this was the Crown Prince's initiative, it needed national budget allocation.
Though aligned with the Crown Prince, Kim Sangseong from the Board of War—who'd eyed me unkindly as a mere deputy—got himself fired for needlessly defying the king. Next up was Noron's Shin Man.
Yeongjo's personnel policy was mechanical factional balance, more or less.
Suited me fine. Being fellow Noron with prior exchanges, things went smoothly.
A few nudges from me directly or via the Crown Prince, and Shin Man soon petitioned the king.
"The sea's woes aren't just Japanese pirates anymore. Dutch raiders roam the western waters, and now even these red-haired thieves from thousands of miles away encroach. We must bolster our defenses.
As the saying goes, no great generals since firearms emerged—military strength hinges on machinery and gunpowder. Restore the abolished Arsenal Superintendent and Deputy from King Sukjong's era to sharpen our blades and fortify our armor anew."
Yeongjo approved.
He might seem fixated on tormenting his son, but he's a proper king with real talent.
He handles most state affairs routinely like this. The chronic weapon shortages in the new Royal Guard must've weighed on him too.
"Do as petitioned. The Ministry of Rites shall nominate talent to manage the Arsenal competently and stockpile arms."
Yeongjo had good reason for such words.
The Arsenal Superintendent and Deputy were abolished due to mismanagement—plain poverty.
The Training Command relied on firearm production and sales for revenue, while each garrison baked their own powder and cast cannons, starving the Arsenal until it withered.
By Sukjong's reign, it devolved into a leaderless shell.
As I said before, Joseon's offices are self-interested entities—lose your hustle, and this happens.
Thus, the Superintendent and Deputy revived after 33 years.
Naturally, I was appointed Superintendent. Junior 3rd rank—another two-step promotion.
But compared to Choi Cheonyak, it's nothing. Long known to Yeongjo, he was specially appointed Deputy without fuss—Senior 4th rank, near the pinnacle for technical military officers.
Jo Jaeho looked sour, but what could he do? As long as it's not a senior rank, as long as it's not senior.
No one wants to helm a dead-end Arsenal anyway. Be grateful I'm taking it.
Earlier, I protested at Mokcheon to dodge Arsenal duty—why snap it up now?
Back then, it was Junior 6th Clerk—a post for military officers or purchase appointees. Like modern officers or civil servants, career paths matter hugely in Joseon.
But Junior 3rd Arsenal Superintendent is different.
Historically, it's the Arsenal's sole civilian post—a springboard to senior rank. The overseeing commissioners are honorary, so I'm effectively the head.
Meaning I can line my pockets as I please.
As Superintendent, I ambitiously pitched my first project.
"Former Guard General Choi Cheonyak, newly Deputy, previously devised the gun carriage: twenty cannons on a four-tier cart, saving twenty soldiers, its thunderous might daunting any foe. Proven like Kwon Yul's fire chariot against the Japanese, we must mass-produce and deploy to the borders."
With Ping Seon-gwan and Haengbang Squadron ensuring steady taxes lately, Yeongjo coughed up funds.
I also nagged the Crown Prince that big, splendid cannons for Dutch ships needed cash.
Of course, no dreams of turning that into ugly armored cars or ship guns. A gentleman doesn't delight in killing.
That project will end up 'tried hard but regrettably failed.'
I have a project that must succeed.
Joseon's administrative oversight is no joke. It had to look like military R&D.
So I plucked Yust, a Dutch slave from Hunkuk who'd handled weapons, and slotted him into SIT.
True to a time-traveler's one-touch SIM swap prowess, the other slaves had roaming enabled and were diligently crafting guns (the Training Command's lifeline).
I assigned young practical scholar Lee Deok-ri—who'd shown keen interest in the gun carriage—to oversee Yust.
Choi Cheonyak, the carriage's originator, seemed a tad disappointed, but as Deputy, he had plenty else, plus more vital research.
Visiting SIT, Lee Deok-ri rushed up excitedly.
"My lord, success! Before, lighting twenty cannons separately hindered swift response to flankers. Now, grouping ten per volley into one fuse line unleashes iron balls like rain in a single shot."
Ugh, horrifying. What happens to anyone hit by that? And on a shoestring budget too—impressive they pulled it off.
"Hm. With the ranch right next door, don't fire too often. Spooked warhorses dying would be a huge loss."
I tossed that out casually and breezed past. Deputy Choi Cheonyak trailed, praising Lee Deok-ri in my stead—couldn't care less.
I beelined for Seokdang Na Gyeongjeok, de facto head of the clock division.
Heard just recently via Hong Daeyong's intro: Na Gyeongjeok's a famed Confucian scholar, corresponding with my granduncle Kim Changheup.
Whatever. Business is business.
No favoritism like Park Jiwon abusing blood or school ties.
This was civilian outsourcing, not Board of War stuff. Non-military machinery.
So I played the model client.
"Must present to the Crown Prince at Chuseok! Why the hell not?"
"W-well, we've mastered the Western clock enough to disassemble and reassemble it functional..."
Amateur. Pros speak through results.
"No grains, what's the point of a long stalk? I told you—move the Crown Prince's heart with something eye-catching and wondrous! Hurry up with this automata!"
Speechless, Na Gyeongjeok stared blankly.
Couldn't publicly cite Kaoru's dark, perverse mechanical knowledge gift. That'd end my social and political life.
So my first order drew only the brighter bits from Kaoru's lore.
Karakuri. Mechanical puppets.
I'd heard of them in the 21st century.
Aside from moving limbs over hands, they operated much like mechanical clocks. And far prettier, boosting marketability.
Kaoru boasted of a near-100-year-old crab sake cup stand: real crab hairs plucked one by one, scuttling like the real thing.
Perverted genius aside, no way to show our king that. Of all animals, why that grotesque crustacean?
So my flagship: an orthodox boy puppet. Test market response, then craft 'real' ones for deep-pocketed elites.
Thankfully, casing craftsmen were easy.
Choi Cheonyak's true specialty? Sculpture. Joseon's Leonardo da Vinci.
But internals were trouble.
Na Gyeongjeok glanced at Choi's sculpted puppet and protested.
"Wouldn't this clock serve the nation better than toys? Your granduncle holds far loftier aims—"
"Naive! Don't you get this toy's your rice bowl? Fail, and I'll bill you for wasted grain, metal, firewood, even overdue rent!"
Why practical scholars gripe about clients and can't go home? Run, and see. Chun-sik's courier network from Seoul to Chungcheong will show you what slave-hunting means.
Why national funds for this?
Didn't I just explain the Arsenal's downfall?
Joseon offices must earn their keep. Not my greed.
Common sense: luxuries or cannons—which rake more cash? From my past life YouTube scraps: top five arms firms combined barely hit Apple's fifth.
Invade with cannons? Parents British? Qing and Japan would've fallen to Dutch already if new guns sufficed.
Why SIT's an engineering school, not forge or carpenter? Engineering thrives on contracts. Big data, AI, metaverse—whatever magic buzzwords snag projects, deliver by hook or crook.
That 'crook'? Grinding grad students in labs. Fittingly futuristic, I introduced modern incentives: slaves—no, practical scholars—whipped into shape.
Then Choi Cheonyak approached from another task.
"Now, now. Let's calmly diagnose the issue. Looks like this snail-shell steel spring here. Needs to be thin, flexible, snap back quick—but the iron's no good."
"Spot on. Thousands of tests needed. Rushing won't cook raw rice."
Na Gyeongjeok grumbled openly. Shocked—I thought grad students could miracle raw rice into meals.
Not tech, materials? What now?
Choi Cheonyak had the answer.
"As Superintendent knows, the Japanese manage it. Not better iron—they coat whalebone with glue as substitute when steel fails. Drawback: not metal, wears out. But urgent for Crown Prince demo, right?"
Na Gyeongjeok shot back confidently, like he'd considered it.
"No whalers here. Sending to Waegwan now? Whales don't grow on land—won't arrive in time, or wrong type. If any, sky-high prices. Best keep refining steel."
I flashed a knowing smile at the two old scholars.
"No. There's a way."
"Really?"
"Ah, right—Superintendent was Dutch ship deputy. You know someone."
As Na Gyeongjeok and Choi Cheonyak chimed, I gravely adjusted my sleeves.
"Close enough. Secure whalebone, and I'll have it ready in three days if you prep. Absolute secrecy, of course."
Na Gyeongjeok wasn't wrong.
Court scrambling for whalebone? Waegwan would whoop—squander fortunes, miss deadlines.
So Kim Unhaeng prepared two plans.
One: smuggling via Matsuura Keisen, naturally.
Replacing closed Dongnae trade, Tsushima aches if cut off. Unlike Na Gyeongjeok's worries, they're not bargaining from strength.
Sure, Kim Unhaeng regrets denying them till next envoy, but their ignorance matters. A few levers keep the edge.
Still, mere stopgap.
For Kim Unhaeng's ventures to endure, stable whalebone supply needed.
He dispatched to Dongnae and met Han Jungnyang.
Having captured the Dutch ship, under Park Pilgyun's lead inspecting it at Ganghwa, Han Jungnyang pondered Kim Unhaeng's proposal.
Too outlandish.
But his Ganghwa duties ended.
Joseon forces had nearly reverse-engineered Fluyt's structure. Rather than risky full replicas, they'd incrementally integrate Western sail elements into native ships—direction set.
Dutch crew forcibly taught Wolseong Haengbang Squadron navigation. No machinery, so marines mastered coastal voyages swiftly.
Mission done, Han Jungnyang headed to Wolseong anyway.
Unlike rice-bowl officeholder Kim Unhaeng, Han and men trekked to distant Seoul with scant gains beyond ship knowledge.
To such a man, Kim Unhaeng offered an irresistible deal.
"Arming up targets Ulleung raiders—red-hairs and Japanese. They need top cannons and battleships. I'll petition stationing that Fluyt there."
Han Jungnyang couldn't hide his glee. Upgraded vessel meant upgraded profits.
"That'd be incalculable aid. No more need Dutch pilots either."
Kim Unhaeng pondered, then said,
"Better safe. I'll detach two—take them. High-risk op; losing talents like you or Manho would hurt the nation."
"Graciously as you say. How not obey the Chun-sik who sees my worth?"
Bowing formally, the warrior dove in efficiently.
He slotted Kim Unhaeng's pair into Haengbang, boarding the Fluyt.
(Lest cannon rush) Armed overseer Yust Naal from SIT, and Training Command's dimwit kicker-magnet sailor Yan Peridon.
Han Jungnyang briefed them.
"We're sailing east. Work hard, and no tears compared to Hunkuk days."
Yust haltingly asked in months-learned Joseon tongue,
"Job... what?"
"Hunt whales. Extract baleen."
Yust Naal and Yan Peridon eyed each other.
They figured it was 'rip out a dragon's heart.'
Difficulty-wise, not far off.
Author's Note
1. The 'standard ruler' and 'Chinese book' early on are actually Choi Cheonyak's achievements. He made the ruler; the book came from tech imports in Beijing during a past tribute mission. The gun carriage too—Lee Deok-ri improved it into the fan cannon.
Recent revelations: Lee Deok-ri authored what were thought Jeong Yak-yong works, Joseon defense tract Sangdoji and tea text Dongdagi. A 2020 book covers it. There, he proposes trading tea leaves to fund arms, overhaul obsolete systems, adopt new weapons aggressively—like some regressor—for national defense.
2. Lee Deok-ri and War Minister Shin Man share a fate: punished over Crown Prince Sado.
Post-Jeongjo ascension, Lee exiled ~20 years for petitioning via his official brother. Wrote those books unnamed as convict—hence modern misattribution.
Shin Man's wilder: Post-Imo Incident, Yeongjo fired him for coldly watching the Crown Prince die (sole entry allowed during Yeongjo's lockdown: then-Chief Councillor Shin Man).
Again: Yeongjo punished, not Jeongjo. Though Shin backed the deposed Crown Prince...
3. Contra Choi Cheonyak, springs failed not from poor Joseon iron, but lacking tech for thin high-carbon steel. China/Japan too. Whalebone had limits he noted: fine for puppets, poor for constant-run clocks.