Chapter 13
Chapter 13
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 13
Chapter Title: Passing Scholar (2)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Bad omens always come true.
It's become something of an idiom these days, but if you look closer, it's actually a bit more complicated than that.
People tend to overestimate positive possibilities in the future and underestimate the negative ones.
Gambling, lotteries, stocks, gacha games—these are prime examples. Businesses that no rational human could ever succeed at.
That's not necessarily a bad thing. Hope is a vital driving force in life, after all.
But even so, if a bad feeling creeps in, it means it's strong enough to pierce through that hopeful defense mechanism—backed by solid evidence.
I'm no exception.
When the Crown Prince summoned me, I wasn't surprised, even if I wasn't thrilled. I'd seen it coming.
It felt like, "What was bound to happen has happened."
Two weeks before the scheduled regency began, the Crown Prince called me to his palace with just a word.
This flew in the face of my hopeful assumption that he'd completely forgotten about someone like me amid the planned regency (which he surely knew about) and the Crown Princess's rituals.
It was proof that the Crown Prince wielded more personal authority than I'd thought.
Judging from the historical knowledge I'd learned as a modern man and the vague awe toward the palace ingrained in me as Kim Unhaeng, I hadn't imagined he could do this without the king's permission.
Then again, my thinking was shortsighted. One of the scandals attributed to Crown Prince Sado in history was dragging riffraff and thugs into the palace.
The fact that he did that meant the Crown Prince could at least decide who stayed in his domain.
This was his territory. Yi Hwon wasn't just some powerless son tormented by his father until he went mad and was executed. He was a prince of the realm.
His excuse? "I wish to discuss scholarly cultivation with the top scorer from this exam."
Well, well. How very positive.
Far better than the future Crown Prince Sado, who threw debauched, mosaic-worthy parties with clowns, shamans, courtesans, and thugs without discrimination. He hasn't fallen that far yet.
But if we're discussing scholarship, why the bows, arrows, and this vast courtyard?
"Guan Zhong!"
A flag rises, and drums and gongs blare noisily. It's a simplified version of the grand archery rite performed by the king, but the form is similar enough.
Of course it is. His opponent ranks fourth in the kingdom's ceremonial hierarchy.
Considering that the queen dowager and queen consort struggle to project power outside the palace, to us subjects, he's effectively second.
So I had to give him the respect he deserved. I approached Crown Prince Yi Hwon with the expression and posture all sycophants hold up as a model.
"Even Yang Youji of Chu and General Li Guang of Han, famed archers both, could scarcely match this. Your Highness demonstrates the prowess of our founding king himself."
Not entirely empty flattery. There's at least a penny's worth of sincerity mixed in.
Crown Prince Yi Hwon was fairly burly, like Park Jiwon. Where Park had a soft, plump look, this one was solidly built. Must be all that rich food from a noble house.
His exposed wrists and arms didn't look like a nobleman's either.
Then again, I'd heard that drawing a bow requires full upper-body strength, so unless your body composition matched a game character's slender archer build, it was impossible.
The Crown Prince lowered his bow and said,
"Now, you shoot."
I naturally declined.
"How could I display my crude skills before Your Highness and dirty your eyes?"
But the Crown Prince was no pushover.
"Then, as I said earlier, shall we compete in stick fighting? I dearly wish to witness your dog-beating techniques."
"Please withdraw such gracious words. If Your Highness commands it again, this subject has no choice but to beg for death."
"Then enough chatter—shoot. You're said to master a hundred martial arts, so a bow should be child's play."
Hmm. Couldn't King Yeongjo get this golden boy a thought-purifying barrel a bit sooner? He could use eight days of quiet reflection in there.
Anyway, the Crown Prince was right. I do know how to handle a bow.
Thanks to a skill I'd once dismissed as useless.
I hated showing it off in a situation offering me zero profit, but it beat pointing a club at the Crown Prince and getting executed.
I gave up and took the bow. Surely it wasn't given for moments like this.
Actually, there's a flaw in the Crown Prince's words. "A bow of all things"?
Archery is an elite skill. It takes years of training to use in real combat.
Even the highest pinnacle, "baby kill," was said by Joseon natives themselves to require ten years—even in this elven land where king to courtesan all wielded bows.
That's why bows face looser regulations than guns, swords, or spears in most modern countries.
Similar to not restricting bare-handed martial arts training. No reason to ban it unless some noble judge gets shot.
Anyway, the bow isn't an easy weapon.
I'm... yeah, the exception.
I don't know if this skill is the "ideal image of Lee Seonggye's archery" or the actual "archery of that man Lee Seonggye."
Honestly, even now, I rate his archery tales about as credible as the county magistrate's shrinking-earth technique.
Unlike Han Seokbong's calligraphy, preserved in writing, no one's filmed Lee Seonggye shooting arrows on video for verification.
Truth be damned—when I first got it, a few practice shots pierced a flying goose's eye.
For me, who couldn't even handle a modern rifle and had to bribe an admin to poke holes in a target with a ballpoint pen, my jaw nearly hit the floor.
Jealous? Fine, swap places with me. Want a goose? Shoot it down. I'll just order chicken.
I never flaunted the skill. The passing scholar hides his archery prowess. And I'll keep hiding it. At least in this Seoul.
My—no, my ancestor's—mysterious archery manifested in truly mysterious fashion before my eyes.
The Crown Prince aimed slightly off from the target's position.
Couldn't make it obvious like his future son Jeongjo pretending humility (honestly, isn't that even more boastful?). He'd get caught immediately.
Out of ten shots, I'd win one or two fair and square, lose the rest on purpose.
By a hair. I'd pour in effort but inevitably fall short, sweat dripping with the act.
Like in baduk, losing without the opponent noticing requires being several ranks higher. Fortunately, I met the condition.
A good while later, I trembled my arms in utter exhaustion.
"My meager talent cannot match Your Highness."
This part wasn't acting.
The skill handled the accuracy, but my body supported it.
Push-ups at home tonight. Fingers felt broken, shoulders dislocated.
Fortunately, the Crown Prince seemed satisfied. Playing with kids is exhausting. Truly filthy work.
But he wasn't just some immature boy.
"I see your reputation is well-earned. Still, since I summoned you on a pretext, sending you back empty-handed will breed gossip. Come inside. Recite a few poems by the brazier to ward off the chill, then go."
Good. We'd spent the day composing poetry. Spread that around, and the other palace folk seemed to get the vibe too.
I followed him in, relieved.
Even for "blind man's buff," he rummaged the shelves for decorative books in case someone entered.
I tilted my head inwardly. Why no attendants?
Apparently, the Crown Prince wasn't the tidy type. He knocked something, and books avalanched down.
"Your Highness, are you unharmed?"
Unlikely he'd be hurt, but I hurled myself like blocking a shell. That's loyalty. Not to build a good image with fuss.
But that was the problem. I was too fast.
The Crown Prince flinched and reached to block my hand.
Too late—I'd already swept the offending books off his instep.
Those books were truly offensive.
Lifting the splayed volumes naturally revealed their contents.
I gaped at the explicit illustrations in the open bookcase.
In Joseon, starved of stimulating media, the intensity hit harder.
The title, hidden inside the cover, shocked even more.
"Hairpin and Cap...?!"
Why was this legendary hardcore BL novel here?
You... read this stuff?
After an indescribable commotion, the Crown Prince dismissed everyone sternly, leaving us alone.
Hesitating on what to say, I decided to comfort him.
"Golden Bottle Plum is one thing, but even Fragrant Spring Quality... I hear it's hard to find in Yanjing due to bans. The binding and stitching are exquisite too. A first-rate book."
"...As expected of the top exam graduate—mastery of all literature ancient and modern."
No, sorry, this is isekai hero knowledge.
These were all ultra-explicit erotic novels.
Best not mention that two of the three lack women entirely.
Tastes vary; respect them. Modern ethics.
Instead, I recalled a recent scholarly find from Korea.
Most fixate on Crown Prince Sado's death.
But Yi Hwon had a life, and achievements that burned bright.
Like the Chinese Novels Illustrated Compendium, compiling and introducing Chinese novels ancient and modern, with prefaces and faithful illustrations.
Why unknown? In modern terms, it's like a wiki for extreme porn shock sites.
Attributed to Sado only in the 2000s (recent in academia).
Why so late? The preface author hid as "Wansan Yi clan" only.
Why hide? Embarrassing.
Novels were undignified hobbies here; erotic ones, criminal, fit for flogging. The taboo mindset cared less about homo- vs. hetero- than obscenity.
Sado compiled mostly such works into the compendium. Sure, camouflage like Romance of the Three Kingdoms or Water Margin were listed, but the "real" ones reveal intent.
His inner cultivation started here.
He finished the compendium days before the barrel, I think.
Now I knew why no one followed him in. Had to restrict access even normally.
Teasing would kill me. I lowered my voice (and head).
"I'll stake my neck on keeping this secret. A young man's spring passions are natural—nothing to be ashamed of. Cast aside all worries, Your Highness."
Thinking it over, contradictory.
Not ashamed, yet a secret? Fair enough—even taught it's nothing to blush at in elementary sex ed, no kid shows parents their hidden folder.
Before he noticed, I lifted my head slightly, face resolute. Private audience, so safe.
He mirrored my expression.
"What do you want?"
Huh? Skipping ahead?
Not unreasonable. With first night days away and a father he'd die before letting see this, I get it.
I hadn't planned to squeeze kids for secrets, but if offered...
Still, blurting demands would be crass. I rattled off the opposite of my heart.
"What could this subject desire? Rather, I've offended Your Highness's sensibilities and deserve death. Despite your gracious entry to exams, I overstepped my station."
"So you know I pulled your exam paper too."
No, "gracious" meant the king's merit, not yours. Overthinking.
But what else to say?
"I am deeply grateful."
"Don't make it weird. I've never left the palace at fifteen. So I loosen my martial-weary body with feats and soothe lonely heart with those books... Anyway. You must know regency orders come soon."
From grumbling, he snapped to business.
"I've begged, but Father won't forgive. This time, as sub-regent, I must obey. I can do a small favor. You're not yet reinstated from dismissal—back to the Office of Diplomatic Correspondence?"
No, idiot. No money there. He doesn't know my finances.
I sighed inwardly, pondering how to hint my wish obliquely yet clearly.
The regency system seems distorted by kings who politicized it, but for lifelong monarchs, it's useful—and functioned multiple times in Joseon.
Even Yeongjo's child-tormenting, minister-controlling version had to follow form.
On the twentieth of the first month, as scheduled, regency orders issued.
Whatever the first night, court split into grand regent (main regency) and sub-regent—two kings reigning.
If sub-regent handled trivia while grand oversaw major, it'd advertise the Crown Prince as inept.
He showed humility by consulting grand on even trivia. Yeah, I'd do the same.
But Yeongjo raged, "Why have a sub-regent then?"
Acting independently? "He thinks he's king now!" Rage.
Not all. In the second month, he lectured on state affairs: "Like Han Emperor Cheng, don't be righteous in front and lewd behind."
No explicit folder caught, of course. Why invoke Han emperors?
Cheng? Emperor who wed beauty sisters (Yao-Shun precedent helped), overdosed aphrodisiacs, died mid-forbidden hobby unfit for histories.
Hey, to your newlywed son? After nuking his wedding night with regency?
Watching up close (rumors spread), it transcended history. Not father—bastard.
Yet, amid struggles, the Crown Prince kept his promise.
Probably wanted me secured quick, lest loose lips worsen his plight.
Direct cause of his execution: Na Gyeong-eon's accusation?
I'd never report his "misdeeds."
Accusing royalty in Joseon?
First, the "arrogant traitor" daring it signs VIP contract with flogging lawyer.
Yeongjo acknowledged Na's "loyal intent," but flogged anyway. Lèse-majesté.
Execution follows. That's status. Right/wrong secondary.
So I dropped interest in Sado's explicit folder. Kids gonna kid.
Instead, Jangbok whistled packing with Eoji. Gifts from Crown Prince included.
Jangbok sighed dramatically.
"Sir... no, County Magistrate. Leaving home for afar, how so cheerful? Rough road ahead. What trouble at the East Palace?"
"Tsk. Mind your mouth. Don't presume on past service. Just know your master passed exams and got office."
"Two offices, and you'll die on road as street ghost."
"Insolent pup. Eoji."
"Hit, hit?"
"Belt him good. Must've botched Great Cold porridge."
"Ow! Ow! Sorry! Eoji, how dare you—argh!"
"Anyone'd think Three Peaks trek. Just to Cheonan outskirts—what drama?"
That second month, I was appointed Mokcheon County magistrate in Chungcheong Province.
Rank: junior 6th. Crown Prince handled cleanly.
Top scorer warranted senior 6th by law, but prior dismissal demoted one grade.
Still junior 6th. From shady 8th, looks like no demotion or exile.
But as top graduate? Different story.
Like assigning exam topper provincial outpost over central policy role.
County-level too—and magistrate, not full magistrate (senior 5th)—feels like banishment. Used for disgraced high officials' reassignment.
Satisfied flunky factions like Hong Bonghan.
Arrogant youth "over-reliant on writing" rebelled, got booted. Perfect narrative.
Thus King Yi Geum approved.
Politics like dance: step forward, step back. For Yeongjo flattening court evenly, a casual "no excess hopes" to me and Andong Kim clan.
Thus, not just my trade on dirty books.
Yeongjo's taste for ambiguous setups meshed with court complexities—happy accident.
Good outcome for me.
Mokcheon holds nothing special.
But must a magistrate stay confined? Well, law says so. Just saying.
Bit of wits fattens family coffers aplenty.
Not greed—Chief State Councillor needs funds.
Korea's councilors rip roots for nomination; Premiership? Sky-high.
Plus, dodging as Sado veers off and flunkies hate me—decent Plan B.
Untangle entanglements thus. Anyway, outer posts essential to senior rank.
I summoned the status window that popped on appointment.
I smiled inwardly.
This Ascension to Premiership Chart game seems swayed by "my choices."
Initiation fiasco tanked capital path, activating exam top for southern post accounting.
Post-first mandatory clear, second held till career solidified. Junior+ passes were first objective add-ons.
Provincial now: Monument goal pops.
Both mandatories from my decisions.
Oh, forgot sub-objective.
Top exam unlocked "Foresight" to see it. Slipped mind; originally invisible.
As grumbling Jangbok loaded, I leisurely revealed "Hidden Sub-Objective."
Jangbok whirled at my dumb yelp.
"Step on early-spring snake?"
Even his snide query unanswered.
The visible-to-me status window mocked me.
This penalty for exploiting the marriage kid?
1. Sado and Yeongjo won't neatly divide into innocent victim or malicious abuser—continuing theme.
Even sans faction strife, Yeongjo (stronger power/responsibility) provided causes, but both personalities fueled the tragedy. Can't ignore.
While Yeongjo tormented Sado, Sado abused easier targets in palace. Starts post-regency and Lady Hyegyeong's rituals, as in story.
2. Kim Unhaeng's knowledge blends Joseon scholar and modern historian. Gaps (e.g., ghostwriter Go Bonghwan's identity, daily minutiae) and strengths exist.
Sado's novels: modern trivia for history buffs—intriguing issue.
Sidenote: Chinese Novels Illustrated Compendium closer to review collection; palace drew illustrations, but nothing extreme. Originals have them.
3. Per Hanjungnok, Sado palace-bound till 15. Yeongjo skipped outings even allowable; Sado cried wanting outside world.
4. Han Cheng lecture: Yeongjo 24-12-28 and 25-2-17, twice. Between: 25-1-27 Crown Princess wedding/consummation. Yeongjo's intent clear.
5. "Botched Great Cold heat": From superstition—on Great Cold (still winter), yell "Your heat! My heat! Swap heat!" to pawn summer swelter.
6. Joseon "village" usually county-level; province-wide uniform projects rarer. Larger: headquarters, garrisons, military zones like outposts/ports/forts.
Counties split: full magistrate (senior 5th) or deputy (as here). Mokcheon alternated exam/shady appointees traditionally.