Chapter 138
Chapter 138
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 138
Chapter Title: The Rolling Rice Chest (3)
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Apart from his duty as a regressor to establish the citizen militia, Kim Unhaeng made maximum use of the Training Command.
One of them was infiltrating part of the Black Demon Army into the Publications Bureau of the Training Command—one of Hun-guk's diverse revenue sources—to print lewd illustrated books.
The popularization and standardization of knowledge through the printing revolution was an indispensable step toward modernity. The woodblock printing for those lewd books had already been introduced by SIT's Team Japan.
The Publications Bureau, boasting a long history, had facilities and artisans that rivaled the Annals Office. But as a military outfit, they also liked to conscript soldiers with printing skills for free labor. Infiltration was thus extremely easy.
And it was just as easy for them to "accidentally" print the wrong woodblocks.
"Wh-what the hell is this?"
"Oops, my hand slipped. This lowly one used to work under Hong Jinsa, so old habits die hard... I'll burn it right away, sir."
"That Hong Jinsa?"
"Y-you know him, sir?"
"Ahem! Not really. But why'd you stop printing midway?"
"It's all messed up, isn't it? Gotta scrap it before the higher-ups notice and print a fresh one. My apologies."
"Hey now. It's a shame to waste a block that's already carved. Use this for a bowl of beef soup tonight, then print the rest quick. I'll toss it for you."
The military instructors, who until now had only printed and sold cheap pulp novels, were utterly shocked by this "cultural artifact from the Land of Wa."
As insular Joseon natives, they designated it top military secret.
And that secret was, naturally, guarded like iron.
It was hard to believe this was the Joseon army, famed since the early kingdom days for such high press freedom that even Jurchen chieftains knew of military maneuvers within ten days, thanks to swift communications. As Kim Unhaeng had thought, the citizen militia was superior to the king's army.
Furious Yi Geum ordered the seizure of all obscene images circulating in the capital and a thorough search, but even Training Commander Hong Bonghan had no idea where these pictures kept popping up from.
To the instructors begging for the second half, the Black Demons replied that "Hong Jinsa only had up to here," revealing the existence of sequels consigned to Samhwa-dang.
The Training Command's irregular expedition training to Songpa Ferry was scheduled immediately.
After all, as the kingdom's elite guardians, they ought to gaze upon the Samjeondo Stele right under their noses and reaffirm their anti-Qing northern expedition resolve. With Hun-guk's full backing, Samhwa-dang could now do anything in the capital.
The Training Command flourished dazzlingly.
The Publications Bureau's output was the barracks' communal property. Hun-guk, enhanced not just in combat power but cultural influence, resold consumed commercial prints to fund itself. Prosperity drew more volunteers.
When the musket and rifle corps strongly proposed expanding the Publications Bureau, Hong Bonghan accepted despite his puzzlement. It bolstered the crown prince's military strength, so there was no reason to refuse.
By late summer's brutal heat, revenue flowed even from the 300 gyeol of military farms Kim Unhaeng had hijacked.
While state agencies struggled managing distant tenant farmers, Samhwa-dang's debt-collecting thugs exploited the Southern "Four Emperors'" mobility.
In all ways, Kim Unhaeng's wealth and power had grown immensely.
He had more than enough to cover losses from the rebellion and still have surplus.
This year's rapid business expansion owed much to Kim Unhaeng's idleness. Joseon offices, with breaks only every ten days, offered no work-life balance.
Kim Unhaeng frequently visited Gangnam Daeseong Academy, long neglected in favor of Go Bonghwan. Recruiting its third cohort in earnest, he began deploying students to the Chun-sik Group administrative office.
Blatant unpaid exploitation. Yet the first- and second-cohort grads in court touted how Chun-sik Office experience aided their official duties. With seniors insisting "no one suffers alone," applicants flooded Gangnam Daeseong.
Progress was mostly smooth.
But not ideal.
My goal wasn't making money.
Sehwa seemed worried too.
"Isn't it time to start the rounds for appointments? I've quietly converted your assets into gold, ginseng, otter pelts, and such—easy to carry."
Truly touching. But I declined Sehwa's loving bribe bento.
"No need. I'm not going to them—I'm waiting for those who'll summon me. Word should come soon."
I had over seven years of official experience. And, immodest as it sounds, my true "popularity" exceeded that.
Not a rookie anymore. Now I could selectively bestow favors.
Adopting a detached scholar's poise, I continued teaching I Hwan calligraphy.
I Hwan's cheeks puffed as he ground ink for the fake palace insignia I'd given him.
"I don't know how to write it. No matter what, it won't look like Father's."
"Now, now. Feel the brush's harmony, unify your spirit. A pure heart yields pure script."
Truth be told, I didn't know how Han Seokbong's calligraphy worked either, so beyond demos, I could only spout martial arts manual platitudes.
Conveniently, in Joseon times, failure was the student's fault, not the teacher's.
As I admired I Hwan's pouty cuteness, the news I'd awaited arrived.
Steward Song reported from outside.
"A messenger from Nakchang-gun has come."
Nakchang-gun Yi Taeng was the man who'd busted the crown prince's Northern Studies smuggling. A Qing specialist often handling Dongjisa affairs.
Important to the state, but not to the king.
Envoys were high-status enough to die abroad without fuss. Hence ministers were next preferred after royals.
And rightly so.
Ignoring how envoy duties worked, Yi Taeng's IOUs to merchants never dipped below a thousand nyang. Press too hard, and Nakchang-gun's servants beat you.
Didn't they used to flog debtors? As if 21st-century law applied equally.
Unlike pure capitalism's helplessness for the broke, moralistic Joseon had alternatives.
Some merchants rejected Yeongjo's annual market scripts and filed direct petitions.
Face-losing Yeongjo probably wished the emperor would "Dzungarize" Nakchang-gun.
Yet he always slunk back alive, using envoy perks to hustle debt covers, then rack up more luxury debts in revolving default.
The crown prince, admitting his own market debts, wheedled Nakchang-gun for smuggling aid, promising paternal intervention (brazen con).
But Nakchang-gun didn't know the "strange books" either. Hard for the prince to explain to a clan elder.
Like prior prince servants, he brought useless sciences or Catholic tomes, dumped on me.
To avoid loss, I swapped them for histories to SIT practical scholars as "king's pay." Lucky they loved impractical books.
Now Nakchang-gun urgently summoned me.
Following his guest retainer to Nakchang-gun's house, I again marveled at Joseon shamelessness.
"So... you've already spent this mission's entire travel stipend?"
Joseon felt alien anew. No wonder the Brutal Heat Party didn't back this guy.
Nakchang-gun embodied impudence.
"They won't extend more credit—what can I do? No food, clothes, or meds left. Greedy thugs, those merchants."
Merchants seemed resolved to cut losses without lending more. Beat collectors, sure—but sending servants for goods was robbery, even for him.
"But the envoy's already left, no? I thought you skipped due to illness."
Desperate for mission-trade debt recovery, Nakchang-gun pushed his aged body, but it failed. Second-cohort Yu Eon-ho's uncle Yu Cheok-gi went instead.
"Right. They advanced from the treasury in a pinch, but unless filled by year's end, it's dismissal and exile! For an old man bound for the afterlife anyway!"
"The king said that?"
"His Majesty wouldn't treat a vassal so. It's Yeongseong-gun! Why's a Chief Councillor haggling over trifling 3,000 nyang?"
Because he resumed equitable tax directorship.
Park Mun-su tolerated no wealth shift from his to others' departments.
And the national alchemist Park Mun-su's "intolerance" was grave. Royal or not, touch the philosopher's stone, become exile-fodder for human transmutation.
"Yeongseong-gun praised you. Care to put in a word?"
No way. He'd exile me too, no thought.
Frankly, I agreed with Park Mun-su. 3,000 nyang—pocket change?
Thus absolute monarchy's rot. Maybe the status window chose me for Joseon's democracy.
But now, I needed that monarch's kin.
Nakchang-gun Yi Taeng was old, as he said (thick-skinned, not dying soon). Also meant royal elder.
Distant kin, yes—but closer royals were purged or neutered in the Brutal Heat.
For throne-challengers, his backing mattered.
Suyang-gun's coup had backing from ingrate Yangnyeong-gun, whom Sejong spared.
As I pondered, Nakchang-gun lobbed a fastball.
"The prince mentioned your family's wealth—that's why I called."
Lock father-son in a rice chest for "family bonding," snag Chief Councillor via grandson?
I resisted Confucian temptation. Solo without prince's pull? Impossible.
"We do lend at interest, but not to nobles."
"I get your worry. Against this old lord, sure, power crushes repayment. But I won't take it to the grave. I'll pay—ignore the prince's intro?"
You ignored the treasury—prince means more?
I held back. Lending anyway? No point breeding grudge.
"If His Highness insists, no choice. I've seen royal fraternity anew."
So play Yangnyeong-gun later? Got it?
Unclear if he grasped, but Nakchang-gun Yi Taeng clasped my hand gratefully.
Per Hanjungnok, mad late-life Sado Seja dug a grave-like pit under his chamber, hung lanterns, and lived there.
The banquet food seemed ghostly; Lady Hyegyeonggung Hong dreaded it.
The unsaddened Sado Seja had something similar.
The subfloor cache under his book nook—once seen by Kim Unhaeng—holding lewd prints and Northern histories. Crown princess would eye it with like terror.
Now partly free of father's watch, the prince expanded and relocated his secret lair.
A vast basement under East Palace annex Nakseon-dang housed the collection. Maybe he always fancied cramped spots.
Today, too, he descended to survey.
2D consorts filling it, beloved by the crown prince.
Old holdings, smuggled from Japanese Office seizures, mystery new pics—Joseon's dark industry epitome.
But sampling a few, he lost interest, tossing them.
"Eyes say prettier, flashier—yet none match Chun-sik's deliveries."
Most "pictures" were Joseon-made. Even with Kim Unhaeng's guidelines, native gaze seeped in.
But his "direct Qing imports" felt alien-fresh at root.
Era-transcending style, content. Prince craved rereads.
Yet jobless Kim Unhaeng couldn't visit freely.
Protective prince hated risking couriers for smuggled goods. Nakchang-gun proved no substitute.
Kim Unhaeng must return—not just for Northern Studies, but politics.
Crown princess cautiously greeted the returned prince.
"You always emerge from Nakseon-dang bright, wise—today worry clouds you. What troubles?"
He didn't panic. He had a role model.
"Nakseon-dang fails to cleanse my mind. Send word to Inwangsan. Prepare for audience soon."
"Yes."
Accustomed to his Security Planning Department, she nodded.
Adding her plea.
"Uncle (Hong Inhan) wishes audience. Severely scolded by Father (Hong Bonghan), seeks atonement."
Understandable. Unaware princess couldn't ice her uncle.
Prince knew Hong Inhan hindered Kim Unhaeng but saw no cause to sever uncle ties over it.
People change. Hong Bonghan once loathed Kim Unhaeng too—now allies.
Prince approved casually.
"So be it."
Two paths to upper rank.
One: king's special appointment.
Two: via set key posts for lowers (Office of Diplomatic Correspondence, Court of Royal Cuisine, Training Command, Rites Institute heads). Military Secretariat Chief counts as promoter but new, so by precedent—not official list.
King showed no intent for Kim Unhaeng special hire; those four drew hordes—even prince couldn't plant young Kim freely.
Thus, list him lowly for court return, await chance.
Harmless post? Father can't rage openly—military merit stands.
No need overly cunning; from history, this Sado Seja was raping grandma's maids then—incredible political savvy.
Next audience, prince declared Kim Chun-sik's comeback.
"Training Commander reports ex-Special Commander Kim Unhaeng suffered, family impoverished unused. Unbefitting meritous subject—appoint him to Original Salary Successor Upper Guard (Rank 3 lower military post, no duties)."
No "impoverished family—namesake?" queries.
All grasped Kim Unhaeng's dire straits. He'd lavished them cash—mathematically penniless. No opposition.
Left Councillor Jo Jae-ho, relieved no key post jump, endorsed.
"Your Highness's decree is just. Spear master, peerless archer, twice shattered Hongmao Band—troops' morale will sharpen."
Kim skipped military exam; literary-slot Original Salary Successor meant no career shift.
But his face twitched receiving the post.
"Capital pleasure-master" Hong Inhan sent courtesans, music as apology; prince's invite (order) for modest Nakseon-dang inauguration? Worse twitch.
Yet Kim couldn't refuse.
After a year, he reentered East Palace.
The mutual rice-chest rollers collided first at Nakseon-dang.
Author's Note
1. Publications Bureau confirmed by Injo reign at latest; Training Command commercial publishing from Gwanghaegun suggests pre-Injo existence. Initially tactical manuals like Gi-hyo Sinseo, later novels, poetry—key Hun-guk revenue.
2. Nakchang-gun's mission expense scandal happened historically (one year later here). Punished for market debts (exact amounts match); ministers debated collections (Park Mun-su fictionalized). Luxury cause invented.
3. "Grandma's maid" is Bing-ae (later Kyeongbin Park), consort's attendant beaten dead by prince's fit. Yeongjo raged at prince taking her ("slammed floor" per Han-jungnok), stressing "master's maid" like his daughter-in-law's.
4. Upper Guard, Grand Guard, Guard titles: Goryeo "generals" renamed. Upper Guard = Upper General (Joseon has no official "general" titles—it's Guard). Formal command early Joseon only; now honorary, literary allotments like story—bridge post for off-term officials.