Chapter 14
Chapter 14
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 14
Chapter Title: 7. Passing Scholar (3)
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Before a local official arrives at his post, he must pay respects to the king and high officials.
This is called saeunsukbae—thanking them for their grace with solemn bows.
The fact that he must pay respects not only to the king but also to high officials is quite telling. It's a strong reminder that in Joseon, appointments aren't decided by the king alone.
However, I only visited the Ministry of Personnel and the two censorates—after checking the people Status Window had flagged. Those it marked as unlikeable didn't get a friendly glance from me—and for the king (and the regent crown prince), I submitted a sukbaedanja form through the Tongnyeowon instead.
It's impractical for the king to meet every county magistrate personally, so this kind of handling is commonplace. Especially since I'm young and low-ranking.
Good thing.
For different reasons, I wasn't keen on meeting the king or crown prince right now either.
Before departing, Jangbok bawled his eyes out, clutching his newlywed wife's hand.
That servant sure knows how to carry on.
I get it—who'd want to leave home right after the wedding?
Even if Jangbok hadn't been much help at the exam hall, I'd kept my promise.
Father supported the marriage of Jangbok, who'd "served his master well and aided his exam success."
Song, the jinshi from Hwanghwa Hall, was satisfied too, even if he couldn't openly scold me. At least our families were now connected.
Unlike us yangban, a servant's marriage is straightforward once eyes meet—more modern, in a way.
Who needs all that fuss with betrothal gifts and picking auspicious dates?
The couple doesn't want it, nor does the master hoping for quick heirs.
So Jangbok had already brought his bride home in the first lunar month. No wonder he hated the long trip.
But wasn't it the dowry from our house that sealed the deal?
Though it was basically like handing over a servant girl from their side.
He'd forgotten all about kowtowing with his nose to the mat, scribbling nonsense like "your grace is etched in my bones." Hey, if I hadn't written that math textbook, you wouldn't even be married.
And I'm not one to miss a chance to remind him.
Invisible favors? Save those for people who get it.
So I patiently explained how ungrateful, treacherous, two-faced, and shameless Jangbok was.
One key duty of us elites is educating and reforming the lowly.
The more he heard my lecture, the more his face crumpled—but with Eoji beside me, he knew better than to let it really scrunch up.
"—that's how it is. Got it, Jangbok? A magistrate's term is at most under five years anyway."
At my logical rebuttal, Jangbok perked up from his sulk.
"F-Five years away from home, sir?"
"At longest. Usually one or two, sometimes just months before reassignment. No need to worry. And you'll see your wife plenty in between—who else would I send messages home with? Tsk tsk. Just behave, and we'll take care of everything from above."
By law, a magistrate's term is 1,800 days. But few serve it full.
Looking sheepish, Jangbok just scratched his freshly topped-up hair knot.
I dropped it there. Talking marriage kept reminding me of my side goal.
Ugh, really gotta marry just to farm Status Window coins?
Second most absurd reason I've heard, after "promise with childhood friend, pinky swear."
I'll think after settling in.
"Anyway... we've been on the Seonghwan Road for a while now. Hang in till tonight, and tomorrow we'll sleep at the government office. Sunset's nearing—Jangbok, hurry ahead to the nearest post station or inn and clear a room."
"Yes, sir."
The yet-to-be-born Jeong Yak-yong wrote in Mokmin Simseo:
"A magistrate's procession is pure if it's just a few people, bedding, underclothes, and a single book."
I don't remember exactly, but something like that.
In my opinion, phrasing it as "worthy of being called incorruptible" instead of "should be" suggests even he didn't follow it.
Can't be helped.
I can't afford fancy palanquins or silk curtains, but why hide my status? Am I some secret royal inspector?
If bandits hit us on a remote mountain path like regular travelers, what then? Eoji's tough, but flesh doesn't stop blades.
Advertising as a magistrate cuts the risk.
Well, Joseon folk don't care if it's a magistrate when push comes to shove. Didn't a prince and princess nearly get poisoned twenty years ago?
Sending Jangbok ahead was for the same reason.
Is it cool bunking with commoners, saying, "Haha, no need for special treatment. Same as the peasants over there"?
Sure, noble character—no denying that.
But I can't.
Anyone who's tried knows why.
February in Joseon is practically full spring.
But as the saying goes, even spring's true month has lingering winter chill. How much warmer is Chungcheong from Seoul?
So I sprawled in the empty room, warming up on the heated floor.
"Heh, nice and toasty. Jangbok and Eoji could share the underfloor spot."
They grinned, soaking it in without protest. A bit smelly, but top-notch.
Besides this room Jangbok prepped, the roadside inn had others.
Warm ones too.
Warmed by human body heat, that is.
I could guess how Jangbok handled it.
Strutted in head high, kicked open the screen door, goose-stepped forward...
"The new magistrate of Mokcheon County has arrived—clear a clean room and ban riffraff and whores! What? Full up? You blind fool, need a caning under the red-arrow gate first? This lord'll fold waists double, fit thirty in a snap!"
Something like that. Good job, Jangbok.
If not, I'd be crammed with other travelers (probably cursing me now), suffocating, too paranoid about thieves to sleep.
Not some servant-power-trip thing. Necessity.
Up to Gwangju in Gyeonggi, I'd bunked casually with folks.
Midway yamen exist, but personal ties matter.
Lodging carelessly racks up favors. Not like offices pop up everywhere I stop.
That night at the Yangjae post inn, I paid the price.
Plague-pit stench piercing even Disease Immunity, blizzard winds ignoring cooldown through torn paper doors, bedbug legions blessed by demons scourging my folly from early spring.
Torture for a modern guy or sheltered young yangban who'd never left home in twenty years.
And near Asan, a sneak-thief slipped in pretending to be a guest, groping around.
Chilled me to the bone—my seal and papers were there.
Lose them? Neglect of duty—exile the lightest punishment.
Eoji breaking his wrist was overkill, though. In his defense, he probably just gripped to stop escape. Our Eoji's so kind.
So no more beggar act from me.
Inside Mokcheon now—no need to watch eyes. I backed Jangbok fully.
Even flashed my seal at the skeptical innkeeper eyeing my youth.
Desperate times.
Now he's swept the best ondol room spotless, crammed other guests chicken-coop style elsewhere, and stokes the fire diligently.
In Korea, I'd be motel-karen viral on SNS tomorrow. Joseon's no different.
But here's the twist—you can dodge bad rep by how you follow up.
So I paid nearly triple for our group. That's why he ignores complaints.
He'll skim some, toss dog-meat soup bowls around. Guests'll say:
"On second thought, a noble lord—can't be helped!"
"Right. Official duty brooks no delay or mercy—can't room near peasants. More of this? Dog meat beats ginseng even in early spring—zing!"
That's how it rolls here. Korea's chaebol heirs do the same, toss bags—same vibe.
No money? That's why the small entourage. Fewer heads, budget wiggle room.
Bit of cash, but this was paper—notebooks, paper bundles from yangban friends as "appointment gifts."
They think I'll study diligently and serve faithfully.
Sorry. Conditioning's key for work or study.
The owner rustled up a plate of pig-head sliced meat—who knows from where—paired with murky rice wine. Fine late snack.
Didn't order, but grinning as he served felt scammy—still, I caused the hassle, so paid up.
Smelled fresh (miracle). My skills shrug it off, but for these two Joseon servants wanting colorful ghosts at death's door, caution.
Warm meal, snug heated room—what happens?
They crashed fast. I drowsed too.
Just as sleep swallowed me—like a body blow spewing me from its gut—a sharp voice pierced.
"What nonsense is that now?"
Woman's voice?
I bolted upright.
Not girl-crazy—this era, shocking enough.
Sunset past, woman roaming? In Joseon?
Peddlers do, sure—wine sellers, trinket hawkers with shoulder boxes.
But usually with a man proxy; too risky solo.
So I listened.
"Aigoo, keep it down. Noble arrived—no choice. You know Lady Geomgyeong's mountain ascetic powers from Georyong. Not snubbing—just scared of grudge. One toothache, and it's beating time."
Innkeeper whispered, but young ears caught it all.
"How noble? The king himself?"
"Hush, that'll curse us. Mokcheon's new magistrate—low-rank sir. Young as spring grass, with goblin servant and pea-brain sidekick—fishy, but seal's real. Powerless folk gotta yield."
Oh ho, innkeep—that's us? What'd you give me? The room?
But the woman—shrine maiden or nun by mountain talk—ramped up at "magistrate."
"Even the king skirts the divine road central path—ancestors' spirits pass there.
What’s a magistrate stealing ritual offerings? And you just hand it over? In Mokcheon, who stays neighbors longer—me, Lady Yeoni, or that sir?"
Hey, I didn't ask.
So that pig meat... head, huh. Why sliced pork?
Meant for her ritual—shaman Yeoni's.
Selling booze ain't respected, but innkeep's goodfolk—shaking before a shaman? Big clan?
Voice says not old enough. Early spirit descent lottery?
Innkeep flipped instantly.
"Stolen, yeah. Just spare divine punishment. Or it'll hit that corrupt hawk."
This punk.
"Show sincerity then. Apologize to mountain spirit—double the price."
"D-Double?"
"Was picking up post-ritual. Now redo—hire folks, costs double. Skimp, god wrath takes your kid instead. Your call."
All of it!
Sweep 'em with "Seomunpyo"?
Or silence forever with a slaughter.
But I calmed. Canceled the qi gathering in my trembling palm.
This is 18th-century civilized Joseon. Not "cure human sacrifice with human sacrifice" idiocy from Golgyeoljeon—laughable pre-Qin dark ages.
Think.
Just arrived, young—scribes and hyanggyo will flay me alive like fresh meat.
No welcome procession yet? See?
That powerhouse local force... yeah. With hyanggyo, six offices, academy as the big three, call these Mokcheon Four Heavenly Kings.
One on my side? Huge win.
Solves "how to bypass clerks?" plaguing every magistrate. Direct line to underclass.
Innkeep's bullying? His problem. Or please, keep getting it. Divine punishment? Whatever.
But can't bow. Scold with "righteous cause" and "proper rites," soothe, recruit.
Real talk and negotiation.
No "that skill." Am I in porn? That fantasy flops.
I know the Japanese salaryman who bedded from receptionist to chairwoman.
But this is etiquette-East Joseon. Leagues above lewd Japs morally.
Tangle with shamans? Mokcheon Lewd Magistrate title, expelled from pro-scholar league.
No way. Hard-earned card.
Chief Councillor's distant—too modest.
King promotes me one step, censor board blasts reminder:
"Unhaeng stirred scandal pre-Mokcheon post. Lewd dissipation aside, consorting with sorcerers—what intent?"
Last bit ominous.
Post-Lee In-jwa rebellion, Yeongjo-era plots often name Georyong shaman cliques—like candy.
Yeah, that Georyong Jeong's millennial kingdom. Jeonggamrok. She trained there too?
Slip, need five rice chests for my star-sliced corpse—Yeongjo's cute pattern.
Worse for marriage side-goal.
Local scandal? Power clans distance.
Chief Councillor slips away.
Joseon tolerates men's flings—no legal bite—but rep tanks same.
Rep trumps law here. Rumors faster than couriers.
Act prim or future in-laws (higher status to boost me—ideally) blacklist.
"Take her in" option? Trash.
No direct ties. Proxy handshake.
Plenty to trade without sleaze.
Even mighty, forms matter. Why buy yangban status in Yangbanjeon?
Her threats top out at innkeeps. Pent-up grievances? I fix.
Plan set, I stepped out.
If Eoji/Jangbok escalate trusting my backing—ruined. Settle quiet first.
I popped into the yard; innkeep knelt nimbly. Shaman Yeoni knelt too.
Of course.
Again: not power-tripping. Joseon greetings. Even lowly scholar like me gets it.
Unfair? Then what's status? Tell the king.
I mediated lightly.
"Didn't know it was yours, but ate another's meat—embarrassing. Innkeep's slyness vexing, but what's done is done. Tormenting the distressed looks petty. Take refund and call it?"
Innkeep realized I overheard, trembled.
Yeoni, kingly, unflinched.
Head bowed, she said:
"Does a thief return stolen goods and get off?"
Sounds like scolding innkeep, but pins me for eating.
I feigned shock. Life cheap?
Ah, entourage outside. Solo long trip unlikely.
But I got Joseon's top tank Eoji.
Plus, not market brawl.
Straight question:
"By that logic, I'm bribe-taking too. That what you mean?"
Expected silence—she answered.
"Magistrate reads much, versed in rites. Ritual food untouched till god eats—known to Banja scholars or street urchins.
You didn't know, but now do. Judge this suit by rites; even lowly shaman trusts you won't err."
No divine threats before me. Pass.
Implies she'll join conditionally.
But first, discipline.
Rites? Rites, you say? Heh.
Not your turf, heretics.
Our Confucian domain.
And who am I? Top exam graduate! Zhangdong's Kim Unhaeng.
I gripped my fan—scholar essential—like a mic, snapped it open to veil my face.
Now begins the Passing Scholar's freestyle stage.
1. Simplified in-story, but local officials' arrival procedures—greetings alone—are insanely complex.
Saeunsukbae for king differed from sajwa for ministers; high officials had separate rites. These were "regulations," not customs—miss ten-day deadline, demerit like modern apology letter.
Ten days? No phones, no GPS—mapping high officials' homes/schedules, plotting routes? Tough. For the official, entourage boarding in Seoul (self-paid) racks costs—hurry or bust.
2. Seonghwan-do is a Joseon relay name; place still exists. Military base too, for those who know.
3. Huangse walk: pompous strides. Hongsalmun: outer yamen gate. Rat-ball peak: sly schemer. Bongnosilbang: inn's largest room for crowds.
4. Modern history obscures it, but premodern local shamanism/religion wielded far more power than we think. Fades with eras, but hinted in Sahachon.
Not that shamans defied magistrates.
5. In-story Jeonggamrok plot ties aren't modern knowledge—contemporary fact.
From 1730s: prophecies, wall postings, Lee In-jwa rebellion, later Cheongju, Jecheon plots—Yeongjo/Jeongjo-era rarely Jeonggamrok-free. Peaks with 19th-century Hong Gyeongrae.
Hoseo central, like Cheongju/Jecheon. Mokcheon implicated too.
Joseon mid-late got twitchy on Jeonggamrok. Possession alone heavy crime. Shamans/taoists often messengers—why Unhaeng wary.
Jeonggamrok's more folklore aggregate than unified scripture (books vary)—not monolithic underworld cabal, but factions using popular hype to rally.