Chapter 140
Chapter 140
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 140
Chapter Title: Light up the fire(2)
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Kim Unhaeng gathered the soldiers as Commander of the Mutual Aid Forces right after sending a few words of instruction to the rescued Crown Prince.
The Right Record Office had no duties and thus no authority, but no one was nitpicking over such details.
While organizing the Nakseondang pavilion with the soldiers, Kim Unhaeng took the lead, shovel in hand, ahead of everyone else. Won Inson, who had been present as the Crown Prince's tutor, watched the scene and nodded solemnly.
"That's just like the feats of Lord Yeongseong that His Majesty himself praised in the past. When Lord Yeongseong was building the fortress walls back then, even though they lacked both materials and manpower, he set an example for the troops just like that—and so a stronghold rose from nothing."
In truth, embers still smoldered deep within, but Kim Unhaeng paid no heed to his own body.
"Even a wretched cur like Kim Chiryang deserves to have his corpse recovered, doesn't he?"
Everyone was awestruck by his magnanimity, which even tolerated the silence of the masses. It was the epitome of Confucian virtue.
That said, few rushed in to follow his example. It wasn't out of fear—they were simply too busy being genuinely impressed.
In the meantime, Kim Unhaeng thoroughly eradicated any trace of the Crown Prince's thumb drive folder that might have survived amid the ashes, leaving not a single cache behind.
He burned what he could with nearby embers, and when that wasn't enough, he dragged out Kim Chiryang's corpse and used the debris to roughly seal the basement entrance, shoving it shut with his own body.
Of course, he slipped a couple of sheets into the sleeves of Kim Chiryang's corpse.
It was insurance in case something Kim Unhaeng himself had missed turned up later—they'd pin it on Kim Chiryang.
Given Kim Chiryang's track record, no one would suspect otherwise.
Kim Unhaeng sighed inwardly.
'Why am I stuck playing hard drive cleaner?'
Eulji Mundeok's flame skill wasn't indestructible like diamond, so the burns and scrapes from non-fiery sources kept stinging. But he couldn't just leave Guan Yu's Endurance running recklessly, or he might drop dead without realizing it—quite the dilemma.
Of course, from the skill-less Crown Prince's perspective, this was pure luxury.
The Crown Prince, covered in burns here and there, was enduring even greater pain than Kim Unhaeng.
But for him right now, the mental anguish outweighed the physical.
His father the King had deliberately assembled the ministers just to summon and berate the Crown Prince.
Hong Inhan and Kim Chiryang had no prior communication with Yi Geum.
The "I knew nothing—it was my subordinate's solo act!" line that high officials parroted like macros in the news often drew mockery, but surprisingly, it wasn't always a lie.
Great leaders typically surrounded themselves with loyal retainers who dirtied their own hands without needing explicit orders.
If things went south, they could always sacrifice the "overzealous" underling; if they succeeded, the superiors would "generously" reward them. That's how organizations functioned.
So Yi Geum decided to protect his underlings too.
The Crown Prince hadn't died, so the plan had failed—but he couldn't discard Hong Inhan, whom he was just starting to groom.
Seeing how well the man already read his intentions, he'd surely become a major asset down the line.
Politically, punishing Hong Inhan might push Hong Bonghan and the entire Training Command to defect—though they probably wouldn't for that reason alone. Above all, Yi Geum wanted to pin everything on the Crown Prince.
"What was the meaning of flouting the alcohol ban right before my eyes, summoning courtesans and jesters to the palace, and then setting a fire to top it off? Even if we overlook you, what about the Imperial Heir and Lord Yongdu nearly coming to harm? And it's spring now—the winds are from the southeast!"
Even someone familiar with the circumstances would think, 'Huh, the Crown Prince really screwed up.' It was masterful agitation.
And that final line even hinted at treason.
A southeast wind hitting the Eastern Palace would carry the flames northwest—to Changdeok Palace, where the King resided.
Treason was the one crime that could justify executing the Crown Prince.
Sensing the gravity, Chief State Councillor Jo Jaeho intervened.
"That the Little Lord is safe is already a blessing from heaven and earth. We mustn't fracture father-son bonds over this. Hong Inhan and Kim Chiryang, who urged the feast on him, should be the ones punished. From the testimonies of the courtesans seated nearby, Kim Chiryang startled at the Little Lord's dignity, tripped alone, and knocked over the candelabrum. How can we not investigate twice?"
It was unavoidable in the Crown Prince's crisis, but as a Soron, Jo Jaeho shouldn't have targeted fellow Soron Hong Inhan and Kim Chiryang like that.
Yi Geum, seizing the pretext, issued a thunderous rebuke.
"The Chief Councillor speaks too far beyond party lines! It was a feast held under the pretext of celebrating Kim Unhaeng—why ignore that and defend the Crown Prince while slandering Kim Chiryang, who sacrificed his life? Moreover, didn't Kim Unhaeng flee first when the fire started and never return? Parading a minor late merit to evade punishment—what effrontery!"
The Crown Prince, prostrated silently like a proper subordinate, twitched at the shoulders.
As dawn broke, I was certain the formatting was complete.
So when the Royal Secret Service agents arrived to interrogate me and compile records, I promptly "passed out from injuries and exhaustion."
The current Commissioner of the Royal Secret Service was Hong Sanghan, a kinsman of Hong Bonghan. Unlike Hong Inhan, he aligned with Hong Bonghan's faction and had presided over my prior interrogation, so he felt some guilt toward me.
How did I know? During the hairpin murder case, he'd deliberately overlooked my exclusion from the suspect net.
The Royal Secret Service operatives were obviously wary of mishandling the "Crown Prince Protector"—the backlash upon my return would be fierce. With sentiments aligned top to bottom, my no-arrest investigation was a done deal, no judgment needed.
Hitched home on Eoji's back, I woke the moment I passed through the gate. Nothing like the warmth of home.
But Sehua was greatly startled.
"Why do you always come back like this after going to court?"
"I'm not hurt much. Just tired."
"Not hurt? Your clothes are soaked in blood in places. At least your face is fine... No, come this way first. You need to wash up."
Thanks to the medical knowledge I'd set as the Jangdong Kim family secret, my household bathed far more often than average Joseon folk.
The servants grumbled, but as an otherworld hero, spreading hygiene to boost population was the least I could do.
A makeshift bath stood ready next to the kitchen. Sehua led me there.
And effortlessly lifted the heavy latch to lock the door.
Even as a noblewoman's wife, Joseon women were strong.
But why wasn't she leaving?
"I can wash myself..."
"I'll help you undress. Goodness, these clothes are only fit to line Chobok's kennel now. No way even the slaves would take them. What on earth happened?"
Poor Chobok, Joseon's first dog rolling in plainclothes. Congrats—your master's down to his birthday suit.
Sehua was geared up like King Hyeonjong, the Hygiene Lord, ready to douse me in a thousand basins of hot water. She held one basin in one hand while prodding my body firmly with the other.
"Why's this torn? And here?"
I explained bits of last night's chaos whenever she touched a wound.
I especially emphasized that the courtesans were my deliberate political placement—they'd have testified by now.
Sehua listened, then pressed a hot towel to my back. I swear the towel cracked, but blame Joseon's primitive textiles.
"Let me wipe you down. Does it hurt?"
"You know my endurance. Not a bit."
"You don't have to hold back here."
As Sehua leaned in from behind, my old lover's instincts kicked in.
I turned off Guan Yu's Endurance.
Stings flooded my body, and I felt her lips on the wounds on my back.
Just like back in Wangsimni before my undercover inspector days, she murmured in that state.
"You've earned great merit—that's worth celebrating. But please don't hurt yourself. We're still young, you and I. Even if you rise high, find a safer path."
"Wouldn't losing the Mutual Aid Command post I barely earned now be too much of a setback?"
"His Majesty won't do that. It'd mean punishing Hong Inhan even more harshly."
If they couldn't punish Hong Inhan, they couldn't punish me. And no punishment for me meant acknowledging my "great merit." I marveled at Sehua's analysis.
She peeled her lips away and trailed her fingers from my shoulders to my sides.
"Even if not, Lord Chungjang (Kwon Yul) didn't enter service till past forty, and Lord Chungmu started as a mere foot soldier—yet both became top-class Meritorious Retainers of Border Defense. What's so bad about being unranked now? If anything, I'm guilty for urging you to pull strings before."
I hadn't a clue what Sehua was on about.
And she noticed I wasn't listening. Her hand slid lower.
"My, didn't you say you collapsed from exhaustion?"
Her voice carried a teasing lilt.
"Guess I need a wash too."
I hadn't sharpened my senses with skills, yet the rustle of her garments falling was crystal clear.
That day, our servants had to boil and haul water twice over.
All the prepared bathwater had gone cold.
Hygiene initiatives definitely aid population growth.
The Crown Prince dared not lift his head. But he wasn't entirely silent.
"If I've erred, I'll gladly accept any punishment. But punishing Kim Unhaeng isn't mere personal bias—it's unjust even by standards of national rewards and penalties."
Everyone was stunned.
'The Crown Prince... talking back?'
He'd never directly confronted the King before—not during the Mun incident, nor the hairpin murder chaos.
By era norms, even if the King raped the Crown Princess, the Crown Prince couldn't defy him. "Subjects prostrate without question." Status trumped all logic.
Yi Geum was the most shocked.
In that rare moment the King's words faltered, the Crown Prince pressed on.
"Kim Unhaeng repeatedly tried to dissuade me from my faults. When the fire finally broke out, he plunged in without hesitation. The schemers call it 'fleeing'—it was merely the servant pulling him out."
"Isn't that proof he taught his servants disloyalty?"
Yi Geum's retort wasn't bad, considering his mental shock from the Crown Prince's backtalk.
But the Crown Prince had gotten smarter.
With his inner palace quarters incinerated, the Crown Prince had shed worldly distractions—replacing them with fury.
"The dog of a podunk barked at Emperor Yao not because Yao lacked benevolence, but because he wasn't its master [Records of the Grand Historian]. The servant was loyal to his lord, and that lord to the royal house. Anyone can claim with words or brush to become burning straw for their sovereign—but how many through the ages have done so literally?"
His eloquent defense flowed on.
"Kim Chiryang's death is tragic for his family, but he leaped in himself—we can't compare. Moreover, he was notorious for debauchery and cruelty; gruesome tattoos were found on his corpse already. Praising him sets a poor example for posterity."
Only Park Mun-su faintly sensed Kim Unhaeng's influence here.
It was shocking enough as is. The other ministers couldn't imagine the Crown Prince framing his own scandals onto a corpse.
Kim Chiryang's Namyang faction kinsmen especially hung their heads in shame. Kim Chiryang, the man who'd devoted his life to NTR, had his final moment stolen by even the Crown Prince's 2D harem—departing in dishonor.
Yi Geum sensed defeat here.
Not because the Crown Prince's logic was sound. Yi Geum had never needed or wanted reason to despise his son.
The Crown Prince's words implied he'd received a "firsthand" investigation report before the King.
The King turned to Minister of War and Royal Secret Service Commissioner Hong Sanghan.
But Hong Sanghan, who'd leaked nothing to the Crown Prince, remained unfazed. He had an ironclad alibi: he'd entered the palace immediately upon the fire's outbreak.
Plus, he'd urged calling the fire brigade, only for the King to snap that night watch troops sufficed—leading to a grave misunderstanding.
'He tried to burn the palace to frame the Crown Prince—what madness!'
Oblivious to Hong Sanghan's thoughts, Yi Geum racked his brains furiously.
Kim Unhaeng jumping into the fire wouldn't have had leisure for such details. Yi Geum could only assume the Crown Prince had a spy network blanketing the palace unknown even to him.
To buy thinking time, he moved to wrap up this losing round.
"How dare you talk back? You must still be drunk. Setting aside the rest, violating the alcohol ban is unforgivable!"
But the Crown Prince didn't flinch—instead, he calmly piled on his own guilt.
"Yes. Though it was my subordinates' doing, I failed to supervise or stop them from fetching pine nut tea and omija tea from the Royal Storehouse. I reflect deeply on that sin."
The Royal Storehouse was the King's private stock, and no one in Joseon mistook pine nut or omija concoctions for mere "tea."
Even so, Yi Geum didn't fall for it twice.
He was admitting fault on the surface, so Yi Geum feigned ignorance of the "tea" names and commanded coldly.
"The Crown Prince is confined to the Eastern Palace henceforth, not a step out. All his tutors are dismissed; no one enters save the guards. He shall read the Book of Documents, 'Counsels of Shun' daily—cease only when his mind is truly settled."
It was forcing him to relive Emperor Shun's abusive childhood—the go-to excuse for child abusers throughout premodern East Asian history.
A loose interpretation went like this:
'Like Shun, even if your parents try to kill you, bear no grudge and rebel not.'
The Crown Prince had been somewhat reckless.
He'd had no clear crimes before, so they'd tested the waters—but open defiance to his father was filial impiety, a capital offense. At least in Yi Geum's (the state's) view.
Yi Geum felt toward the Crown Prince the same warmth he once did for his dead brother.
A warmth scorching enough to ignite the King's fuse.
In the end, the real history's Sado Seja was thrown into the rice chest because Yeongjo deployed raw physical force in a political surprise attack, leaving no room for negotiation.
As Yi Geum realized when reaching the rice chest conclusion, it was politically untenable anyway. In reductionist terms, the Imo Incident was no different from yakuza dunking foes in oil drums.
This meant the current Crown Prince, wielding substantial force, wouldn't go quietly into a chest like history.
More brute force than a few royal guards would be needed.
Post-"Crown Prince backtalk," Yi Geum believed he held the mandate and steeled for civil war.
He burned every Royal Secret Service record submitted, ruled the incident an accident to shield the Pungsan dogs, and began securing forces beyond the Training Command.
Amid the Seven Armies' turmoils, the Guard Command—untouched by strife—became his target.
Yi Geum favored kin like in his Training Command days, summoning Guard Commander Gu Seonhaeng.
"I've heard your clan's heir excels in martial arts."
He meant Gu Seonbok, who mocked the starving Sado Seja with a gluttony protest before his rice chest, only to have his limbs torn by the prince's son—a living lesson. Ignorant of the future, Yi Geum inexplicably favored Gu Seonbok.
Gu Seonhaeng humbly replied.
"The boy has some military talent, but he quarreled with censors and beat messengers—arrogant, ignorant of propriety. Even now, excessive favor sees him cycle through commands; he needs more cultivation."
"Don't brave generals spark quarrels with their vigor? Appoint Gu Seonbok to the vacant Royal Guard Command. Teach him loyalty and filial piety well."
Unlike political animal Hong Bonghan, Gu Seonhaeng had no reason to refuse. It elevated the prestigious Noryeong Gu clan's glory.
Thus, Gu Seonhaeng and Gu Seonbok commanded two of the Seven Armies.
Adding the Training Command made three—nearly 80% of forces—filling Yi Geum with confidence.
So he reached elsewhere.
Court wasn't just Noron and Soron. Chae Je-gong, a Namin pillar he'd eyed as Kim Unhaeng's rival since the undercover days, fit the bill.
He knew Kim Unhaeng personally, but such ties were rare, and untainted by Chundang, Chae qualified for Yi Geum's pick.
Yi Geum appointed Chae Je-gong to head the Military Armory Office to purge Kim Unhaeng's influence.
"His Late Majesty once saw matchlocks' merits and decreed all new troops be trained as musketeers—unprecedented, yet fitting our dynasty's innovative spirit. Ignore precedent; focus solely on mighty weapons."
He formalized research from Dutch ships and crews.
Kim Unhaeng was horrified to see his diligently advanced Military Armory turning into a mere weapons depot and wrote to Chae Je-gong.
Alas, Chae wasn't his subordinate.
No grudge against Kim Unhaeng, but executing the royal command would elevate Namin prestige.
Marginalized from Chundang, Chae knew little of the Crown Prince-King rift—no senior Namin had briefed him.
He'd thought the King Injo-like during the interrogation, but reality trumped that. Namins couldn't refuse the King's lure now.
Thus, Chae Je-gong ignored Kim Unhaeng and dove into weapons development.
Author's Note
1. Yeongjo actually told Hong Sanghan, who entered the palace during the Nakseondang fire, not to mobilize the fire brigade.
Of course, not to frame the Crown Prince—per the Records of the Office of Royal Decrees, he feared chaos from masses of troops rushing in at night. Notably, Yeongjo doesn't inquire about the Crown Prince's safety.
2. The in-story "Late King's decree" refers to the 26th year of King Seonjo's reign, June—specifically, training future troops as musketeers. This led to creating the specialized matchlock Training Command.