Chapter 151
Chapter 151
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 151
Chapter Title: Probability Cloud (1)
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Mori-bae? Look at this guy—his face alone qualifies him for corrupt official status—and check out his attitude right from the start.
I'm no lookist. I simply stick to the Joseon bureaucracy's tried-and-true personnel evaluation standards, where appearance plays a key role.
Wasn't he Korean? That's exactly why it's easier for him to adapt.
Thoughts like that always show on a person's face anyway. In other words, it's only natural that someone like me—who rises through skill and passion, not family connections—has a refined look, unlike that silver-spoon kid.
But Gu Seonbok managed to nitpick anyway.
"So the rumors were true—you flattered the Manchu emperor in his own tongue and won his favor. Bet you went around stirring up trouble between rich folks and sowing chaos among lords and vassals. Am I right?"
I could guess why he was picking a fight with baseless slander out of nowhere.
Yeongjo had truly resolved to purge the crown prince, and that intent was leaking out through his underlings. It was like killing intent.
It felt awkward for me, the guest, to step in. I glanced at Chae Je-gong, but he just stood there with an expression like he couldn't possibly refute it. We'll settle that later, you.
I responded politely.
"Looks like there are plenty of petty slanderers infesting the Royal Guard. Can't say I blame them, though. The former commander got his ass handed to him by a woman, and the current one's just a brawler who scoffs at the Censorate. How could the rank-and-file know right from wrong?"
"Chun-sik! What did you just say?"
Gu Seonbok's eyes bulged furiously as his hand went to his waist.
Hmm. Even with that build, they say he's skilled in combat?
Judging by Sin Sukju's standards of integrity, he's about on par with RoboCop 2.0—Jang Tae-so level. Factoring in that his other stats aren't higher than Jang Tae-so's, that makes his martial prowess pretty impressive.
But I'm not scared. That's when Eoji stepped forward, cracking his knuckles.
Jangbok was out of commission for repairs, and Kaoru was posted at Princess Hwawan’s residence, so I'd brought Eoji as a backup—and hadn't expected to actually use him.
The reason those Russians in Beijing didn't draw their swords against the camels wasn't just because they liked bestiality. It was the sheer class difference that made swords useless.
For the same reason, Gu Seonbok couldn't draw his either. Instead, he unleashed his tongue.
"How dare a lowly cur block the elders' conversation! Step aside!"
Eoji doesn't catch long speeches like that well.
I addressed Gu Seonbok's now lumpy, steamed-bun-like face.
"Even so, I must clear the charge of flattering the emperor. What Chae Baekgyu and I were just discussing is exactly how to wash away that humiliation decisively."
Chae Je-gong finally caught on with an "oh crap" look and chimed in.
"That's right. Chun-sik risked his life to bring back intelligence from Beijing. Please let go of your anger. And Chun-sik, show some respect to the elder."
I apologized with all the sincerity our king shows at his brother's memorial.
Gu Seonbok cleared his throat awkwardly.
"Ahem! I had no intention of wasting time on petty squabbles either. I came to the Military Armory on business with the superintendent. Why haven't you delivered the new muskets, refined bows, and forged spears to the Royal Guard?"
Because I told them not to, obviously.
Chae Je-gong answered smoothly, like he'd heard this a million times.
"It's long been custom since the Seonmyo era to test new weapons in the Training Command and train the troops first. Once they're proficient, we'll distribute them to all units as a matter of course."
"These are urgent times demanding swift adaptation to change—how long will it take to train and drill? That's why we hesitate to entrust military affairs to bookish civil officials who know nothing of soldiers!"
Ha! A Westerner strutting around like that. This is why normal countries all enforce civilian control over the military.
Handing the military to 'field' guys prioritizing 'practicality' makes it efficient? Does that mean great soccer players make great coaches?
Prioritizing soldiers' opinions in military matters sounds nice, but military policy can't be isolated from general policy. Once soldiers start influencing that, it boils down to four letters: soldier-first politics.
Gu Seonbok inspected the site with the vibe of some pudgy chief secretary from somewhere.
"That's why I came personally, unable to wait any longer. And seeing Kim Chun-sik here—you're infamous for loving money—makes me wonder if you're siphoning them off to sell."
Hey, Chae Je-gong. Don't look guilty. This guy's clueless about basic economic stimulus.
That's not embezzlement. You've got to pay the Armory foremen's salaries, right? Your performance bonus and my consulting fee are non-negotiable.
Anyway, thanks to Gu Seonbok's rambling rundown, I had the situation clear.
"Urgent times demanding swift adaptation," huh?
I jumped in quickly.
"As former superintendent, I'm here to assist with operations. The commander's words ring true, so let me apologize for my earlier rudeness and ensure we discuss this properly. We'll rush weapons to the Royal Guard as warranted. I'll even talk to the Training Command and have their Tiger Cavalry deliver them."
As expected, Gu Seonbok—burning with rivalry toward the Training Command—lit up at this apparent submission from them and the Armory to the Royal Guard.
"At least you can be reasoned with. Polish your conduct further, and you might avoid great calamity."
Of course. Why would I face calamity?
You might.
Kim Unhaeng kept his word and diverted the Training Command's Tiger Cavalry to deliver the weapons.
Chae Je-gong handed them over now that Kim Unhaeng approved. Up to then, Kim Unhaeng had been the one blocking distribution to the Royal Guard and Capital Guard, so Chae Je-gong welcomed the relief from the pressure.
And the Tiger Cavalry soldiers were originally all Chun-sik Express employees.
They infiltrated the Royal Guard with practiced ease, drawing on their experience.
"Brought your gear."
"Just leave it by the gate."
"The Royal Guard's hospitality leaves much to be desired. Even in a big capital, hauling all this metal deserves at least a meal before getting chased off. Let us in."
"Hey! Where do you think you're going, civilians barging toward the camp gate?"
"Civilians? We're Training Command soldiers too—harsh words."
"Well, anyway, we can't have outsiders wandering the camp freely..."
"Come on, how about this: We've got that painting of Hong Jin-sa that the Training Command guys seized at Songpa Ferry. Trade it for a meal and drinks? You know how pricey that'd be on the market."
"Come on in! Sit down and stay awhile. Hey, what are you waiting for? Tell the kitchen to whip up a spread! And bring the good takju!"
Similar scenes played out at the Capital Guard. Of course, not every soldier was into 2D stuff or averse to women, so they offered eggs, meat, homemade soju (not army takju), and all sorts of "rations."
Thus, the Training Command's Tiger Cavalry, frequenting both camps, spread 21st-century liberal arts expert Kim Unhaeng's knowledge.
"Open-plan office sharing" is an administrative innovation every advanced nation tries once. It fit perfectly into reforming the inefficiencies of closed bureaucracies—truly worthy of a future man's name.
The Royal Guard and Capital Guard soldiers agreed. In their view, organic cooperation between capital defense units was crucial.
Wise policies like that couldn't have originated from mere grunts' heads. The officers from both camps who'd met Kim Unhaeng through the Tiger Cavalry soon marveled at his character and wisdom.
Within days, Kim Unhaeng had intel on the Royal Guard and Capital Guard's deployments, forces, contingency maneuvers—even daily rosters.
Of course, the officers didn't have explicit plans like "Rush in and lock up the crown prince the moment the queen dowager dies!"
But just knowing the direction and numbers for contingency advances gave a rough picture.
I discussed this with Jangyong Battalion Commander Kim Seong-eung—the one who'd planned to protect and evacuate the crown prince in a crisis—got expert military advice, and devised our countermeasures. Training Commander Hong Bonghwan, unaware of other units' situations, praised my barrier-free administration.
Anyway, their intent to cause trouble the moment the queen dowager dies was glaringly obvious.
Even during national mourning, there might be wiggle room here.
Probably a private family punishment within the Jeonju Lee clan for filial impiety. No wars during mourning, but parental discipline of children is fair game. The woodshed confinement seems most likely.
Oh, what filial impiety did the crown prince commit? Sharp question. Too sharp—I don't know either.
But I can guess Yeongjo's answer.
Indeed, Yi Geum could answer Kim Unhaeng's doubt.
The crown prince's impiety was not dying. Or rather, being born at all.
Yi Geum was running out of time now too.
The queen dowager lingered on the brink without dying. Meanwhile, the pillaging he'd allowed the two camps to win favor had shattered his 30-year image as a benevolent ruler.
Ignorant ministers kept submitting memorials nagging him not to parade the army around. What if the crown prince actually requested Qing reinforcements? Then what?
Publicly declaring the crown prince's treason and executing him formally was discarded the moment it crossed his mind.
He'd need evidence, and the only scrap was the Qianlong Emperor's mention of Sohyeon Crown Prince. The 10,000 Eight Banners in Shenyang proved Yi Geum's treason, not the crown prince's.
Announce that as evidence, and suddenly Sohyeon Crown Prince becomes a Qing collaborator, validating King Injo's murder of him.
After that, a throne in such a powder-keg nation would be worthless. Injo's blunder—using poison instead of confinement—left no plausible deniability like "I didn't mean to kill him."
As Yi Geum pondered King Jangmok's private end, a good idea flashed through his mind.
Of course, he himself couldn't kill the crown prince now.
But what if he didn't? Or better—like Sohyeon Crown Prince—a "natural death"?
So Yi Geum brushed off his ministers' pleas and revisited the Ilsungwi residence for the "funeral rites interrupted by the idiot envoys' blunders."
Princess Hwawan Yi Yong-wan had been in decent spirits until her father arrived.
Lately, some minister named Kim Chun-sik—apparently close to her brother—had been sending a sharp, pretty boy attendant daily to help with the funeral rites, which warmed her heart.
As seen in her historical fixation on future King Jeongjo, Princess Hwawan had a thing for smart boys.
Kaoru wasn't smarter than Jeongjo but definitely cuter, enough to ease her grief over her husband's death.
But her father's arrival shattered that modest harmony.
The Ilsungwi house reverted to a perfect funeral home.
Yi Geum said to the mourning-clad princess,
"My profound grief made me overlook rites and return especially. Foolish ministers tried delaying the posthumous title over public exemptions during mourning, but I ordered it done immediately for that reason."
"Your benevolence is vast as the sea; I dare not presume."
Under Noron glares' concentrated fire—plus frustration over canceled vacation?—Princess Hwawan felt like she might follow her husband to the grave soon.
She couldn't fathom why her father kept causing scandals, burdening his daughter. Was the title going to rot if delayed a month?
But that was nothing compared to the burden about to drop.
Clearing the ministers under the pretext of father-daughter talk, Yi Geum personally handed her a bundle.
"The crown prince's conduct is reckless, unfilial in his private life, and harbors treasonous thoughts. I intended to punish him severely myself."
Princess Hwawan wasn't surprised.
The next part shocked her far more.
"But with Queen Dowager Jeongseong's passing, reflecting on my life, all seems futile. In the end, what can man rely on but blood kin? Father-son bonds are paramount and unbreakable."
Princess Hwawan got it instantly.
This wasn't for her to believe. No father sees his daughter as a monkey and feeds her obvious lies.
This was "know that."
"The crown prince now shows such filial piety he's barely eating and wails in grief, but I shall emulate King Taejong. Take some side dishes from here and convey my intent to him as brotherly love between peers."
Such brazenness bordered on terrifying.
Like King Taejong in mourning, urging the crown prince to eat meat. In a normal royal family, it'd be touching.
But Yi Geum doing it? Less likely than Ilsungwi rising tomorrow. Resurrection at least had a 2,000-year-old precedent.
Especially sending her.
Yeongjo hated the crown prince meeting Hwawan more than his daughter meeting a sex offender.
In real history, even visiting birth mother Lady Yi's sickbed together sent him into hysterics, forcing the crown prince—heir to the nation—to flee over walls like a thief.
So Princess Hwawan drew the obvious conclusion.
That bundle's booze and meat surely had mystical power to turn anyone into Sohyeon Crown Prince.
Yi Geum was making his daughter deliver it—preventing her accidental consumption while ensuring the king's hands stayed clean in poisoning the crown prince.
Refuse, and she'd be next. Unlike the crown prince, she wouldn't be hard to kill. Plenty of his daughters died young anyway.
Princess Hwawan, grasp what "hair turns white overnight" means, barely replied,
"I shall obey."
But Princess Hwawan soon faced a dilemma.
Her message "Bro, let's eat" got a reply from the crown prince: "What meal for a criminal in mourning?" Further tries went unread.
Something was off. Her brother wasn't this Confucian. A patricide skipping deathbed visits wouldn't suddenly keep strict funeral rites.
"Has he already caught on? Then I'm..."
She might end up historically as the sister who tried poisoning her brother, then discarded.
Betray father or kill brother decisively—pick one.
Her heart leaned toward the former.
She didn't love her brother more than average, but any sane person prefers not killing over killing.
Unfortunately, her father wasn't just anyone.
She couldn't imagine her brother beating him even if she sided with him.
In her turmoil, Kaoru—who'd been hovering oddly often—caught her eye.
Princess Hwawan lit up and called him.
"Your master comes and goes from the crown prince's palace often, right? If he's there now, could you ask His Highness to arrange a meeting?"
She'd heard Kim Chun-sik and the crown prince were tight. He'd ignore a sister's note, but a chief retainer saying "The princess insists—have a meal" might work.
Kaoru, loafing around hoping for scraps, sensed this was the "big talk" moment Kim Unhaeng mentioned.
Nail this, and he'd score a house from Kim Unhaeng, becoming an off-campus slave. Tormented for years by Kim Chun-sik's gaslighting—"Japanese are born untouchables"—Kaoru's dream peaked at off-campus slave.
Kaoru deployed his Japan-honed skills for a humbly trustworthy face.
"That's no trouble at all. This lowly one will serve with utmost devotion."
A top-tier Edo prostitute like Kaoru? His face was his credit card. Princess Hwawan trusted him with the letter.
But Princess Hwawan's efforts came to naught.
Yi Geum launched the Sohyeon Crown Prince ploy because the queen dowager wouldn't die. Once she did, he could arrest and "discipline" publicly—no need for poison.
But she died.
On the 20th of the third month, the queen dowager passed quietly—no dramatic vomiting blood like an empress dowager.
Medically quiet, that is.
Politically? Chaos.
She didn't leave her customary encouraging edict for the king. Chae Ji-jung-gwan Seo Gyeong-dal confirmed it.
That alone was a huge political hit for the king, given their known rift.
But she went further.
Before female healers, eunuchs, royal kin—even Left State Councillor and Pharmacy Director Jo Jae-ho—she unleashed her final deathblow.
"His Majesty has long been frail and lost his vigor. I know what he truly desires, spoken six times now. Ministers ignoring it is wrong. How can I leave this world without granting his salvation before I go? I permit the abdication."
Then died.
Half the believers there wailed, clinging to her (properly "mourning") and begging her to revoke it from the afterlife. The other half spread the words faster than beacon fires.
Yi Geum couldn't decide whether to desecrate his mother's corpse or seize his son first. Either way, it'd go down in history.
Practical Yi Geum chose fast: Corpses don't run.
He triggered the woodshed rush.
"Where's the crown prince? These seditious words mean something's afoot. Find him now!"
It was the moment he tossed his lifelong mantra—"I never coveted the throne, never killed my brother, always ready to abdicate if the chance arose"—like trash.
But the crown prince appeared nowhere—not at the queen dowager's bier, not anywhere.
Not at Simindang, not at Gwanhoe-hap.
He hadn't visited in ages, and Yi Geum loathed seeing him, so the disappearance took time to notice. Why Yeongjo never knew of the crown prince's Pyongyang trip in real history.
Suspecting Princess Hwawan, Yi Geum summoned and berated her. She'd tasted her brother's life in demo mode and returned in panic.
Then Kaoru appeared before her.
Handsome guys' perks abound, but in this era, not needing to read the room ranked high. You could show up in a bad mood and it'd be fine.
And Kaoru's whisper tempted more than his looks.
"My master knows where His Highness the Crown Prince is."