Chapter 23
Chapter 23
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 23
Chapter Title: 11. Gold Rush (1)
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‘A woman?’
A woman who didn’t seem to be hiding herself at all was standing there.
Of course, with her head bowed, her face wasn’t visible, but even if she was on the older side, she couldn’t have been more than twenty. Maybe thirteen or so?
When I shot her a questioning glance, Lee Jaemun spoke up as naturally as could be.
"This is the daughter I acquired at a young age, sir. Please don’t think it too strange. In my line of business, what is there to be ashamed of? I’ve been teaching her to calculate, haggle, and keep the books. Normally, I’d keep a girl like her in the back room of the shop, but today, to pay respects to the renowned magistrate of Mokcheon, I’ve brought the whole household."
Hold on, you rascal... no, esteemed merchant from Sikinidang. Are you seriously thinking I’m going to say, ‘Raise your head,’ followed by something like, ‘How lovely. Attend me tonight’?
Thinking you’ve just landed a prime business deal? This is the county office in broad daylight.
My brain isn’t pickled in one of those Japanese sites that only does that stuff.
In Joseon, parading an unmarried maiden before a man carries that much weight.
Tsk tsk. Even descendants of the old Northerners like Yeongsu have forgotten their morals in pursuit of trade.
Anyway, count yourself lucky to have met a clean-handed magistrate like me.
If I were like that scumbag Magistrate Byeon...
If that girl didn’t have an undercover inspector as a boyfriend, she’d be done for. Don’t pull this anywhere else.
I calmly shut down any dark possibilities.
"She must be a clever girl. King Wu said to me, ‘I have ten capable ministers who resolve disorders,’[1] and among them was a woman. Heaven does not discriminate by gender in bestowing talent. She’ll be a great asset to your family business later on, so if you wish, I can arrange a match with an honest man."
Confucius follows up with something like, ‘So excluding the woman, it’s nine, not ten. Even King Wu only had nine true talents. Finding capable people is that hard.’
Even accounting for the ancients’ limitations, I see it differently.
Know who that one is? Wu’s consort, Eupgang. Daughter of Jiang Taigong.
Was her political weight truly less than the other nine ministers?
No way. Otherwise, Wu wouldn’t have bothered saying ten.
Eupgang was nominally number ten, but she could erase the one and become zero anytime.
So why did I twist the interpretation of the Analects, Joseon’s near-Bible? To preach gender equality?
No, obviously to observe the reactions from Lee Jaemun’s retainers.
It’s a light test to check if Lee Jaemun is up to something shady with Hong Daeyong, as I suspected last time.
Among those lined up below, if any have read the Analects and its commentaries—remnants of the Small Faction or Neutral Faction—I’ll launch an investigation.
People can’t easily hide it when something they know comes up.
Of course, no idiot would shout, “Oh, you know the Analects!” But subtle changes in expression or posture are different.
Joseon scholars memorize classics and commentaries like otaku recite anime lines; even if their minds don’t react, their bodies do.
If they could control that, why all those literary inquisition cases? Why does that Chinese emperor’s list of banned books keep updating even now?
It’ll be faint reactions, but easy to spot if you’re prepared.
Sigh, does King Yeongjo, who stole my hope-restoring vigor, even appreciate my bone-shattering efforts?
But my prediction missed the mark.
The reaction came from the daughter I hadn’t paid much attention to.
Lee Jaemun’s daughter flinched slightly, then regained her composure.
Nothing else. Lee Jaemun just smiled.
"To bestow such grace on our humble house— I’m at a loss. Hearing that passage you just taught, it seems Your Excellency favors bold interpretations. As rumored, the man who pierced the great tiger at one year old lives up to his bold reputation. It’s an honor."
Right. As a descendant of the Westerners, that’s no surprise for Lee Jaemun. Or his daughter.
Hmm. Just my overreaction after all.
Thinking about it, why would Hong Daeyong rebel?
Back then, they were probably just scared I’d beat them like I did the clerks. What a ridiculous misunderstanding. It’s enough to make me jump in frustration.
My motto is love and peace. Nothing else.
Anyway, with my worries gone, I felt refreshed.
So when discussing the Mokcheon county renovation project with Lee Jaemun, I pushed things forward smoothly.
Kim Unhaeng and Lee Jaemun seemed to hit it off well.
They kept talking until nightfall, then brought in drinks and started bonding in earnest.
Hong Daeyong, the matchmaker, slipped away midway with some excuse.
And among ‘Lee Jaemun’s retainers,’ two or three were there too.
Surprisingly, Lee Jaemun’s ‘daughter’ was among them.
Even more shocking: Hong Daeyong spoke to her casually.
"I really thought my heart would stop. If Uncle finds out later, I’m dead on the spot, so watch your mouth. Fix your clothes."
Hong Seohwa, disguised as Lee Jaemun’s daughter, quietly donned the long robe. The few Hong household servants, dressed as merchants as backup, finally breathed a sigh of relief.
Hong Seohwa said,
"They say a man’s word is worth a fortune in gold, yet you bluster so recklessly. Don’t you agree?"
Hong Daeyong groaned. She was right.
It all started with him bragging too much about Kim Unhaeng.
Hong Seohwa insisted on at least catching a glimpse of him from afar.
But summoning the magistrate on a whim? Not just etiquette—impossible.
If the Hong family lived in Mokcheon, it might work. Magistrates traditionally visit notable scholars and great houses.
But both Hongs were from Cheonan County. It could spark political backlash, like treating the Cheonan magistrate like a dog’s parts.
So Hong Seohwa said she’d go herself.
Hong Daeyong scolded her nonsense, but she dangled bait.
‘From what you’ve told me, I can guess the Mokcheon magistrate’s character. He’ll soon ask Uncle to procure reliable merchants from around here. Clever as he is, he has no connections nearby.’
‘Why would a magistrate need merchants? What do you know of official duties?’
‘Don’t believe me? Let’s bet. If I win, recommend the Sikinidang merchant who visits us and bring me to the meeting. If I lose, I’ll shut up and marry wherever Uncle says without complaint.’
‘Hah! I know you’re clever, but it’s just a woman’s shallow view. The Mokcheon magistrate is a deep Confucian scholar—he’d never. Fine! Learn you’re just a frog in a well this time.’
And Hong Daeyong lost. As the loser, he was glum.
He even suspected secret letters between Hong Seohwa and Kim Unhaeng (but if they were that close, they’d just marry; that’s why he deflated).
Why would a magistrate seek merchants? Did that guy really top the civil service exam?
Even if for official supplies, that’s for the household office or minor procurement clerks.
The Six Ministries aren’t low-ranking, but they avoid dealing with merchants directly. Organizationally, magistrates shouldn’t even if they want to.
Hong Daeyong shook his head.
Anyway, crisis averted. Time to pursue the goal again.
"So, what did you think, as you wished?"
"I wish we could’ve talked. I didn’t disguise as a man on purpose, but he didn’t ask much. Disappointing."
In this era’s East Asia, male or female disguise was a strict taboo.
It disrupted yin-yang harmony; depending on the ruler’s mood, it could mean death (unrelated to homosexuality, which wasn’t so zealously banned or ban-able).
Not some mountain hermit—it’s unthinkable in a southern city’s yangban house. Especially to see a man.
Hong Daeyong freaked.
"What nonsense? If it’s that serious, just marry him. You can talk day and night."
"How can Uncle say that to a grown maiden?"
"Are you some modest virgin? Anyway, what? You stood outside the paper door long enough while the magistrate and merchant talked. Plenty to judge his character."
But Hong Seohwa didn’t answer right away.
"Well—"
She dragged it out, then smiled warmly under her robe.
As Hong Daeyong geared up to yell, ‘After all this, “well”?!’, she summed up Kim Unhaeng in one word.
"He’s handsome."
Hong Daeyong nearly foamed at the mouth and collapsed.
As autumn arrived, the deal with Lee Jaemun took shape.
We repaired levees, fixed buildings, and made a fortune. Both me and Lee Jaemun.
He was truly capable. I doubted my eyes at his initial bid—the lowest by far.
Soon realized my clerks’ “heavy discounts” were massive rip-offs. Beat a few more overseers.
That let me quietly build Eoji a hut with public funds.
No matter how good you two get along, you’ll head back to Seoul with me someday. Can’t have you settling as a kept man in Chwiamsan. Need you close for emergencies.
Yeon-i, sharp as ever, started visiting the office on shaman excuses without a word. Her following without complaint worries me a bit.
Jangbok? His in-laws are in Seoul. He can stay at the official residence.
Eoji’s only needed for beatings; Jangbok for errands—always by my side. Can’t leave a faithful, capable servant... smartphone... behind.
Anyway, back to my main job.
Autumn: report the year’s harvest to the observer and start collecting the spring loan grain.
Fortunately, average yield.
Early summer hail—egg-sized—bombed the area; even rational modern me wondered if the status window was glitching.
Yeon-i had just joined me then; one secret early mission was a ritual to calm the people. That says it all.
Good endings make everything good. Harvest decent, collections okay.
Meaning most couldn’t fully repay.
But loan grain isn’t something you shrug off.
Know what else it’s called? Military provisions. Army rations.
Joseon merges military and administration.
As Observer Hong Gyehui mentioned offhand, magistrates command local troops; offices double as garrisons. (Not in peaceful Mokcheon.)
People think militaristic state. But moral Joseon? No, not like Germans.
Just poor—no funds or admin to separate. Rich Ming split military, admin, judiciary from the start.
Poor Joseon: managing military grain is core admin duty.
Dismantled army, sold gunpowder—now worried about rations?
Affects performance reviews.
Joseon staked lives on grain reserves; survived Sunjo-era 7-year famine without total collapse.
Without it, unrest uncontrollable; Hong Gyeongrae would’ve toppled Joseon.
Loan grain: top evaluation priority.
Can fudge army or powder; not grain—even Uncle Hong Gyehui can’t cover.
No intent anyway. Overburdening connections breaks them.
So how to fill shortfalls without rice?
Many magistrates have a simple solution.
Beat them: truth, rice, or silver comes out. No case in Joseon history Lawyer Jang couldn’t solve.
But not me. Not for steles—I hold modern ethics, this dark era’s lone light.
Thus, after discussing with Lee Jaemun, we found a way to collect without brute force.
The magistrate of wealthy neighbor Jiksan, whom I envied, is Song Jinheum.
Fifth-generation from famed minister Song Jungil of the Byeongja Horan; same lineage as our Noron eternal north star, Song Siyeol.
Age like my father. Well, I’m too young for magistrate.
Sympathizing, I showed utmost courtesy.
"I’ve long heard of Your Excellency’s upright rule and your son’s scholarly fame at such youth. Truly admirable family tradition. Regret not greeting sooner amid duties."
I’d checked: his son Song Jiyeon, my age, known more for looks and voice than pure scholarship.
Pity. Three centuries later, he’d be an idol.
But idols aren’t praise here, so scholarship it is. Song Jinheum softened a bit at the compliment.
"I’ve heard of Mokcheon’s brilliant tactics too. If for good tidings, we’d recite poems and share cups joyfully."
"Only regret. Please instruct as proper."
Why so prickly? We’re not meeting for good reasons.
Joseon had stronger regionalism than the 21st century, frequent local rivalries.
Even modern rural Korea’s ancient feuds existed then too.
Guess what: water channels.
Farming livelihood—worse than gang turf invasion.
Joseon response fiercer than gangs.
In Cheongju, thousands mobbed Yeongi county (modern Sejong part) over levee encroaching; smashed supervisor Heo Manseok’s camp stool, yelling ‘impolite words.’
Heo threatened archery to disperse them.
Outdated? Yeonsangun or Gojong era?
No: great King Sejong’s time.
Common any reign; endless examples.
Even magistrates ignored observers, fully backing locals.
Understandable. Mess up, riots ensue.
Troops? After magistrate’s head’s on pikes. Grassroots democracy.
Small-scale version between our Mokcheon and Jiksan.
Simply: I ordered levee repairs; our youth strike team’s zeal overdid it.
Unbelievably, they veered water to our side. Blitzkrieg.
What did Jiksan do? Protested. Got beat. Went home.
Despite my reforms, Mokcheon’s gotten rough. Lamentable.
Before escalation, I alerted Jiksan magistrate. He rushed over.
Song Jinheum looked ready to chew me out, but he’s no fool.
You know: my dad’s friend is Chungcheong observer.
Plus my deference saves face.
Pure love and peace. We started work together.
Joint surveying under two magistrates: standard protocol.
Chaos: boundaries wrecked. Restore original? Redo from scratch.
While underlings handled ops, I proposed political fix, manager-style.
"We should pay for harvest disruption, but poor Mokcheon lags rich Jiksan. My failing. So I’ll send men to restore channels and dikes. Whatever time, complete fully—no ‘one basket short’ failure."
Song Jinheum looked ‘not necessary.’
Outsider view: minor issue, no desire for blowback pushing me.
But Jiksan notables savored victory.
Right? Neighbor magistrate bowing repeatedly—satisfying? Begging offsets since broke?
He approved.
Jiksan happy, me happy.
No dissenters on my side. Just officials.
Back home, mobilized labor.
Labor: defaulters on loan grain. No choice. Pay with bodies.
Those folks—sudden massive temp youth strike team—already trained basics in civil engineering under workshop loyalists.
Knew the ‘accident’ coming? Workshop (my secret agents + commissions) orchestrated on my orders.
What zeal? Near forced labor.
All per plan.
Not huge incident, but excuse to send large workforce to Jiksan—carefully calibrated.
What with masses to Jiksan?
Obvious.
Gold placers. Tons.
Knew about Jiksan from start; planned something like this.
No gold here? Dig theirs. Secretly.
Don’t you Joseon folks know? This is America’s frontier spirit in vogue.
Placers have water... and claim-jumpers.
Punish? Morning scatter, evening regroup. Tax-free gold. Think beatings deter?
Incident spot planned: scouted gold streams.
Crew ‘restoring channels’ splashing? Normal.
Gold-diggers: Lee Jaemun caravan elites.
Strike team does real work; unskilled recruits, slow.
Gold rush begins.