Chapter 34
Chapter 34
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 34
Chapter Title: 17. To the Lord Who Rode the Shining Merit Stele (1)
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Se-hwa wasn't at the official residence during this period.
Someone might complain about why I'd brought my wife to the yamen. They drag their concubines around the place and still have plenty to say.
Anyway, that's why, the day before the king arrived, she was sent back to her parents' home with Hong Daeyong when he came by for an inspection.
And she returned the morning after Lee Tae-jung's one-man show—right after the king departed.
No phones or cars, but Se-hwa reverse-engineered the time and speed from the royal procession updates Hong Daeyong relayed.
She'd accurately predicted the date the procession would pass through Jiksan.
Reverse-engineering isn't hard, but basing decisions on calculated data like that? It's pretty... science-y. Maybe my literary scholar bias talking.
Then again, Hong Daeyong was originally famous for his astronomy work—STEM stuff. What I've seen from him so far has been more arts and culture.
Se-hwa came back to find me sprawled on the floor of my room, covered in dirt.
That's when I first heard her scream.
Her already large eyes widened even more. The bundle she brought from her parents' home (why'd she carry it herself?) dropped with a thud.
It took her a moment to realize I wasn't some suicidal slave but her husband. Then she laid into me mercilessly.
"Even if I was gone for a fortnight, how did you end up in such a state? A scholar should stay neat and tidy even when alone."
What could I do? Last night, it was like the Wi-Fi was down.
With the king and a horde of high officials swarming, could I drag servants or clerks around?
Even after Lee Tae-jung's event, I spent the night meeting people everywhere, checking on their comfort. It was a full servant grind.
Of course, after the king left, crashing in my room without changing was pure laziness on my part.
In modern times, I'd have bolted for the shower reeking like that. Weirdly, here I just got sleepy.
Have I lived in Joseon too long? Nah. I was the same during military training back home. Blame Yeongjo for the war vibes.
Se-hwa seemed more worried about other possibilities.
"Heavens, you were out in the rain all night? If you catch sick, what am I to do? You should have stripped and dried off right away."
"As you know, I've always been robust. This won't make me ill."
No good way to explain it. Showing the skill directly would be awkward. Disease Immunity, obviously.
"Don't boast like that. When I was little, an uncle about my great-uncle's age strutted around in the rain like you, caught a fever, and died. Hurry up and change."
"For laundry? But how can the magistrate's wife hang clothes at the wash area with everyone else..."
This was different from cooking. What would people say? They might think I'm abusing my daughter-in-law in Cheonan.
But Se-hwa looked at me in horror.
Under her slightly protruding forehead, her usually droopy, round eyes—soft-looking—lifted just a bit. Her small lips pursed, mirroring her mood.
Damn, she's cute. My belief that looks don't matter was crumbling.
Distracted by that, I caught her meaning late.
Oh.
She didn't mean laundry.
"Just let me handle it."
"I know you're cleaner than most, but you look exhausted today. You'd skip spots if it was a hassle."
That uncle who died prematurely despite no skills probably influenced her, but Se-hwa had picked up modern hygiene from me too.
No infrastructure here means Joseon folks don't bathe much. But we're yangban—we just need rice to fuel the slaves.
Unlike modern plumbing, reservations are easy. "Hot water tub every evening." Our official slaves must feel like they served King Hyeonjong, the hygiene lord.
So Se-hwa's like me now. She fussed, stripped off my outer robes and hat, then shoved a towel under my undergarments boldly.
Meanwhile, Joseon-adapted me freaked out.
"Enough now. I'll tidy the rest myself. Stop."
"What good is half-done? Don't squirm... What's this? What's stuffed in here?"
"Wait, don't touch there..."
"Whoa... Never seen one before. Amazing. Oh my, oh my. It's still..."
Even I, the iron scholar unmoved by beauty, crumbled there.
In the end, we ended up far from the "tidy" she intended at first.
Maybe proof I only worked for a fortnight.
The gisaeng? We sent her to Mokcheon temporarily since the yamen was empty anyway, but with Yeongjo a stone's throw away, thinking of that makes the guy respectably bold in every sense.
I didn't even feel lonely during Yeongjo's invasion period. Maybe it all hit at once now.
Se-hwa seemed pleased with my chastity.
Considering we'd been separated newlyweds for a fortnight, the outcome wasn't odd by Joseon standards.
Reservations have tiers. Only primitive 21st-century Earth AI would chime "Delicious meal ready" at a bad time.
Ultra-advanced Joseon, biopunk 1750, is different. Lunch arrived late afternoon, after we'd dressed properly.
Over the meal, I asked,
"By the way, what's in that bundle?"
"It's embarrassing, but..."
Se-hwa shyly turned sideways. Embarrassed now, after everything?
"No signs of pregnancy, so my family sent some tonic herbs."
That's why she carried it herself.
But it was for my sake.
I'd roughly timed it to avoid that. Natural conception is trickier than expected; spacing like this slashes odds.
Sorry I didn't say. But suggesting birth control? They'd call me insane. I have reasons.
"We're both young; no rush. Better this way. I get wanting to pamper you from your family, but better in the house here than traveling winter roads pregnant."
Winter's coming. If pregnant right after marriage, she'd be full-term or nursing by then.
Even in a palanquin, it's risky this era. Check great men bios: "Mother died days after birth." How many start like that?
Magistrate postings can end anytime. Never planned to expand family young here.
"You foresee going to Seoul in winter? News from court already? Or on the personnel shortlist?"
"No official word, but it'll happen. You know why the king rushed back? Chinese envoys come in the tenth month."
"Calling you for your Office of Diplomatic Correspondence experience? But veterans already exist for that..."
Thanks for not saying my work there was just flattery. Hong Daeyong probably recommended me.
Moments later, Se-hwa's face lit up with an "Ah!" She'd grasped my unstateable intent.
I smiled too. Nothing beats a partner who gets it.
Kim Unhaeng and Hong Se-hwa's vibe was heartwarming, but they lacked conscience a bit.
Their predicted path to the capital was competitive and ruthless.
Envoys come in the tenth month.
Post-event, some officials get purged, vacancies open. They banked on it.
Not that disaster's required.
More importantly, the king's mood sours with envoys.
Joseon is isolationist; the king wields absolute power. He could fancy himself emperor inside these walls.
If not for Qing envoys.
Manchu queues fluttering, their arrogance echoing in Mohwagwan displeases the king, no matter the intent.
Can't forget that captured portrait of the Brave King standing bold at Samjeondo. Or someday getting a Jurchen posthumous title himself.
Post-event, expect storms of dismissal, exile, impeachment, resignation. Even Three Offices falter under fire.
Vacancies must fill.
King Yi Geum practically announced calling Kim Unhaeng to the Three Offices. He's top candidate.
Thus, Kim Unhaeng pushed his final project—essentially his ultimate goal as magistrate.
The Merit Stele.
Hong Se-hwa didn't know his supernatural situation. But she fully backed it, knowing it'd boost his career.
This second must-do goal, the Merit Stele, was trickier than expected.
Self-erected steles like Jo Byeong-gap's (no worse insult comes to mind) under Gojong are easy.
Most are self-funded anyway. Virtuous magistrates pay themselves; usually, they pressure subtly.
But guessing from this Ascension to Premiership game, that won't fly.
Exams rejected cheating, big talk, violence. True—I shuddered looking back.
But court records say "Kim Unhaeng topped the list on [date]." That's key.
Joseon context: Unless caught as a test case, no cancellation. Even stripped of office, unlikely.
When I suspected the status window assigns goals/skills by choices, maybe their aim is "elevate to Chief State Councillor."
Not hiding answers in puzzles, but posing problems to find answers. Quiz vs. contest.
Baseless guess. If desperate, system, cough up "Won Gyun's Hypnosis App" skill.
From that view, any exam-passing means don't matter if it aids the Chief State Councillor path—the window's final goal.
Logically, Merit Stele must help as much as topping exams, and be as hard. No self-steles.
That's why I've been fumbling.
If self worked, I'd have one up. But fearing mission fail and soul-devourer mode, I hesitated.
What counts as self? Clues suggest: Over-self-building hid it, but true Merit Steles need king approval after county review.
County offices assess, report via Ministry of Rites; king approves.
Shady ones get flagged by Office of Inspectors. World's top tattletales—tough once hooked.
Conversely, surviving them boosts court rep. That's the legit route. Certain.
For that, I first handled the "county offices"—Mokcheon yamen, Jiksan yamen, and local gentry.
No firm transfer orders yet, so I threw a feast "comforting" Jiksan staff who tanked upfront and Mokcheon healers behind.
People or beasts resist first hits; prolonged beatings normalize. Small kindnesses become favors. Continuous favors turn to rights—reversed.
Both counties' clerks were fully conditioned now.
Banquet brimmed with praise.
"As expected of our lord—such statesman poise!"
"Jiksan escaped disaster unscathed, a blessing. Truly, we owe you offerings instead."
"Not just from booze and meat, but the village edge always felt bare. A big stone there would look great, no?"
"Excellent eye!"
Good. Mood set.
As it peaked, I planned "round two," moved to backyard, kept top clerks. Duty-shy magistrates and runners bailed.
Couldn't break momentum, so I chugged a shot, bracing for 7-day ability void. I'd logged their stats anyway.
"Thanks to your bone-shattering aid, my lacking self sees no flaws in affairs. You here are key figures among our beloved counties' folk; I must give special reward."
They eyed me expectantly.
Long-serving Jangbok needs no voice commands. One gesture, he fetched a big load swiftly.
Not grain or cloth. Bundles of books.
To puzzled clerks, I began,
"Sent by royal command, I leave when ordered. But a tyrannical successor would torment you."
"Please don't go, my lord!"
"Magistrate terms are 1,800 days. You've served under two years. How abandon us?"
Perfect—Sejong-level macros denying resignation. I feigned sorrow.
"Yet you know the reality. Prepare for the worst. Our people's works could be nitpicked by tyrants—losing fortunes small, lives large."
I explained the "prep."
Clerks' faces shifted: doubt to fear, fear to joy.
Another perfect Kim Unhaeng is unlikely.
Meaning his big data custom governance collapses likely.
Worst: Picky successor collects witnesses (ledgers perfect), exposes corruption, reports to court.
Could hand over well, letting successor inherit achievements. Nationally sound if competent.
Kim Unhaeng kicked that.
'Why should I?'
Risk for whom? If successor rejects or fails system and gets caught, Kim's done.
His answer: simple.
Chose clerks over next magistrate.
With Se-hwa, he made a "new County Administration Manual."
Like his first Mokcheon posting: all history, status, corruption manual—governance essence.
Kim, knowing magistrate work best, main author. Se-hwa handled data collection, sorting, corrections.
Only trusted her, so duo effort. Lucky she's sharp.
In short, he handed his system to clerks, not successor.
Clerks get prior profits plus shares.
And original stays with author Kim.
'Kim Unhaeng Cabinet' clerks are clerks. No righteousness.
No chance they'll sacrifice profits, expose graft with Kim—betray for fractions.
Instead, fool new magistrate.
Like centuries before Kim arrived.
By the twelfth month, our predicted news arrived.
Three Offices vacancies.
Last month—tenth—Grand Censor Song Jingye and Censor Lee Ik-won irked Yeongjo, got axed.
Censorate exists to irk; why fuss? Grand Censor's name screams "cut."
Grand Censor irrelevant to me now; Censor matters.
Censor: junior 6th rank. I'm senior 6th; perfect step-up.
Yeongjo, flaws aside, solid ruler mostly. Mokcheon (兼 Jiksan) successor nearly set, hearsay.
But Lee Ik-won cut doesn't guarantee me there. Billiards three-cushion: Slot another in his spot, I take theirs. Common modern tactic.
Can't claim Censorate certain. But likely one of Three Offices.
Instead of unknowns, I leaked my imminent departure rumor.
Clerks, deputies, guards mobilized. Peaceful Mokcheon-Jiksan stirred with unprecedented unrest omens.