Chapter 43
Chapter 43
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 43
Chapter Title: 21. H's Will (2)
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Thankfully, Sehwa didn't suggest sending Eoji to beat all the nosy bastards to death and loot the palace treasury.
The point Sehwa had zeroed in on wasn't Eoji's brute force.
If anything, it was Eoji's charm.
Once I heard the full explanation, I couldn't help but be impressed.
"As expected, your wisdom is unparalleled!"
By then, Eoji had arrived.
He didn't even wear a curious expression about why he'd been summoned.
Eoji lacked that kind of pointless cunning. His loyalty was like some religious conviction.
"Y-you... c-called... for me."
"Oh my. Learning such polite speech suits you well. My wife has a message for your wife. Take this letter home to her."
"Y-yes... sir."
While I was out and about, shedding my scholar's robes to mingle with heroes far and wide, it seemed Sehwa had made some friends of her own.
Maeweol and Geunsuni had mentioned how the neighborhood ladies were bending over backward with hospitality. They were all from noble houses, after all.
It wasn't so much that Sehwa had taken the initiative; more often, they came to her.
Well, the role of a husband's political partner wasn't exclusive to Sehwa.
If a husband's Virtue stat was low, it made sense to find indirect routes like this. I tended to avoid petty folks since I was something of a gentleman by nature.
In my absence during the day, something like a neighborhood ladies' association had already formed at our house.
The women of this era were cooped up at home and under a lot of stress, so they needed an outlet.
Among the things that were technically illegal but tacitly permitted by society, one was religious activities.
In the Confucian kingdom of Joseon, which zealously rooted out heresies, folk faiths like shamanism and Buddhism—deeply embedded in the populace—wouldn't vanish so easily.
Did the women believe in superstitions?
Well, their education levels were relatively low, sure, but it was a bit more than that.
Even today, plenty of American Korean students attend Korean churches regardless of their original faith.
You have to look at the true origins of religion.
All religions serve as social welfare networks and fulfill the need for fellowship. It's not that cult leaders or philandering pastors are so clever that believers can't escape.
Sehwa had latched onto that very point.
Hong Daeyong's sister, she set aside her duty as a noblewoman to uphold Neo-Confucianism in a practical "School of Practical Learning" way, connecting the shaman Yeoni with the noble ladies.
"Have you heard? A shrine just went up behind our house on Mount Inwang."
"Really? Is it powerful?"
"Indeed it is. They practice asceticism on Mount Gyeryong and enshrine the General Spirit. They're said to have tremendous spiritual power. Being from Cheonan myself, I know just how formidable the Mount Gyeryong shamans are."
"Mount Gyeryong has been sacred since ancient times—even King Taejo drew on its energy when building the capital. No wonder!"
"Your insight is as sharp as ever, madam. The only issue is they don't take just anyone. If you're interested, I can put in a word. Though she's a shaman, she's connected to our house, and since we both hail from the south, we lean on each other quite a bit."
"How kind of you. Gemae. Fetch some of that fabric for candles. It's all I have on hand right now—quite meager—but please speak well of me. My son's been twelve and still wetting the bed; I've been thinking of holding a rite for him."
It went something like that.
Yeoni cooperated eagerly too. Given her position, direct dealings with me were tough, so she needed access through Sehwa.
I fully understood. In a foreign land, she had few reliable backings. Cheonan to Mount Gyeryong was practically neighbors. Heck, in America, folks from Seoul and Busan become hometown buddies.
Even my hardline anti-foreign-influence Neo-Confucian heart overflowed with empathy.
Not only did the noble ladies pay her handsome fees per rite, but so did Yeoni's side. With a mountain of cash comes a mountain of loyalty, right? Didn't even Mencius say that?
Yeoni quickly gained fame in the capital.
Even with our couple's promotion, it wouldn't have stuck without her skills backing it up.
Yeoni had been the top shaman dominating Mokcheon.
I didn't believe in mountain spirits myself (though I did trust the Status Window), but as a shaman, her prowess was top-tier.
She was an elite from a prestigious shaman lineage, excelling in counseling, healing, stress relief, and selling ritual tools. If scholars had their refined noble houses, shamans had Mount Gyeryong.
Of course, I wasn't endorsing supernatural feats.
In fortune-telling, actually predicting things has nothing to do with skill. How could you?
What matters is the verbal finesse to make them think you've nailed it.
"There's bad energy in your bones. Looks like you injured them as a kid?"
"Whoa! How'd you know?"
"Your stomach's weak too, isn't it?"
"Spot on! I had a tummy ache just last month!"
Hardly anyone goes through childhood without breaking a limb playing. And nobody avoids stomach issues forever.
Yet somehow, they become renowned fortune-tellers.
After three readings, people read faces like open books—humans naturally fill in the gaps themselves.
But doing it well isn't easy.
Say the obvious like "Your horoscope says you're human," and you'll get a refund demand on the spot.
It takes delicate psychology, political savvy, and guts. That's why shamans ruled as kings in ancient times.
In that regard, Yeoni—while not quite at my rap-battle-winning level—had solid mic skills.
Exorcising troublesome child spirits and supplying black magic to sway philandering husbands, she regained her Mokcheon stature.
Our household gained a tidy side income in the process.
Essentially, we were earning referral fees from a network-based counseling service.
But neither Sehwa nor I saw that as the true goal.
One day in the third month, Sehwa said,
"As you know, this wasn't about pocket change. People spill secrets to shamans they won't tell anyone else. They feel like it's the gods listening, not a person."
She meant that, to perform my upright censor duties, I'd inevitably gather dirt on noble houses.
Following the slave intelligence network, the Shaman Security Planning Department was born. Maybe I should head back to Mount Gyeryong and scout a group of shamans?
Moreover, the friendships Sehwa built with those noble ladies were worth far more than any fees.
When the Roman Senate raised toasts after crushing Carthage, what did Great Cato say (probably eager to end the party)?
"Above you world-conquerors looms a hegemon called your wife."
A sage's words, applicable even in Joseon.
Handled right, we could manipulate officials from the shadows.
It wasn't that the senators all had happy marriages and couldn't rebut Cato.
Even in a male-dominant society, a principal wife's influence wasn't negligible.
Why else the endless intrigue over the "principal wife seat," from China's massive harems to 21st-century harem light novels?
Now, I could see the path forward from my key objective. With preparations in place, select the optimal three and send them on a little provincial trip.
For the sub-goal, taking out one or more capital officials would suffice.
Unlocking a trait via overachievement sounded nice, but making enemies of three capital officials would hurt more than any trait.
The political fallout would be too severe. I'd rather have an active skill—preferably at Admiral Yi Sun-sin or Won Gyun level—than a trait.
Flip that: pick two easy marks for quick disposal.
I kept that in mind.
From brothers' "Haeng Clan" to in-laws' "Hong Clan." H's will charged unstoppably toward the throne.
I met Yi Jae-un after a long while.
Most incoming funds went to him for investment.
True to his enterprising merchant spirit, Yi Jae-un presented a fresh portfolio.
"A good number of the Songpa Ferry thugs have joined us. With this, we could venture into moneylending. Business is fine, but nothing beats interest for profit."
In Joseon, few goods circulated easily, and perishables like food were mostly impossible.
So, non-perishables that didn't spoil or break were ideal.
Right—money. Would Warren Buffett have made his fortune selling triangle kimbap? Joseon or modern day, money breeding money was king.
Risks had kept us from it before, but now with muscle to collect on bad debts, we could launch private lending.
Offer rates far below others—say, 40% per annum—and loans would fly.
No joke. Cheaper than Korea's 2% loans. My deep Neo-Confucian roots had turned social service into a habit; it was exhausting.
"We'll mainly target Seoul guild shops and markets. If they can't repay..."
"Then we'll rightfully take their shops instead."
"As expected of your brilliant strategy and insight."
We clinked cups, laughing heartily at the smooth progress.
From the start, infiltrating Songpa Ferry was to secure violence, using money as bait to swallow prime Seoul guilds whole.
Even if guilds declined in the future, it was relative.
In Joseon, Seoul guilds were the only merchant force that could petition the king directly.
Thanks to precedents set by throne-aspirant King Yeongjo, even King Jeongjo had to hear merchants out at year's end.
Not some personal whim. The Bureau of Special Counsels had high-ranking guild overseers. Nobody liked it.
Jeongjo hated it too.
To a bully king like him, merchants' "insolent petitions" were pure annoyance.
Yet even his prestige—freely bullying ministers like 9 PM bar gossip—couldn't defy ancestral precedent.
Jeongjo pondered and hit on a genius idea.
"Ah, just eliminate the guilds!"
Thus, the Shinhae Tonggong reforms dropped a meteor on them by abolishing guild monopolies.
Until then, guilds wielded massive political and economic power.
And my "big score" was coming—no later than a few years.
Infiltrate the guilds first.
Not just my funds and Yi Jae-un's—I'd pull in my in-laws' money too.
A venture uniting Andong Kim, Namyang Hong, and Yi Jae-un? "Samhwa (Three Harmonies)" fit perfectly.
Back home, I rewarded results by introducing Yi Jae-un to my guests—the Seoul noble heirs.
"He's the one managing our modest estate. Descendant of a former prime minister, literate, refined, trustworthy."
No idiots barking "How dare a merchant's descendant shame his prime minister ancestor?" ever set foot here.
They were all like-minded gentlemen, so no such nonsense. They welcomed him enthusiastically.
"No wonder the Jangdong Kim house is thriving!"
"Even the East has its Confucian merchants like Zigong."
"Come visit my house sometime."
This was wealth beyond money; Yi Jae-un thanked me profusely. Proof he saw the big picture.
As Yi Jae-un departed after business, he glanced at Pony and remarked,
"A fine steed. You run a ranch? Impressively so."
"Sorry to burden Siknidang with it. But he was recommended by the Pungyang Jo scholars; couldn't refuse."
"No matter. I've little horse experience anyway; I'd only cause trouble. What's this prize horse's name?"
Suddenly, I wanted to show how much I valued Yi Jae-un.
"No name yet, but I'll give one now. Your pen name's Siknidang, so how about Pony Horse (Poni-ma, Mud-Feeding Horse) to match? It shows I treasure you like a brother."
Sharing business elsewhere isn't betrayal. Got it? Unless you betray first.
Yi Jae-un, who'd swallowed endless slights rising from scholar to merchant, bowed deeply.
"Poni! I don't know where to put myself. I'll devote myself body and soul henceforth."
"Mud washes away in rain but hardens into fine pottery when fired. That's the bond I wish for."
"I named myself Siknidang for that very reason. My loyalty shall burn like fire."
We parted after this touching vow.
Joseon civil service banter was the best.
So versatile.
March brought milder weather, and Pyo Cheolju reported finding suitable land.
Here, I introduced future civilized practices: Korea's strict certified broker law, where fees drop as land prices rise. Modern man things.
Pyo Cheolju was probably cursing and haggling over my rates.
But mess up deals, and Jo Jemyung would rage. Jo Jemyung rages, Noron rages. No Noron protection, and Cheolju's done.
That's political thug talk.
You're a thug. Face the people's judgment.
Live righteously, Cheolju.
Fair deals left a clean conscience.
In my generosity, I even accepted Ye mungwan Censor Park Jeongwon's request to cover his knight attendant shift.
Not because he tied up a hen—no, our ties ran deep.
Park Jeongwon's collateral descendant, Park Jiwon's peer brother, and my high school brother equivalent. But more.
"Father's sudden illness leaves me no choice—truly sorry. My fool brother said you were reasonable, and he was right."
The flatterer praising me? Park Jeongwon's own brother, Park Seongwon.
Park Seongwon had taken over as librarian after I ousted Yeo Seon-eung.
My direct subordinate, in short.
Older and more senior than me, but demoted to librarian after a dismissal.
The reason? Astonishing.
As a low official, he arbitrarily edited upward-bound reports to the king.
Kim Unhaeng faction dream material.
Worth earning such a capable subordinate's loyalty.
I didn't nitpick Park Seongwon's lack of father mention or question if they shared blood despite brotherhood.
Don't scrutinize colleagues' leave excuses.
Just chalk it up to Park Seongwon being unfilial. If he fears not the king, why fear father?
Our bonds were tied tight as a hen's legs; I couldn't refuse.
"Haha. We're no strangers; it's the least I can do."
"I'll remember this favor."
The Crown Prince was engrossed in Qing new learning, so Si-gangwon approval was easy.
Time away from the prince meant showing face at court too. Being labeled prince faction spelled trouble.
That side was mostly Noron. I, guardian of Song Siyol's orthodox learning, was Noron posterity.
On proxy duty, I leisurely inspected the Four Books.
Today, Yeongjo performed the Wangwi Ritual at the Grand Prayer Hall.
Grateful once more to Emperor Wanli's census registers, signaling anti-Qing resolve for domestic eyes.
Not ideal for a Northern Learning prince.
Next, to Chundangdae Yeonghwadang.
Right—where I took the exam.
Memories of scholarly zeal bloomed afresh.
I gazed wistfully at this stage of my soaring ambitions.
Future examinees here might face me as proctor. I'd straighten Joseon late-period exam discipline then.
Moments later, that lofty aspiration shattered spectacularly.
Not Yeongjo's fault, mind you.
A shout unimaginable in my known Joseon echoed faintly from afar.
"Treason! Rebellion!"
1. The incident at the end of the main story actually happened. Details tomorrow. The king's schedule that day and Park Jeongwon as knight attendant are factual.
That said, knight attendants aren't swapped like military shifts; requires royal approval. But routine matters get rubber-stamped, so glossed over in-story.
2. On Shinhae Tonggong: Yeongjo hearing guild petitions and Jeongjo hating them are true.
But Jeongjo stripping guild privileges out of some overlord whim is Kim Unhaeng's twisted take.
Jeongjo's inspections clearly aimed at hearing grievances; secret royal inspectors and surveillance were highly active. Showmanship or not, he cared about public policy.
Petitions had to be in Classical Chinese, so only "loyal subjects" qualified—not "insolent masses" (Jeongjo's actual words during Yeosu County's split request over double taxation by Suncheon and Jeolla Left Naval Command).
Incidentally, restrictions on viewing his inspections loosened, leading "tourism (gwanggwang)"—seeing the radiant king—to mean "sightseeing" (though not coined then; used since early Joseon akin to audience).
3. Park Jeongwon was indeed Ye mungwan Censor then; Park Seongwon was Seja Si-gangwon librarian. His dismissal 2-3 years prior for report tampering is fact.
Skipped in main text, but Park Seongwon's mother from Andong Kim—Kim Changhyeop's daughter—makes her Kim Unhaeng's aunt. Thus, Park Seongwon and Kim Unhaeng are high school brothers. Capital nobles back then were all interconnected across one bridge.
4. Poco (fabric for candles): Beeswax-coated o songs cloth (thousand-layer fabric). Insert wick to make floral candles. The "light the bridal candle" item at weddings. Candles so pricey, even Lee Sugeuk boasted never lighting one in life.