Chapter 50
Chapter 50
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 50
Chapter Title: 24. Walking on Thin Ice (2)
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The letter contained no political content.
Disguised in three layers under the name of a household member of Bokrye, the Crown Princess's servant, it secretly requested a shamanic ritual to cure the illness of "a certain noble person."
'The Grand Heir must have taken a turn for the worse again.'
Just this past sixth lunar month, he had been formally invested as the Grand Heir, and his condition had improved enough to undergo the rites. But alas, it seemed Amitabha Buddha had other plans.
The King had personally visited the pharmacy and appointed his maternal uncle Hong Sanghan as the chief overseer of the medicine bureau, among other efforts.
However, if it was the illness I suspected, no medicine in the world could cure it.
I had never met the Crown Princess even once, but as a fellow parent, I could imagine her anguish.
How desperate must she be to resort to a shamanic ritual, even with her status as Crown Princess?
Yet the Grand Heir's illness wasn't a recent development. There had to be some new reason for this sudden move.
I had a few hypotheses. But without intimate knowledge of the highest echelons' affairs, I couldn't connect the dots clearly.
I couldn't seek help from Park, the blabbermouth who had even told me the Crown Prince's wedding date.
That had been a joyous occasion. But he wasn't fool enough to wag his tongue about a tragedy like this.
So, I began pondering the reason on my own.
The laxity of discipline in late Joseon society wasn't limited to the military or clerks.
By this time, the historians' integrity had worn so thin it couldn't even be used as kindling, leading to a sharp decline in their hearing acuity.
They recorded things like "The historian did not hear" or "An edict too audacious to hear," claiming they hadn't heard far too much.
Today, too, King Yi Geum issued an off-the-record edict.
When Yi Geum flung the handwritten edict onto the table in the Bincheong hall—the meeting room for the State Tribunal—the attending ministers held their breath.
"The officials who attended the pharmacy, withdraw at once. 'Military affairs are mysterious'! Such impudent words have never existed in all history. What good is medicine after enduring this insult?"
The power Kim Unhaeng had witnessed from Yi Geum in Jiksan wasn't even the half of it.
If he saw him now, Kim Unhaeng might suspect Yi Geum had undergone a three-stage transformation.
Among those present, only a senior statesman like Left State Councillor Kim Yakro could even think of opening his mouth under that aura.
As Left State Councillor doubling as chief overseer of the pharmacy, Kim Yakro bore the responsibility of soothing the King and ensuring the medicine was administered.
But Kim Yakro was Noron.
And in this Joseon, ministers prioritized faction over king, regardless of character or ability.
Yi Geum's rage wasn't unfounded.
Thus, even in this moment, Kim Yakro indirectly defended Min Baek-sang.
"It is merely the words of a rude and biased man. Your Majesty has already extracted the four characters 'unfilial and unbrotherly' from the Book of Self-Reflection for that matter. How dare we ministers not take heed?"
The Book of Self-Reflection wasn't a canonical text but Yi Geum's self-authored collection of laudatory ruling precedents.
A compilation of noteworthy points from his long reign, its creation and purpose resembled Mao Zedong's quotations.
Its uses were similar too. Yi Geum often made the Crown Prince or ministers read it or quoted from it to convey his desires.
His counter to "military affairs are mysterious" was "unfilial and unbrotherly."
In plain terms, "You sons of bitches."
Kim Yakro's rebuttal amounted to: "You stirred up a fuss with words unfit for a king too, so let's end this farce."
But not all tantrums are trivial.
In the hands of a qi master, even dogweed becomes a lethal weapon.
Just as Won Gyun's bribes induced total hypnosis, Yi Geum's tantrums embodied his philosophy of rule.
As the historians busily recorded, "The jade voice rang out most sternly," Yi Geum declared:
"Are you thoughtless, or do you deliberately spout drivel because you wish to die? By publicizing 'military affairs are mysterious,' how can doubts from the past not resurface? Raising issues on one side and harboring suspicions on the other—is that how to serve a single sovereign?!"
Yi Geum glared at Kim Jaero and the other ministers as if to stab them to death with his eyes.
"When facing your king, you turn your heads like foxes to gaze at Min Baek-sang and Jo Myeong-jeung—the Royal Scribe exiled for defending him. Desiring your faction's longevity over the king's, what tonic do you think you're offering? Throw it away!"
This was an insult discarding even the courtesy due a prime minister, like flinging away a bowl of tonic soup. The defeated ministers could only exchange glances, suggesting retreat.
Yi Geum's dynamic governance had its flaws.
The impact was undeniable, but sustaining it was hard.
That night, summoning the ministers again, Yi Geum appeared somewhat calmed.
Seizing the moment, the attendants interjected defenses.
"It would have been fine to simply proclaim the subjugation of remaining enemies, but daring to extend that righteousness to the sovereign himself—that was Min Baek-sang's folly."
Spare our faces, and we won't block you from crushing the Soron.
Given how the Noron had placed Yi Geum on the throne, he couldn't refuse this concession.
But conceding meant the end of grand harmony.
Grand harmony was a pipe dream from the start. Could a dictator who seized power via military coup rein in the military?
Even Yi Geum had no immediate brilliant stroke.
His choice was a stopgap.
Instead of answering the ministers, he summoned the Crown Prince at once.
Since Kim Unhaeng left the Crown Prince's study hall, the Crown Prince looked even more haggard.
Kim Unhaeng hadn't done anything special for him. The boy, not yet twenty, just needed a friend to share mischief and laughs with.
But for the heir to the throne—Yi Geum's son—no such luxury was allowed. Yi Geum summoned him and asked:
"In Min Baek-sang's memorial, it says you heard from a palace eunuch about the events of the Im-in and Shin-chuk years—the Shinim Literary Purge—and asked, 'How could Grandfather endure such a thing?'"
"How could he endure" could be interpreted as: "Wow, how did Father hold back? If it were me, I'd have killed all the Soron even after ascending."
That's why Min Baek-sang wrote in his memorial: "Even the Crown Prince said this! Surely Your Majesty discerns right from wrong better than your son?"
It was a clear attempt to kill the Crown Prince.
The Crown Prince had never imagined sympathizing innocently with his father's past crisis would boomerang like this.
In a voice near death, he replied:
"Yes. I said exactly that to Eunuch Yi Uibo."
"Did you offer me any plan for endurance then?"
"No. I failed to think of it in time."
"Denying when you have it, affirming when you don't! Speak now."
Even if Su Jin and Jang Ui returned alive together, no words could escape this. Every choice led to ruin—a fact even a child knew.
Dosungji Yi Ilje, duty-bound to protect the Crown Prince as Soron, hurriedly intervened:
"It's an old matter. How could he recall it on the spot?"
"Did I ask you, Dosungji? Withdraw!"
Yi Ilje retreated swiftly. No surprise—he couldn't have built the Super-Dimensional Fortress otherwise.
Yi Geum even pointed accusingly at the Crown Prince.
"You should revere your Imperial Brother—the late King Gyeongjong—as a grandfather, yet you dared ask how I endured his deeds? What was your intent in sowing discord? Since when have you hidden designs to deceive your father?"
"I never harbored such intent..."
"Even as the Grand Heir's condition worsens, you make your father fret over the pharmacy without once visiting yourself. I've known since then. One who knows not love, how can he know filial piety?!"
The Crown Prince was speechless.
He had visited once on Kim Unhaeng's advice, but truthfully hadn't since he left—leaving him no excuse.
Thus, like a drunkard smashing plates and chairs while beating his son, Yi Geum's tirade buried the discussion on Soron punishment once more.
The Noron couldn't leisurely pressure the King either.
Despite leading numerous abdications and purges, the final decisions always rested with the King. Life and death were his.
The weary ministers exited the palace.
Among the most exhausted was Hong Gyehui, Minister of the Military, who had attended. As a Noron survivor of the Shinim Purge, he had pleaded emotionally with Yeongjo at an age when it was hard.
Hong Gyehui let out a grand sigh.
His breath spread white in the winter sky.
"If only I had Kim Chunsik as my nephew..."
Even as a mere Dosungji or Panseo now, things might have gone smoother.
Hong Gyehui had no desire to explain who Kim Chunsik was to his colleagues. Instead, he walked on slowly.
The Crown Prince already faced accusations of shielding Soron.
Moreover, extremes converge: even Noron hardliner Min Baek-sang used the Crown Prince as pretext to demand Soron annihilation.
Yi Geum had taken only the worst from both cases against him.
The Crown Prince became a scoundrel who sided with his father's enemies while shattering his grand harmony.
Thus, pitifully, the more he became a rag, the stronger his reputation grew.
"Your Highness, the Grand Heir's condition has changed again. The Crown Princess requests your presence."
"The King cherishes the Grand Heir so. Why would a wretch like me go? Do you fear what edict might come if the King sees me there?!"
Unlike his father's accusations, the Crown Prince hadn't avoided his son out of distaste.
He knew colliding with his father en route would earn horrific blame for "showing his face" and expulsion.
Everyone in the palace knew this. But he couldn't ignore the inner official's words.
Yet the Crown Prince considered no such nuance. He glared at the innocent eunuch.
"I see. You're trying to humiliate me!"
Then he hurled the entire desk at the eunuch.
The eunuch could only brace and tumble after taking the hit.
The robust Crown Prince kicked the fallen man repeatedly until exhaustion, stopped only by attendants preventing murder.
And as always, the Crown Prince regretted it.
This would surely reach the King.
His father would add another demerit. The warehouse of his hatred seemed infinite.
"If only that man were here now..."
Since Yi Geum removed Kim Unhaeng from the study hall, he hadn't seen him (nor the promised second volume of Qing books).
From early regency, his father blocked ministers' separate reports to him. Post-Min Baek-sang, even independent talks were impossible.
Why bother with regency then? It seemed mere facade to justify past regency under his predecessor, stripping all power—as gossips said.
The Crown Prince held no grudge against Kim Unhaeng. Surely he longed to serve the lenient him over the King but couldn't defy.
He understood Kim Unhaeng.
And hated his father all the more.
Crown Princess Hong barely restrained from biting her nails.
The Crown Prince hadn't come.
Thankfully, Bokrye had followed protocol by informing the eunuch first; otherwise, standing there foolishly might have gotten her badly hurt.
The Crown Princess knew too. Grand Heir Yi Jeong's condition offered little hope. Why else seek Seoul's best shaman?
Thus, she constantly urged the Crown Prince to visit.
This was dire. To her, his position rested solely on being the Grand Heir's father.
Lose that, and he held no value to the King.
If the Crown Prince was worthless, so were she and the Pungsan Hong clan.
Unlike posterity, she couldn't think, "Better no Grand Heir, lest the King behead the Crown Prince in relief."
That required knowing Yeongjo's psychopathic history. For normal her, sans foresight, it was unimaginable.
Her worst scenario: Childless, repeating misdeeds like Grand Prince Yangnyeong, deposed; King adopts a royal or sires another.
Adoption was absurd in Joseon royal norms, same as siring.
Yet rumors swirled of the King bedding a county magistrate's tribute tiger pelt nightly.
Considering his robust health, it wasn't impossible.
Thus, countermeasures were needed.
But a palace lady's options were few.
Her squeezed plan: "If the Crown Prince tends the Grand Heir here, even his death garners sympathy." Hadn't he been scolded for that recently?
For that, he needed to come. Worst case, soothe him into another son to avert disaster.
But he hadn't shown his face.
The Crown Princess murmured blankly.
"Is a shaman's ritual truly our only hope...?"
It was self-mockery, not confirmation.
All medicines had failed. A shaman curing instantly? Unlikely.
Once Ihyang fully slept, I reassured Sehua and stepped into the courtyard.
Pretending to gaze at the sky, I opened the status window.
Sehua and I, after hushed discussion, agreed to "play ignorant and proceed with the ritual."
No— we had to. Refusing without cause might bury us in Inwangsan for tiger treasure hunts. Performing the ritual was the baseline.
The issue was next.
Knowing the future, I had one more thought.
Historically, the Grand Heir dies now, and second son Yi San ascends as Jeongjo.
I'd planned no interference. Maximal historical adherence maximized my gains.
Hate to admit, but sans future knowledge, I offered little edge over Joseon folk on the Chief Councillor path.
Thus, no effort to save the Grand Heir. Partly to leave him for family.
But talking with Sehua revealed her focus: when I eyed minister or councillor posts, even Joseon's elf king Yeongjo dies.
Sehua's sensitivity to the Crown Princess's message stemmed from assuming Sado Seja succeeds. Natural difference.
My key era: Jeongjo's reign.
Would Jeongjo recognize, tolerate, or ignorantly overlook my statecraft?
From what I learned, no.
Even peripherally, he achieved illegitimate permission and abolishing metal price monopolies—feats needing ironclad royal authority.
Post-arrival realization: such "authority" required Yeongjo-level mad genius to forge and hold.
Jeongjo likely similar.
Worst case, my panacea item backfires, dooming family. Then hoarding loses value.
What if Grand Heir Yi Jeong lives?
Second Yi San becomes some prince; Yi Jeong inherits.
Unknown territory.
Probabilistically, Yi Jeong less brilliant than Yi San—normal distribution. Smarter king rarer.
I prefer dimmer kings.
Arms crossed.
Recalling Jeongjo era yielded no standout events beyond officials groveling like dogs, like Jeong Yak-yong. No major purges even.
Then, is future knowledge more useful?
If not, twist history now toward my needs and tread thin ice?
Terrifying dilemma.
1. The plot feels compressed, but today's dialogues between Yeongjo and ministers all occurred between summer and winter of Yeongjo 27. The Crown Prince interrogation happened too.
2. Historians' integrity faded late Joseon, true—but positively, they grew shrewder. Rather than brutishly defying like early Min In-saeng ("kill me if you dare"), they omitted royal bans while slyly inserting "actually, that's what happened" elsewhere. Thus, legends like Shin Chi-un's "haven't eaten salted fermented crab since Gapjin" survived.