Chapter 6
Chapter 6
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 6
Chapter Title: Become My Comrade (2)
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The broom, thrust upside down, struck the beggar right in the solar plexus.
In truth, it would be more accurate to say that the beggar slammed into the tip of my broom with his abs.
The law of action and reaction is inexorable. Thankful that my broom had snapped instead of my arm, I tumbled backward.
It was the perfect moment of utmost peril, yet the status window showed no change whatsoever.
Thus, I could intuitively grasp the harsh truth that I was no beneficiary of fortune. Even if I truly died, 'those guys' would steadfastly collect their due rather than save me or grant an opportunity.
'I have to run.'
I was preparing to roll across the ground just like during the initiation ritual, but soon my eyes widened in surprise.
The beggar, hailed as the strongest man on earth, was curled up in agony, groaning face-down on the dirt.
Even by the time I dusted myself off and stood, he hadn't uncurled. While I pondered what had happened, Jangbok came scurrying over to him.
"This bastard only trusted in you, young master! You lot, the young master just overwhelmed a bandit with his mystical staff arts—what have you been doing? Hurry and tie him up, toss him in the shed. We'll give him a thorough beating before handing him over to the magistrates for a flogging!"
I smacked Jangbok on the head for nearly getting his master killed. Then I countermanded his arbitrary orders.
"No, fetch a bowl of porridge. And some fresh clothes too."
"Pardon?"
"You were the one who needlessly picked a fight with someone who hadn't harmed us in the slightest. Before our stingy, virtue-less household becomes a laughingstock, do as I say!"
All the household blessings sang praises to my mercy, which rivaled my martial prowess. Jangbok scratched the back of his head where I'd hit him but had no retort to offer the young master.
The beggar's condition seemed to match my guess.
Having starved for so long, the sudden stress had triggered a bout of acute gastric spasms.
Those in the know understand, but the pain is something even a burly man can't endure. Of course, everyone believed I'd struck his pressure points with the broom, so let's leave it at that.
Having ulterior motives, I took care in handling this beggar.
Stuffing food or meat into someone whose guts have twisted from prolonged hunger all at once risks sudden death.
That's why you start with thin gruel to gently awaken the internals before supplementing nutrition. That was the reason I'd ordered porridge instead of rice.
Fortunately, with his inherently robust constitution, the beggar regained his vigor in just one day.
He recovered so vigorously that Jangbok started grumbling. It was understandable for a modest household like ours to worry about an outsider devouring our grain stores.
But I was pleased.
"That guy's got an appetite to match his size."
Sitting on the porch, the beggar shoveled rice into his mouth as if he'd never seen a spoon before. With only a dish of soy sauce and pickled radish as sides, he ate with such relish that he'd have been a hit doing mukbangs on 21st-century YouTube.
Once cleaned up—Jangbok complained about wasting hot water on a beggar and got an earful from me—he didn't look that old after all. Maybe just a few years older than me at most.
The reason it was an estimate was that the beggar refused to speak about himself. And not out of any staunch secrecy...
"Ugh, th-thank... you! Thanks!"
...but because he could barely speak properly.
Likely separated from his parents in early childhood with no one to care for him, and later, in true Joseon fashion, sold off or picked up to toil endlessly, stunting his mental development.
Fortunately, unlike modern Korea, the baseline intelligence required here was quite low.
With that strength, he could charge at anyone recklessly, yet he knew to be grateful to the one feeding him and to read the room—that was all the smarts needed here. When I even asked his name, he understood and answered.
"Beggar."
"No, I know you're a beggar. What's your name?"
The beggar pondered deeply before replying.
"Beggar. Beg-gar (Eoji)."
"Your name is Beggar?"
I nodded without laughing. Among Joseon's lowest castes, such names were common. It was probably just what others called him, and it stuck.
'Wait a minute...'
In my mind, bearing Kim Unhaeng's memories, an incident from about twenty years ago naturally surfaced.
Long ago, a palace maid named Sunjeong ground up bones from a man and a fox to curse Grand Prince Hyojang, Yeongjo's eldest son Yi Hyang, and his daughter Princess Hwasun. She even attempted poisoning as a bonus.
The incident was uncovered in the 6th year of Yeongjo's reign, 1730.
Once the culprit was revealed, it was handled as the act of a resentful palace maid, with all involved gruesomely executed.
Looking at the records, the deceased were obvious lowborns just from their names. Yeongjo wished to prevent further escalation into court noble society.
Whether truly due to the curse or not, around that time, the precious heir Grand Prince Hyojang died, and even the princess suffered outbreaks and hemorrhaging.
This glimpse shows Yeongjo's dilemma: even while suppressing the Soron after the Yi Injwa Rebellion, he had to prevent the Noron from running amok by wiping out every last Soron.
But scandals like this spread faster when hidden.
Even a minor scholar like Kim Unhaeng knew the popular suspicion that the curse was actually instigated by the Junron faction of Soron who failed in the Yi Injwa Rebellion.
And amid it all, it was well-known in the shadowy underside of Joseon's scholars that someone had run errands between the curse tool supplier and the executor.
That man's name was Eoji.
Of course, that Eoji was definitively captured and executed back then. His age doesn't match the one before me.
But what if the dead Eoji had a child?
What if, before dying, he abandoned his young offspring to survive, leaving the boy with only his father's name and no further learning, growing up half-witted?
During the Yi Injwa Rebellion, testimonies consistently noted how widely sourced the hired thugs were. If this Eoji's build came from his father, then paternal Eoji would have been a prize any rebels coveted.
If the curse incident's Eoji was a survivor remnant from the rebellion, driven by grudge to aid the assassination before dying?
Pure speculation without evidence, yet I tensed.
Treason is a crime prosecutable on 'imagination alone.' Anyone who could entertain such thoughts could seize on it endlessly.
And once seized upon, it was over.
Innocent? No evidence? In Korea, there's the electric prod lawyer; in Joseon, the staff lawyer. Beat until evidence emerges. The top firm Jeon & Jang proves every crime.
Yet I needed Eoji. I couldn't let such 'talent' slip for a low-probability risk.
After much deliberation, I decided.
I informed my parents and wrote my brother (the plight of the powerless youngest). Then, bringing Eoji before the servants, I declared,
"Calling a hale man 'beggar' this and that is embarrassing, so I'll drop the first syllable. From now on, you're Eoji. I won't ask where you drifted from, so just eat the food I provide."
Our household's full-time union, led by Jangbok, fiercely rebelled against this parachute hire they couldn't accept.
"Young master, what if bringing in a rootless bum breeds disaster?"
"He's surely some fugitive arsonist!"
"He eats enough for three—our granary will be emptied overnight!"
But I was firm. With parental approval, I held personnel authority.
"Since General Jang, the Great Commander who quelled Seoul's thugs early in Yeongjo's reign, passed away, bandits and murderers are rampant again. With Eoji, shady folk won't loiter freely. Don't you know Confucius said, 'Since I obtained Zilu, I have heard no slanders'?"
They wouldn't. As the servants stared blankly, I regretted and rephrased.
"Enough heartless talk. Welcome Eoji warmly. I've read the I Ching since childhood; today I divined, and the hexagram warned that casting out the man beyond the wall brings ill fortune. We need hands anyway—why court trouble?"
"Trouble" here meant taboo, not my displeasure.
Among shamanic taboos, grave ones bringing instant death are "dongti," minor ones "eonjeom." Hearing this, even stubborn rebels back off unless perverse.
Scholars of the era aided commoners with wedding dates or fetal sex divination, lending my words credibility. The servants grumbled but dispersed.
Thereafter, intrigues rivaling court factions continued.
Eoji harassing maids or stealing food, etc. His speech impediment left him unable to defend, so they fabricated freely.
But I steadfastly backed Eoji.
"Eoji. Nothing to do with you, right?"
"Yes."
"Good. Let's work hard."
That was it.
What if it were true? Who cares. Other servants did the same daily.
Crime isn't punishing the guilty. Guilt is universal. Only the one you want punished gets 'exposed.'
And I didn't want to punish Eoji.
Even beyond my 'plan,' he was useful. His size alone deterred, letting me walk tall, and his vagrant life made him adept at anything.
Farming proved it. Not every house had enough oxen, so we pulled plows manually on scraps; Eoji plowed as deep as an ox.
A bit dim, but honest without tricks, soon servants acknowledged him. Even Jangbok, victim of his bludgeon, stopped harassing.
Meanwhile, I held little expectation for Park Jiwon.
Park Pilgyun sending anyone was help enough; not because he knew top tutors. I had zero intent to learn exam answers from the teacher anyway.
Thus, when a fresh-faced lad, unlikely older than me, arrived as Park Pilgyun's own house guest, I wasn't disappointed.
But that was my miscalculation. Joseon folk were smarter than me.
Named Go Bonghwan, he glanced at Eoji upon entering.
Anyone would eye such a hulking man curiously—I'd passed indifferently myself.
But after formal bows in the room and starting talk, Go Bonghwan brought up Eoji first.
"I heard from Minister Park, but seeing Kim Yonggyeom's household confirms it. Truly unprecedented—this vanguard shock troop. Brother, you're resolute for exam success and family glory."
I startled. Father hadn't noticed, yet this youth pierced it.
Go Bonghwan was right.
Eoji was hired as exam vanguard, shock troop. Useful servant, yes, but primary purpose that.
This era's exam prep primacy wasn't bribes or connections (study last, naturally).
Front-row seizure.
Overcome thousands to claim prime S-row upfront. Fail that, no passing—can't even see problems or submit timely.
Unlike modern concerts or queues.
Broken bones and burst flesh routine, deaths commonplace. Debated even in court, yet no fix till Joseon's fall.
Thus, scions hired bruisers to clear paths. Beating, shoving, trampling indiscriminately for employer's ascent—needed brawn and guts.
Paid in cash or answer copies. Some coveted latter for own glory; odds lower (poorer house), but cases of vanguards passing with employers existed.
By now, professional services: nationwide tankers flocked to Seoul during exam season, flexing for gigs. Textbook 'sprouts of late Joseon capitalism.'
But hiring openly was tough for me.
Non-examinees strictly illegal. Unenforced, sure, but exists—ripe for picky foes to pounce.
To skirt, need underworld ties. And cash.
I had neither.
Emphasize: fresh off criminal status. Grand house scion, livable but not rich. Actions cautious.
Thus, instead of conspicuous outsider, I made Eoji family. Vanguard origins were house servants anyway—back to tradition.
And this young scholar before me divined my scheme.
His 'minister's hint' implied Park Pilgyun knew too. As current rites minister, he'd know exam antics.
I calmed. No rushing. One more check.
I spoke circuitously, like him.
"I begged the minister, risking shame, to devote my meager studies zealously. Hope he didn't find this pup arrogant."
"Worry not. He was delighted by your earnestness, personally naming me despite duties."
Good. Park Pilgyun backs me.
Expected mere rumored ties to rites minister for slight grading favor; now bigger gain.
Thanks, sir. If I become Chief Councillor, your grandson won't languish as county magistrate.
Thus, Go Bonghwan wasn't mere tutor.
He was exam team key: giant pillar.
Giant pillar means expert. In exams, top instructor—who takes the test for you.
Copy pillar's answers via good-calligrapher scribe: done without lifting finger. With my 'Han Seokbong's Calligraphy,' no scribe needed.
Planned to shop pillars myself, name teacher nominally. If right, gourd fell vine-and-all.
Go Bonghwan confirmed.
"As humble house scion, hard for me to register as examinee, so I peddle paltry writing skills. Minister granting ties to famed house son—my honor."
Sounds like no official ambitions.
But really: can't get capital/local official recs for exams, so earns via side hustle. Confident in skills.
Joseon innuendo exhausting, but inevitable. As I shifted, he guessed I understood.
With knowing smile, he produced booklets.
"From ancient classics through Twenty-Four Histories to modern worthies' works—key passages for exam topics, curated."
Flipping through, I couldn't hide admiration.
"Unrivaled by street stall scribbles!"
Such exam cram books existed since system start; now peak.
But Go Bonghwan's finer, cleaner.
Categorized by field/era, linked to current policies. True top instructor. I bowed deeply.
"What greater fortune than an ignorant like me taught by you? Repayment won't be slight."
Impressed by presentation, I subtly proposed pillar role. He Joseon-ably accepted.
"You see at glance; your house upholds forebears' fame. I'll devote my poor talents fully."
With scholar's righteousness so deep, how not revel? I yelled for Jangbok: wine tray.
No old friendship needed; true gentlemen be lifelong pals at cart-top tilt. Associating via words—what beauty.
We pledged cups as young literati bearing Joseon's future.
Thus formed my raid party to fell the exam beast.
1. 'Haengti' means needlessly bullying or harming others.
2. Until mid-20th century, tech limited fetal sexing to divination. Many aborted based on it (unhealthy methods)—tragic.
If hearing elders' tales, you might recall neighborhood diviners clenching fists, counting for hexagrams. Scholars did it too, but with common blindness, they taught the blind (20th-century: Sinologists) divination for livelihood—seen as noble.
3. Go Bonghwan real; punished in King Jeongjo's accession as one of 'nation's famed pillars.' Besides Seoul's, Kaesong's Yi Hwanryong, Honam's Yi Hanghwi, Hoseo's No Geum etc.—eight provinces' proxy exam kings. Birth/death uncertain; if old then, young here possible. Park Pilgyun's guest: fiction.
5. Chundangdae Avengers (1)