Chapter 61
Chapter 61
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 61
Chapter Title: The Pied Piper (3)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Rats live fast and furious lives.
That's why they say it took first place in the no-rules, no-holds-barred shitshow of a race hosted by the Jade Emperor, earning the top spot among the twelve zodiac animals.
Also, a rat's front paws have an even number of toes, while the back paws have an odd number. This embodies the shift from yang in front to yin in back, all in one body—so when the hour of the rat passes, the day is considered over.
That's the reason why, despite their petty nature and feeble strength, rats lead the pack of beasts.
One or two might be laughable, but when they number in the thousands or tens of thousands, it's a different story. At that point, even fierce predators steer clear, and it becomes a national headache.
And the more rats that gather, the more they tend to lose themselves in madness.
Just like humans. Well, modern science has confirmed it, but rats belong to the same suborder as primates, sharing it with us.
As for lemming mass suicides, there've been countless theories, but the most accepted one is "they just do."
Rats wouldn't sacrifice themselves to control their population. They just get hungry and scared, charge ahead blindly, and when they hit the sea, they dive right in.
There was one such rat swept up in that destructive frenzy.
Rats don't need names. This one didn't have any sense of self to speak of, beast that it was, and after getting caught in the horde, it forgot even that.
It couldn't possibly imagine that the ground it was racing across was in Jongseong County, Hamgyong Province, in the kingdom of Joseon.
The rat twitched its pink nose and looked around. It was a sea of gray fur.
This wave had thinned out crossing a massive river, but it was still far too vast.
Like the others, this rat saw itself not as an individual, but as part of that enormous surge. Minus the social aspect, you could call it a superorganism in biological terms.
Members of a superorganism don't need to think for themselves. They just function as parts toward the group's purpose.
So this rat had no other thoughts.
It just ran forward, pushed from behind.
Water or fire ahead? It didn't matter.
The rat didn't even realize it had become the lead scout.
Controlling the rats' path came with plenty of uncertainties.
Theory-wise, it was flawless.
Beat down the broker to predict their gathering point, tweak the smuggling routes to funnel them into specific areas, and scorched-earth everywhere else outside the zones I allowed—"Ulchi Mundok" style.
But who can predict a beast's behavior? If anyone else tried this, the rats would've scattered, or the path prediction would've failed, or even if they gathered, you couldn't catch them all.
Here, skills were essential. Without the empathy from the rats, it'd have been theoretically impossible.
And right now, the Druid King's skill was delivering the most dramatic effect.
This colossal horde of rats was following me right along.
Good thing I'd cleared out the area beforehand; any spectators would've started wild rumors.
At first, I considered shoving this rat swarm into Qing territory or Censor Chae's zone.
But that's unrealistic. Chae's area is too far, and Qing means crossing the river.
Above all, I had to be visibly at the front. Forget supernatural tales—there's no dodging the fallout no matter how you spin it.
So I went with the classic approach.
I was luring this legion—enough to pass for an enemy army—straight into a rat trap to wipe them out in one go.
Rats are quick, sure, but those stubby legs have limits.
I'd seen a documentary once about rat hunts in Southeast Asia in the 21st century. Nothing fancy: villagers link hands, stampede to herd them, catch 'em, and feast.
Slower than humans, they can't keep up with a horse. I leisurely walked my pony at a trot and radioed the endpoint.
"Jangbok. Hurry and tell them to open the government granary gates."
"Huff, huff. W-what the hell? Why are these rats following us?!"
Jangbok was running on foot. Can't handle a horse without me nearby.
I gave him the supernatural-proof cover story.
"Didn't I say? Sprinkled rice as bait, like fishing. Quit questioning your master's orders and just do as you're told."
"Y-you said do it, and this lowly one has no words!"
"Brat's ridden a horse a few days and forgets his place. Since when were you some noble who needs a mount to run? Gotta whip you like a horse to get through?"
I raised the riding crop—look, I'm not trash. Delay a superior's order even a bit in an office here, and whips and clubs fly between officials; that's Joseon. Jangbok hit primate-transcending speeds.
The rats couldn't stop.
The "big rat" ahead betrayed even their senses, radiating an irresistible warmth.
Showing more unity than ants or bees, they chased the leader.
The horde was certain: a little farther, and they'd escape the cold, hungry days for a paradise of endless eating, drinking, and breeding.
And that hope was handsomely rewarded.
A structure unnatural to nature appeared before them. A few old, experienced rats squeaked excitedly. In human terms: "That's a human warehouse!"
Even if not, most of the horde had already lost what little intelligence they had. They poured through the open doors.
Inside was rat heaven.
Scattered everywhere—soybeans the size of apples to them—assaulted their noses. Grains pilfered from humans over millennia littered the floor.
This was their utopia.
The rats frantically grabbed and gnawed soybeans and rice with their front paws. Even eating as fast as they could wasn't enough. Their sluggish jaws bred impatience.
Everything was perfect. After endless runs in the cold fields, crammed into this walled space with the massive horde, their bodies warmed.
Safe and full. A sensation most had never known since birth.
A warm peace enveloped the entire swarm.
Suddenly, I craved sweet potatoes.
Couldn't have them yet—they hadn't reached Joseon.
But nothing beats roasting them over a blaze like that.
Jongseong Vice Magistrate Yi Je-hwa gaped at the government granary engulfed in flames.
"T-that... that's..."
I cut him off quick.
"Just a few sacks of soybeans and rice scattered as bait inside. Solving His Majesty's worries for that price is a steal."
"N-no, that's not it. How did you make these monsters come here to die?!"
I repeated Jangbok's explanation, toned down politely. Can't have a vice magistrate of his rank bewitched by the supernatural. Bad for both of us.
Yi Je-hwa exclaimed in awe.
"To be frank, I thought it a wild scheme. But now I can't mock Zhou Yu's folly in scoffing at Zhuge Liang's promise of 100,000 arrows!"
Nah, it was a wild scheme. Without skills, you'd better not try it.
I decided to rein that in. But to avoid suspicion, I blurred the focus on purpose.
"Too much hassle writing it up later, so call the granary a total loss and rebuild. Come summer, the river swells—no more rat worries."
Herding them with affinity, I learned: outside dry season from winter to spring, rats struggle crossing the Tumen.
Narrow as it is, it's a vast sea to a rat. They swim decently like most critters, but good swimmers don't cross oceans.
"Your wisdom defies human limits. I'm utterly convinced."
"How could it be my merit alone? Without your quick evacuation of the people and relocation of grain, I'd have been helpless."
I shared credit with the vice magistrate too.
Not just words. My report back would record it that way. Otherwise, it'd paint him as an incompetent local fixed by a roving inspector—demotion city.
Touched by my generosity, Yi Je-hwa provided ample travel funds. With that, I mobilized more hands and repeated the op faster in Onseong and Aoji.
Six days later, Joseon's greatest rodent extermination was complete.
I finished a flawless report from the Jongseong guesthouse.
The horde that had King Yeongjo blustering—"Damn, I feel like Emperor Taizong swallowing locusts; too bad these rats are too far"—was eradicated under Secret Royal Inspector Kim Unhaeng, with the able aid of Inspector Hwang Jeong and the six frontier magistrates.
Unable to contain my smugness, I flung the brush aside. Ink splattered the room—not my mess to clean.
Consider Hwang Jeong's test passed. Everyone saved face, my feats shining "without the supernatural."
Not out of altruism, of course.
Despite the status window's core goal, no impeachment yet for a reason.
This time, only one guy heads back in disgrace.
Pinning blame is easy. But this rat crisis tangled all six magistrates—one falls, they chain-react like dominoes.
Take out two-plus at once? Core goal clears fast, but side quests fail. Gotta hoard coins to skip some Gojong-era BS.
That's for later.
Among frontier bigwigs, only Hwang Jeong ranks as a capital minister. Not my level to snipe yet.
He's got Yeongjo's trust: inspector, garrison commander, investigator rolled into one. Basically Lee Seong-gye. Hands off.
So, ultra-selective: just one exile.
I'll sniff out dirt on the way back. By now, every magistrate in Hamgyong's on high alert for inspectors, but no biggie.
No one's sinless in this world. Rules exist to break, and selective forgiveness is how judicial power works.
In the 18th century, it's even clearer than the 21st.
I wiped the paper with a damp cloth. My work here was done.
That's when two forgotten questions resurfaced.
Where the hell is Hong Daeyong? He said he was coming.
And what’s Censor Chae up to now?
Kim Unhaeng's two questions boil down to one answer.
Hong Daeyong and Censor Chae were together right now.
Despite Hong's dirty sabotage, Chae pierced the crisis with sheer righteousness.
Wearing a battered hat like a beggar, but eyes blazing with grit as he brandished his inspector badge—Chae Je-gong embodied the ideal secret inspector from folklore.
Magistrates might've heard rumors, but they could only fake their own ledgers.
In western Hamgyong—the peninsula's roughest backwater—fast inter-village comms? Impossible. Coordinated cover-ups? No way.
Chae exploited the gaps. Cocky magistrates flashing doctored books got a rude awakening.
"Is this all the sable pelts and ginseng from Gapsan County?"
"Yes, Inspector. Here's what went to the capital, here's what's left in storage. Matches the books perfectly."
Chae bellowed.
"Then why the massive gap with neighboring Samsu County?! Combined tribute from both barely hits a third of the actual capital haul! You skimmed it all en route, leaving scraps. Figures—probably shipped to Seoul's elites, so 'tribute' isn't wrong!"
"Th-that's some mistake..."
Chae shot up.
"No need to hear more. Demote and arrest Gapsan Vice Magistrate! Clerks, round up every underling and lackey!"
This rough town meant Chae traveled light, barely any escorts.
Unlike Kim Unhaeng's overwhelming force prep, Chae didn't need it.
He wielded the mightiest power: righteousness and justification.
Few in Joseon would've dared assassinate a secret inspector mid-mission. Records show only rare suspicious cases.
People aren't that cunningly diligent.
Believe something's right? Most follow voluntarily, sans systems. It's easier.
All bowed to the king's proxy, even in these hills.
Thus, sans Kim Unhaeng's schemes, Chae wrapped up faster. King Yi Geum's verdict—"Sado can't beat righteousness"—held true.
Even Hong Daeyong was a bit impressed.
With phase one done, Chae thanked Hong.
"Without you, I'd never have reached here—or survived the guesthouse. Sorry for the travel woes and expense. I'll repay you back home."
Hong bowed sincerely to Chae.
"Gaining ties with a once-in-a-generation talent? Rough roads are nothing. I learned heaps."
But sincerity stopped there.
Total sabotage of Chae failed. The guy's competent.
To help Kim Unhaeng, plant good vibes about him in this wildcard.
"No need for repayment, though. Truth is, fooling you till now? All on my brother-in-law's orders."
"What?"
"How else could I time meeting you? My brother-in-law Kim Chunsik—who left as secret inspector with you—asked me."
"Kim Chunsik?"
The retort hid: "That kid a Zhuge Liang?"
Hong turned Kim Unhaeng into full Zhuge Liang. Lies work best doubled down—he knew the truth.
"Yes. He guessed another young inspector headed out. Brightest among juniors? Had to be following Chae Baekgyu—no one else. Your wisdom's superhuman, so you'd see through it. That's why I fessed up."
Chae, whose wisdom couldn't drop to mortal levels, coughed awkwardly and played it like he'd suspected.
"Impressed by young Kim Chunsik's breadth. Back in Seoul, I'll report and greet him proper. Then..."
"I'll set it up. With local business done, meet him en route back? He's in Hamheung soon."
Chae felt ensnared—like Kim Unhaeng's pre-wedding panic.
But debts were huge. Hyperbole: these brothers-in-law saved his life.
"A-alright, let's do it."
Author's Note
1. Sweet potatoes reached Joseon about 10 years after this timeline, via Jo Eom's Japanese envoy mission.
2. The locust-swallowing tale's often pinned on Joseon King Taejong, but era folk cited Tang Taizong's original. Yeongjo referenced it during a northern rat plague:
"The ancients criticized Tang Taizong for swallowing locusts, but I see real sincerity. Without it, how'd he know it wouldn't poison him? My intent's the same—if northern rats swarm Seoul to harm me, why worry?"
Translation: "I could pull a Taizong stunt for show, but (as I said) rats and locusts spread disease—don't actually bring 'em."
(Folks back then knew performative acts fine.)