Chapter 64
Chapter 64
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 64
Chapter Title: Jet Stream Attack (3)
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The fishermen of Wonsan Port caught sight of a peculiar outsider today.
First off, it was strange enough that a scholar had shown up in person at this fish-reeking harbor-cum-market, without even bringing a single servant.
But the scholar's odd behavior didn't stop there.
After pretending to browse a few meager piles of fish, he suddenly plopped down on the stone pavement by the seaside and started chatting away with the fishermen.
Under normal circumstances, the common folk would have slinked away from him.
Yet this scholar's skills were anything but ordinary.
With a friendliness that made it seem like he'd lived here for generations, the port folk soon warmed up to the gentleman without a hint of reserve. They shared raw fish and downed bowls of murky rice wine (they'd heard of the alcohol ban, but as always, figured the cheap stuff was probably fine).
The scholar, Hong Daeyong, wiped the liquor from his beard.
Then, as if it were the most casual remark, he said,
"I overheard some low-ranking military officers chattering about how the wife of the Chae family is a beauty without equal under heaven."
Kim Unhaeng would have sized it up as, "Dude's got insane aggro."
But the moment talk of a beauty—and a known beauty at that—hit the water, the seafarers hooked themselves like the fish they'd been reeling in.
"No way, man. She's no hag, but a foreigner like you wouldn't know the half of it!"
"I've laid eyes on her once myself. If she were that stunning, do you think Chae would've headed out to sea again today in this storm? Nah, he'd be holed up at home with his wife!"
"Still better-looking than my ball-and-chain, though. The other day, I... uh, anyway, she's not bad."
Hong Daeyong couldn't help but wonder why these local men knew the faces of other men's wives so well.
Anyone familiar with Hamgyong Province would know its freewheeling customs around romance, but his home region of Gihon was far more conservative by comparison.
Anyway, duty called now. Hong Daeyong feigned surprise and said,
"Is that so? That officer was bragging that if Chae just vanished at sea, the magistrate's house would be his for the taking. Why boast like that unless she's a real knockout?"
"What?"
The weathered seafarers' faces darkened and hardened. Even they drew a line between consensual romance and murdering a husband to steal his widow.
And just as Hong Daeyong had predicted, the fishermen began conjuring this nonexistent "certain officer" out of thin air.
"That bastard, right? I saw him slap Chae's wife once because she was late on her tribute!"
"Oh yeah, the one with the wart on his nose bridge?"
"What the hell's the magistrate doing? I oughta run over, report it, and have that punk flogged to death!"
"Easy there, easy. You couldn't even scale the walls at Hongsalmun Gate without getting ground to dust by the rods. What power do us underlings have? The magistrate's in on it too."
"Wait, maybe the magistrate ordered it? Saw him when he first took office—kid looked fresh out of diapers. Isn't that the age when their yang energy goes wild?"
"True that. Horny enough to mount a cow. Stuck out here by the sea without his family? Must be lonely as hell."
With the booze flowing and Hong Daeyong blending in a bit too seamlessly, the People's Detective Hour spun wildly out of control. Hong Daeyong waved his arms as if to calm them.
"My mouth ran away with me. Pretend you didn't hear it. I'll buy another round—let's drop it and talk about something else."
Of course, if they'd actually stopped, Hong Daeyong would have been disappointed.
As always in such gatherings—even in the 21st century—the chatter soon ignited around politics. A torrent of unsparing rants poured out against the magistrate and his clerks' tribute corruption.
After listening for a good while, Hong Daeyong slipped in naturally once more.
"Sounds like you've got a lot of grievances."
"Grievances? Born with 'em, die with 'em. Nowhere to even complain."
"Why not? Commoners can't sue magistrates, sure, but what about secret royal inspectors? Word is one's prowling Hamgyong Province."
An elderly fisherman pinched one nostril with his thumb and blew a mighty honk.
"I'm old enough to have seen a couple. Hmph. But they sail right into port, hobnob with the magistrate like they're bosom buddies checking official business—or something dirtier—then sail off all chummy. Nothing ever changes."
Just then, a gang of toughs marched into the harbor.
It was the Dukwon Prefecture soldiers they'd been cursing up a storm about moments ago.
Unlike the Capital Garrison troops who blended into crowds, these northern soldiers had a knack for turning the common folk into an army.
They stomped up, bellowing,
"Half the tribute for this month ain't even ready, and here you slackers are yapping away! Ignorant sea rats who don't even know the law of the land!"
But Hamgyong Province was like some 21st-century dream state where everyone's a soldier. Slave or free, anyone could pass the Seoul warrior exams here.
And among them, these were seafarers—tough as they come anywhere in the world. The boozed-up fishermen rose one by one, spitting on the ground.
"What the fuck did these dogs just say?"
"Officers talking shit right to our faces. Filthy sea scum, my ass."
The outnumbered soldiers were quickly surrounded and grabbed.
"Y-you lunatics! Let go!"
"Crazy as the bastards plotting to kill husbands and rape widows? Hey, grab that. Yeah, you—think this mackerel’s too low-class to send to Seoul? Shove it down your gullet!"
"Urk! Guhhh!"
Live fish were rammed headfirst into their mouths. These officers had come to shake down some pocket change and harass folks, only to pick the wrong crowd. Now they were force-fed the diet of a voracious sea predator.
As the brawl erupted, a exhausted Chae Isung dragged his boat ashore. Of course, fish don't just leap into nets on command, so the hold was empty.
Chae Isung stared at the chaos in shock. He plunged in, trying to break up the melee.
The fishermen bellowed in fury,
"What do you know to butt in like this? Leave 'em be, and you'll end up dead with your wife hauled off to the yamen!"
"Better to die than live like a cuckolded worm! Damn right!"
"Wh-what are you talking about?"
Chae Isung had no clue what had sparked this madness.
Because Hong Daeyong had already vanished.
Hong Daeyong was a man trained at the Southern Great Academy and a passer of the Joseon civil exams. Slipping through crowds was child's play.
He hadn't brought Changdae along because a slave would only slow his speed and strength. That was the mark of a true yangban.
In the end, Chae Isung only heard the grossly exaggerated, slanderous rumors from his buddies.
He bolted home. Seeing his wife weeping and lamenting the "village scandal," his fists cracked with the sound of knuckles straining.
Then, an odd presence stirred outside the door.
"Come here. Is the master of the house in?"
It was a single-room hut with nowhere to hide, but Yi Jo-i, who'd coordinated ahead of time, thoroughly ignored Kim Unhaeng. She knelt primly behind her husband and turned her head away.
Thus, Kim Unhaeng—embodying the secret inspector stereotype of hearing a commoner's woes in a humble overnight stay—could feign perfect shock.
"Such a tyrannical magistrate exists?!"
Chae Isung's eyes blazed.
"Even with a secret inspector here now, a real man sorts his own affairs. Even if it means death by execution, I'll storm the yamen and beat those bastards to pulp with these fists."
"E-easy now. What happens to your wife if you die? I've got a good plan—hear me out."
Had Chae Isung been from Seoul, he'd have smelled something fishy in Kim "Chunsik"-style "good plans." But sadly, his fame hadn't reached Wonsan yet.
Even Chae Isung—who'd talked big but secretly dreaded a suicide charge—calmed down and bowed his head.
"What plan?"
"Hate to say it as a yangban myself, but when have the powers-that-be ever judged fairly? Even if I wrote a report, the best they'd get is dismissal at worst."
That was true enough.
In Joseon, punishments varied by the criminal's and victim's status for the same crime—a codified rule in the legal code.
Not some vague 21st-century common-law mumbo-jumbo that confused everyone. Even a lowly fisherman like Chae Isung knew it well.
Chae Isung's face fell. Kim Unhaeng lowered his voice.
"If you and your wife are ready to leave your home and follow me, I can guarantee exile for that magistrate."
"How? I'll do anything short of murder."
"Of course not some barbaric act like that. If we had to kill something..."
Kim Unhaeng paused meaningfully before adding,
"...it'd be a ghost."
Dukwon Deputy Magistrate Yi Jaehae spoke in an irritated tone.
"A riot in Wonsan?"
"Yes. The fishermen spread some wild rumor and beat up soldiers. Shall I send the cavalry to round them up?"
Yi Jaehae didn't want to escalate. He gripped his jaw and groaned.
In actual history, when Yeongjo asked how he'd govern Dukwon, Yi Jaehae replied:
'I have no special talents—just frugality, love for the people, and handling official duties.'
In short, no vision whatsoever (though he could recite the Seven Magistrate Precepts when asked).
No wonder. For the young, ambitious Yi Jaehae, a provincial post held no allure.
He was already eyeing the fall exams for Capital Training Commandant, with rumors he'd make the cut—his mind was there.
With secret inspectors supposedly roaming Hamgyong, he couldn't afford a blemish.
But that didn't mean he'd broken his word.
He'd done as much as any magistrate.
First, he'd skimmed a bit from the tribute alchemists to fund his Seoul ambitions—frugality.
When nearby Yeongheung requested emergency funds because the wall around the main spirit shrine (holding Lee Seonggye's tablet) was crumbling, he'd diverted resources without higher approval, considering the fellow military man's high connections—diligent in duties.
As for loving the people, rumors swirled of overly clingy affections, but love takes many forms, so not entirely wrong.
A magistrate of word and deed. Kindly put, Dukwon's Kim Unhaeng among military men.
Had fate twisted, Yeongjo's interest might have made him the hero to form the Royal Guard half a century early. Strong loyalist troops were key to royal power.
But Yi Jaehae didn't know the Western legend: meeting your doppelgänger brings doom.
A messenger tumbled in like a rolling pin, shouting,
"Sir! A secret inspector at Wonsan Port!"
Yi Jaehae shot to his feet.
The news reached Yi Jaehae so fast because the "secret inspector" in Wonsan screamed it to high heaven.
A suspiciously beggar-like scholar dragging a primly dressed servant (which made it even shadier)—the polar opposite of Hong Daeyong's smooth infiltration. Stumbling in awkwardly to ask questions was like waving a flag.
With watchers spread thin chasing rumor-mongers, the yamen was near-empty.
Yi Jaehae raced back with nearly all remaining troops. He bowed politely to the "inspector."
"Official business requires document checks at the yamen. What's the point mingling with townsfolk? I've prepared quarters—please follow me."
The "inspector" seemed utterly baffled, playing his part to perfection.
"Inspector? I'm no inspector."
Yi Jaehae forced a smile.
"I understand the need for secrecy on royal orders, but everyone's in the know now—what's the gain in quibbling? Please..."
Chae Je-gong, inspector here but not here, stuck to his denial for jurisdictional reasons.
"I'm just a scholar exiled to Gangwon on false slander, now pardoned and passing through Wonsan on my way home. No idea what you've heard, but I'm no inspector!"
The "Gangwon exile" bit was true, lending credibility.
With him insisting so hard, what could Yi Jaehae do? He politely asked him to stop by later and slunk away defeated.
Heading back to the yamen, another messenger came sprinting—or crawling—in panic.
"Sir! S-secret inspector!"
Yi Jaehae snapped,
"I already saw him!"
"Huh? No way..."
The messenger glanced back. Yi Jaehae was about to yell again, then followed his gaze.
And muttered an unpardonable curse for a magistrate.
Bringing post runners would spread rumors.
And no time to work the locals this round.
So I hit the yamen with my core secret inspector party plus one "clandestine extra agent."
As expected, Chae Je-gong drew aggro perfectly—the place was deserted. While my six slipped out normally, the one extra infiltrated via another route, no issue.
Yi Jaehae entered. I rose slowly from my seat.
And spoke gravely,
"Where have you been, Magistrate? Not at your post?"
Yi Jaehae, a capable figure, replied courteously without much fluster.
"Attending official business at the port."
Rejecting mackerel tribute business? I smirked inwardly.
Yi Jaehae's crimes weren't huge.
A quick check revealed minor tribute graft—"caught and fired" level—and nepotistic networking.
The original sin all magistrates carried.
But from now on, different.
I mustered a stiff, tense voice.
"I came here intending to pay respects first at the guest hall to the royal tablet as per protocol. I was truly shocked."
Yi Jaehae looked up.
"Pardon? The guest hall should be fine..."
Already standing, I strode toward it like, "See for yourself."
Yi Jaehae trailed, whispering urgently to the clerks.
But none answered.
A subject couldn't dare speak of such an incident.
Yi Jaehae was no longer magistrate in all but name. The sharper clerks outright ignored him.
The door to the royal tablet alcove swung open. Yi Jaehae understood.
"Gasp..."
He collapsed with a deflating wheeze.
The tablet symbolizing the king himself wasn't missing—it was brutally halved.
Only the bottom remained; the top was gone without a trace.
Including my acting self, everyone's faces mirrored severed bodies.
The tablet equals the king—not mere ceremony.
Losing or damaging it equals treason.
Traditionally, clan executed, town abolished and merged.
Modern times softened it, but still harsh: magistrates usually exiled, best case fired.
Incidentally, a go-to for resentful commoners sans connections or inspector hopes.
Of course, absolute secret even from Chae Je-gong or Hong Daeyong. No slaves used—digital forensics fear later.
I turned west, feigning speechlessness from terror.
And bowed solemnly, as if apologizing to the king.
But inwardly, I prayed for something else.
May the couple hightailing to Seoul reach Chunsik Ranch safely.
In folktales, the tale of the righteous secret inspector slaying the evil magistrate ends here.
But life doesn't pause like stories or songs.
Time for me to head to Seoul too. I regrouped with my companions outside Dukwon and set course home.
Author's Note
1. Per the aforementioned Gugsang's diary, Hamgyong's customs are "lewd: even married women keep two or three lovers without husbandly complaint, due to barbarian influence." Interpretations note this as biased disdain rather than pure fact.
With few women, brides go out near 30, fostering premarital "mulberry field customs"—like the barley fields mentioned before. Mulberry groves, for silkworm leaves, let women roam freely.
2. Yeongheung Grand Commandant is normally 3rd-grade civil, but per Inspectorate Diaries then, mostly military. In-story, military man Yu Ju-gi. Kim Unhaeng spared him as uncle to student Yu Yeon-ho and kin to Deputy High Councilor Yu Cheok-gi.
3. Yi Jaehae's chat with Yeongjo is slightly future in-story: summoned to Seoul as Training Commandant candidate.
Oddly, despite prior Wonsan mackerel fiasco, he thrives—till next year, Yeongjo 29th, sudden arrest. Then vanishes from records forever.
As mentioned, Yeongheung shrine wall collapse pre-arrest pinned on prior repairman magistrate—no link. Nearby Gilju had tablet damage (common) pre-arrest, but no Yi Jaehae tie.
A mystery. Perhaps this young royal warrior, potential Guard leader, just... disappears.