Chapter 65
Chapter 65
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 65
Chapter Title: The Brutal Ones (1)
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I harbored no real grudge against Yi Jaehae.
I just wanted to ship him off into exile.
That's why I'd made sure the whole incident wrapped up right there in the provinces.
Damaging the royal palanquin was a crime of treason. Local officials had no authority even to interrogate in such cases—they had to hand everything straight over to the Office of Investigation. That was the special nature of treason under Joseon law: it bypassed the Ministry of Punishment entirely.
Dragging Yi Jaehae into that mess would have been a disaster.
He needed to head into exile with all his limbs intact, not get his head and arms pickled separately in jars and shipped off across the eight provinces. All he had to answer for was administrative negligence.
So I needed to pin down the culprits definitively, to avoid any unnecessary follow-up investigations.
Say, by pointing them toward someplace like a tiger disguise.
At the same time as me—but through a different route—Chae Isŏng had smashed the palanquin and fled with his wife.
Then, on a mountain path west of Wonsan in Gyeongwon County, he'd carried out my instructions.
They'd smeared chicken feathers on their clothes, torn them to shreds and scattered them around, then tossed a bundle containing half the palanquin nearby.
That's why I'd told them to split it in half.
With such clear evidence, the magistrate—who, like me, had no interest in escalating the case (Yi Jaehae had, of course, been stripped of office by me on the spot)—had no choice but to report "no prosecution due to death of suspects."
The fact that the evidence turned up so suspiciously convenient would be actively ignored.
And what if it was suspicious?
There was no fingerprinting in Joseon, no bloodstain analysis. Not even if you came back from the dead could you scientifically prove the evidence was fake.
Why develop Joseon technology at all?
Things were so convenient precisely because it hadn't advanced.
On the way back to Seoul, I evaluated Chae Je-gong's performance and gifted him a new official robe.
I explained that I hadn't bought one earlier not out of stinginess, but because it would help with his secret royal inspector duties.
I don't know if he bought it, but Chae Je-gong bowed his head in genuine gratitude.
"I'll never forget this debt."
Once we crossed into Gangwon Province, we took the fastest route back.
We rented a boat at the Han River and let the current carry us straight downriver.
Going upriver had meant inspecting local administration and dealing with the hassle of bucking the flow, so we'd gone by land. But coming back, this was the way to go.
The oarsmen paddled with a slow thwack-thwack, but it seemed more about smashing the rapids than propelling the boat forward. Even rowing backward, the current dragged us west anyway, so it hardly mattered.
On that boat, the only two with eyes for the long road ahead—longer even than the ten days past—were me and Chae Je-gong.
Hong Daeyong was educated, sure, but he was busy now. The moment I mentioned settling his debt, he'd jumped into a gambling match with the slaves aboard.
I glanced at Hong Daeyong getting fleeced like a dog by Changdae, then turned away.
Chae Je-gong spoke up.
"When you arrived at the Deokwon magistracy, the royal palanquin was already ruined—truly a stroke of misfortune, but it seems the Deokwon governor won't escape punishment entirely."
Chae Je-gong didn't seem terribly interested in the truth behind the palanquin's damage.
What irked him was the tribute corruption. Local magistrates rarely faced real punishment for their graft, so he saw this as a silver lining.
"It's like taking the long way around, but if this straightens out the tributes and the even-tax reforms go smoothly, that'll be for the best. In my latest report, I detailed the pros and cons of the even-tax system, as requested."
Oh right. Secret inspectors had to check civil administration and military affairs too.
While I'd been focused on collecting travel funds and picking targets, I'd overlooked that a bit late.
No big deal. I'd seen on civil service exam forums that all official reports were patchwork jobs anyway. Joseon was no different.
Since it was the same Hamgyong Province, overlapping content should be fine.
I subtly probed to see if there was anything worth copying.
"I know the basics, but what's your take, Baekgyu?"
The core debate on the even-tax law was how to make up for the revenue shortfall from halving military cloth tributes.
Boiled down, it was one of two options.
Should the king pay, or the yangban?
Chae Je-gong, a descendant of the Southerners who could be called pro-king partisans, took the royal side.
"The shortsighted rabble balked even at one or two bolts of cloth, opposing household cloth or poll taxes regardless of status or gender, so it never came to pass. But His Majesty's great benevolence substituted them with ship taxes and salt duties."
Right. By transferring those royal and military-controlled revenues to the even-tax office, they'd replaced household cloth, poll taxes, or even cloth evasion schemes on fake yangban dodging corvee. That was the king's concession.
But the yangban hadn't gotten off scot-free either. Wealthy ones, especially landowners, had bled for it.
Representing the Noron scholarly faction, I spoke for the nobility.
"Not many households pay the harvest supplement tax, though?"
The king gave up miscellaneous levies; the yangban paid extra land tax. That was the compromise point for Joseon's ruling class, who could no longer ignore the collapse of the commoners. A few other details, but that was the gist.
Chae Je-gong was firm.
"Most big landowners are from powerful clans. They collude with local clerks or magistrates to fudge their registered acreage. Even if collected strictly by the books, it wouldn't cover half the military cloth shortfall. We should have levied all yangban from the start."
Hey, man. Then I'd be ruined—I've got cash but no land.
You know where that robe you're wearing came from? I breathed a sigh of relief that they stopped at extra land tax on landlords.
I chuckled dryly.
"It's not just about money. The distinction between scholar-officials and commoners is the charter of the state. How could yangban endure the humiliation of corvee?"
At that time, the "class system" held a sanctity even democracy couldn't touch today. Humanity hadn't known any other system yet.
So Chae Je-gong couldn't outright oppose the idea that blurring classes would topple the nation.
"But without the lowly, there's no great men. The land has been ravaged by war and famine for ages; the people have nothing left to give. For the sake of the country, the yangban must show loyalty too."
Here, "country" meant the king.
In other words, the even-tax debate mirrored clashes elsewhere in the world at the time, like in Europe: the monarch seeking absolute rule by binding even the nobility, versus nobles who would never stand for it.
I figured it was no coincidence that so-called "absolute monarchies" emerged worldwide in this era of climate shifts and violent upheavals, from the 17th to 18th centuries.
As I drifted into my own thoughts and fell silent, Chae Je-gong must have thought he'd offended me; he softened his tone.
"Don't take this fool's words too much to heart. Touring the devastated Hamgyong Province, I saw the people everywhere grateful for reduced military cloth, praising how the arbitrary salt and fish taxes levied by garrisons, camps, and magistrates had been streamlined without the abuses. His wise Majesty's decision was right after all."
It took me a moment to catch his drift.
Got it. You're saying you'll report that public sentiment on consolidating salt-related levies is overwhelmingly positive, to let the king take credit?
And you'd like me to do the same?
If reports from the same province contradict, it'd feel like the paradox puzzle of Hwang Yun-gil and Kim Seong-il right before the Imjin War. Yeongjo might (as back then) interpret it as factional strife and rage.
I'll gladly play along. Mind if I borrow your report draft later? Consider it approved?
I decided without hesitation to side with Chae Je-gong.
As long as they didn't dare impose poll taxes on yangban, I couldn't care less about even-tax reforms.
I met his gaze and smiled back.
"I'm just impressed by your noble insight, nothing more. It's exactly as I saw it."
"Ha! As expected, Chun-sik and I are true friends unbound by faction. Talented men recognize talent, after all—how could the likes of Prime Minister Fan Xu recommending his rival Baek Gi never happen again?"
Hey. Fan Xu got forced into retirement, and Baek Gi killed himself. Don't jinx it.
Yeongjo had dispatched me and Chae Je-gong "without knowing" about each other.
So we had to coordinate our returns accordingly.
Showing up together would make him look like a guy popping a proposal balloon only to run into his girlfriend.
Funny? Maybe with a lover, but not with a king.
Chae Je-gong said,
"Judging by report dates, my last inspection was much earlier than yours, so I should report first. Any delay might look suspicious."
Perfect, just what I wanted.
Your loss for not reading 21st-century cooking manga. The dish judged later wins.
I had errands in Seoul anyway before entering. I nodded.
"That makes sense. Let's do it."
I sent Chae Je-gong ahead, along with Hong Daeyong and the rest.
Then, with just Eoji, I got off at Songpa Ferry midway.
Chae Isŏng—who'd recuperated at Chun-sik Ranch before coming to Songpa—prostrated himself before me.
"Thanks to the inspector's grace, my wife and I survived, avenged our grudge, and can now live without shame under heaven. We shall follow your orders alone."
Good—he was as sharp as I'd hoped.
How could he not be? To 21st-century North Koreans, you just fled after ripping the Dear Leader's portrait in half.
Likewise, even if Chae Je-gong or Hong Daeyong—who weren't at the office attack—suspected something, they couldn't raise the issue of "Kim Unhaeng put them up to it."
If the truth came out, they'd get swept up as accomplices and roasted too. When gambling with risks, you tie people in like this.
I demurely declined Chae Isŏng's oath of loyalty.
"Once you've traveled together, you're family for life. What family turns away help over formalities? I'll set you up a place at Songpa Ferry—work under Master Yi Jaeun here."
Yi Jaeun, who'd heard the story minus the palanquin bit, spoke with sympathy.
"A fisherman, eh? Just the man we needed. The Training Command soldiers here are close with us—you won't face the same land grabs as in Hamgyong."
"I shall serve with utmost devotion."
Songpa Ferry business thrived on the river. Its power depended on how many boatmen and ship owners you controlled.
Yi Jaeun used the usual Songpa methods, of course.
Gambling to rack up debts, chaining them with heavy interest, then breeding hordes of slave sailors.
Joseon folk found the idea of paying boatmen wages downright alien.
Until Sukjong abolished corvee boating, even state sailors were forced labor.
Why the "jol" in "jojol"? Because it substituted for military service.
Post-abolition, offices hired with pay, but they still pinned losses from accidents or no-shows on them to create debts. If no accident, they made one.
Sukjong, while freeing the bojol, promptly collected two bolts of military cloth from each like clockwork. No corvee? Then pay tribute like everyone else.
That was the strict tax administration of bureaucratic Joseon.
Thus, nearly all low-level Joseon boatmen remained coerced laborers.
But you couldn't trust such dragged-in manpower. Captains and top crew needed heartfelt loyalty.
That's exactly why I'd brought Chae Isŏng.
Joseon scholars weren't 21st-century capitalists.
How vulgar to bind men with mere money.
A gentleman rules the masses solely through virtue.
Compared to Wonsan's raging seas, the Han was a bowl of cold porridge.
Chae Isŏng would excellently lead the fleet under Songpa's Samhwadang.
Secret royal inspectors reported directly to the king, since that's how they were commissioned.
Two days later, I stood before him, submitted my report and attachments.
Yeongjo didn't say things like, "I sent a secret inspector and you catch a rat?" or "Hunt down the traitors who damaged the palanquin and drag Deokwon Governor Yi Jaehae here."
He skimmed the report quickly and passed it to the clerk.
The recipient was Kim Seon-haeng, Right Deputy Clerk handling Justice Ministry matters.
Why the hell are you here?
If not for the king's presence, I'd have yelled why you'd jumped from my rank to third-rank senior official out of nowhere.
Guess the rumors of high officials lobbying till chairs wore out weren't empty.
Of course, Kim Seon-haeng had far more government service and was old enough to be my father.
A bit unconventional, but not an incomprehensible promotion. Clerk posts were quirky—screw up, and you'd drop back to lower three-office ranks often.
Still, I couldn't help a twinge of expectation.
If unremarkable (I'd been away, so ignore that) Kim Seon-haeng got senior rank, shouldn't Kim Unhaeng—head of the Haeng clan and secret inspector with stellar achievements—get something elder-statesman level?
"Deputy Magistrate Kim Unhaeng, withdraw and await orders. I know your talents well enough; I'll place you suitably. Right Deputy Clerk, summon the Chief Investigator."
"Yes, Your Highness."
That's it?
My mind went blank.
But delay might earn punishment, so I stopped thinking and bowed out swiftly.
As I slouched out of the palace, Kim Seon-haeng followed.
Scram. Go fetch the Chief Investigator quick. The king wants Yi Jaehae hauled in.
But Kim Seon-haeng showed no hurry to obey. When I ducked into a quiet alley, he stuck to me like glue, as if waiting.
He glanced around and whispered,
"I understand your feelings, brother, but now's not the time for merit rewards. Rest assured, though—your turn will come. Just wait; spots will open up aplenty."
The mood didn't allow immediate promotions or awards.
Because an event had occurred that would "open up many spots."
In short: state of emergency.
At least I wasn't outdone by Chae Je-gong in the secret inspector report. Small comfort.
And depending on the info I was about to hear, I might even leapfrog him.
Only the Haeng clan has your back. I silently apologized for my rudeness to Kim Seon-haeng and asked quietly,
"What happened?"
After swallowing his words several times, he murmured barely audible,
"An accusation letter. One flew into Right Constable Captain Jang Tae-so's house. Can't say the contents—my head's at risk—but it was brutally vicious."
Accusation? Brutal?
No way—that famous Shin Chi-un's wail, the Naju placard incident? The one screaming crab from the Office of Investigation's heart?
Nah, not that. Location's not Naju.
"Right Constable Captain..."
"The Jang Tae-so you're thinking of. They caught the traitor who threw it, but his servant and a few underlings are still at large, so the captain's anxious. Just warning you to watch your step—don't get unfairly smeared."
He finished in a rush and hurried off. Right—he was delivering royal orders.
I stood there, lost in thought.
Jang Tae-so: legendary constable captain, RoboCop Jang Bung-ik's successor, RoboCop MK2 on his second generation. In non-hereditary Japan-less Joseon, inheriting the post showed how much like his father he was. If even he hadn't caught them, this was a major rebel plot among plots.
I'd arrived late, but played right, I might blast open senior slots at once.
But no rushing in.
If it was a real plot, one wrong breath and you'd be implicated.
No joke—even a "cloud-like" mention in that letter meant certain arrest as "Kim Unhaeng's hint."
Facing Prosecutor Jang? Guilty or not, you're done. Father Juri's holy power creates sins for confession.
Luckily, during the accusation, I was secret inspector in Hamgyong.
Perfect alibi. Enough to dodge suspicion and pose as objective observer.
Thank god I stuck to just smashing the palanquin.
Deokwon was also an exile spot for Yi In-jwa's rebel remnants, so I'd considered dumping gruesome crustaceans for more aggro. But it felt over the line, so I skipped.
I resolved to lay low for now.
But the world wouldn't let me.
Days later, a senior official visited.
Just not one I could afford to topple.
Hong Gye-hui—incumbent Geojeongbu Deputy Commander, even-tax senior official, and my uncle—knocked on our door.
He looked quite agitated, to boot.
Author's Note
1. "The distinction between scholar-officials and commoners is the charter of the state" comes from Song scholar Wang Gu. It echoed throughout even-tax debates. Beyond money, for yangban, "bearing the same corvee as peasants" was unbearable.
2. In Yeongjo 28 Year, March, an accusation letter on rebellion flew into Right Constable Captain Jang Tae-so's house. Kim Seon-haeng's promotion to Right Deputy Clerk—all true. Hong Gye-hui's involvement too.
More next chapter. For reference, the Naju placard incident is three years later, Yeongjo 31.
3. Secret inspector appointees, even if not dismissed like Kim Unhaeng, typically got temporary military posts since civilians couldn't serve.