Chapter 67
Chapter 67
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 67
Chapter Title: Heinous Villains (3)
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I recited the plea I had prepared in advance.
"Fools exist not only among the common folk but even among the educated yangban. These wicked people ignore Your Majesty's holy edicts that serve the people, grumbling about the equal land tax system this way and that, stirring up unrest. Punishment alone cannot quell them."
In truth, I didn't know the equal land tax system as well as the officials in charge.
But the crown prince knew even less than I did.
Why else would Hong Gyehui submit the Records of the Equal Land Tax to the crown prince instead of King Yeongjo? As he told the king, it was to "briefly outline the beginning and end."
Why the need for an explanation?
Because the crown prince was clueless.
The crown prince, a mere figurehead regent, had no influence over the equal land tax policy.
Even the senior ministers had only been cleaning up after Yeongjo's sudden decree to halve military cloth taxes—reducing the levy by half. The crown prince had no role from the start.
But he couldn't admit ignorance after already receiving the book.
So he had no choice but to agree with me.
From the way he was now nodding and murmuring, "Hmm. Indeed, your words ring true. It worries me," it was clear he knew nothing.
"In such times, past sage-kings always ruled with benevolence rather than punishment, governing through virtue. We need no distant precedents; Your Highness has done so yourself. His Majesty, in his boundless mercy, forgave my grave errors and appointed me to the Hall of Spring Virtue beyond my merits. Even a block of wood could not fail to be moved by such grace."
"Then you mean now is the time to show that grace once more?"
"As in the Analects: 'Other aspects of Mengzizi's filial piety might be emulated by others, but not altering his father's officials or policies—that is truly difficult.'"
With that, I blocked the scenario the crown prince feared most: displeasing his father.
Hey, it's about filial piety. Trust your hyung.
Of course, your dad is more likely to react like spotting someone wearing the same outfit on the street than to be pleased his son is imitating him. But trust me anyway. If you use the passage I just gave you, at least the others will back you up.
"Thus, appointing scholars who passed the exams but were left in the countryside, or recruiting new talent, would greatly silence those complaining about the additional land tax."
The crown prince seemed intrigued by the idea of suppressing yangban discontent.
It made sense. Even as crown prince, he wouldn't welcome constant talk of the additional tax.
Reducing it would increase royal expenditures. And he was probably convinced he'd inherit all the royal wealth in a few years anyway.
But the crown prince couldn't arbitrarily open new exams.
The extent of his indirect influence was appointing overlooked scholars.
To that end, he asked me,
"If there are so many talents languishing after passing the exams, I must hear recommendations. Do you know any worth employing?"
"They're not close to me, but from what I've heard..."
I listed graduates of the Gangnam Great Star: Hong Daeyong, Yu Eonho, Sim Hwanji, Park Jiwon, and others.
The crown prince nodded.
"I see. I don't know those scholars by name, but their families are mostly lineages of renowned ministers. Impeccable. I'll inquire with the senior officials during the next audience and discuss measures."
Now the crown prince would order recommendations from those "not close to me"—relatives like Yu Cheon-gi, Yu Eonho's uncle, or Park Pilgyun, Park Jiwon's grandfather, active senior ministers.
They'd slyly slip their kin onto the list and report back. Done.
Yeongjo didn't micromanage such "minor affairs." Would a president scrutinize mid-level personnel files?
That's why family connections speed up success. It's no exaggeration that in North Korea, to become a Workers' Party cadre, your background must be clean seventeen generations back.
But calling it just nepotism insults Gangnam Great Star grads. Their talent is vouched for by Joseon's top talent detector, Shin Sukju. No qualms of conscience here.
Setting everything else aside, who among modern people doesn't know Hong Daeyong and Park Jiwon?
The Joseon people of this era should thank me for regressing. It's a common novel trope to unearth and utilize such capable Silhak scholars.
Of course, they're not "Silhak scholars" anymore.
As I prepared to withdraw after finishing, the crown prince pulled out a few books from the corner of the room.
Not from a bookshelf or drawer—from the actual floor corner of the room.
Perhaps learning from the folder fiasco a few years ago when I caught him, he'd dug under the ondol bench for a secret spot. The crown prince was improving.
He peeled back the oiled paper floor mat, opened something like an American prepper's secret pantry door, and laid the books before me.
"These came from Qing China, but something went wrong. Instead of the 'Four Books' I requested, I got these strange Western treatises. Intriguing, but not classics or history, so hardly fit for a gentleman's deep study."
Books even less suitable for a gentleman than the one I gave him earlier?
They weren't the ultra-explicit erotic histories surpassing Kim Unhaeng's commentaries, as I'd half-expected.
Titles like Examination of the Lord's Rebuke, Elements of Geometry, Primer on Heavenly Learning, Explanation of the Simple Pendulum reeked of heresy.
As a proper Neo-Confucian, I'd never even heard of them.
I could guess "Geometry."
If it matched what I knew—"geometry"—it wasn't Eastern. Likely scientific works by Beijing missionaries.
But what use for barbarian books?
As if reading my mind, the crown prince kindly explained their purpose.
"Not orthodox learning, but undeniably rare. Later, as my proxy, send them back to Yanjing... or better, sell them in Hanyang for more. Less manpower and resources needed. It'll surely help procure new books."
Ordinary market savvy from a merchant.
But from a palace-raised prince?
Sado's judgment bordered on transcendent intuition. Worth praising.
His brain runs at lightspeed only for naughty books, reminding me he's eighteen. This guy reeks of "Silhak" too?
Trading these for my naked Chinese history volumes three? I get the picture.
Smuggling failed, funds depleted, huh.
At least he tries to pay properly. Better than his dad, who returned eighty horses with "instead, accept this cute demotion."
"Your Highness's grace is etched in my bones; I dare not forget it even for a moment."
I bowed, imagining buyers for these odd tomes—weird otakus with niche tastes—and withdrew.
Dad would love them, but offering them would make it filial piety, not business. No gain for me. Gotta check if any Silhak types remain around Hanseongbu.
Having discussed learning with the prince and exchanged books, I returned to my original goal.
The key to resolving this anonymous letter incident was shifting focus from the equal land tax to elsewhere.
No nonsense about Lee Yangje or the Sungseon-gun family's poverty triggered by the tax.
Once orders came to return mines, salt pans, fisheries seized from the royal house, reversal would be hard.
Yeongjo unapologetically pursued absolute monarchy, tolerating no infringement on royal gains by subjects.
He'd smash desks and wail to protect royal lands, sparing no effort for royal dignity (i.e., wealth).
He yielded blood money during tax implementation only to showcase "impartiality" via military cloth reduction.
He'd seize every chance to restore royal prestige. Yangban heads would roll.
So how?
"Head in the lowly direction."
Make them unqualified pests even on politics or economy.
Who listens to a child rapist critiquing Korean society?
Better: drag royal dignity through mud, accelerating confiscation of bloodline-only royals' assets to the treasury.
Our feudal boss Yeongjo wouldn't want that, but force him to cut losses.
Best way: stab the king's reverse scale—his trauma.
I recalled a couple cases from the legal records perfect for it.
The Western District Inspectorate, as its name suggests, handles security west of Hanseongbu, located in Sorin Ward.
Sorin Ward? A short walk from Gwanghwamun toward modern Seoul City Hall.
Close to home. I met Inspector General Jang Taeso without fatigue.
Meeting the inspector via the Capital Defense Command envoy (Hong Gyehui)—quite luxurious.
But Jang Taeso didn't seem the type to indulge.
True to RoboCop 2.0, terrifying combat prowess.
My past "combat power" metaphors fit him literally.
He'd last five times longer than a normal human against Eoji—maybe ten seconds.
"Since the Capital Defense Command Minister (Hong Gyehui) secretly recommended you, I have high expectations."
Jang Taeso spoke, jaw rigid like knotted muscle. About to whir and clank.
No joking with him, straight to business.
"Whether Lee So wrote it or Cheonjeop Chojung, their sons' names are Hyeonmyeong, Munmyeong, Gyeongmyeong. Between us, what do those imply?"
I said "between us" figuring his father, Jang Bungik—Yeongjo's Gestapo chief—was no Soron partisan.
Spot on. Jang's brow twitched in anger.
Those names belonged to Fengyang Jo clan's heavyweights, including top officials.
Naming after Soron's demon who plotted to kill Yeongjo? Self-evident.
I gave his logic circuits time to process, then continued.
"But curses via characters usually rely on divination and sorcery. Predicting their crimes is simple. Surely burial of malice and spells to curse nobility."
Of course, I knew from records they used sorcery. But can't reveal reading them.
"We knew Lee Yangje divined fortunes from records, but such heinous acts?"
"Absolutely. Have you interrogated Chojung's old maids, Makyeol and Deok-i?"
"Were there such? Haven't rounded up all slaves yet."
"They're the curse ringleaders. Fortunately, I brought someone who knows their whereabouts."
Jang gestured to continue, so I turned and shouted,
"Fortune-teller! Come meet the inspector general!"
Kim Unhaeng's Shaman Safety Planning Department wasn't just rumor-gathering.
After Yeoni moved to Inwangsan, western Seoul shamans withered like corner stores near a big mart.
They relocated or joined Yeoni as peddlers.
Not my modern wisdom; Joseon lacked business licenses, trade fluid. Sell goods, you're a merchant.
Like herbalists performing and selling, they hawked Yeoni's secret scrolls and divination coins alongside other wares.
Jeon-nam, street vendor, doubled as magic item dealer.
His nickname-turned-name screamed fortune-teller.
Visiting Yeoni for investigative help, I snagged key info on Lee Yangje via her network.
Shockingly, like history, Lee Yangje was Jeon-nam's regular.
Unlike history, I got it fast thanks to Yeoni's grip on Seoul's psychic net—pure luck.
Jeon-nam testified Lee bought sorcery tools multiple times.
Including my coached details:
"That Lee clan gentleman asked for spells to kill and sicken. But this lowly one sells only for fertility and family blessings; claimed ignorance of vicious stuff."
His divination coins and books matched seizures from Lee, boosting trust ~40 points with Jang.
Perfect for my black propaganda:
"Even if begged by Lee So, why feud viciously over land with distant kin, risking death via letter? Suspicious. Sacrilege, but are Chojung's sons truly hers...?"
"Chojung already claimed Lee raped her. He couldn't fully deny during confrontation. Rape and adultery blur. It fits."
"Exactly! Chojung feared punishment, distancing herself via lies. Adulterers must be strictly punished."
Puzzle complete.
Jang rose mechanically. I imagined red lasers from his eyes.
"Indeed, worthy of His Majesty's secret inspector and Hong's endorsement. Time to perform my duties."
I expected "seek me for troubles"—Joseon networking. But Jang, echoing his father's style, said no such thing.
Just belted his sword, exited, and commanded troops. The inspectorate's justice squad mobilized.
Amid warzone panic in Seoul, suspects dragged in mangled. Lee and Chojung eternally silent before lawyer Jang's demands.
With blatant evidence of curses killing Prince Hyojang and Princess Huipyeong, Yeongjo raged.
As planned, no room for tax talk.
And non-coordinated allies among yangban ministers wisely avoided mentioning it.
In Yeongjo 28th year, 4th month, case closed identically to history.
Overall, this case was utterly bizarre. Stemming from an anonymous letter, the records revealed curses, buried malice, resenting state and slandering innocents across prisoners. But the king ordered no recording beyond questions, kept secret with no leaks, so details unknown to people.
All raged, feared, worried.
Only one pleased.
Kim Unhaeng, pocketing hefty rewards again.
Author's Note
1. Among books Kim Unhaeng received, some already in period Joseon, others not. All require big money or effort even in Hanyang. "Primer on Heavenly Learning" isn't missionary-written but a Chinese commentary including "Elements of Geometry" and other Western books.
2. Yeongjo smashing desk and wailing for royal kin property was Yeongjo 9th year. Park Mun-su remonstrated kin overstepping law, imprisoning arbitrarily (but preceded military cloth/tax debate—likely money). He literally says, "You dare despise me as non-crown prince stock!"
3. Today's Makyeol, Deok-i, Jeon-nam real figures with same roles. Chojung-Lee confrontation factual.
But historical Jeon-nam suffered without Kim Unhaeng.
Not knowing yangban names, he called Lee's chatting partner "Lee Yeongjang" (camp leader, not name).
Pointed to neighbor Inner Guard Commander Lee Gi-sang, dragged to palace.
Innocent, honest testimony would've freed him quick. But insisted rural ignorance of Seoul, enraging Yeongjo.
Modern analogy: presidential bodyguard saying "Local bumpkin, don't know Gangnam!"
Thus, ten cane lashes for insolence, released keeping post. Mistake.
Returning, Lee trashed Jeon-nam's home, evicted him—bonus land grab.
Jang Taeso reported while seizing coins/books; Yeongjo doubly pissed. Signature "raised voice decree." Lee exiled; Jeon-nam's fate unknown.