The Strategist of the Century

Late at night, a thick sea fog hung damp and heavy over the Mapo Ferry. At a shabby, late-night tavern nestled by the deserted riverbank, I sat on a wooden platform in the corner, lightly tapping my fingers on the table. The surrounding area was completely swallowed by the river mist, and a bleak night air swirled around, making it impossible to see even a single step ahead.

Rustle. Out of the darkness, a shadow as agile as a beast slipped toward me. It was Jincheol, who had been hot on the heels of the Gungigam bastards ever since they left the palace gates.

"Brother. The bastards we were tailing made it to the ferry... but things have gotten complicated. At this rate, they might smuggle the goods onto a boat first."

"Complicated? Why?"

"They slipped into the secluded, unauthorized warehouse district by the river. As you can see, there are dozens of identical-looking warehouses scattered down there."

Beyond the dense sea fog Jincheol pointed to, dark, looming warehouse buildings stretched out like a massive maze. It seemed the culprits had scattered dozens of thugs in different directions to throw off any pursuers. If we recklessly raided the wrong warehouse, we would end up with nothing but empty shells, risking giving them enough time to dump the copper into the river or escape by boat.

"...Which warehouse is it? The real one containing the twenty thousand geun of copper."

I scanned the warehouses shrouded in darkness, timing when to signal the royal guards waiting outside the palace gates.

"If you are looking for the men who were moving heavy iron, you have the wrong place entirely."

"...?"

A dry, flat voice drifted from behind us. Jincheol scowled deeply and spun around. Someone had approached without either ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of us noticing.

"...Who goes there?"

Even if his attire was shabby, the stranger wore the scholar's robes of a yangban. Jincheol placed a hand on the hilt of his sword, his face tight with suspicion, and barked out a sharp question.

On the wooden platform right next to ours, a man in a worn-out robe sat quietly, nursing a single bowl of cheap rice wine without any side dishes. Illuminated by the moonlight filtering through the clouds, his face looked... barely twenty years old. His jawline still held a trace of youthful softness, yet his build was as massive as a mountain, and his eyes gleamed with a bizarre sharpness. He was the very same large-framed, failed scholar who had been mocked by the elderly scholars in the fog of the Avenue of Six Ministries yesterday morning.

The man cleared his throat with a pompous ahem, as if he had mastered all the truths of the world, and picked up a pair of chopsticks from his table.

"Did you say twenty thousand geun of copper? If a cart carrying such an immense load had traversed the muddy banks of the river, its wheels would have sunk up to the axles, leaving it utterly immobilized."

"..."

"They must have traveled only along roads paved with sturdy stone, and the warehouse itself must sit upon solid bedrock capable of supporting such weight. Furthermore, to secretly smuggle thousands of geun of metal onto a boat, there must be a hidden private dock directly connected to the river, forming a classic baeshujin—a tactical position with one's back to the water."

The man spoke passionately, using his chopsticks to roughly sketch the terrain of Mapo Ferry on his table.

"Among the dozens of warehouses down there, only one perfectly fits those conditions. The warehouse at the very edge."

I listened quietly to his lucid explanation, a silent smile tugging at the corner of my lips. Reaching into my robes, I pulled out a small, rough object and tossed it lightly onto his table.

Clack, roll.

Jincheol's eyes widened as he watched. It was the wooden military formation piece used for playing war games—the very one this scholar had dropped along with his books yesterday morning.

"Ah...! My piece!"

The eyes of the man, who had been acting so mature just moments ago, lit up like a child's. Forgetting all sense of dignity, he snatched up the wooden piece and tucked it carefully into his robes.

"A-Ahem! Th-Thank you. I thought I had lost it and searched for it all night..."

Flustered that his old toy had been discovered, the tips of his ears flushed slightly red. He looked exactly like the fresh, twenty-year-old youth he was. Swallowing a chuckle at the amusing contrast, I spoke up.

"I am Kim Jinseong, the Right Assistant Minister of Taxation. May I ask your name, scholar?"

At my polite inquiry, the man quickly stiffened his expression and raised his head, trying once more to look indifferent. But when those three syllables slipped past his thin lips...

"I am Han Myeong-hoe."

A bolt of lightning seemed to strike my mind.

Han Myeong-hoe.

The mastermind who would one day draw up the death list to place Grand Prince Suyang on the throne, manipulating the entire land of Joseon with his cunning schemes and political machinations—the greatest kingmaker in Joseon history.

Holy shit. That guy... is Han Myeong-hoe?

That twenty-year-old military tactics otaku, trying so hard to act like a dignified adult, was the Han Myeong-hoe?

"Haha, hahahaha...!"

Barely holding back the laughter bubbling up inside me, I pointed toward the warehouse Han Myeong-hoe had indicated.

"Very well. Han Myeong-hoe, let us see if your brilliant logistics theory holds water. We shall crack open the doors of that warehouse and see for ourselves."

I rose from my seat and was about to nod to Jincheol.

"Excuse me, Lord Assistant Minister."

The voice from behind made me halt. Turning around, I saw Han Myeong-hoe rising from the platform, brushing off his worn robes, his eyes gleaming with a strange light. Over his youthful face, which had been trying so hard to look solemn just moments ago, an irrepressible curiosity and excitement now flickered.

"May I accompany you?"

At his audacious request, Jincheol scowled in disbelief.

"Why on earth would you want to go there, scholar? It is a dangerous place where blades might clash. It is no place for someone who only knows how to hold a brush. Go on home."

Despite Jincheol's stern warning, Han Myeong-hoe did not look intimidated in the slightest. Instead, he toyed with the wooden formation piece tucked safely in his robes and smirked.

"Wouldn't you want to see with your own eyes whether my hypothesis is correct? Besides, I believe this will make for quite an entertaining spectacle."

He was heading into a scene where swords might fly, yet danger was the last thing on his mind. His eyes burned with an itching desire to see how his theoretical strategy would play out on a real battlefield. Meeting that fearless gaze, I swallowed a wry chuckle.

Sure, let's see what you've got. The early sprout of the mastermind who will one day shake Joseon to its core.

A sudden desire to witness his tactical genius firsthand took hold of me. I tapped Han Myeong-hoe's shoulder lightly with my fan and nodded.

"Very well. Come along."

"Brother!"

"On one condition: you must keep your footsteps ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠absolutely silent."

With my permission granted, a vibrant, youthful smile—unique to a hot-blooded young man—spread across Han Myeong-hoe's face. We slipped quietly through the dense sea fog, making our way toward the warehouse at the edge of the riverbank that he had pointed out.

We waited with bated breath. Before long, the sound of hurried footsteps and rolling cartwheels began to pierce through the sea fog from a distance.

"Hurry up! We must get everything out of here and onto the boat before dawn!"

It was the Gungigam bastards and their lackeys, completely hooked by the trap I had laid earlier that afternoon. Just as they panted, breaking the heavy iron padlock of the warehouse and throwing open the massive doors—

"The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠night air is quite chilly. Where are you all heading in such a rush?"

Stepping out of the thick fog with a leisurely stride, I spoke.

"...!!"

The men, who had been frantically trying to pick the lock, froze instantly, their faces turning pale. They spun around to look at me, their expressions filled with as much horror as if they had seen a ghost. Unfurling my fan with a sharp clack, I gestured with my chin toward the mountain of copper ingots revealed under the moonlight.

"I believe I kindly forewarned you that I would raid the merchant group's warehouse tomorrow morning to recover it. Why couldn't you wait until then, and instead went through the trouble of locating His Majesty's copper yourself in the dead of night?"

"L-Lord Assistant Minister...! How, how are you here in the middle of the night...!"

"Indeed."

I let out a deliberate yawn, adding with an air of utter boredom, "When you move so perfectly like puppets, without deviating even an inch from my expectations... it makes things far too dull for the one who set the stage."

At my mockery, the pieces of the puzzle finally seemed to fall into place in their minds. The fake charcoal ledgers, the consoling words about being swindled—it had all been bait to lure them to this very warehouse. The leader's face, stiff with shock, began to tremble violently. Veins bulging on his neck, he screamed in desperate fury.

"You... you devilish bastard...! But do not get ahead of yourself! This twenty thousand geun of copper is ours, smuggled at the risk of our lives! Even if you tracked us all the way here, not a single ounce of this metal will ever return to the Ministry of Taxation!"

I let out a hollow laugh at his shameless outburst. Snapping my fan shut, I tapped the heavy iron door of the warehouse.

"Do you men realize you have just committed an incredibly grave crime?"

"W-What?"

"Not only did you trespass on private property under the cover of night, but you also attempted to steal goods stored in my personal warehouse. This is a clear-cut case of robbery, is it not?"

At my absurd claim, the men blinked in sheer stupidity. Soon, the leader's lips curled into a sneer.

"You have truly lost your mind to spout such nonsense! This warehouse is the most secure, secret vault of the Daedong Merchant Group, the very organization that controls the markets of Hanyang! How could it possibly belong to a mere official like you?!"

"Ah, I suppose I forgot to mention."

I offered them a genial, friendly smile before continuing.

"Yesterday, by His Majesty's royal decree, the heads of the Daedong Merchant Group's chief merchants were completely lopped off. As the leaderless merchant group crumbled, their debt bonds flooded the market at dirt-cheap prices... and this morning, I bought ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠every single one of them."

"W-What?!"

"Naturally, in exchange for clearing their massive debts, I legally acquired all of the merchant group's trade routes, including every single warehouse here at Mapo Ferry. The government's official transfer seals have already been cleanly stamped."

At my bombshell announcement, their jaws began to tremble violently. Behind them, even Han Myeong-hoe's eyes shook with shock.