“I had my suspicions for some time.”
The oppressive air that seemed to press down on everything had long since dissipated.
Even King Jeongjo’s voice had returned to its usual calm tone.
“That was before you left for your punishment, when you briefly reported the summary to me…”
Flutter.
At the sound of paper fluttering in the air, Kim Josun quietly raised his head.
What had just landed before him was the project proposal for [The Youngest Son of the Merchant House], written in advance by the Crown Prince and copied by him.
“To think that a mere member of a merchant group could singlehandedly control the prices of all goods traded in the very heart of Joseon…”
“…”
“I thought the story was far-fetched, but I left it alone, curious to see how you’d spin such a tale in your narrative.”
Tap. Tap.
Jeongjo flicked the page with his fingertips and muttered.
It was the page where Jingi-dong manipulated the price of rice in Hanyang in [The Youngest Son of the Merchant House].
“When I checked after it was completed, I realized this part was clearly criticizing the Tonggong open-market policy I issued.”
“Your Majesty…”
“And the fact that you wrote such a narrative under royal command—surely it was because you judged this was a matter you must risk your neck to advise me on.”
Once again, Jeongjo’s sharp gaze left the page and settled on the vassal bowing before him.
Yet Kim Josun could sense a subtle difference in the king’s gaze, from a moment ago to now.
“That in itself…”
With an unshaken demeanor, Kim Josun slowly straightened himself and replied.
“Isn’t it the proper way to repay Your Majesty’s immense favor to this lowly servant?”
“Oh-ho.”
And indeed.
Judging by the king’s demeanor, that was the correct answer.
“So you choose remonstrance over flattery—that’s your conviction?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Good. That’s how it should be.”
At that moment, Jeongjo finally released the last remnants of pressure he’d been exuding.
It was only then that Kim Josun, who had struggled to breathe beneath the king’s presence, could catch his breath.
“Come to think of it, you’ve been that way since you wrote [The Fortress of Sungkyunkwan]. That, too, was a narrative risking your life to expose Joseon’s ills.”
“…It was such a shameful act that I can hardly claim it as my own doing…”
“No, no. If you are a true loyalist, you must step in and stop your king even if a blade is at your throat should he walk the wrong path.”
On the contrary, Jeongjo seemed in rather good spirits after reading a book that subtly criticized his own policies.
Perhaps, to a Confucian traditionalist who valued principles, Kim Josun’s actions appeared to uphold the very fundamentals of Confucianism.
“So, while you were gone, I had to summon former Hansungbu Magistrate Park Ji-won multiple times.”
He chuckled heartily, saying it was as if he’d forcibly held someone bound for a provincial post in the capital.
In truth, not long ago, the poor scholars of the Baektap Faction had eagerly awaited their chance to make their fortune as provincial officials.
But Jeongjo didn’t yet know that, thanks to the success of [The Chronicle of Corrupt Officials], Park Ji-won had already made a tidy profit and no longer needed a provincial magistracy.
“And at Park Ji-won’s suggestion, I summoned those commonly referred to as the Baektap Faction to hear their opinions.”
“The Baektap Faction… Your Majesty means them?”
“Yes. You worked with them for a long time in the Gyujanggak, and since you’ve just returned from Qing, you must understand well why.”
Yet, even Kim Josun had not anticipated such a move from the king.
Why did the Crown Prince call them “poor scholars”?
The scholars of the Baektap Faction had long been exiled from the center of power, mere outsiders circling its periphery.
Perhaps that’s why their poverty was so dire—and why the Crown Prince had called them such.
But now, after reading the controversial part of [The Youngest Son of the Merchant House], Jeongjo had summoned them directly to hear their opinions.
That was something no one in the court had ever imagined.
Now Kim Josun felt he understood the king’s intentions.
Had he not traveled to Qing and experienced much under the Crown Prince’s influence, he might not have realized it himself.
“Could it be… Your Majesty personally re-examined the Tonggong policy with them in attendance…?”
“That’s right. Especially Park Ji-won—didn’t he once criticize a similar monopoly in a narrative he wrote in his youth?”
“Are you referring to [The Tale of Heosaeng]…?”
“As expected, Josun, you…!”
Perhaps it irked the king that Kim Josun immediately named Park Ji-won’s novel.
The old-school king had a habit of mercilessly prodding his vassals’ weak spots.
“And even after being severely rebuked for writing narratives back then, you still didn’t let them go?”
“N-no, Your Majesty! That was just a narrative I came across in my youth…!!”
But if Jeongjo truly intended to chastise Kim Josun, his thunderous voice would already have echoed through Junghuidang.
This was just light banter exchanged between sovereign and subject.
“In any case, Josun.”
Thus, even as he slightly dampened his vassal’s spirit, Jeongjo continued.
“Why did I abolish the monopolistic privileges and lift restrictions on commerce?”
“That was… to stabilize prices and bring comfort to the people, and to free small merchants and artisans from the privileges of the licensed shops…”
“That is merely the first reason, the one presented on the surface.”
“That is…”
In truth, the inception of the New Tonggong Reform had been a pure Confucian monarch’s intent to care for the people.
For instance, the Chief State Councillor Chae Jegong lamented that prices had risen three or four times compared to his youth.
But there was a second reason Jeongjo had pushed the New Tonggong Reform—one Kim Josun, for all his favor, could not easily voice.
That reason was—
“The second reason was that the licensed merchants had become the financial backers for powerful families by joining hands with them.”
“…”
“Yes. Just as you, Josun, representing the Jangdong Kim clan, joined hands with the Gaeseong and Uiju merchants.”
Jeongjo’s mouth twisted as he mentioned the merchant groups Kim Josun had partnered with while cultivating the ginseng business.
It was a warning: he was tolerating it only because it was furthering Joseon’s national interest under his strict oversight.
“Your Majesty…”
“Of course, I know you’ve devoted yourself to Joseon’s future as if you’ve become a different person. There’s no thunderbolt coming your way for now.”
“Your grace is immeasurable.”
“But I could not forgive those who, not content with exploiting rural farmland, sought to fatten themselves through commerce as well.”
“And, they are those who stand in opposition to Your Majesty’s policies.”
“Indeed. Before you are a Sipa, you are a Noron. You know whom I refer to.”
Indeed.
The New Tonggong Reform Jeongjo had so boldly advanced was, at its core, a way to rein in the Noron faction.
There was a reason the leader of the Namin, Chae Jegong, had proposed this policy.
It was a continuation of the policy of impartiality from the days of the late King Gyejang.
Of course, it wasn’t simply a matter of balancing court factions, but the handiwork of a consummate political strategist—Jeongjo strengthening royal authority by replacing the entrenched Noron powers with his own loyalists.
But—
“There’s one thing I seem to have overlooked.”
Why was Jeongjo now frowning as he flipped through [The Youngest Son of the Merchant House]?
It was likely because of the episode he kept rereading—one where a character, Hong Jeongseung, who strangely resembled a minister executed early in Jeongjo’s reign, colluded with the merchant guild controlling the waterways.
“I believed that abolishing the privileges of the licensed shops would allow everything to proceed naturally.”
Certainly now.
Jeongjo was reading [The Youngest Son of the Merchant House] and reaching some great realization.
“But it wasn’t so. When the power of the licensed merchants wanes and the private merchants gain strength, they become yet another privileged group.”
“Not until I returned from Qing did I truly grasp that fact, Your Majesty.”
“Come to think of it, Josun, you said you experienced something similar in Beijing.”
“Yes. I witnessed the medicinal herb merchants of Qing conspire to drive down the price of red ginseng and found myself sharing Your Majesty’s thoughts…”
Even in this moment, Kim Josun was skillfully linking his “red ginseng fire” incident to the matter at hand.
Yet, as an example of market monopolization and collusion distorting the market, nothing could be more apt.
Jeongjo nodded in admiration at his loyal subject’s insight.
‘Could it be that the Young Lord planned all this when he wrote [The Youngest Son of the Merchant House]…?’
The Crown Prince’s novel.
The experiences he had in Qing.
The moment Jeongjo’s commercial policy, the Crown Prince’s experiences, and the narrative all clicked into place—
A shiver ran through Kim Josun’s entire body like a jolt of electricity.
Thinking back, it made sense.
The Crown Prince had already upended Joseon once with [The Fortress of Sungkyunkwan].
There was no guarantee he would not do so again with [The Youngest Son of the Merchant House].
“And then.”
Shff, shff.
Jeongjo, having paused his speech, flipped through the pages containing the “sweet potato” arc.
“This time, it seems you’ve gone one step further than with [The Fortress of Sungkyunkwan].”
This time, Jeongjo held open the book for his loyal subject to see, wearing a subtle smile.
It was the part where a wise king, oddly reminiscent of Jeongjo himself, brings down the hammer on Jingi-dong of the Yangsun Merchant Group.
“That is…”
“…This matter cannot end with the mere punishment of the guilty. It is evidence that commerce in Joseon is rotten to its very core.”
The king recited a line—a line that thundered down on Minister Hong and Jingi-dong in the story.
But Jeongjo understood.
This was not just the line of a character, but the message the author wanted to convey.
“It’s not enough to simply abolish regulations; a new policy is needed to right the deeply twisted commerce of Joseon at its roots.”
“…”
“Was this the truth you truly wished to convey in [The Youngest Son of the Merchant House]?”
Before anyone realized it, Jeongjo’s voice was ringing throughout Huijeong Hall.
It was the same presence he always exuded from the throne when discussing affairs of state.
“And is this the form of proper commercial policy you propose to me?”
As he pointed out the reforms promulgated by the king in the novel, Jeongjo pressed Kim Josun sharply.
But Kim Josun was no longer flustered as before.
He had already sworn to devote both body and soul to his master, the Young Lord.
His master’s will was his will, and his will was his master’s—he was the most loyal of hands and feet.
And most importantly,
The words Jeongjo had just uttered were also the direct message the Young Lord sought to deliver to Joseon.
‘If Father asks about the policies in [The Youngest Son of the Merchant House]—’
‘Yes, yes, Young Lord.’
‘I’ll leave it up to you, Deputy Director Kim. After all, those in the field know policy best.’
As befit someone so wise and thoughtful for his age,
The Crown Prince had already given instructions to Kim Josun regarding this matter.
Though he left the final judgment to Kim Josun and showed him respect, as the first in Joseon to receive and read the latest volume of [The Youngest Son of the Merchant House], Kim Josun had already reached a decision after much deliberation.
That decision had been deeply influenced by his prolonged stay in Qing and the advanced commercial experiences he had there.
“Your Majesty.”
Thus, Kim Josun, who had long kept his mouth closed in the face of Jeongjo’s questioning, slowly opened his mouth to reply.
***
“Your Majesty…? What do you mean by that?”
The next day.
From early morning, the ministers summoned by Jeongjo had to open their eyes wide in disbelief at the news.
“You intend to establish yet another bureau to pursue new commercial policy?!”
“Is this a follow-up policy to reinforce the New Tonggong?”
It was an edict announcing the establishment of a new temporary office.
“But, Your Majesty…!!”
“My mind is made up! Only those with extraordinary and crucial objections may speak!”
“T-that is…”
The aftereffects of last year’s establishment of the Bureau of Examination were still keenly felt in the court.
How many Noron ministers had lost their heads in that affair, and how much more resolute had Jeongjo’s commands become since then?
Moreover,
Some perceptive ministers were beginning to catch on.
It was eerily similar to the situation when the Bureau of Examination was created after the popularity of [The Fortress of Sungkyunkwan].
Now, with [The Youngest Son of the Merchant House] turning Hanyang upside down, Jeongjo was once again ordering the formation of a new temporary bureau.
Furthermore,
“Y-Your Majesty! This list—!!”
“The open-market policy is too important to entrust to these people! So—!!”
This temporary bureau, granted considerable power—enough to even check the Ministry of Taxation—was filled with shocking appointments, at least in the eyes of the ministers.
“So?”
“It’s just that…!!”
“The reason for this decree is that, after reviewing the ministers’ opinions on the New Tonggong, we discovered a grave flaw, did we not?”
“…!!”
“So, do you mean to tell me to repeat that mistake again?”
‘So, you want me to entrust this to you lot again after your policies failed so spectacularly?’
Jeongjo was a king who wielded power so absolutely that he could treat his ministers as mere stones on the roadside.
No matter how senior the ministers, after such a justified statement from the king, they could not open their mouths.
“Proceed.”
“But, Your Majesty!! To entrust such a grave task to a bureau filled with so many people of secondary status is—!!”
Indeed.
The newly formed temporary bureau, the Bureau of Commerce, was filled with unfamiliar names, all favorites of Jeongjo.
That was why the senior ministers were protesting so vehemently.
But their opponent was—
Jeongjo, who wielded a power far stronger than what he had in history, and used it freely.
“Then, among you, is there anyone who knows the realities at the bottom of commerce better than these people?”
“Your Majesty, that’s—”
“I don’t care! I said proceed!!”
Thus, the barrier that had prevented those who could never have approached the center of power in the original history crumbled at the hands of a single novel.
It was the moment when the lives of the “poor scholars of Tapgol” were turned upside down.
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