Chapter 26: Ghostwriter

“What is all this commotion?”

A voice full of authority resounded throughout the Gyujanggak.

It was King Jeongjo himself, unleashing an icy chill after witnessing his own trusted subject being roasted.

Like cockroaches sprayed with insecticide, the powerful ministers who had been pressing Kim Josun scattered at once.

If you caught the attention of the nagging old king now, you never knew who the next public scapegoat would be.

That’s why the swarm that had gathered over the  incident vanished as if nothing had happened.

‘Whew… As expected of His Majesty…’

Of course, Kim Josun felt a sigh of relief deep down, seeing the tiger chase off the pack of mutts.

But he was in no position to feel at ease right now.

At that moment, Kim Josun’s gaze involuntarily landed on the eunuch standing behind Jeongjo.

‘…?’

For a moment, his mind went blank.

A silent cry of “I’m screwed” echoed within Kim Josun.

He remembered five years ago, when he’d been caught reading  while on night duty at the Office of Royal Decrees.

Recalling the night he spent getting chewed out and cussed at by the old king, Kim Josun could only feel his vision go dark.

But, paralyzed by panic, Kim Josun missed something important.

Back then, the look the king had while scolding officials for slacking off on night shifts had been quite different from now.

“Was this your doing?”

It was Jeongjo’s usual way of speaking—treating even the most promising officials he’d personally mentored as if they were underlings.

With his solid claim to the throne and unmatched mastery of Confucian learning, there was no one who could raise their head before such a king.

“Y-Your Majesty… That is…”

No wonder Kim Josun was sweating buckets.

Where had the man gone who’d just been snickering inside at the sight of the other cowards fleeing?

Moreover, for the king to appear in Gyujanggak holding  and ask, “Was this your doing?”—it meant he basically knew everything already.

In that instant, images of his wife, Lady Shim, and his precious daughter flashed before Kim Josun’s eyes.

It was like the last moments of a victim sensing their life flash before their eyes before being hit by a cart.

So, Kim Josun had no choice but to follow the king.

Jeongjo headed toward Huijeongdang, where he usually handled state affairs, and Kim Josun, like a cow being led to slaughter, was dragged out of Gyujanggak.

He looked so pitiful, it was as if a faint wailing sound followed every step he took.

“Heavens…”

There were those who watched this pathetic sight from not far away.

They were the “starving scholars” of Tapgol, who worked as proofreaders in Gyujanggak and had been forced to witness the sudden storm.

Today, because of the  incident, even those who normally wouldn’t be there had come by under various work-related excuses.

“Haha. I was going to ask who tried to imitate my …”

Watching the ashen-faced Kim Josun follow Jeongjo, Park Ji-won smiled faintly.

He was there under the pretense of visiting Seo Yugu, a Gyujanggak lecturer and his own student, just as the Baektap faction literati did.

In fact, everyone had sensed something after reading the conversation between Lady Han and Scholar Kim in .

The writer had filled it with respect for Park Ji-won, directly homaging the scene from  where Heosaeng criticizes Yi Wan.

Upon seeing this, Park Ji-won immediately realized  was heavily influenced by his own social criticism.

Unaware that “that person” he’d tried to scout was actually the author, he’d come to Gyujanggak to ask Kim Josun about the writer’s identity.

“Why, isn’t the answer obvious?”

Watching Park Ji-won, the “starving king” Lee Deok-mu laughed heartily.

He must have overheard the brief conversation as Kim Josun was being dragged away by the king.

“Is it?”

“Didn’t you hear what His Majesty said to Lecturer Kim, a little jab?”

“You mean when he said, ‘I never knew you had such talent in this area as well’?”

“That’s right. Hahaha.”

From Jeongjo’s sarcasm, it was clear who he suspected as the author of .

After all, Kim Josun was known for fooling around, saying he wanted to write pointless martial arts novels.

Really, isn’t the culprit usually the one closest to the scene of the crime?

“Well, it seems making friends with Lecturer Kim will have to wait. Haha.”

“Still, I hear Lecturer Kim is also one of ‘that person’s’ right-hand men. I’m sure we’ll meet again someday.”

And so, completely unaware of the misunderstanding, Park Ji-won and the Baektap faction literati watched the misfortune of a young official in a similar position to themselves and burst into laughter.

They were all convinced that Kim Josun, too, would someday walk the same path.

---

Even though it was a chilly season, Kim Josun was sweating profusely as he bowed low to the ground.

Before him, seated in silence, was the most frightening man in Joseon, flipping through the pages of .

“Unexpected.”

The silence was broken by Jeongjo’s brief words.

“Y-Your Majesty…”

“I cherished you, alongside Yak-yong, but I had no idea you had this side to you.”

The king’s upright gaze pierced Kim Josun’s chest.

It felt as if he was being interrogated by the State Tribunal; Kim Josun couldn’t breathe.

“T-that…”

“And I clearly remember forgiving you once in the year of Jeongmi (1787) and telling you something. Do you remember?”

“If you mean the  incident… You told me never to touch fiction like that again…”

“And yet, you disobeyed that order?”

Thud.

The king’s rebuke crashed down like a landslide.

Was this the end?

Despair filled Kim Josun’s vision.

Normally, the king had an allergic reaction to fiction.

And after being caught and chewed out once, to disobey a royal order again…

It was only natural for Kim Josun to tremble in fear at what awaited him.

But then.

“Still, it seems you at least had a sense of self-awareness as my subject and as a Confucian scholar.”

The suffocating atmosphere instantly loosened.

Jeongjo, who had been glaring at the prostrate Kim Josun, relaxed his gaze.

“H-hah…”

“Of course, you will answer for the crime of disobeying my order and dabbling in fiction again. But a subject’s merits and faults must be weighed thoroughly.”

There was still an icy sternness in the king’s voice.

Well, Kim Josun had disobeyed a royal command, so it was only natural he’d have to answer for it.

But then came Jeongjo’s unexpected declaration that he would weigh both the good and the bad.

Caught off guard, Kim Josun couldn’t help but lift his head in surprise.

Only then did he notice the king’s lips curling into a strange smile.

“… Recently, all sorts of fiction have been shaking my beliefs.”

“Your Majesty, do you mean…”

“No need to be modest. Only a loyal official like you could understand my inner thoughts so well.”

“…”

It seemed Jeongjo had completely concluded that Kim Josun was the culprit behind this incident.

But really, who could possibly say, “Actually, that wasn’t me,” in this situation?

In fact, Kim Josun had thought, someday far in the future, he might reveal a bit of the truth to Jeongjo with “that person’s” permission.

He might say, for example, that “that person” was writing  and , helping the court from within the women’s quarters.

He wanted to give some comfort to Jeongjo, who was weary from shouldering the affairs of state alone.

But now, that was impossible.

The king’s misunderstanding was too deep, and telling the truth wouldn’t do Kim Josun any good now.

‘At this point, it’s best to just keep “that person’s” identity hidden, as they wish, and escape this crisis…’

Thus, Kim Josun chose to keep silent and not correct Jeongjo’s misunderstanding.

The fog around “that person” only thickened further.

But the situation didn’t end there.

“And, I must say, I’m rather impressed. To write fiction supporting my policies—though it is a violation of my order, it is nonetheless worthy of praise.”

“Your Majesty, what policy do you mean…?”

“No need for false humility. Didn’t you also resent how my edict to curb extravagance, issued in the year of Musin (1788), was not being followed?”

Me? That?

Of course, Kim Josun’s eyes nearly popped at Jeongjo’s inexplicable praise.

But who would be foolish enough to say, “No, I didn’t,” here?

There was no longer even a trace of rebuke from Jeongjo toward Kim Josun.

And Kim Josun, ever quick-witted, soon figured out why things were going this way.

“Yes, I mean my edict banning women’s extravagance, like wigs.”

As soon as the “gache,” the elaborate wigs that were a major subject of satire in , was mentioned, Kim Josun was certain.

Jeongjo had, in fact, issued the “Gache Prohibition Edict” in 1788, going so far as to write a legal decree to curb luxury.

But does a trend ever disappear just because the authorities ban it?

Jeongjo’s order was effective only in the palace; outside, among the common folk, it was almost completely ignored.

There was a reason the author of  had chosen the luxurious gache as a target of satire.

“But not long ago, someone finally dealt a blow to the trend of extravagance in the alleys, something even a royal order couldn’t stop.”

“A-ah… could it be…”

“Yes. Since this fiction became popular, more and more people are embarrassed to show off their expensive wigs. It’s a fine achievement.”

As  gained popularity, the so-called “gache moms”—ladies who flaunted expensive wigs everywhere—became laughingstocks.

As a result, the price of luxury gache plummeted and extravagance declined—an unintended effect.

It was only natural that this pleased the Confucian, old-fashioned Jeongjo.

Incidentally, gache bans had also been fiercely pursued during King Yeongjo’s time, only to be overturned.

For Jeongjo, it was doubly satisfying, since it continued his predecessor’s intentions.

“And as if on cue, you remembered and made use of the scolding I gave a few months ago…”

Jeongjo’s finger pointed to a particular passage in .

It was where the story’s exemplary illegitimate son from the Kang household overtakes Lady Han’s legitimate son by merit.

And when, at the king’s order, the illegitimate son is admitted to Sungkyunkwan, Lady Han, out of jealousy, kills her stepson.

Now, Kim Josun could clearly see Jeongjo’s intent.

He was a king who’d striven to break down discrimination against illegitimate sons and hire talented men, citing a lack of capable officials.

After all, wasn’t it for this reason that the Baektap faction’s “starving scholars,” who were mostly of illegitimate birth, were allowed to work as proofreaders at Gyujanggak?

Moreover, the incident Jeongjo mentioned had happened just a few months prior, in April of that very year.

With Jeongjo’s order, the ban on illegitimate sons taking the preliminary exams was lifted, and they could now enter Sungkyunkwan—but problems arose for the new students.

‘What? They’re discriminating against illegitimate students even in the Taehak (Sungkyunkwan) dining hall…?’

‘That… the chief of Sungkyunkwan himself…’

‘Does this make any sense!? When the sages taught, they only looked at a person’s virtue, not their social rank!!’

Originally, at Sungkyunkwan, seats in the dining hall were assigned by age.

But illegitimate sons, even after being admitted, were given the worst seats.

Jeongjo, upon hearing of this, exploded in anger and rebuked the chief so harshly he nearly died, ordering immediate reform.

With such things happening, how could Jeongjo not love ’s attack on discrimination?

In fact, that may have been the very reason Chae Jegong risked delivering this controversial work to the king—because of his affection for his own illegitimate son.

Only now did Kim Josun truly understand why his head was still attached.

Jeongjo’s fury at fiction had been calmed only because “that person” had written a satire that so perfectly aligned with the king’s tastes.

Of course, Jeongjo seemed convinced his trusted subject had written it himself, believing he’d produced a story supporting the king’s every action.

At any rate, this too was thanks to “that person.”

Well, having helped “that person” write nearly an entire book of , Kim Josun could suppress his conscience just a little.

“Lecturer Kim Josun of Gyujanggak.”

“Y-yes, Your Majesty!!”

The original author had simply parodied luxury brand padding as gache in the Joseon setting.

And had just adapted the story of half-siblings from the original into .

Yet, this snowball was rolling bigger and bigger in an unexpected direction.

“And you have made the corrupt civil service exam system a main topic, pointing out the ills of Joseon.”

“Y-yes, Your Majesty…!!”

“So, like with the gache problem, you must also wish to root out this evil, correct?”

In reality, all Kim Josun had wanted was to be the first to read “that person’s”  as it was written.

But there was no way he could deny the king’s words now.

For the moment, his priority was to agree with everything Jeongjo said and avoid angering him.

Besides, at some point, Kim Josun’s nose, ever sharp to power, began to pick up a sweet scent in the air.

“My heart is as one with Your Majesty’s!”

When Kim Josun bowed deeply once more, Jeongjo’s smile grew even wider.

And then—

“Your Majesty, Chief State Councillor Chae Jegong requests an audience. Shall I let him in?”

Right on cue, Jeongjo’s number one “slave,” “Chaegong-émon,” appeared at Huijeongdang.

Of course, this was because the king had summoned him for a reason.

“Tell him to wait for a moment.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Leaving the Chief State Councillor, highest official below the king, standing outside, Jeongjo now gave Kim Josun a meaningful order.

“I shall give you a sword.”

It was a chilling command.

Yet it was also the one Kim Josun had longed for most since entering government service.

“Stand beside the Chief State Councillor, and with that sword, cut down corruption. Prove to me why I have favored you.”

On this day,

Kim Josun learned anew the truth that following “that person” brought fortune even while asleep.

---

Damn it…!

Because of the  incident, Kim Josun had been dragged off by my old man.

Look, I’d been extra careful about this precisely because of incidents like this.

The story where an abused illegitimate son is eventually killed—didn’t I worry it might trigger Father’s trauma about the “rice chest” incident?

That’s why I desperately twisted the plot and reworked the narrative, doing everything possible to avoid bringing up those memories!

So, in the story, most scenes of children abused by overbearing parents were toned down or omitted.

The Kang family’s illegitimate son, too, was portrayed as steadfast and strong-willed to the end, nothing like that unfortunate “rice chest” grandfather.

Well, I just couldn’t give up on the spicy twist of him being killed by the jealous stepmother.

But anyway, Kim Josun got dragged off.

At this rate, he might end up spilling my secret, and I’d find myself muttering inside a rice chest, “Hmm, so this is Grandpa’s place they talk about…”

So that night, I was haunted by nightmares of my great-grandfather’s portrait coming to life and shoving me into a rice chest.

But the next day—

Through Court Lady Choi, I received an unexpected letter from Kim Josun.

[…Though I must beg forgiveness for unintentional impersonation, in any case, things worked out well…]

Wait, I only wrote  to try to calm the overheated educational fervor I’d seen during the Thousand Character Classic card incident…

Suddenly, any thoughts I’d had about ending  as a tragedy and writing a revenge-focused Part 2 vanished from my mind.

In the end, I had to replan the story for Part 2 from scratch once I got my nerves together.

The story where the supposedly dead Kang family’s illegitimate son survives, and a tough “Yeonjin” from the local school gets involved.

Why is everything going this way!?

Why does my novel have such influence!?

---

And so, some time later.

A great uproar broke out in Hanyang’s government.

Surprisingly, the cause of all the turmoil was the very kind of fiction the king used to detest.

---

※Author’s Note

The incident of Jeongjo’s explosive anger over discrimination against illegitimate students at Sungkyunkwan can be found in the Veritable Records of Jeongjo, Volume 32, Jeongjo Year 15, 4th Month, 16th Day, Second Entry.