Merit Stele (1)

The moment I saw Kim Gyeoul, my breath stopped for an instant.

I, Kim Daebung, have lived as a Joseon yangban for well over eighteen years—no, nineteen—so not showing emotion on my face had become as natural as breathing.

Yet when a lovely girl appeared before me, I ended up making a most un-scholarly showing.

A precious daughter from someone else's house was greeting me, and I just stood there slack-jawed without answering. What a disgrace.

Only after staring blankly for quite a while did I finally collect myself and ask,

"...Mandeok, is this girl your daughter?"

Kim Mandeok smiled and said,

"She is my most cherished daughter."

"I see."

I have one shameful secret: even in Korea, and even in Joseon, I have almost never had a chance to talk with a girl my own age.

The longest conversation I have ever had with a girl my own age was barely ten minutes, and even that was just because I was teaching a girl who had been hired part-time how to use the convenience store register.

So, since I had absolutely no immunity to girls my age, the sight of a beauty like that caused my judgment to seize up for a moment.

Right now I was barely holding on with nineteen years of scholarly cultivation. If I let my guard down even a little, I felt like I'd turn into some freak with a face blazing red and my hands and feet moving on their own.

Kim Mandeok grinned as if he knew exactly how I felt and said to his daughter,

"The magistrate is a man of great virtue. As long as one has loyalty to the king and love for the country, he even esteems a humble merchant like me. He also cherishes the common people as if they were his own children, and he is so upright and honest that he won't even accept gifts."

"I've heard that from others as well."

"He opened the market to save the poor people, and he also gave us merchants a proper place to do business, so he is a special benefactor to me as well. So pour a cup for the magistrate, your father's benefactor."

Following her father's instruction, Kim Gyeoul offered me a cup of wine.

Black eyes as deep and dark as a moonless night, thick glossy black hair neatly swept back, and a dazzling white nape peeking out behind it.

Most of all, her chest—an F-cup, no, at least a G-cup. For someone like me, who had no connection with women in either my past or present life, it was an overwhelming sight.

After pouring the wine, she looked at me and smiled brilliantly.

"It is a pleasure to meet the magistrate in person. You are widely known to be kind and virtuous, and I can see the rumors were not mistaken."

"I'm not that virtuous."

At my words, Kim Gyeoul tilted her head.

That kind of thing suits only King Sejong, who is said to enjoy every kind of meat, including pork, beef, and chicken. I'm just a petty philistine who wants nothing more than to wrap up my county magistrate stint properly and retire.

"The poor people in our county may no longer be going hungry, but is that really enough? There are still many people living in dugout huts in our county. That's another urgent problem. And even if we can't give them white rice until they're full every day, we ought to be able to feed them barley rice until they're full... All I've managed so far is to stuff a single spoonful of rice into their mouths."

If Joseon scholars heard me say that, they'd probably react like this.

'Why is that bastard's goal so high?'

That's right. I tend to look at the world not through Joseon common sense, but through twenty-first-century common sense.

But reality being what it is, I can't just throw up my hands and do nothing either.

If I so much as reach out a hand, hundreds or thousands of county residents will immediately find hope and rejoice. Seeing that, I can't help but work hard.

"Does the magistrate really think so?"

"I merely did my best at what I was able to do. How could doing my best at my own work be called virtuous, or kind?"

Kim Gyeoul smiled at me, bowed in farewell, and stepped back.

Kim Mandeok watched my expression and bowed his head.

"If my daughter has offended the magistrate in any way, I beg your forgiveness."

"She was only trying to praise me. Why would I take that badly? And I'm glad that the work I do is seen as something good and worthwhile not only for the poor people of the county, but for you as well. Isn't that proof that I'm walking the right path?"

There is a saying that you should live by your own values and not worry about other people’s opinions. I agree with that one hundred times over.

So I didn't do things like other magistrates—handle lawsuits halfheartedly, take bribes to side with the yangban, or paw at gisaeng while claiming that heroes naturally chase women and pleasure—all while doing a sloppy job.

If you're someone full of ambition for success, working as hard as I do would be perfectly natural. But I don't have any such desire, so it really is strange.

I simply moved according to the values I wanted to uphold. I was even proud that I was doing fairly well as a magistrate. And for others to acknowledge that too—what could be better?

"It's late, so let's stop the small talk here."

"Yes, magistrate."

"Our county's scholars have voluntarily pooled their money to build weirs for flood control and to bring water to the fields."

"Is that really true?"

"I persuaded the county scholars with great care, and they agreed to spare no expense for the county's people."

Of course, during that persuasion, I did sprinkle in a bit of threat, saying I'd send their falsified tax ledgers straight to Yi Bang-won...

But I never directly said, 'If you turn in the ledgers, you're all dead.' They merely assumed on their own that they'd be sent to some sort of 'Jeonghakso.'

So this isn't a threat, but heartfelt persuasion. If anyone else were to protest, saying, 'This is a threat!' ... then I'd have no choice but to use the power of the magistrate who has given up on promotion.

"We'll build weirs in Dongcheon, Seoseocheon, and the surrounding areas. For the laborers taking part, we'll offset their wages by reducing their grain loans. If we do it by using the budget stored in the county coffers, the county funds will be drained quickly, but the county yangban have all agreed to cover that. On top of that, the meals for the laborers will be provided by the yangban as well."

I think that's a truly beautiful thing. Instead of gutting the bastards who had been evading taxes by any means, legal or illegal, simply because they were the establishment...

How great is it that the magistrate's office recovers the money they were about to dodge in taxes and puts it to public works?

The yangban may be annoyed at first because money is being taken from them, but once water is supplied smoothly and agricultural output rises, they'll have no choice but to approve.

"Since they're making such generous contributions, shouldn't the people also properly express gratitude for what they've received? For example, by erecting a merit stele or something."

A merit stele is basically where you write down the accomplishments of the head mod, the deputy mod, and the regulars, then put it up as a notice.

You even keep updating the notice rankings so people can still see it a week later, two weeks later, or a month later.

Of course, not even the forum regulars and lurkers read every notice, and among the common people most wouldn't be able to read a merit stele written in Chinese characters anyway... but still, how nice would it be if my accomplishments were posted there?

Let alone scholars, who live and die by honor—that sort of thing would be even harder for them to bear.

"Are you telling me to mobilize the people and have them erect a merit stele?"

"It wouldn't be impossible, would it? The people seem to be having a hard time because of the grain loans, and the yangban are stepping up to ease their burden... If they know that and still feel no gratitude, can you even call them human?"

Rich people often make donations to reduce their taxes. They donate to children's welfare foundations, disability welfare centers, and facilities for the elderly.

They do it less to care for the weak than to cut their taxes.

If a one-million-won donation saves you 1.1 or 1.2 million won in taxes, the fool is the one who doesn't do it.

That one million won becomes a poor person's meal, or heating money that helps them get through a cold winter. Whether the intention was good or bad, that money ends up being used to save someone.

Even if the donor's intention is like that, the recipient should of course be grateful.

If they hadn't received it, they might have really died.

"Not knowing how to be grateful for what you've received isn't how a person ought to behave."

"That's right. And if we want to give them motivation to keep doing good deeds in the future, it would be best if the people showed gratitude toward the yangban."

The best way to get lots of donations is to be good at showing gratitude. If I were a rich person donating to an orphanage, and that orphanage remembered my birthday, had the children write handwritten thank-you letters, and sent them to me...

Since I'd be donating for the tax break anyway, I'd want to give to that orphanage instead of somewhere else. No, I'd want to donate even without the tax break.

The more gratitude a person receives, the more they instinctively want to open their wallet.

"Should I spread this story throughout the entire county?"

"Please do. And trusting your diligence, I have one more favor to ask."

"Please speak."

"Help the merchants of Jinhae-hyeon honestly declare the assets they own, just like you did."

"Help them, you say?"

"Tell them that if they leave any assets off the declaration, I'll come find them myself."

I cannot allow rich bastards to commit illegal tax evasion.

And... since Kim Mandeok has cooperated this much, I should give him a fitting reward as well.

"Then I shall be on my way."

With Kim Mandeok seeing me off, I left the house.

After the magistrate left, Kim Mandeok began thinking about the best way to spread the rumor.