Chapter 192
Was there really such a nasty saying as, “Give one more task to the fellow who does his job well”?
Whether that saying actually existed or not is not important to me.
What matters is that the nasty saying has come true in my case.
His Majesty decided that because I was good at my work, I deserved one more task—or rather, an entire mountain of work.
To someone of such an insignificant official rank as me... though I suppose I am not even a minor official anymore...
In any case, I never imagined that His Majesty would entrust this great national undertaking almost entirely to someone like me, who was not even a dangsanggwan.
“Father-in-law, I never even imagined that His Majesty would entrust such an important and immense undertaking entirely to me.”
Kim Mandeok gave a hollow laugh at my words.
“Hah, other people pass the civil-service examination at a young age and grow desperate to become dangsanggwan even a moment sooner. Come to think of it, my son-in-law is quite an unusual one.”
“If I rose through the ranks too quickly, I would only end up surrounded by people who envy me.”
“The only person who would envy you is some fool possessed by the ghost of Goryeo.”
“It is true that I am still young and lack experience of the world, but once I started looking around, I found that there are an astonishing number of bad people possessed by the ghost of Goryeo.”
Not everyone who is rich is bad, and not everyone who is poor is good.
To be more precise, there are far more good people than bad people in this world.
But although the bad bastards are fewer in number than the good people, wherever they go, they wield powerful influence, tormenting those around them and trying to bring them down.
Once you happen to get caught in their radar, there is truly no way out.
Wasn't there one vile television program that smeared the shop owners selling giant castella, claiming that they poured cooking oil into them to make garbage food just to raise their own ratings?
There are also bizarre villains who attach all sorts of strange rumors to innocent, successful idols in an attempt to destroy them, along with human scum who constantly post malicious comments so dizzying that your head spins just from reading them.
When Yi Bang-won declared that he would introduce Bangwonbeop, Ryu Jeong-hyeon immediately stepped forward and impeached me on ridiculous grounds; that was much the same sort of thing.
But if a spry young fellow who was not even twenty-five yet managed to seize a dangsanggwan position simply because he had some ability, how many people would tear me to shreds?
“But why has my son-in-law come to see me at this late hour?”
“I came to propose that we start a business together.”
“A business? What sort of business are you talking about?”
“What do you think about going into the drink business—no, the liquor business—and making it a very large operation?”
Kim Mandeok tilted his head at my words.
Joseon, like twenty-first-century Korea, did not look favorably on the liquor trade, so naturally he was taken aback when his son-in-law suddenly came to him and proposed that they go into the liquor business on a large scale.
But my proposal was a business venture with an extremely promising outlook.
In a premodern country like Joseon, a large supply of alcohol—no, liquor—was essential if conscription was to be implemented in earnest.
At a time like this, it was absolutely necessary for conscientious people like Kim Mandeok and me to take the lead and set an example.
If we simply left it alone, someone else would smell an opportunity and rush in, and something very bad might happen.
A nasty practice could take root in which people bribed military officers and officials to supply spoiled liquor and make money. If that happened, the soldiers dragged into military service would get stomachaches from drinking it, and in the worst case, some of them might even die because of it.
Moreover, because the army was a closed organization, once the practice of supplying spoiled liquor began, it would continue for a very long time.
'We should block off any possibility of trouble before it arises.'
“What is this absurd talk out of nowhere? You want to sell liquor?”
“This is all for the sake of the nation and its people.”
“You are not a man who spouts nonsense, but the more I listen to this, the more ridiculous it sounds. Tell me why you are making such a strange proposal.”
“In Joseon, there is hardly anyone among those engaged in physically demanding work who does not drink, is there? Sailors aboard ships, laborers hauling loads, and commoners busy farming during the agricultural season all tend to down a bowl of makgeolli whenever they get the chance.”
Even in twenty-first-century Korea, many people in physically demanding jobs—so-called skilled trades or field work—can hold their liquor remarkably well.
Of course, no one drinks while working, but quite a few people drink enormous quantities once the work is over in order to forget the fatigue of a hard day.
In particular, many people believe that for soldiers belonging to a premodern army, liquor is the only thing that can relieve their mental and physical fatigue after a hard day's work.
Thus, when they cannot drink, they find it difficult to cope with the stress that has built up.
Admiral Yi Sun-sin understood such circumstances well enough that they say he went out of his way, even during wartime, to ensure that his soldiers could continue to enjoy a moderate amount of alcohol somehow...
'Liquor is an indispensable item in a premodern army.'
“That is true. When I led my merchant caravan on distant trading journeys, I would sometimes let them drink their fill. Otherwise, I could never tell when their complaints might erupt over the arduous schedule.”
“Even laborers who work for wages grow discontented if they are not allowed to drink, so how much worse must it be for soldiers who are forcibly dragged into the army and made to serve for three years without receiving proper compensation? They say that under the new system, once they endure three years in the army, they will never again have to suffer because of military service for the rest of their lives. But being young men who must spend three years trapped in barracks without seeing any of their family or friends is no small ordeal.”
“...... Now that I think about it, that really is true. To put it bluntly, spending three years in the army is the same as working continuously for three years without ever being dismissed for the day.”
That is the most horrifying fact about the army.
You cannot leave work.
If there is a senior who is human garbage, who constantly rides you with every ridiculous excuse while claiming that merely looking at your face puts him in a bad mood, then you are trapped in a hellish cycle where, unbelievably, you have to remain glued to that bastard twenty-four hours a day, 365 days a year...
If you are in a place like that and do not even have liquor as a means of relieving your stress, it is truly hell.
“That is why it is important to make sure the soldiers are well fed, but we must also supply them with sufficient liquor.”
“But from what I have heard from the officials working at the Ministry of War, if the new military-service system—in other words, conscription—is implemented this time, nearly 100,000 soldiers will be conscripted throughout the country.”
“Yes, roughly that number of soldiers will be conscripted from across the country.”
“How do you intend to procure the rice or grain needed to make enough liquor to supply all those soldiers? Surely you are not saying that you plan to buy it from markets throughout the country?”
If we bought all the rice needed to brew makgeolli for nearly 100,000 soldiers from the markets, the price of grain would shoot up in an instant.
Then people who did not farm would find it difficult to make a living because of the sudden rise in grain prices.
We must not threaten the livelihoods of those living in the cities just to supply liquor to the soldiers.
“I intend to buy it from yangban families throughout the country.”
“What rice could the yangban possibly have...”
Kim Mandeok cut himself off and slapped his knee.
“Landowners pile grain into their storehouses, but unlike gold or silver, grain loses its flavor as time passes and eventually rots. So you are saying that we should buy that old grain cheaply, brew liquor with it, and sell it?”
“Yes, that is right. We can brew liquor with the old grain, and if anything remains, we can raise chickens as well. What do you think?”
“Our household granary has several thousand seom of rice that has been sitting there for years. If we could turn it into makgeolli and sell it, or give it to chickens as feed, that would certainly be much better than throwing it all away.”
Rice does not all have the same value simply because it is rice.
Depending on the circumstances, a seom of newly harvested rice from this year is often worth more than twice as much as two-year-old rice...
In fact, even in Joseon, where food was scarce, rice that had been stored for three years was often given to cows, pigs, or chickens as feed, or simply thrown away.
What I intend to buy is two-year-old grain.
We will buy old rice cheaply, use it to make makgeolli, and give any rice left over to chickens at poultry farms.
That way, we can increase both chicken-meat and egg production.
“The current market price is roughly two or three seom of old rice for one seom of new rice, and since makgeolli tastes little different whether it is made with new or old rice... If we sell makgeolli made with old rice to military camps and local government offices at half the market price, we could earn an enormous amount of money.”
“After hard training and labor, the soldiers will want to drink makgeolli like water, so it will fly off the shelves as fast as we make it.”
If I did not enter this business, merchants would regard military funds as easy money and sell makgeolli at exorbitant prices by bribing military officers.
Just as until the 1970s and 1980s, suppliers, officers, and noncommissioned officers colluded to commit 'minor embezzlement' when providing food to military units....
They would accept even liquor worth no more than three mal of polished rice per dongi if it were offered at one seom of polished rice per dongi, and then they would try to embezzle half the makgeolli in each dongi as well.
If decent people like Kim Mandeok and me took charge of this business, we could completely prevent merchants from bribing officials and charging such exorbitant prices.
“Makgeolli is all well and good, but do you have no plans to make soju or cheongju as well?”
“Soju and cheongju are expensive liquors. I doubt they would sell if they were made with old rice.”
Kim Mandeok gave a small laugh at my words.
“The finest liquor presented to the royal family, or the expensive liquor drunk by ministers and other senior officials who are addressed as 'Old Master' wherever they go, must certainly be made with new rice. But if it is liquor that rural yangban drink by themselves, it does not need to be quite so high-quality.”
“That makes sense as well.”
Just as, in wartime, a thousand guns that meet the minimum standard are far more powerful than a single expensive gun boasting the finest performance in the world...
Although cheongju and soju are high-end liquors, if we produced them in large quantities with old rice to lower their prices...
We could earn more money than by making and selling a single bottle of the finest liquor.
“Well, let us do that, then.”