(Chapter 10) 6. Aim for the Top (2)
Fortunately, the topic came from Go Bong-hwan's examples.
As expected of Joseon's finest one-shot instructor.
The question was about women's hairpieces, specifically the wigs commonly called gache (髢髻), and how to strictly forbid them. As Go Bong-hwan had said, it was one of the prohibitions issued by the court that was never actually enforced.
There weren't just one or two such prohibitions. The reason was obvious. But...
"You receive wigs as royal gifts—how could the government possibly forbid them among the common people? Let's start by taking the one off your wife's head and talk about it."
Of course, that kind of thing should never be said. Would you want to take a one-shot of that medicine no one would know the composition of until the 21st century and then bid farewell to this life? If you're unlucky, you won't even die gracefully—that's the true terror of poison.
"Luxury...? Ah, you Joseonites obsessed only with Confucianism don't know. In our world, people have to spend money to keep the economy flowing—that's common sense."
That, too, was of course forbidden. Did he want the Eight Provinces and Six Garrisons to appear? Only a handful survived returning safely from that forbidden dark dimension that Sejong had opened after utterly crushing the Jurchens.
I cleared my mind and activated the active skill Han Seok-bong's Handwriting.
Without a moment's hesitation, I wrote out (the memorized answer from Go Bong-hwan) in one stroke. The crowd around me was already gasping.
"Which family's son is the author?"
"Let's see… ah, he's the second son of the Jamdong Seongonggam's surveillance office."
"What? That rogue Kim Un-haeng from Tagubong?"
Wasn't it punishable to chatter like that in the royal court? Well, it's probably out of earshot of the king, so they felt safe talking like that.
I finished my answer sheet while pretending to hesitate or revise in places. It was quite a tedious task.
Other examinees, perhaps unable to hire a one-shot instructor like me—or maybe they couldn't memorize even the answers given—were mostly struggling over their sheets for almost two si-jin (a traditional time unit).
Some even dared to try sneaking out cheat notes rolled up in their nostrils, only to be dragged away.
Earlier, I thought about the Eight Provinces and Six Garrisons, and for that guy, it might have been reality. Punishment for cheating on the civil service exam varied slightly depending on the era and king, but typically involved being beaten until dusty on a rainy day and sent to the army.
Tsk tsk. He should have studied honestly like me. I shivered at the joy of having one less competitor.
Is there anyone else cheating? I must catch them and report it.
No personal grudge—purely for the security of the state. What use is a contemptible guy like that in government? He should be singing as a private in the front lines.
Fortunately or unfortunately, there was only one such spirited examinee.
Well, since he passed the exam anyway, there was no need to risk cheating to write a good answer. I had no choice but to give up.
Instead, for the remaining time, I pretended to check answer sheets while my mind dwelt on other matters.
Based on the status info revealed so far, I had to predict the trials this guy would throw at me.
I couldn't keep being dragged around forever. In games too, knowing the quest-giving NPC and acquisition conditions in a second playthrough always makes progress faster.
But this problem was far more difficult than the civil service exam.
King Yi Geum standing in the throne hall wore a frown that made his beard wrinkle.
In the past, Emperor Kangxi mocked Joseon as gunyak singang (君弱臣强 – weak king, strong ministers).
Considering that the Jurchens judged "strength" by kill count (the strongest tragically came from Han Chinese communists), it was understandable that the normal-people kingdom of Joseon might seem weak. That was why King Sejong had tried to annihilate the Jurchens.
Yet, ridicule from ministers was a great insult for a monarchy. It could be interpreted as a denial of the political system.
Fukseon-gun Yi Nam, sent as an envoy, had dared to tell the emperor that my Joseon was not like that. Indeed, even Hong Taiji could not have breached the Iron Wall Gate of Namhansanseong head-on—the grandson of King Injo had extraordinary courage.
But Kangxi spoke no falsehood (Fukseon-gun returned safely). King Yi Geum also acknowledged the fact.
Thus, this civil service scene brought him strange feelings.
Most people present were heirs to privileges accumulated by their ancestors over generations.
Just as King Taejo Yi Seong-gye rose above his peers to become king, these men could, "if heaven decreed," challenge for the throne themselves.
Of course, Yi Geum wasn't someone who took the throne without ability.
Like many Joseon kings, Yeongjo was a capable administrator and mature politician, unmatched by any leading Confucian scholar of his time.
Yi Geum wondered how he would perform if he took the civil service exam himself.
Was there anyone among the 33 examinees, young and old, superior to him?
Shaking his head slightly, he thought:
"No, talent is always secondary when selecting people."
Perhaps, as befits a Confucian king, he had internalized the principle of prioritizing virtue above all since the Tang dynasty.
Or frankly, there was no one among them he particularly wanted to pick, regardless of writing skill. The country's brain was himself; the rest were merely his arms and legs. What use was it if subordinates had too many thoughts or resources? Nothing but rebellion.
Even if the right arm were better than the left, for the head, there was no great difference. If he truly wished, he would rather pick market folks and place them in government than the sons of high officials.
It was a strange notion, but not unusual.
Not only in Joseon, but also in Europe, enlightened absolute monarchs who oppressed "corrupt and incompetent" aristocrats while proclaiming equality among citizens thought similarly.
Power, like wealth, is relative.
Even if a country provided wealth freely, the rich would oppose it. One is rich because there are more poor people than oneself, not because one has more property.
Power works the same way: the more commoners below you, the more exalted you become.
Hence, the ideal of kingship is to be the only high one. Everyone else—nobles, children, relatives—must be equally low.
At that moment, power becomes absolute (no comparison exists), and masters who reach this stage are called "absolute monarchs" in history.
King Yi Geum had devoted his life to this. Initially, it was for survival; the cursed Soron faction encouraged his half-brother to kill him daily.
But like humans building houses and walls to improve comfort after fleeing beasts in caves, Yi Geum was no longer a cautious crown prince making suspicious pickles. He had almost fully cemented the foundation of power as Joseon's sole monarch.
Rebels were nearly wiped out. Authority was stabilized. Borders were peaceful. He even had a legitimate successor.
Yet Yi Geum's enemies were not just Soron or Namin.
"Perhaps eight-tenths of the scholars gathered here are descendants of Noron."
After the Gyeongsin Disposition, they acted as if they owned everything, constantly trying to manipulate the king. The successors of Song Si-yeol were the bigger headache. Noron openly claimed the king should know who put him on the throne.
But that was a major misconception.
Noron did not put Yi Geum on the throne for power. Yi Geum used Noron to survive and inherit the throne (essentially the same thing).
At least Yi Geum thought so.
When examinees submitted their essays, Yi Geum returned to the palace and summoned Crown Prince Yi Hwon.
The Crown Prince approached respectfully. June of this year, Yeongjo was as harsh with him as he had been fond of Princess Hwapyeong, who had died in childbirth. Time could not be wasted.
And the Crown Prince's reaction was not overblown. It was as if someone might think he had caused Princess Hwapyeong's death.
In historical records like Hanjungnok, though anecdotal, it is mentioned that Princess Hwapyeong's death caused Yeongjo's heightened tension toward family matters.
The Crown Prince, though intelligent, displayed only faults in his father's eyes: too eager to please, checking expressions to satisfy his father when answering questions.
Yi Geum did not consider that the Crown Prince might be struggling under pressure. 18th-century people rarely expected such consideration.
The Crown Prince received the essays, trembling, and was handed only those highlighted by the king for their quality.
The Crown Prince could not think of "my father is acting absurdly" because fear dominated him. He bowed deeply.
"The civil service ranking is the highest of royal duties; it is not trivial work. Please do not take command from others."
"Who told you to act on their behalf? All have passed the exam. You are merely to determine the order. Do not be arrogant; if your choice violates reason, it will be corrected. Show your discernment."
The Crown Prince trembled as he looked at the essays. Normally, official copies were taken to prevent identification by handwriting. But these were originals, brought for the Crown Prince to test his judgment.
If Kim Un-haeng were listening, he would have called it "paranoid king."
The Crown Prince saw a sheet that stood out—perfectly neat handwriting, like a printed page.
The Crown Prince quickly realized:
"This handwriting… it's him!"
The Crown Prince had heard rumors from Lady Han, the court attendant who guided him toward martial arts rather than reading, about a young scholar who had beaten senior students with sticks, took disciples like Inwang (the Golden Guardian), and had mastered martial arts from childhood but ended up taking the civil service exam.
The Crown Prince picked up the essay. Yi Geum glanced and snorted.
"The handwriting is average, the text copied, and the scholar ignorant of governance—a lazy man. Do you really think this is correct?"
The Crown Prince decided to continue, encouraged by Kim Un-haeng's reputation.
"Though inexperienced, the scholar's intentions are pure. The writing adheres to Confucian principles, consistently forbids luxury, and cultivates virtue. Under Your Majesty's guidance, he will be a national asset."
Yi Geum watched silently. He knew who had written the essay. He exhaled and said:
"Crown Prince, you may withdraw."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
The Crown Prince left, relieved. Yi Geum now estimated the announcement of the top-ranking scholar—selected by the Crown Prince, not himself.
Historical/Contextual Notes
The gache issue did appear in actual civil service exams. In the annals, it mentions that after this story, exams with this topic were given but were hard to enforce.
Hiding paper in the nostril, called uiyeonggo, was an actual cheating method, literally a storage warehouse for court materials, roughly "pocket trick."
Crown Prince Uiso was Jeongjo's older brother, who died in infancy. The story of Princess Hwapyeong relates to his temporary recognition as heir.