Sniper Elite (1)
Who is Yi Il-je, the Chungcheong Governor?
I had never heard of him in the future.
Sure, I just said that knowledge from the future wasn't necessary, but the truth is, I had no knowledge.
Yet, even knowing nothing, it's possible to infer useful information.
The fact that I had never heard of him simply meant he was just another mid-level official of the Yeongjo period.
That might be true from a broad historical perspective. But for someone living in this era, it's different.
Currently, his rank is geumbak (錦伯, Chungcheong Governor), almost the highest for a provincial official.
He could inspect and punish me, the local Mokcheon magistrate, and he had military authority as well.
A few years ago, he had even served as vice-envoy to the Qing and later appeared on the list of high officials in the State Council, making him one of the most rapidly rising high officials of the time.
As soon as my appointment came through, I naturally investigated him first. My semi-private investigator, Park Ji-won, helped a lot.
Interestingly, his early career resembled mine.
Like me, Yi Il-je started as a clerk in the Seungmunwon. But after getting involved in an incident (not beaten with sticks), he was dismissed. Later, he passed a special examination under King Gyeongjong with outstanding results and was appointed again.
In his youth, he had been sharp in the Cheongjik (대간) and earned praise for his bold critiques, even of his own political faction, Soron. This also spared him during the purge of Soron under the Crab King.
Even the strictest elders were once upright and young. Over time, Yi Il-je became a man attuned to trends.
But unlike our ignorant and reckless clerks, he was no fool.
He liked to present elaborate plans to the king, proudly showcasing his ideas—a type of personality common in offices.
While in Seoul, he even presented military proposals to the Hansung government. They were apparently adopted. By all accounts, he was considered one of the top military policy experts of the era.
Yet, Park Ji-won heard rumors about large-scale corruption while Yi Il-je served as Military Commander of Pyeongan Province.
Now that he had arrived as Chungcheong Governor, his procession was grand, and it was natural for scholars to gossip. But these were not flattering tales.
While overseeing fort construction at Seorimjin (near Cheolsan, Pyeongan Province), Yi Il-je's work had been flawed.
The walls were barely standing.
Was it due to lack of funds? No, Pyeongan Province was wealthy.
Why didn't he collect taxes there? That's precisely what should have been used for such construction.
It was obvious. Half the collected money went missing. Half became the fort, the rest was stored secretly—existing only in Yi Il-je's personal warehouse.
A fortress partially in our physical world, partially in his secret domain—truly the hallmark of a scientific-minded ruler.
Why was such a man trusted with national defense? Perhaps a fortress spanning dimensions was necessary to be regarded as a military expert in this era.
I couldn't immediately expose his corruption. Timing and position were wrong.
Lower-ranking officials cannot accuse superiors except in the Dae-gan office—and even then, dismissal is almost guaranteed.
Many such accusations happened throughout factional politics, and most accusers were punished. Joseon people did as they wished, after all.
But I didn't live day by day. I wasn't worried about being fired—I wanted the stability of a civil service position.
This problem wasn't hard to solve. If Yi Il-je could be targeted in the right way, my father, Kim Yong-gyeom, could write letters to his influential friends to help.
Was it dirty? Perhaps. But filial duty is the root of all virtues.
Timing was crucial. Yi Il-je had done nothing to me yet, and he couldn't—coordination, preparation, and monitoring took at least a couple months.
I didn't know the connections between Shin Man-heung and Yi Il-je. And under the rules of the era, officials of my rank could not be harassed by Yi Il-je over lower-class affairs.
Still, Yi Il-je was Soron. He could dislike me as a Noron-affiliated official. He hadn't been in Seoul, so the negative impressions weren't formed yet.
I carefully documented the "Yi Il-je Notes" and decided to make good use of the waiting time.
Even after reviewing the town records, there was nothing urgent. Who would invade the middle of Chungcheong Province? Minor involvement in past rebellions aside, no real threats existed. Tigers, famine, maybe.
I checked gunpowder and weapons, sealing them carefully. Who knew which fool might try to shoot me?
Now, I focused on supervising Jang-bok, who managed the office's slaves efficiently.
Reports came in about insolent servants, but I ignored them. Punishment wasn't for the crime—it was for the person.
"Jang-bok, this isn't related to you, right?""Yes, sir.""Good. Work hard."
When I asked about bringing snacks, the scheming clerks were immediately cowed.
Protecting Jang-bok allowed me to gradually consolidate power from the bottom.
Never underestimate commoners. They can be extremely useful if used wisely.
Even the most advanced AI today couldn't match their situational awareness and adaptability.
Ignoring them would make governing Mokcheon impossible.
I convinced the slaves to follow: our magistrate may look violent, but he rewards loyalty. Past kindness proves it.
Many slaves aligned with me quickly.
If Jang-bok had been an aristocrat, he might have dominated politics.
I displayed gifts from the crown prince in my room—small scrolls and writing tools—not valuable, but their effect was tremendous.
Clerks asked casually, and I explained:"I visited the crown prince, and these were given. Tokens of friendship, not treasures. I brought essentials for the journey."
Speaking casually made it seem ordinary. In Seoul, I avoided the crown prince, but here, I could exploit his influence fully.
The clerks were astonished. They saw a magistrate connected to the crown prince, not just a rod-wielding official.
I hadn't hidden it; rumors had already circulated. Few dared to fabricate claims about gifts from the prince.
Young, aristocratic, top scholar—everything marked me as the rising star.
The king was 56; the next generation's rise mattered. I knew Yeongjo was unusually strange.
The result was immediate. Steward Cho Man-deuk switched allegiance first.
"Previously, Shin Man-heung's group was cruel. Now, the magistrate's just rule has cleared the air."
Power shifted quickly from bottom to top: steward, sergeant, prison officials, all joining my side.
Still, Shin Man-heung had strong connections. Resistance remained. I personally eliminated most of the half-hearted supporters.
Shin Ji-heung, brother of Shin Man-heung, was the strongest remaining opposition. But he was too late. Using the town records, I found evidence of his embezzlement during levee construction. The brothers received long-term leave.
No need to kill anyone. Neutralizing them socially sufficed. Rod punishments broke legs and thighs—effective in Joseon. Old systems had reasons.
Some initially tried to visit the two clerks, but I randomly chose a few to play detective games. The truth was always exposed.
To avoid suspicion, I explained that it was strict law enforcement, unrelated to the Shin brothers.
The people of Mokcheon understood immediately. The Shin brothers received no visitors.
Who said the people were foolish? They were clever.
"Hopefully, Seoul will proceed the same way," I thought.
The Shin brothers, controlling the office, were finished. Without the governor, recovery was impossible. Simple rod punishment sufficed.
Higher officials elsewhere would not be as easy, but I turned my thoughts to a positive future: it was time to make money.
I controlled the clerks' extortion system. Removing intermediaries benefitted both producers and consumers—direct trade was more efficient.
Surveillance was delegated to Yeon, who had proven loyalty.
Illegal shamans were banned under my authority, except for Cheoam Mountain, which was too remote to monitor.
The people's burden was bearable, and my bonus would increase. Less extortion mattered. No one would be harmed.
All suffering is relative. Life improved. I was no longer beaten. Could governance be better?
I imagined people praising the magistrate and erecting a commemorative monument. What if I prevented their return to Seoul?
A shadow remained: what to give the clerks who joined me? Mokcheon was poor; each household had only 0.5 jeol of land. Nearby Jiksan had double, and even gold veins.
I would have to consider carefully.
Unexpectedly, a visitor arrived: Hong Dae-yong, the heliocentric theorist.
I knew him as a scholar from my past knowledge. Recently, my status window marked him as paying attention.
"Why are you here?" I asked.
I had only heard his name through a relative and didn't know he lived in nearby Cheonan. He reminded me of Park Ji-won in Seoul—friendly and casual.
Not a scholar in the usual sense, more like a young aristocrat. Hong Dae-yong was my age.
"I studied under Teacher Miho (my relative). The bond between the magistrate and my family is like that of teacher and student. Lighter than father-son loyalty. But how could I ignore a call from a nearby district? I risked punishment by coming myself."
Though new to me, meeting him felt like meeting a brother—just like Park Ji-won.