Chapter 192

March 9, 1623—the third year of the Tianqi era. In the Gregorian calendar, it was April 8, 1623. Three days before the Restoration.

Ahn Guk-sin, a royal physician, lived near the Office of Royal Stables. It was a place where all manner of filth flowed through the water, leaving a persistent stench in the air, yet for a man living on the state’s grain, it wasn’t a bad place to call home.

He didn’t leave his office until dusk, walking quietly along the Cheonggyecheon stream toward his beloved house. Stretching his weary limbs, he occupied his mind with trivialities—wondering what side dishes his wife had prepared and whether the servant girl had swept the courtyard properly.

“Excuse me… who are you?”

“How peculiar…”

A man stood before his gate—a complete stranger. Ahn Guk-sin scrutinized him with a wary gaze and gestured to the young slave trailing behind him. Understanding the silent command, the boy began scanning the ground for a sturdy club.

In this era, the official population of Hanyang was well under one hundred thousand. Even including the unofficial residents, it barely reached the size of a small-to-medium-sized municipality in twenty-first-century Korea. Consequently, seeing a “stranger” was a rare occurrence. Ahn Guk-sin watched the man, his body tense with a mixture of fear and bewilderment.

“Who are you to be lurking at another man’s gate like a spy?” Ahn Guk-sin bellowed, summoning the authority of his office.

The man turned toward him, offered a deep bow, and spoke. “My apologies if I have caused you discomfort. I only came because I found this place so fascinating.”

“What could possibly be so fascinating here?” Ahn Guk-sin replied, his brow still furrowed.

The stranger scratched the back of his head. “Well, you see, I know a bit about fortunetelling, and I noticed an aura of royalty swirling around this house…”

“…”

In an absolute monarchy, hearing that an “aura of royalty” clung to your home was never good news; it was a death sentence waiting to happen. Ahn Guk-sin turned pale, positioning himself as if to strike the man down before he could utter another word. The man waved his hands frantically.

“No, no! It’s not like that! I’m not saying a great man will be born from this house or anything of the sort.”

“…”

“It simply seems that you will soon be hosting a noble guest here. You must serve and protect them with all your heart. This will be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity…”

Thud!

The slave finally snatched up a club and slammed it against the ground, sending the man scurrying away in a panic. Ahn Guk-sin watched until the stranger vanished from sight, then let out a sigh of relief and stepped through his gate.

He recounted the strange encounter to his wife, dismissing it as a bizarre incident. His wife laughed, suggesting it might be an omen of good fortune, and Ahn Guk-sin joined in her laughter. The tale of the suspicious fortuneteller seemed destined to remain nothing more than a bit of nighttime jesting.

Clink.

“Good work. Here is your pay.”

“It was nothing, Lord Duke of Chesapeake! I am merely happy to return the favor to my benefactor in this small way.”

The “fortuneteller” was, in fact, an employee of Oitotan. He was just one of many who visited Oitotan to receive silver coins. These were people Oitotan had rescued from Japan—refugees with nowhere to go, lingering in Hanyang. Because Oitotan had taken pity on them and provided funds for their food and shelter, no one found their presence or their activities suspicious.

Even as their numbers surpassed a hundred, no one batted an eye; after all, Oitotan had rescued a vast number of people. Hanyang was currently drowning in far more significant and exciting news, and so, the refugees were forgotten.

Several days passed.

Bang! Bang-bang!

Gunshots echoed through the streets of Hanyang.

Then, a few more weeks went by.

***

I surveyed my surroundings.

“Indeed! By driving out those who looked down upon the monarch and strengthening the trust of a neighboring nation, there is no scholar quite like the Duke of Chesapeake!”

“It is said that a gentleman changes like a leopard, while a petty man merely changes his face! Seeing the Duke and those rebellious scoundrels during the recent turmoil, I finally understand the true meaning of those words!”

“Haha… everyone, please, step back,” Oitotan said, his speech still halting. “I must speak with the Prince.”

“Ah! Everyone, let us not commit any further rudeness against the savior of the state! Step back!”

“…”

The crowd of scholars, who had swarmed the gate like a thick cloud, dispersed in an instant. We were in the heart of Hanyang. I looked at Oitotan. He stood with his arms outstretched, wearing a look of triumphant satisfaction.

Unable to comprehend the situation, I stood in a daze for a moment before addressing him. “…Explain yourself.”

Oitotan pondered for a second before speaking. “Do you see that over there? That is Unjong-ga, the main road of Hanyang. And if you turn there, you find Changdeokgung Palace, where the King resides.”

“Yes. I see it. I know that.”

“A short while ago, I shot the rebels dead right there.”

“…”

“…”

“Explain in more detail.”

***

It was the day of the Restoration.

Prince Neungyang was trembling with excitement, as were the other prospective “merit subjects.” The moment they took the head of a single royal herald, the forces guarding Changuimun Gate “self-dissolved” and evaporated into the air like mothballs.

They marched past Gyeongbokgung Palace and entered Unjong-ga—the spine of Hanyang—to join the troops of the Military Training Command they had previously subverted. Their plan was to storm Donhwamun, the main gate of Changdeokgung, but…

“Why are they following us?”

Oitotan and his soldiers, who were supposed to be guarding Unjong-ga and capturing the powerful ministers of the “Usurper” (Gwanghaegun), were trailing right behind them. All the way to Changdeokgung.

“…”

The rebels exchanged looks of growing unease. Prince Neungyang glared at Kim Ja-jeom, the man who had first recruited Oitotan, prompting Kim to question the envoy.

“O’ Lord, what is the meaning of this? This wasn’t the plan.”

“I… want to see, too.”

“Pardon?”

In that moment, Oitotan’s eyes sparkled as if he were a scholar who had dedicated his entire life to Confucianism. “I also wish to witness the historical moment when the nation’s altars are restored.”

“…”

“My soldiers… they come too.”

“…”

It wasn’t a request to join; it was a declaration. He stood there with the confidence of a man who believed he was the one destined for the throne. Yet, no one dared object to a man commanding four hundred armed musketeers. Besides, Oitotan’s original role hadn’t been vital to the core mission.

The plan remained simple: storm Changdeokgung, capture the King and the Crown Prince, secure the Queen Dowager, and enthrone Prince Neungyang. Everything else was secondary. Once the sun rose and the nation’s foundation was reset, they could deal with this “Westerner” and his troops. One night was all they needed.

They nodded, awkwardly approving Oitotan’s “joining.” The task of searching for the corrupt ministers was handed off to other soldiers. Normally, Joseon troops would have vanished into the night the moment they were given such an order, but since they had just been granted the right to “do as they pleased” with the contents of the ministers’ estates, they were more than happy to comply.

Though their advance was slightly delayed, victory felt guaranteed. No one felt anxious.

Crash! BOOM!

The restoration forces finally smashed through the gates and poured into Changdeokgung, rounding up the officials scattered throughout the grounds. Not a single drop of blood was shed during the process; the Royal Guards had already evaporated into the capital’s air.

Prince Neungyang, feeling a thrill bordering on the erotic, began gathering the officials around him. Oitotan watched the entire process in silence. It wasn’t time yet.

“Commander Yi Gwi, go to Gyeongungung Palace and pay your respects to the Queen Dowager!”

“I obey the royal command!”

Now? Oitotan wondered. No, not yet. He was anxious, but he had to wait. The “audience” wasn’t large enough yet.

Royal secretaries and tutors began to gather one by one, their faces pale with terror as they looked around, utterly bewildered.

“The King and the Crown Prince have fled!”

“Search for them immediately!”

As expected, the royals had escaped, and the murmurs among the crowd grew louder. Prince Neungyang didn’t seem particularly bothered by the news of the King’s flight. He paced the front of Injeongjeon Hall with his sword drawn, surveying his surroundings.

He began signaling his comrades. General Kim Ryu bellowed, “What are you all doing? Prostrate yourselves!”

“Prostrate? What is the meaning of this?”

“Do you still not understand? We have struck down a depraved monarch to restore the state…”

Now.

“What… are you saying?”

Oitotan’s voice cut through the air, drawing every eye to him. Utterly ignoring Neungyang’s burning gaze, he approached the Prince and Kim Ryu.

“My Lord… what is this suddenly?”

“Restoration? I… never heard of this.”

Oitotan’s eyes shifted, noticing Yi Gwal’s hand creeping toward the hilt of his sword. But he was already too late. Oitotan summoned every bit of lung capacity he had honed as a Chesapeake chief and roared.

“I was told! We were attacking… corrupt ministers… near the King!”

The rebel leaders were not so incompetent as to stand idly by. At Kim Ryu’s signal, Yi Gwal didn’t hesitate. He drew his sword and lunged at Oitotan.

Oitotan leveled his spear and took a step back. Many regarded the spear and the sword as the “Kings of Weapons”—highly versatile and used by every civilization across the globe. Generally, a spear with its superior reach held the advantage. However, Oitotan had spent half his life as a tribal chief without metal tools, while Yi Gwal was a man who, despite his civilian rank, had never neglected his martial training.

Yi Gwal’s blade was more than enough to overwhelm Oitotan’s clumsy spearwork. It is said that it takes a hundred days for the spear, a thousand for the saber, and ten thousand for the sword.

Click.

“…Huh?”

Bang!

But this was the seventeenth century. The true King of Weapons was the gun.

The spear Oitotan had thrown and Yi Gwal’s body hit the ground simultaneously. As Oitotan casually tossed aside his spent pistol and pulled a second one from his robes, the others finally realized what was happening. They tried to scream, to give orders, but it was too late.

Under the watchful eyes of the gathered civil and military officials of Changdeokgung, four hundred Covenant muskets spat fire in unison. The restoration army, much like the royal guards before them, evaporated into the air in an instant.

***

Yi Gwi had led his men straight into Gyeongungung Palace. Since the guards had already dispersed, the palace’s security had been “swiped to unlock.” When Yi Gwi explained the situation, Queen Dowager Inmok, who had been imprisoned there, trembled and cried out.

“Ah! That a widow like me has lived to see this day is truly a miracle of the heavens! I want to kill that monster who forgot the ways of humanity and chew his very flesh!”

The years of hardship flashed before her eyes—the years spent imprisoned, her family destroyed, her son murdered. Gwanghaegun’s sins were inexpiable. She chose to forget her own “minor transgressions”—the times she had boasted that her son would displace Gwanghaegun and become King. Such details didn’t matter.

It had been a long age of disgrace. Now, she would escape this wretched place and move into a residence befitting the Queen Dowager of a nation…

Stomp, stomp, stomp.

“…”

Yi Gwi and the Queen Dowager froze as they saw the foreigners standing before them.

“Did you all hear that?”

“We certainly did. Treasonous words about assassinating the King and doing unspeakable things to him…”

“Then go and spread the word.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

Thanks to Oitotan, the Koreans who had been liberated and paid went out into the streets and immediately spread the news. Queen Dowager Inmok was once again confined alone. This time, Oitotan hadn’t forgotten to set a “password,” ensuring the palace’s security wouldn’t be “unlocked” again anytime soon.

After dragging Yi Gwi to Unjong-ga and tying him up in front of the crowd, Oitotan headed toward the stream near the Office of Royal Stables with a satisfied smile.

“L-Lord Oitotan… why have you come here…?”

“I have come… to save the King.”

Perhaps because he had laid the groundwork, the physician Ahn Guk-sin had been tending to the King and the Crown Prince with the utmost care. After picking them up, Oitotan headed straight for Lee Yi-cheom’s house. A modest tile-roofed house, far too small for a powerful minister, soon came into view.

“I… I knew Lee Yi-cheom would do this! How can I allow such a traitor to live…?”

“It is not Lee Yi-cheom.”

“…”

“Ah, there he is.”

Oitotan pushed open the gate. A group of rebel soldiers had forced Lee Yi-cheom to his knees in the courtyard and were torturing him, demanding his wealth or a confession.

Bang! Bang!

Oitotan treated them like the wicked bandits they were. Lee Yi-cheom collapsed onto the ground, covered in blood, his eyes rolling back as he muttered half-deliriously.

“You… you wretched… things… how can a subject… serve two masters…”

“Deuk-yeo! I knew I could trust your loyalty!”

“Your… Majesty? Your Majesty!”

“Yi-cheom!”

The scene of the two men weeping and embracing was quite touching—if one ignored the fact that the King had been screaming just moments ago about how he should have killed Lee Yi-cheom long ago.

Similar scenes were repeated with other ministers like Park Seung-jong and Ryu Hui-bun, all of whom were found bloodied but surprisingly loyal.

“P-Please, just spare my life! I never truly served the deposed King with loyalty…!”

Thud!

“…”

“Did you hear that?”

“Take him away.”

“Aaaaagh! Your Majesty!”

Save for a few like Lim Chwi-jeong, most were found in similar states.

Eventually, they returned to the palace, extinguished the fire at Changgyeonggung, and sat upon the throne in Injeongjeon Hall. Thrilling events followed, including an impromptu interrogation of Prince Neungyang, who was bound and trembling before the King.

And throughout every moment…

“Aaaaagh! Your Majesty, please save me!”

“That is the nineteenth time you have begged. Indeed, Prince Neungyang… your waist… is very flexible.”

Standing right beside the King, Yi Hon, was Oitotan.

***

“…”

“That is the summary of what happened. Isn’t it clean?”

What the hell do you mean, “clean”?