While the Black Wolf Gang was crumbling in Liaoyang, Hyang secretly summoned Wan.
“You called for me, Your Majesty?”
“Tomorrow night at the Hour of the Rat (자시(子時, zǐshí) = 11 pm-1 am), there is somewhere we must go together. We shall travel incognito, so do not breathe a word of this even to the court eunuchs.”
Wan, sensing the gravity in Hyang’s completely different expression and tone, responded with heightened tension:
“Yes, I shall comply.”
The next night at the Hour of the Rat, when Wan emerged from his chambers wearing plain clothes instead of his royal robes, he found Imperial Guards rather than court eunuchs waiting for him.
“We shall escort Your Highness.”
“Very well.”
The Imperial Guards surrounded Wan on all sides and headed toward the rear of Gangnyeongjeon Palace.
There, Hyang, the Imperial Guard Commander, and a contingent of Imperial Guards awaited Wan.
“Let us proceed.”
“Yes.”
The group moved under ironclad security.
Normally, even late at night, a few court eunuchs and ladies-in-waiting would maintain their posts in case of emergency. However, now there were no such attendants in sight, only Imperial Guards maintaining strict control at key positions.
Shortly after, Hyang’s group exited through a small side gate on the eastern side of Gyeongbok Palace.
“Isn’t the security detail too small, Your Majesty?”
When Wan questioned Hyang about traveling with only the Imperial Guard Commander and a minimal escort, Hyang responded with a slight smile:
“Others will join us soon.”
“Pardon?”
Wan’s confusion cleared moments later.
As soon as they turned the corner of the alley facing the side gate, they found a group of men waiting for them.
These men, dressed entirely in black robes and bamboo hats, even down to their black wooden shoes, carried long silver staffs. Upon seeing Hyang, they bowed in unison and offered a quiet military salute:
“We guard the nation in darkness.”
“Well done.”
“We shall escort you.”
Thus accompanied by these men in unified black attire, Hyang and Wan’s group headed toward the entertainment district.
Following Hyang through various winding alleys, Wan’s expression was one of pure confusion.
What’s this? Are we going to a pleasure house? His Majesty?
Hyang was famously uninterested in carnal pleasures. His women consisted only of one Empress and two Imperial Consorts.
What in the world? What’s going on?
Wan’s confusion peaked when they entered through a side door of a famous pleasure house in the northern district.
Why use the servants’ entrance when there’s a main gate? Even for traveling incognito, this seems…
After entering through the side door, Hyang’s group headed to a secluded corner of the establishment. While music and the laughter of men and women filtered over a wall, the group quietly entered a small building situated in the innermost corner.
When Hyang entered the room, two men waiting inside offered military salutes and opened a closet door, bringing out small wooden platforms.
Stepping up on the platforms and climbing through the closet, they found a narrow passage on the other side.
Following the passage, they arrived at a tile-roofed house opposite the pleasure house.
As Hyang emerged from the passage, men waiting inside all rose and offered military salutes.
“We guard the nation in darkness.”
“Your efforts are appreciated. Where have you placed the deceased?”
“We shall guide you.”
Led by their escort, Hyang and Wan approached a small altar where three bone urns rested.
After gazing at the urns briefly, Hyang lit incense in the burner on the altar and performed a deep bow.
“Gasp!”
Wan inadvertently let out a small cry at the sight of Hyang bowing to the urns.
Hyang was the Emperor. By custom, the Emperor bowed to no one except Heaven during celestial rites.
Yet now, Hyang was showing more reverence than ever before.
After offering two bows to the deceased, Hyang commanded Wan:
“These are loyal subjects who gave their lives in service to the empire. Pay your respects.”
At Hyang’s order, Wan bowed before the urns.
After Wan completed his bow and stepped back, Hyang turned to the Imperial Guard Commander.
“Commander.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
The Commander produced a small wooden box from his chest and presented it to Hyang. After receiving and examining its contents, Hyang handed it to the man standing before him.
The man respectfully accepted the box and removed its contents: black wooden pegs slightly larger than wine cups. Each peg’s head was engraved with a golden triple spiral design.
The man inserted the three triple spiral-engraved pegs into holes drilled in the wall behind the altar.
Watching this, Wan’s eyes gleamed. The wall already held nearly thirty pegs of identical design.
About half an hour later, Hyang’s group returned to Gyeongbok Palace. Unable to contain his curiosity any longer, Wan finally asked:
“Your Majesty, who were those people?”
“They are the Secret Guards.”
Upon returning to Gangnyeongjeon Palace, Hyang dismissed everyone except the Imperial Guard Commander.
With only the Commander remaining, Hyang began explaining the Secret Guards to Wan.
“The Secret Guards are those who move in darkness to protect the empire and emperor. They are the first and last to shed blood in defense of the empire and throne.”
Hyang continued with detailed explanations about the Secret Guards and the Imperial Guard Division.
As Hyang’s explanation lengthened, Wan’s expression shifted from surprise to concern.
“…That concludes it.”
When Hyang finished, Wan gathered his thoughts before asking:
“Is it safe to recruit from criminal backgrounds?”
“They’ve passed their own verification process. And thus far, they’ve faithfully fulfilled their duties.”
“But can we be certain of their future loyalty? Wouldn’t it be better to recruit properly vetted individuals from the military?”
“That would have its merits. However, there’s a problem. The organization could become rigid and lose its eyes and ears.”
Hyang explained why such recruitment would be problematic:
-Information-gathering organizations must remain flexible. While all organizations would benefit from such flexibility, it’s difficult to achieve. The military, in particular, is the most rigid organization. Its very nature is incompatible with this work.
-The Secret Guards’ most crucial task is intelligence gathering. This includes not only foreign intelligence but internal information as well. To properly secure internal information, we need people embedded in various social classes. If we restrict eligibility for the Secret Guards, we lose eyes within these diverse strata.
“Ah…”
Wan nodded at Hyang’s explanation. Seeing this, Hyang added:
“There’s a vast difference between how the nobility views commoners and how commoners view their own. That’s why we leave recruitment to the Secret Guards themselves. Of course, as you mentioned, there’s a risk of accepting those with disqualifying factors or hidden agendas. That’s why the Imperial Guard Commander and the Imperial Guard Division oversee the screening process.”
At Hyang’s words, Wan unconsciously glanced at the Imperial Guard Commander, who nodded with a proud expression. Wan nodded in response.
“Do you have any other questions?”
“How is the operating budget secured?”
“Seventy percent from the imperial household, thirty percent self-funded.”
“Is self-funding possible?”
“We have the pleasure houses, don’t we?”
“I understood those had separate financial backers.”
At Wan’s observation, Hyang gently rubbed his solar plexus while responding:
“Yes, initial expenses were quite substantial because of that.”
“Ah…”
Understanding the implication of Hyang’s words, Wan continued his questioning:
“Will you insist on maintaining complete secrecy going forward?”
“What do you think?”
In response to Hyang’s counter-question, Wan considered carefully before carefully offering:
“Wouldn’t that be difficult?”
“Why so?”
Wan carefully explained his reasoning:
-According to Hyang’s explanation, the Secret Guards had a considerable history. This meant that not a few people must have noticed their existence.
-Even loyal imperial subjects would resist knowing there were people who could investigate them and report their secrets directly to the emperor.
-These power holders would then attempt to either eliminate the Secret Guards or seek to share control over them.
“Hmm…”
Nodding at Wan’s explanation, Hyang posed another question:
“Then what choice do you think they would make?”
“If I were them, I would choose to share control. Attempting to eliminate the Secret Guards rashly could result in retaliation. Rather than risk that, they would seek to share control. And they would most likely choose the budget as their means of gaining that control.”
“The budget… Indeed, money is the surest blade.”
Agreeing with Wan’s assessment, Hyang asked:
“So what would you do?”
“I would show but not show everything, share but not share everything. Yet I would make them believe they’ve seen it all and shared in everything.”
Hyang slapped his knee and laughed heartily at Wan’s response.
“Hahaha! Correct answer! So when will you implement this? For reference, this father of yours intends to hold out until the end.”
Wan momentarily showed a dejected expression at Hyang’s words. However, he quickly composed himself and replied:
“I too intend to hold out as long as possible.”
“You’re in for some hard work.”
“…Yes.”
After Wan left the room following their conversation, Hyang turned to the Imperial Guard Commander.
“What do you think?”
“I believe he is more than adequately prepared.”
“Isn’t he?”
Hyang nodded with great satisfaction.
In truth, the possibility of the Secret Guards’ existence being revealed and the solution to this had already been concluded by Sejong and Hyang. Their conclusion was almost identical to what Wan had just proposed.
Thus, the Imperial Guard Commander’s current statement was essentially an assessment that Wan was sufficiently prepared to take over state affairs.
Hyang thought about future prospects while grinning broadly.
“In about five years, His Majesty, Father Emperor will return, and Wan’s eldest son will be formally recognized as Crown Prince’s heir. Couldn’t I then either abdicate or delegate regency and head to the New Frontier?”
The Imperial Guard Commander, seeming somewhat concerned, offered advice:
“Wouldn’t it be better to solidify the foundation through about three years of regency?”
“What is there to worry about with His Majesty present?”
The Imperial Guard Commander fell silent at Hyang’s words.
Sejong was in quite good health, suggesting Hyang’s “healthy pig-making” project had succeeded. In particular, since going to the New Frontier, he seemed even more energetic, perhaps due to reduced mental strain.
The message said he should be fine for at least ten years…
Recalling the letter from the previous Imperial Guard Commander who had accompanied Sejong to the New Frontier, the current Commander made his calculations:
-The Crown Prince was already of age.
-He had been properly trained in administrative duties while managing Area 51 and the research institute.
-In five years, many of the ministers would be replaced, reducing the number of elderly officials pressuring the Crown Prince.
-Even if some remained, the even more seasoned situation wouldn’t stay idle.
After these calculations, the Imperial Guard Commander reached a somewhat positive conclusion.
It should be fine. Though His Highness the Crown Prince’s Heir will have it rough.
The Imperial Guard Commander smiled wryly as he recalled news heard through the Chief Royal Secretary.
Apparently, Wan had said this while looking at his two-year-old son:
“Grow up quickly! Only when you grow up can I research flying vessels and gliders with peace of mind!”