Not all ambitious people in the Empire were fixated solely on the Record of Challenges. There were quite a few who pored over law books aiming to become external judicial officers[1]—today’s equivalent of lawyers or legal advisors—at the Court of Justice.

What was interesting was the change in terminology.

Since the Goryeo Dynasty, writing petitions to file lawsuits at government offices was not something ordinary citizens could easily do. There were those who wrote petitions on behalf of such citizens or provided legal advice to those involved in lawsuits, and they were called “oe-jibu.” Most of these oe-jibu were low-ranking officials or middle-class functionaries at local government offices.

However, the situation changed when the Court of Justice was formally launched during the final stages of the reform, and the oe-jibu—who had been quasi-legal practitioners—became a profession requiring formal qualifications.

Particularly decisive was that those who built careers for a certain period and recorded winning rates above a certain percentage were given the qualification to challenge for positions as intermediate judges at the Court of Justice.

With the establishment of this system, those who passed the law examination had two paths.

They could pass the law examination and start as junior judges or prosecutors[2]—today’s prosecutors—and work their way up, or work as oe-jibu while meeting qualification requirements to rise to higher positions.

In this process, quite a few chose to start as oe-jibu.

“The income is better than working as a judge or prosecutor, and it’s certain that the time to rise to intermediate judge will be shorter!”

After such calculations, more people began choosing careers as oe-jibu.

However, their mistake was not properly understanding what kind of people Sejong and Hyang were.

Having already anticipated this would happen, Sejong and Hyang had already set restrictions.

• When additionally appointing intermediate judges or filling vacant positions, those from oe-jibu backgrounds cannot exceed 25%.
• When evaluating those from oe-jibu backgrounds, extra points are given to those who have handled more criminal cases determining guilt rather than civil disputes between citizens.

These provisions clearly reflected Sejong’s philosophy of “there are absolutely no easy paths, and we favor those with ability.”

Nevertheless, a considerable number still chose to become oe-jibu.

As the number of oe-jibu from scholarly official backgrounds increased this way, the title of oe-jibu changed.

“We’re still from scholarly official backgrounds! And we handle the law!”

For this reason, they added the character for “scholar (士)” at the end, becoming “oe-jibusa[3], and among fellow oe-jibusa, they called each other “yulsa”[4].

***

However, not all scholarly officials in the Empire—regardless of whether in the mainland, northern territories, or various other regions—welcomed these changes.

“Those who call themselves gentlemen and scholarly officials are only clinging to material studies!”

Conservative scholarly officials and intellectuals lumped together these fields that weren’t traditional Confucian classics and looked down on them as “material studies.”

However, even among those with such conservative thoughts, there were those who harbored dreams of achieving fame and success.

The field they challenged was Neo-Confucianism.

More precisely, it was researcher positions at the Neo-Confucian Research Institute.

In conservative scholarly official families, the title of “researcher at the Neo-Confucian Research Institute” was treated far higher than most government positions.

It was literally “the glory of the family.”

However, working at the Neo-Confucian Research Institute meant fierce debates and arguments were daily routine, and reading the room was essential for survival.

The Neo-Confucian Research Institute was a place where various theories emerged, worthy of the term “hundred schools of thought contending,” leading to debates and arguments, with factions dividing and gossip overflowing.

To survive in such a place, one had to either belong to a decent faction or present an original theory that everyone would evaluate as “worth pondering.”

Since the latter wasn’t possible for just anyone, most researchers had to belong to factions that suited their tastes and participate in wars that weren’t quite wars.

What was interesting amid all this was that despite so many factions and theories emerging, no one advocated for “equal distribution of wealth.”

No, there were such people, but they were immediately expelled—that would be the correct answer.

When theories based on “equal distribution” appeared, senior researchers and those from bureaucratic backgrounds threw out the topic that Sejong—heavily seasoned with MSG by Hyang—had once posed:

• The livelihoods that citizens pursue are not just one or two types, so how will you determine the value of these different works? Will you say they’re all the same?
• The same goes for equal distribution. Is dividing everything equally the answer? If those who work hard and those who are lazy receive the same, is this truly fair?

The answers that those advocating “equal distribution” provided to these questions were mostly full of holes.

“This is barely an answer? And you call yourself a researcher at the Neo-Confucian Research Institute!”

Eventually, unable to withstand the persistent attacks from all factions regardless, they would be expelled and disappear.

Within such fierce competition for survival, the output from the Neo-Confucian Research Institute became increasingly diverse and sophisticated.

***

The Empire’s changes weren’t limited to academic and technological aspects.

There were also major and minor changes in areas closely related to citizens’ daily lives.

The most representative area was entertainment.

The most notable example was the performance troupes.

Before the reform began, it was rare for performance troupes to cross the boundaries of the provinces where they were first formed.

Simply put, Gyeonggi Province’s troupes couldn’t leave Gyeonggi Province, and Chungcheong Province’s troupes couldn’t leave Chungcheong Province.

However, the situation changed with the establishment of comprehensive entertainment venues and the laying of railways. They could now ride iron horses to tour throughout the mainland and even perform in foreign territories like the northern territories and Great Snow Island.

But the person who made the greatest contribution was Prince Anpyeong.

Having donned the hat of “Entertainment Commissioner,” Anpyeong was literally like “a fish in water.”

Anpyeong tracked down every single performance troupe in Joseon at the time and made them all affiliated with the Entertainment Office.

Becoming affiliated with the Entertainment Office changed many things for the performance troupes.

Though not much, their lives stabilized with basic monthly salaries. However, since this was literally the minimum, the troupes shared revenue from performances at comprehensive entertainment venues. And this was the true source of income for the performance troupes.

Not only that, but performing at comprehensive entertainment venues allowed them to perform more safely than before.

However, it wasn’t all good.

Touring and performing at comprehensive entertainment venues nationwide meant they would inevitably be compared with local troupes active in those regions.

If their level was even slightly inferior, they had to endure all sorts of jeers.

It wasn’t just the general public visiting entertainment venues who judged their skills.

Once a year, all performance troupes gathered in Seoul to compete in their arts.

According to their competition results, the troupes received grades of A, B, or C. And according to these grades, the revenue distribution rates for the troupes varied.

Therefore, the performance troupes gave their all in these competitions. It was not only an economic issue but also a matter of honor.

What was interesting was the venue where the competitions took place.

The competitions were held at Ttukseom Comprehensive Entertainment Venue, the largest among Seoul’s comprehensive entertainment venues, and crowds from not only Seoul but other regions flocked to watch, creating a sea of people.

“You’d be a fool to miss this opportunity!”

All sorts of merchants flocked to not miss this opportunity, and lodging facilities raised their room prices.

Of course, the entertainment venues did the same.

“Excuse me, it seems the admission fee has gone up?”

Whenever receiving such questions, the person in charge would answer with a nonchalant face.

“It’s not something you can see every day, is it? Of course it’s expensive. If you don’t want to pay, step aside.”

“Damn…”

The citizens who entered like this were important evaluation tools for the officials. The officials judging the performance troupes’ skills used the audience’s reactions as the most important measure.

As an aside, whenever such competitions took place, Anpyeong would stop his work and take his place at the entertainment venue.

“Your Excellency…”

“This is also work. Judging their skills.”

“Commissioner, there are already designated judges…”

“Is there anyone here who can see more accurately than me?”

No officials answered no to Anpyeong’s question. Because Anpyeong’s words were true.

***

Ever since making Sejong grab the back of his neck in childhood by saying he wanted to become a performer, Anpyeong had no equal in the Empire when it came to entertainment.

Becoming Entertainment Commissioner sharpened Anpyeong’s eye even more. This was because he watched and judged performances by the Empire’s renowned performance troupes and gisaeng.

“I sit in the position of Entertainment Commissioner, and those selected by the Entertainment Office perform before the throne! How could I entrust this to others!”

With such justification, Anpyeong attended every competition without fail.

Naturally, various rumors circulated, and Hyang summoned Anpyeong.

“…therefore, this humble servant absolutely had to attend!”

After hearing Anpyeong’s words, Hyang stared at him intently and said one thing.

“You know what self-interest means, right?”

“Your Majesty! Self-interest? This is unjust!”

While protesting his injustice, Anpyeong looked around and then reported to Hyang.

“Your Majesty, could you dismiss the historians and scribes for a moment?”

“Historians and scribes, leave for a moment.”

When the historians and scribes withdrew at Hyang’s command, Anpyeong revealed his true colors.

“Ah, brother! Self-interest? Which damned bastards are spreading such talk! Self-interest! This is unjust! I was just killing two birds with one stone!”

“Killing two…”

At Anpyeong’s answer, Hyang placed his hand on his forehead. Seeing Hyang like this, Anpyeong raised his voice and continued.

“Since we’re on the topic, let’s examine this! Why pick on only me? Brother Jinpyeong is laying railways as the railroad company president—isn’t that self-interest! Not only that! Eldest brother at Area 51…”

“That’s enough.”

When Hyang raised his hand, Anpyeong shut his mouth. Seeing this, Hyang continued.

“If you say more, I’ll throw you in the Records Office. Fine. Well, honestly speaking, you and I are cut from the same cloth, so let’s call it killing two birds with one stone and move on. But do it in moderation. In moderation.”

“I receive your command, Your Majesty!”

“You little… Get out!”

At Hyang’s order to leave, Anpyeong quickly paid his respects and went outside. Just as Anpyeong stepped out the door, he saw the historians and scribes hurriedly hiding something in their sleeves.

Seeing this, Anpyeong lightly sighed and made a pitying expression.

“You all have it tough too.”

However, Anpyeong had forgotten. That the person first mentioned as having a strong vindictive streak was Hyang.

A few days later, Hyang summoned Anpyeong.

“I went out incognito briefly the other day.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“There’s no novelty in the new miscellaneous songs[5].”

The new miscellaneous songs Hyang mentioned were adult songs previously sung in gisaeng houses. They were named “new miscellaneous songs” because they were miscellaneous songs in a new format.

When Hyang mentioned the new miscellaneous songs, Anpyeong, feeling something ominous, asked with a slightly trembling voice.

“What do you mean by no novelty?”

“Apart from those that came out when I was still Crown Prince, nothing has changed, and I think this is a problem.”

“There are various other new miscellaneous songs circulating.”

“Aren’t they just the same melodies with different lyrics? It’s insufficient to call them numerous.”

At Hyang’s words, Anpyeong had no choice but to bow his head. Because Hyang’s words were true.