Regardless of Chu Il-gong’s feelings, the poetry competition began.
“Today’s theme is…”
The host announced the theme the Emperor had chosen.
“Wind and snow.”
Ding!
The bell rang.
Chu Il-gong stared down at the paper, racking his brain.
‘Wait… Which one of his poems used wind and snow as the theme again?’
.
.
.
Chu Il-gong had served at the Imperial Academy, going from junior registrar to academic director, then lecturer, before he was appointed a local magistrate.
He even rose all the way to chief of a prefecture, but in the end his greed for bribes tripped him up.
The Emperor issued an imperial decree ordering him to cough up every bribe he had taken.
But he turned in only about two-thirds of what he’d pocketed, then resigned.
Even so, what remained was more than enough for him to live a good life.
‘No matter how I look at it, I’m just too smart for my own good.’
He’d only managed to pass the civil service exam because he had quietly copied another candidate’s answers.
And whenever personnel appointments came up, he would discreetly gift expensive liquor to his superiors and climb the ladder with ease.
When that finally became a problem, he promptly took a local post, and even when he resigned this time, he made sure to leave himself enough to live on.
He had no regrets about retiring.
After all, he had gone into government service in the first place just to line his pockets once and be done with it.
‘This is how you ought to live in this world—like me, Chu Il-gong.’
But once he actually stepped down, a small regret appeared: there was no one who recognized him.
After retirement, a man ought to spend his days at ease, surrounded by people singing his praises.
Of course, he had made plans for that as well.
He would become famous through poetry.
‘Back then, that junior Yu So-ak’s poems weren’t half bad.’
It wasn’t that he had cut down that talent because he was jealous of how brightly it shone.
From the beginning, he had played it that way with every intention of stealing his poems…
Even back then, he had already mapped out his retirement plans.
Apparently, someone else had recognized the value of Yu So-ak’s poetry, because a collection of his poems had been published.
And just as he had expected, it caused a huge sensation.
Even now, when he thought about it, it felt like an unbelievable waste.
‘That fame should’ve been mine! Tsk! Even now it’s such a damned waste.’
But he couldn’t just sit there regretting it, so he started searching hard for someone else.
His brain wasn’t exactly dull, but the problem was that it was specialized in a different direction.
So he had lived, darting here and there like a slippery fish, only taking whatever was to his advantage.
Those who knew him well called him “Loach,” after the slick mudfish.
Of course, Chu Il-gong couldn’t care less what others called him.
In any case, maybe because he only used his wits in that direction, Chu Il-gong’s literary talent was abysmal.
Even so, he’d been able to work at the Imperial Academy purely thanks to his knack for currying favor with his superiors and craftily exploiting his juniors.
Yet there was a reason he was still trying to become famous as a poet.
Poets enjoyed incredibly high status.
They even bestowed the title “Poetry Sage” on those who wrote truly exceptional verse.
While he was prowling around for prey like that, he finally succeeded in discovering a treasure.
“I’ve met someone who writes truly exquisite poems. Would you like to meet them?”
The moment he heard the poems of the man called Song Rok, whom he met on someone’s recommendation, goosebumps ran all over his body.
Ecstasy surged through him.
‘This is the one!’
So he coaxed Song Rok into writing countless poems, then cherry-picked the best of them and published them under his own name.
Naturally Song Rok protested, but Chu Il-gong just snorted.
Who would listen to Song Rok anyway?
The world always finds the words of someone who looks respectable more believable.
‘Truth is always hidden behind appearances. Hehehe.’
If Song Rok kept being a nuisance, he could always quietly make him disappear.
As he lived, enjoying the praise that grew by the day, one day a bolt from the blue struck him.
It was… this damned poetry competition.
Anyway, what was done was done.
If he just used his wits like he always had, he’d probably muddle through somehow.
Realizing he couldn’t avoid this poetry competition, he came up with a plan of his own.
He would memorize all the countless poems Song Rok had written and write those down.
Chu Il-gong quickly scribbled down one of those poems and submitted it.
Then the official reader began to recite the poem.
“As the wind’s song seeps into my heart…”
At that poem, Chu Il-gong tilted his head.
‘Huh? This sounds familiar…’
The audience, hearing that poem, let out exclamations of admiration.
“What a truly beautiful poem!”
“As expected of Poet Chu Il-gong, the Graceful Verse Wanderer!”
“To think a poem could be this beautiful…”
No.
That wasn’t the poem Chu Il-gong had submitted.
After the second poem finished, the third poem—the one Chu Il-gong had submitted—was read aloud.
“Hmm?”
And because everyone in the audience was interested in poetry, they quickly realized something was off.
“Doesn’t this sound kind of similar?”
“It does…”
“Is this person maybe imitating the Graceful Verse Wanderer’s poem?”
“Yeah, the earlier poem definitely felt more complete.”
“So this one is just a copy?”
“What! Seriously?”
“Wow, that’s shameless! How can someone come here and imitate the Graceful Verse Wanderer’s poem?”
There were people who assumed the first poem had been written by the Graceful Verse Wanderer.
‘The one they’re reading now is the poem I submitted…’
Chu Il-gong had a feeling things weren’t going to go his way.
I smiled as I watched the murmuring crowd.
Good, everything was going according to plan.
I’d fully expected this kind of reaction from the audience; it was obvious what sort of scheme Chu Il-gong would come up with.
He was the one who had built his reputation using Poet Song Rok’s work. Of course he would’ve memorized Song Rok’s poems inside out.
Poet Song Rok had also said he’d written that many poems while staying at Chu Il-gong’s house.
But there was something Chu Il-gong hadn’t considered.
Poet Song Rok himself had entered the poetry competition.
The entry fee for this competition was actually pretty steep.
Families with money or officials could pay it without much trouble, but for someone as poor as Poet Song Rok, it was a crushing sum.
There had been a lot of grumbling about the amount of the fee, but in the end the competition went ahead as planned.
You needed at least that kind of threshold to filter out the riffraff.
If someone truly had talent, it wouldn’t be that hard to find a patron.
When you’re desperate, a way always opens.
The second thing Chu Il-gong hadn’t accounted for was Poet Song Rok’s passion.
“The number of poems I wrote while staying at Chu Il-gong’s house is enormous. I wrote over a hundred a day.”
“How many days did you stay there?”
“Around half a month.”
“…”
“That’s when I laid the foundation for my poetry.”
In other words, most of Poet Song Rok’s poems in Chu Il-gong’s hands were early, unfinished works.
And for the sake of revenge, Poet Song Rok had spent all day honing his poetry; that passion had polished his work to perfection.
The judges continued their deliberations.
“Hmm, this poem…”
“Hoho! Where did such a talent come from…”
“But this poem feels like a bit of an imitation…”
“Even so, being able to imitate to this degree is a talent in itself…”
They too wore somewhat dissatisfied expressions.
Still, the established rules were to judge solely by the poem itself and eliminate two out of the four.
And so Poet Song Rok and Chu Il-gong both passed the first round.
The next round followed.
Before he knew it, the day had grown late, and Chu Il-gong pressed a hand to his chest in relief.
He had managed to survive all the way through today’s competition, which had gone on to a third round.
“Wow! As expected, your reputation is well deserved!”
“Exactly!”
At his friends’ praise, Chu Il-gong gave an awkward laugh.
“Hahaha, come on, you lot! What do you take my skills for? A competition like this is child’s play!”
“Of course, of course!”
The friend who had submitted his application for the competition in Chu Il-gong’s stead spoke up.
“To think we can show your skills to the whole world! I did well to register you in your place, didn’t I?”
Chu Il-gong looked at that friend and swallowed his rage.
‘If it weren’t for that fool…!’
But he couldn’t let that slip, so he just kept up his awkward smile.
“How about tonight? Let me treat you!”
“Sounds good!”
“How about Golden Moon Pavilion? They say the new courtesan there is unbelievably pretty.”
At his friends’ suggestion, Chu Il-gong shook his head.
“Sorry, but I’m heading back. I wrote too many poems today or something—I need some time to calm my mind.”
“True, poets are usually sensitive.”
“You must be worn out from competing today.”
“Then go on home and get some rest.”
And so Chu Il-gong set off “for home,” but his feet were actually heading somewhere else.
“It’s been a while since I came here.”
It was a place where a sort of “problem solver” could be found.
He’d learned of it by chance back when he was still in office and had made use of their services a few times since.
They would do anything, starting from murder on down, as long as you paid.
He needed that man’s help again this time.
He headed to the tavern’s back door and knocked.
Knock, knock.
Then a small peephole above the door slid open and a voice came out.
“What are you here to buy?”
“Three cups of wine and four pheasants.”
“You’re one cup short.”
“Didn’t you already drink that one yourself?”
Once that exchange ended, a different voice spoke from inside.
“What’s the job?”
“I need you to take a life.”
“Whose life am I taking?”
“A man named Song Rok. Just an ordinary scholar.”
Chu Il-gong’s eyes gleamed ominously. By the time today’s competition had ended, he had finally found out—that this Song Rok had entered the competition.
“Then the fee is twenty silver taels.”
“One more thing: it has to be done tonight.”
“That costs extra. Five silver taels more.”
“…Fine. I’ll hire you.”
Just thinking about the money made his stomach ache. Twenty-five silver taels could buy two decent thatched cottages.
‘Do you know how hard I worked to make that money!’
But he had no choice.
One misstep and he could lose everything.
If it ever became public that he’d stolen Song Rok’s poems…
‘Just thinking about it is horrifying.’
So he had to eliminate the source of trouble, even like this.
He suddenly regretted not killing him earlier to shut him up.
A voice came again from inside the door.
“Once the job is done, bring twenty-five silver taels within half a month. You know what happens if you skip out on the fee—we take your life instead.”
“…You don’t need to worry about that.”
Chu Il-gong quickly glanced around, then left the area.
At last, the first day of the competition came to an end.
Despite the hefty entry fee and short registration period, there were more applicants than expected, so the competition would run for three days.
In other words, a tidy sum had come in through the entry fees.
Which made the Emperor very happy.
The wealth of the imperial palace was roughly divided into three large parts.
The largest share was the money used for running the country.
The rest was divided between the imperial family’s own wealth and the royal relatives’ property.
The royal relatives’ property was a portion set aside so the imperial clan could eat and live without working.
By law, that property had to be returned after a hundred years. Once a hundred years passed, they were no longer considered imperial clan.
To be honest, granting property to the imperial clan was mostly meant to keep them from getting any funny ideas.
It was the Empire’s way of saying, “We’ll let you eat well and live comfortably, so don’t go starting rebellions or throwing the country into chaos.”
But even to me, it was obvious that such a measure wouldn’t work on the truly greedy.
Handing someone a bit of land and saying, “Live quietly,” is a joke. If things went well, they could have all the land in the Empire.
But the Emperor turned out to be far more impressive than I had thought.
He stripped the royal relatives of all their property and instead agreed to give them a fixed sum of money once a month.
He even said, “I don’t care if you save what I give you and buy land or do something else with it.”
But people who’d never earned money and only knew how to spend it recklessly had no chance of saving anything.
In the end, they had no choice but to rely entirely on what the Emperor gave them, and of course they had to watch his mood and grovel.
He really was a terrifying person.
Of course, the only reason he could take such a hardline stance was because his personal wealth was abundant.
I mean the imperial family’s private fortune.
If the imperial family had no private wealth, he would have had to secure extra funds from the national budget.
And then he’d naturally have to care about the ministers’ opinions.
But the Emperor’s fortune was truly enormous.
So he didn’t need to care what the ministers thought, and when the royal relatives behaved, he could toss huge sums their way. From their perspective, it was in their best interest to obey the Emperor.
Right now I’m in my temporary residence.
No matter how busy I was with the poetry competition, I couldn’t neglect learning martial arts in the palace.
“Thank you for your instruction.”
“You’re progressing far faster than I expected. So this is why they say teaching a genius of the world is a teacher’s joy.”
At Warrior Jin Yeong’s words, I replied with modesty.
“You’re overpraising me.”
Just then, Escort Guard Jin Yu approached me.
Hmm?
Just in case, I’d asked Escort Guard Jin Yu to keep an eye on Chu Il-gong.
The fact that he was coming to me like this meant something had happened.
“My apologies. It’s something very urgent…”
Warrior Jin Yeong gave a thin smile and turned away.
“Looks like you’re busy. I’ll take my leave then.”
“Please go safely.”
Only after Warrior Jin Yeong disappeared into the distance did I ask Escort Guard Jin Yu,
“What is it?”
“That man Chu Il-gong has ordered a hit on Poet Song Rok.”
“Haah…”
He really never runs out of tricks.
–TL Notes–
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