ERDIKG 11

Chapter 11

Spring 1861, Tavern near Mapo Ferry, Hanseong

My servant Gaksim had changed my appearance. I was dressed like an ordinary child from a jungjungin family, wearing cotton clothes instead of silk and an ordinary tanggeon instead of a manggeon.

My household servant Maksoe followed behind me.

The tavern was bustling. Porters and boatmen were drinking, while a group of itinerant merchants had occupied one corner, eating with their bundles of goods set down beside them.

I sat down next to them and gave Maksoe a signal with my eyes.

Maksoe ordered drinks and side dishes from the tavern keeper.

Then he casually approached the group of itinerant merchants and quietly handed them something.

A short while later, an older man among them looked at me.

He was around forty, with a dark complexion and deep-set eyes.

He was Park Mandeuk.

Park Mandeuk got up from his seat and sat down beside me.

“Were you looking for me?”

“Yes. Please, sit down.”

Park Mandeuk looked me up and down. I was only fourteen years old, but even in cotton clothes, my hands were pale. They were the hands of someone who had never worked, and there was something different about my eyes.

“You’re not a messenger, are you?”

“I came here myself.”

“Where are you from?”

“I’ll tell you that later. There is something I want to ask you first.”

Park Mandeuk crossed his arms. He was clearly wary, but he didn’t leave.

“I heard that the itinerant merchant groups travel all across the eight provinces of Joseon.”

“That is correct.”

“How far can you reach within a month?”

Park Mandeuk thought for a moment.

“The faster groups can reach Gyeonggi, Chungcheong, and Jeolla Provinces within a month. Pyongan Province takes two months.”

“Can you receive goods in one town and deliver them to another?”

“That is our job.”

Park Mandeuk lifted his teacup and took a sip.

“I don’t have anything to ask of you right now. However, I think I may have some work for you in the future. When that time comes, would you be willing to accept it?”

Park Mandeuk looked at me.

“That depends on what kind of goods they are.”

“They may not always be official goods.”

Park Mandeuk’s eyes narrowed.

“What is the payment?”

“I’ll make sure your entire group can freely enter and leave the markets and ferry ports of Hanseong. Without having to pay bribes.”

Park Mandeuk was silent for a moment.

The fees for entering the markets and ferry ports of Hanseong were among the biggest expenses for itinerant merchants. If this group could move freely, that alone would be a considerable benefit.

“How can you guarantee us access to the markets and ferry ports of Hanseong?”

“They’re already all within my control.”

Park Mandeuk’s eyes changed.

He was recalculating who this child actually was.

“What is your name?”

“You’ll find out later.”

I raised my cup.

“For today, I’ll simply get to know your face and leave.”

Park Mandeuk slowly nodded.

“Come see me again next time.”

I stood up.

Park Mandeuk hadn’t accepted my offer outright, but he hadn’t refused either. He had left the door open for the future, and that was enough.

‘Now, the whole of Joseon is beginning to come into view.’

Spring 1861, Study of Heungseon-gun Yi Ha-eung’s Residence in Hanseong

I sent Gaksim and Maksoe out and sat alone in the study.

It was about the Minié rifle.

Designed in 1849 by French Army Captain Claude Minié, the rifle used conical bullets, giving it vastly superior range and accuracy compared to the matchlocks currently in use. Its effectiveness had already been proven during the Crimean War.

It could accurately hit a person at a range of 300 meters, whereas Joseon’s matchlocks often missed even at 50 meters.

The structure remained vivid in my memories as a modern man.

The barrel, sights, trigger, firing mechanism, and stock.

The basic structure I had learned during my military service, along with information I had looked up countless times in my previous life, unfolded clearly in my mind.

The design itself was already in my head.

The problem was the materials.

Obtaining iron suitable for making a gun barrel in Joseon wasn’t simply a matter of money. There was no one in Joseon capable of producing Western-style rifling.

That was why I needed a priest.

Before the Byeongin Persecution, the French missionaries who had entered Joseon weren’t engineers, but they were people who had experienced Western civilization firsthand. Some of those missionaries had brought Western technical books with them.

Before I could make a gun, I needed books and blueprints.

And somewhere in Joseon, there were people who possessed those books and blueprints—the Catholic priests who had survived the Gihae Persecution.

‘A single modern rifle could take on a hundred Joseon soldiers. With a hundred rifles, the situation would be completely different. I need to find a priest quickly.’

Later that night, Servants’ Quarters of Heungseon-gun Yi Ha-eung’s Residence in Hanseong

Household servant Gangsoe was still awake when I entered, and he started to get up.

“Sit.”

Gangsoe sat back down, and I took a seat across from him.

“I have something to ask of you.”

“Please, give me your orders.”

“Find a Catholic priest.”

Gangsoe’s eyes hardened for a moment.

Since the Gihae Persecution, Catholicism had been considered a treasonous religion in Joseon. Believers were executed when caught, and priests were treated even more severely.

“What do you intend to use a Catholic priest for?”

“You’ll find that out later. For now, finding one comes first.”

“What should I do once I find him?”

“Don’t hurt him. Bring him here. Quietly.”

Gangsoe remained silent for a moment.

This was on an entirely different level from subduing thugs. He was being asked to bring back someone the government was desperately trying to capture. If they were discovered, the entire residence would be in danger.

“Where should I look?”

“There’s a rumor that one is hiding in the mountains of Gyeonggi Province. Ask Gaksim. She knows better where the Catholics gather.”

“Does Gaksim know even that?”

“You still don’t know how far Gaksim’s connections reach?”

Gangsoe closed his mouth.

I looked at him for a moment before continuing.

“Don’t get caught. You absolutely cannot expose this to the local authorities.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“You don’t need to rush. But don’t forget.”

Gangsoe nodded.

I left the servants’ quarters.

The reason I needed a Catholic priest wasn’t just because of the rifle blueprints.

I needed someone who personally understood Western civilization and could speak Western languages. Later, when we had to face the Western powers, such a person would be able to serve as an interpreter and intermediary.

Even though Joseon had closed its doors, the West was already standing right outside them.

‘How long can a closed door hold? I’ll be the one to open it first.’

Spring 1861, Inner Quarters of Heungseon-gun Yi Ha-eung’s Residence in Hanseong

Gaksim came in immediately after the evening meal had been cleared away.

“Your Highness, I’ve found him.”

I put down my book.

“Sit and tell me.”

Gaksim sat down.

She lowered her voice.

“It is in the mountains near Gwangju, Gyeonggi Province. There is a village where Catholics live, located on a mountain slope about three days away toward Yeoju. A Western priest is hiding there. He has been there for a long time. They say it has been at least ten years.”

I nodded.

“How did you find out?”

“A woman from the cloth shop is from that village. She’s a Catholic. I’ve been working on her for over a month.”

A look of pride flickered in Gaksim’s eyes.

“Well done. Don’t approach that woman again. From here on, Gangsoe will handle it.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Did you find out the priest’s name?”

“They call him Father Dubois. They say he’s a Westerner, but he speaks Joseon language like a native.”

After hiding for ten years, that was only natural.

In fact, it was better that way. I needed someone I could communicate with if I wanted to make a deal.

“Gaksim, one more thing.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Through that woman, send a message to the priest beforehand. Tell him that someone from Heungseon-gun Yi Ha-eung’s residence will be coming. Tell him we’re not coming to harm him.”

“Understood, Your Highness.”

I sent Gaksim away and gave Gangsoe his instructions.

“Leave within three days.”

Spring 1861, Mountain Foothills of Gwangju, Gyeonggi Province

Gangsoe and Maksoe walked for two days.

The steep mountain trail was a mixture of paths used by animals and paths used by people.

The village was tucked deep into the mountains. A dozen or so thatched houses were clustered together, and the fields were small.

The villagers looked at Gangsoe with eyes full of suspicion.

Gangsoe stopped.

“I am looking for Father Dubois.”

No one answered.

“I didn’t come to harm him. I have a message to deliver.”

After a long while, a door opened at a thatched house at the edge of the village.

An elderly Joseon woman came out.

“Who are you?”

“We came from Hanyang. We have come to see Father Dubois.”

“The priest isn’t here.”

It was a lie.

On his way into the village, Gangsoe had seen smoke rising from the chimney of that very house.

Gangsoe took a piece of paper from inside his clothes.

Written on it was a single line:

[We have come from the residence of Heungseon-gun Yi Ha-eung.]

The woman stared at the paper, and her eyes wavered.

It was thanks to Gaksim having sent word in advance.

“Wait a moment.”

The woman went inside.

After quite some time, the door opened again.

But it wasn’t the woman who came out.

He was tall and dressed in a hanbok. His beard was long, and his hair was tied into a topknot.

But his eyes were different.

They were blue.

Gangsoe froze for a moment.

The blue-eyed man looked at him.

“You said you came from Heungseon-gun Yi Ha-eung’s residence?”

He spoke in Joseon language.

There was no accent.

It was perfect Joseon language.

“Yes.”

“Do you know Lord Wan-eun?”

“I serve him.”

The blue eyes swept over Gangsoe from head to toe.

“Come inside.”

Spring 1861, Mountain Foothills of Gwangju, Gyeonggi Province

I arrived two days after Gangsoe returned.

Gaksim had changed my appearance. I wore a cotton dopo and an ordinary gat, dressed in a way that gave no indication that I was Lord Wan-eun.

Maksoe led the way, while Gangsoe followed behind.

We walked through the mountains for two days.

The woman was waiting at the entrance to the village. She looked me up and down before leading me inside.

The thatched house was narrow, and something was hanging on the wall.

It was a painting on hanji, a folk painting made with a thin brush. It depicted a tiger sitting with a tobacco pipe in its mouth.

In the corner lay a fragment of pottery—a white porcelain piece with a broken rim.

Father Dubois of the Paris Foreign Missions Society was sitting inside.

Blue eyes. A hanbok. A long beard.

His gaze was calm as he looked at me.

“Young master, I see.”

He spoke in Joseon language.

Joseon language without even the slightest accent.

“Are you Father Dubois?”

“That is correct.”

I sat down across from him.

Father Dubois looked at me.

He was surely already calculating what it meant that the name of Heungseon-gun Yi Ha-eung had opened his door.

“What brings you here?”

I answered immediately.

“I have a proposal for you, Father.”