(Chapter 6) 4. You Will Become My Comrade (2)
The broom I had thrust in reverse struck the beggar squarely in the solar plexus.
To be fair, it would be more accurate to say that the beggar's abs hit the tip of my broom.
The law of action and reaction is merciless. I was grateful that it was the broom that broke, not my arm, and I toppled backward.
It was a moment of ultimate crisis, yet my status screen showed no change whatsoever.
From that, I could instinctively understand the cold truth: I was by no means a beneficiary of luck. Those guys would collect their due, meticulously, even if I truly died—they wouldn't save me or grant me a chance.
I have to run.
Just as I had prepared the ground during the face-off ceremony, I widened my eyes in surprise.
The earth's strongest beggar was sprawled on the ground, bent in agony, groaning.
Even until I brushed off the dirt and got up, he could not straighten his body. As I was puzzling over how this had happened, Jangbok ran up.
"This guy only trusted the young master! You lot, the young master has already overpowered the thief with his extraordinary martial skill, and what are you doing? Bind him up and throw him in the granary. After thoroughly beating him, you'd better hand him over to the magistrate!"
I struck Jangbok on the head—he had almost killed his master—and then overturned his reckless orders.
"No, cook him a proper meal first. And bring new clothes as well."
"Eh?"
"Wasn't it you who unnecessarily bullied someone who hadn't harmed anyone from the start? Before the household is shamed for being petty and ungenerous, hurry and follow my orders."
All the household staff praised my generosity as much as my martial skill. Jangbok scratched his bruised head, but he had no words to argue back.
It seemed my guess about the beggar's condition was correct.
He had suffered acute stomach cramps from sudden stress after long-term starvation.
Those who knew would understand: such pain is unbearable even for a grown man. Of course, everyone believed I had struck the beggar's acupoint with a broom, so let them think so.
I was careful in dealing with him.
Feeding someone who had long been starving, a lot of food or meat at once, could be fatal.
Thus, I slowly woke his insides with gruel and then replenished his nutrients. That was why I had asked for porridge, not rice.
Fortunately, his body was naturally robust, and he regained his strength in a single day.
He recovered so fully that Jangbok grumbled. The household's stores weren't particularly rich, yet an outsider seemed ready to consume them all.
But I was pleased.
"That guy really eats like his size suggests."
Sitting on the porch, the beggar scooped rice into his mouth as if he had never seen a spoon. With only soy sauce and pickled radish as side dishes, he still ate as if savoring a feast—he would make a huge hit if he did a mukbang on YouTube in the 21st century.
Once bathed—Jangbok complained about using hot water on a beggar, only to be scolded again—it was clear he wasn't all that old. Maybe a few years older than me at most.
The reason it's an estimate is that the beggar didn't speak about himself. And it wasn't due to secrecy, but rather…
"Th-thank you! Thank you!"
It seemed he had barely learned to speak.
Probably, he had been separated from his parents as an infant and had no one to care for him. Later, in true Joseon fashion, he may have been sold or picked up and forced to work all day, stunting his intellectual development.
But fortunately, unlike in modern Korea, the minimum intelligence needed here was quite low.
With that strength, he could batter anyone, yet he knew how to show gratitude for food and read the room. That was all the intellect required here. He even understood when I asked his name.
"I am Geoji."
"No, I know you are a beggar. What is your actual name?"
He thought deeply, then said:
"Geoji. Geo-uh-ji (去於之)."
"You're really named Geoji?"
I nodded without laughing. Among Joseon's lower class, many had such names—what people called them became their official name.
Wait…
A memory from about twenty years ago naturally came to my mind, carried with Kim Unhaeng's consciousness.
In the past, a palace maid named Sunjeong had ground human and fox bones to curse Crown Prince Hyojang (Yi Haeng) and Princess Hwasun during King Yeongjo's reign. She had also attempted poisoning.
The incident was discovered in Yeongjo 6 (1730).
When the culprit was revealed, it was treated as the act of a spiteful palace maid, and all involved were executed.
Records show the victims were mostly commoners. Yeongjo wished to avoid escalating the matter into the noble court.
Whether it was truly a curse or not, the crown prince died, and the princess suffered rashes and bleeding.
Even Kim Unhaeng, a scholar, knew that the public suspected this curse was orchestrated by remnants of the Soron faction after Yi In-jwa's Rebellion.
Among the palace records, there was a known intermediary, someone shuttling between the supplier of the killing tools and the executor. That person's name was Geo-uh-ji.
Of course, that Geo-uh-ji had been executed. The Geo-uh-ji before me could not be the same person.
But what if the executed Geo-uh-ji had children?
Perhaps a young child was whisked away before the parent died, remembering only the father's name, growing up half-taught and half-feral.
If this beggar inherited his size from his father, the original Geo-uh-ji would have been a formidable man desired by any rebel.
If the Geo-uh-ji from the curse incident had survived Yi In-jwa's Rebellion and helped with assassinations out of vengeance before dying, then…
It was baseless speculation, but it made me tense.
Treason could be charged merely on imagination. If anyone could imagine the same, they could seize upon it.
And once accused, it was over.
Even without proof, in Joseon, a cane could serve as a lawyer—the evidence came from the beatings themselves.
But I needed Geo-uh-ji. Such low-probability risks couldn't make me miss such a talent.
I made a decision.
After reporting to my parents and sending a letter to my elder brother (the frustration of the powerless youngest child), I brought Geo-uh-ji before the household staff and said:
"It is awkward to call a normal person 'beggar,' so I will drop the first character. From now on, you are Eoji (於之). I won't ask where you came from; just eat the food I provide."
The regular staff led by Jangbok strongly resisted this parachute appointment.
"What if trouble arises with a stranger whose background is unknown?"
"He's probably a runaway thief!"
"He even eats three portions at once; he'll empty the granary overnight!"
But I was firm. As long as my father permitted, I held the hiring authority.
"Since General Jang (who suppressed Seoul's thieves during Yeongjo's early reign) passed away, thugs and killers are appearing again. With Eoji, no reckless scoundrel will dare wander freely. Don't you know Confucius said, 'Since I got Zilu, I never heard slanderous words [自吾得由 惡言不聞於耳, ≪Records of the Grand Historian≫]'?"
The staff didn't understand. I rephrased to clarify:
"Stop foolish complaints. All of you must warmly welcome Eoji. From my youth, I studied the I Ching, and when I cast a hexagram that day, it indicated that a visitor at the gate was a noble helper. Rejecting him would bring misfortune. A person is needed anyway, so why resist?"
The staff reluctantly dispersed.
Even after, there were petty rumors and checks resembling court factional disputes—claims that Eoji harassed female servants or stole food. People made up stories, but I steadfastly defended him.
"Eoji, none of this concerns you, right?"
"Yes."
"Good, let's work hard."
And that was that.
If any of it were true, what of it? The other servants did such things routinely. Crime isn't punished because of guilt, but because it is convenient to punish. I did not wish to punish Eoji.
Not just for my plan—he was useful. His size alone deterred trouble, and he handled anything I tasked him with.
Even farming—our household didn't have enough oxen—Eoji plowed the fields as deeply as oxen could.
He was slow, but that meant he didn't slack off or cut corners. Even Jangbok eventually acknowledged him.
Meanwhile, I had little expectation of Park Jiwon.
Park Pilgyun sending someone was already helpful; he didn't know me personally. I had no intention of learning past exam answers from that teacher.
So when a young man, probably no older than me, was sent as Park Pilgyun's guest, I was not disappointed.
But that was my mistake. Joseon people were cleverer than me.
His name was Go Bonghwan (高鳳煥). Upon entering, he first assessed Eoji.
Anyone seeing such a strong man would look, and I had barely glanced myself.
Yet as we began proper introductions and conversation, Go Bonghwan spoke of Eoji first.
"I received a hint from the Commissioner. Coming to Kim Gong's household, I see that indeed, such a vanguard [선접군] is unprecedented. Your elder brother has resolved to advance his family through success in the past exam."
I was startled. This young man had perceived something even my father hadn't.
He was right.
Eoji had been hired to act as the vanguard in the civil service exams. Of course, he was capable as a servant, but that was his primary role.
The most crucial preparation for the exams was not bribery or connections. The first priority was the front row.
Thousands of candidates, only those at the very front could have a chance to succeed. Failing to secure a front position meant failing before even seeing the exam questions.
This was far beyond lining up for a modern concert or event.
Bones broke, flesh tore, people died by the dozens. The court discussed it, yet no measures existed.
Hence, candidates often hired strong men to clear their path, beating and trampling anyone in the way.
These men received either payment or exam answer copies. Some sought the latter for fame. In rare cases, the vanguard succeeded alongside the candidate.
By this time, professional mercenaries had emerged, gathering across the provinces during the exam season.
But hiring such men was tricky. Non-candidates entering was technically illegal. Even if unchecked, anyone could object and create trouble.
I lacked both connections and money.
Hence, I made Eoji part of our household. After all, vanguards originally came from household servants. Tradition restored.
Go Bonghwan immediately discerned my intention.
With subtle hints of "the Commissioner knows," he conveyed that Park Pilgyun was aware too. A sitting commissioner would, of course, know the exam procedures.
I calmed myself. No rushing. One more thing to confirm.
Like Go Bonghwan, I spoke indirectly:
"I humbly asked the Commissioner, risking shame, to dedicate myself to scholarship. I hope the young master was not displeased."
"Do not worry. The Commissioner was pleased with your zeal, and despite his busy schedule, he personally designated me."
Excellent. Park Pilgyun would support me. Originally, I had only expected minor influence on grading; now, the benefit was far greater.
Go Bonghwan had not merely come to teach. He came as a geobeok (巨擘), a master, like a modern one-to-one tutor.
The difference from public exam tutors is that he could even complete exam answers for me. With his scripts copied by a skilled hand, I could complete the exam effortlessly. With my 'Han Seok-bong handwriting' skill, I needed no copier at all.
I had intended to hire a tutor myself, but fate brought Go Bonghwan.
He confirmed it by presenting several small booklets:
"These summarize references from ancient classics through the Twenty-Four Histories to modern writings, to aid with exam questions."
Glancing through them, I was impressed.
"Truly incomparable to street-published texts!"
Such guides existed since the start of the civil service exams, and this was their peak.
Yet Go Bonghwan's summaries were more detailed and neatly organized, linking topics to current policies. A perfect master tutor.
I rose and bowed, proposing subtly that he become my geobeok. Go Bonghwan, in true Joseon fashion, readily agreed.
"Seeing at a glance, I can tell your family's noble tradition is not ashamed of past officials. I shall dedicate my modest skills wholeheartedly."
Even without long friendship, true gentlemen can become lifelong friends in an instant. How beautiful it is to make friends through writing.
We shared a toast as young scholars tasked with shaping Joseon's future.
Our raid party was taking shape, ready to seize the civil service exam's monster throat.