Chapter 17:
Unjongga (3)
“A spy? What are you talking about…!”
Ji-yeong started to protest loudly but quickly clapped both hands over her mouth.
Spy.
It was a word that could cause no end of trouble if overheard. Keeping quiet was the priority.
“I heard you were found just a few days ago, washed up on the banks of the Mapo ferry landing outside the capital. No one has seen or heard of you before that. It’s as if you fell from the sky, isn’t it? But surely that can’t be the case.”
The man in the navy-blue robe had clearly done some digging into Ji-yeong’s background.
“Well, it’s… kind of complicated. I was on my way to the airport in Paris when I got into a traffic accident…”
Ji-yeong tried to explain but stopped herself, clamping her mouth shut.
As she recalled the process of arriving in this world, she realized she had no confidence in explaining it in a way that would make sense.
How could she explain something to others when she herself didn’t fully understand it?
As Ji-yeong faltered, unable to finish her explanation, the man in the navy-blue robe continued.
“Strange attire, odd speech, someone who seems to speak our language but whose origins are unknown to all…”
“…”
“You caught the eye of Im Sung-jae, the royal envoy from Gyeonggi, and entered the palace. In just a few days, you captivated His Majesty with your peculiar dishes.”
“…”
“No matter how you look at it, there’s more than one suspicious thing about you, isn’t there?”
“Suspicious? I don’t even know what’s going on myself!”
“Did Im Sung-jae tell you to say that?”
The man in the navy-blue robe seemed convinced that Ji-yeong was Im Sung-jae’s pawn.
In a way, he wasn’t entirely wrong.
After all, Ji-yeong’s presence in the palace, specifically in the royal kitchen, was entirely due to Im Sung-jae’s machinations.
And in return, Ji-yeong was using him to find the book called Mangunrok.
It was a transactional relationship.
As long as this transaction held, she couldn’t entirely deny being seen as Im Sung-jae’s agent.
“Think what you want. I’m just trying to get back to where I came from.”
“So, Im Sung-jae is indeed behind you.”
The man in the navy-blue robe nodded with an air of arrogance.
In that moment, a surge of irritation welled up in Ji-yeong, and she blurted out something she’d been wondering about silently.
“And what about you? Who’s behind you?”
“What?”
“You’re from the Naegeumwi, aren’t you? Someone tasked with guarding the palace wouldn’t just follow us to the marketplace out of boredom to whisper secrets.”
Caught off guard by Ji-yeong’s direct question, a flicker of unease crossed the man’s face.
Seizing the moment, Ji-yeong pressed further.
“Why don’t you tell me who you’re working for? One of the old men in the palace? Or maybe that fox, Jang Nok-su?”
The man let out a light sigh and shook his head.
“Hah… I knew you were some strange woman from who-knows-where, but I didn’t expect you to be this ill-mannered. You don’t seem to have learned much of anything…”
“What did you just say?”
“Even if you’re rude and uneducated, you can at least read the vernacular script, can’t you?”
“Who’s being rude here…?”
“If you don’t know it, you’d better learn quickly. It’s a script you can master in half a day…”
“What’s with this nonsense all of a sudden?!”
Before she could finish, the man in the navy-blue robe grabbed her hand.
“What the—!”
As Ji-yeong started to shout, she felt something in her palm.
The man had slipped her a small scroll discreetly.
“It contains something you’ll need, so open it carefully. It’s written in the vernacular script, so you should be able to read it easily.”
“…The vernacular script? I heard His Majesty banned it…”
Muttering to herself in shock at the sudden turn of events, Ji-yeong was met with an even more surprising statement.
“Do you really think His Majesty would punish the Queen for something like that? If you want to stay alive, you’d better memorize the contents of that message.”
“The Queen!”
Stunned by the unexpected word, Ji-yeong couldn’t speak further.
“The Queen, as in the king’s wife… She sent me a message? But why…?”
As Ji-yeong tried to process this in her mind, a practical voice suddenly broke through.
“You begged to come along to the market, and now you’re just standing there daydreaming?”
It was Eunuch Yun, who had been checking goods from a distance.
Snapping back to reality, Ji-yeong looked around and realized the man in the navy-blue robe had vanished.
…
“Cinnamon, one doe; cloves, one doe; turmeric, three doe; pepper, one mal; sugar, two mal…”
As Eunuch Yun read off the items listed in the ledger, workers opened crates to verify the condition and quantity of the goods.
If spoiled or tainted ingredients ever made it to the royal table, everyone from the chefs to the doseolli and the Saongwon officials would be in grave danger.
Eunuch Yun meticulously inspected the cinnamon and cloves, sniffing their aroma and checking their color.
These spices, produced in places like Annam and Sumatra, were rare commodities circulated in tiny quantities.
In Joseon, their unique flavors seemed to be regarded as luxurious indulgences.
“But these are the very things that would change the course of the global economy…”
In an era without refrigerators, spices weren’t just for enhancing flavor.
They played a critical role in preventing food spoilage, extending preservation, and held immense value, shaking the global economy of the time.
“Columbus discovered the New World just a decade or so before now… All to find new routes for spices like pepper.”
Ji-yeong recalled facts from world history textbooks, common knowledge to modern people.
As everyone knows, the discovery of the Americas completely transformed the course of world history.
But here in Joseon’s market, even circulating small amounts of spices seemed far from easy.
The Ming Dynasty’s “haijin policy,” banning maritime trade, dominated East Asia.
Ironically, it was this very policy that made smuggling a highly profitable trade.
“Maybe that’s why the king loves exotic delicacies from far-off lands.”
Ji-yeong thought of her childhood.
On days when her busy father left her alone at home, the empty house’s TV would show unfamiliar, exotic scenes from foreign lands.
Perhaps her decision to study cooking in faraway France was influenced by those childhood memories lingering in her subconscious.
Suddenly, Ji-yeong wondered if Yeonsangun might be similar to her in some way.
“Maybe he’s a pitiable person… Yeonsangun.”
The thought startled her, and she shook her head vigorously, as if burned.
“Have I gone mad? Feeling sorry for a psychopath like him…?”
The most pitiable person right now was Ji-yeong herself.
Crash-landed in the Joseon era, dragged into the palace, serving a deranged king, and at risk of losing her life without anyone noticing.
And it wasn’t just the king she had to watch out for.
Why were there so many unhinged people around her?
Im Sung-jae, Jang Nok-su, Sung Hee-an, not to mention the suspicious masked clowns and the man in the navy-blue robe…
Then, she remembered the small scroll in her hand.
The secret message the man had passed her, supposedly from the Queen.
If it was delivered outside the palace through the Naegeumwi, it must be something others weren’t meant to see.
Ji-yeong glanced around, then quickly opened her pocket and unfurled the scroll.
The neat, old Hangul script caught her eye.
After reading it several times to confirm its contents, she felt a presence and hurriedly crumpled the paper, hiding it in her clothes.
Just then, the door to the doga opened, and Eunuch Yun stepped out, having finished his business.
“All the goods have been checked. But it seems the quantity is a bit less for the same price this time.”
“Goodness, don’t get me started. Getting even this much is like plucking stars from the sky. They say smugglers from Zhejiang have been colluding with Japanese pirates, making the sea routes treacherous. Only someone like me could manage to procure this; anyone else wouldn’t stand a chance.”
“Well, without you, head merchant, the royal kitchen would have to shut its doors. Please take care of us next time, too.”
Flattering the boastful head merchant, Eunuch Yun directed the naenobi to pack the goods.
There wasn’t much time left to prepare the evening royal meal.
He needed to hurry the palace servants back to the royal kitchen.
…
“A disaster has occurred.”
As soon as Ji-yeong’s group returned to the royal kitchen, a palace maid rushed in, her face distraught.
“What’s the matter?” Ji-yeong asked.
“A command came from Lady Sukyong at Gangnyeongjeon…”
“And…?”
“His Majesty says he has no appetite for a full meal today and has no desire for the evening table. Instead, he commands that snacks to whet his appetite be served.”
At those words, a loud sigh came from Chef Jeon’s direction.
“Hah… His Majesty… It would be easier if he just demanded rare delicacies…”
“Wouldn’t serving snacks be simpler?” Ji-yeong asked.
Chef Jeon shook his head. “No. When His Majesty requests special dishes instead of a proper meal, it means his mood is foul. You have no idea how hard it is to please his palate in such a state. Tell me, what is His Majesty’s mood like right now?”
At Chef Jeon’s question, the palace maid cautiously responded, glancing around. “He seems quite displeased. Just earlier, there was a commotion in Sajeongjeon, and His Majesty left the yundae (official report session) without a word.”
Murmurs of unease rippled through the royal kitchen’s chefs.
They all knew too well that serving a poorly received meal in such a situation could spell disaster for the entire kitchen.
“For now, prepare rice syrup, honey, ginger juice, and cinnamon powder. We’ll make yumilgwa and gangjeong,” Chef Jeon instructed.
“But last time we served yumilgwa as a snack, His Majesty kicked over the table, saying it was tiresome,” the palace maid said, her face growing more distressed.
Meanwhile, Ji-yeong, listening to all this, was deep in thought.
She had started as a patissier in a small Parisian restaurant.
She knew better than anyone that nothing lifted a sour mood like a sweet dessert.
Already, her mind was buzzing with countless recipes for lavish, sweet treats.
The problem was that most ingredients common in the modern era were hard to come by here.
She’d have to make do with whatever substitutes she could find.
“Chef Jeon, can you prepare some wheat flour, sugar, and barley grains?”
“We can get them, but what do you plan to do with those? Barley, of all things, in the royal kitchen? That’s something peasants eat during famine to stave off hunger…”
“Just prepare whatever you can, even if it’s not much. Please. And could we get some more milk—tarak, I mean?”
Ji-yeong’s eyes sparkled as she made her request, and Chef Jeon, without probing further, issued a few orders to the junior chefs.
“Wheat flour and sugar are rare, so we don’t have much, but we can bring enough for immediate use.”
This was the Joseon era.
The types of ingredients available were absurdly limited.
But sitting idly could cost her her life.
She had no choice but to make something out of whatever ingredients she could get.
“But what exactly are you planning to make?” Chef Jeon asked.
“…Something that can lift His Majesty’s spirits. I think I can do it.”
Beyond Chef Jeon’s puzzled expression, Ji-yeong’s eyes gleamed with determination.
