Chapter 3: Entertaining Guests (1)
Two men on horseback rode toward Donuimun, the western gate of Hanyang’s fortress walls. Their silk robes shimmered with vibrant hues, their hat strings adorned with jade beads—an ostentatious display of high status. The armored guards at the gate recognized them at a glance and bowed deeply, as if their spines might snap.
“His Majesty’s worries seem to grow by the day,” the older man muttered to himself, urging his horse forward.
The younger man trailing behind responded, “Is it not because disloyal subjects hide their true intentions, harboring duplicity?”
“A rotten fruit must be plucked swiftly, lest it spoils the rest,” the older man said cryptically.
As if he’d been waiting for those words, the younger man’s lips curled into a subtle smirk. “I’ve heard that hosting guests is the foundation of a nobleman’s duty. Is not attending court or receiving foreign envoys much the same as hosting? If so, there may well be ways to sift out those whose character falls short of a true noble’s standards.”
“Ha, well said!” the older man, Im Sahong, Minister of Works, stroked his beard and laughed heartily. His eyes, however, glinted like a raptor eyeing prey. “Now I’m all the more curious to see how our esteemed Gyeonggi Governor Hong will fare in hosting us.”
“Indeed,” replied Im Sungjae, the Chief Royal Secretary trailing him, his own gaze flickering with a strange intensity.
“Disaster, my lord!”
A servant girl from the Gyeonggi governor’s office dashed across the courtyard toward the men’s quarters, her voice urgent. “My lord, we’re in trouble!”
“What’s happened?” Hong Eonguk emerged, half-opening the sliding door, his upper body visible. He was in the midst of dressing formally for the imminent arrival of distinguished guests.
“It’s… it’s the kitchen, my lord. Something’s gone wrong…”
“What do you mean, ‘gone wrong’?” he demanded.
The girl hesitated, reluctant to speak, then forced the words out. “Since this morning, the cooks and kitchen maids have vanished.”
Before she could finish, Hong Eonguk flung the door open and stormed out in his stocking feet, his hat askew. That was the least of his concerns. “Vanished? What do you mean, vanished?”
“It’s as I said, my lord,” she stammered.
“Speak plainly! Did they sink into the earth or what?”
The girl, on the verge of tears, continued, “I went to check the kitchen fire this morning, but there was no sign of anyone. When I looked in the servants’ quarters, the cooks and maids had packed their things and fled. It seems they slipped away at dawn…”
Hong Eonguk’s brow furrowed deeply. The guests arriving today were none other than the infamous Im father and son, whose influence was said to make even birds fall from the sky. The father, Im Sahong, was a seasoned powerbroker who had held key positions since the previous king’s reign. His son, Im Sungjae, was married to Princess Hwisuk, the king’s half-sister, making him practically royalty—the king’s brother-in-law, no less. Sungjae was also known to be a childhood friend of the notoriously volatile king. The number of households ruined by their schemes was no small tally.
Their particular obsession was the art of hospitality, especially the meals served to guests. No matter how meticulously prepared the table, they always found fault. Once they seized on a flaw, one either paid a hefty bribe to appease them or faced demotion, interrogation, or worse.
The cooks and maids must have fled in terror at the thought of serving such ruthless men…
Hong Eonguk’s face darkened with a scowl. The servant girl ventured cautiously, “What should we do, my lord?”
After a moment of thought, a spark of an idea lit his eyes. He called out, “Deokchul! Where’s Deokchul?”
“Here, my lord!” Deokchul, the head servant, hurried over.
“What were the charges against the prisoners brought in the other day?” Eonguk asked, pointing toward the far end of the compound.
“The other day, my lord?” Deokchul hesitated, then realized. “Oh, you mean those scoundrels caught at Baekun Valley in Pocheon?”
“Were they running a food stall?”
“Aye, what else would they sell out there? Moonshine, meat, the lot. And get this—their food was a scam. They passed off dog meat as black goat, claiming it was good for your health…”
The old trick of yangdugoyuk—selling dog meat as pricier goat, a swindle dating back to the Spring and Autumn period. The meat, once boiled, was hard to distinguish, allowing them to charge exorbitant prices. But Hong Eonguk seemed to latch onto something else in Deokchul’s words.
“Go to the duty officer and quietly order those prisoners released from the cells,” he instructed.
“Pardon, my lord?” Deokchul blinked, confused.
“Remove their shackles and send them to the kitchen. I’ll handle the rest.”
“But… what are you planning, my lord?”
“Move, now! There’s no time!”
“But, my lord, releasing prisoners without due process violates the law! If the governor hears of this, it’ll be more than a reprimand!”
Hong Eonguk’s eyes flashed with impatience. “You fool! The Im duo will be here any moment—do you expect me to sit idly by? Do you want to see this entire office thrown into chaos? Move!”
“Y-yes, my lord!” Cowed by Eonguk’s ferocity, Deokchul scrambled toward the cells.
The morning buzzed with a restless energy.
Jiyeong, unaccustomed to sleeping on a straw pile, had barely closed her eyes all night. She slowly sat up, wincing as a sharp crack sounded from her lower back, pain shooting through her.
Ugh!
The hulking man beside her, sprawled out with his legs splayed, was hogging most of the space—likely a cattle thief, she guessed. “Excuse me, sir, could you move over a bit? It’s cramped enough as it is, and you’re taking up all the room…”
Her cautious request was met with a snarl. “What’s this nonsense? Starting the morning with bad luck, eh?”
“…What did you say?” Jiyeong’s temper flared. Her mind was already a storm of confusion, and now this man was picking a fight? “Listen, mister, just because I’m staying quiet doesn’t mean I’m a pushover. You think I don’t have a temper? I’m about to lose it!”
“You little wretch, looking to get yourself killed?” The burly man raised his shackled hand threateningly, but Jiyeong didn’t flinch.
“Oh, what, you’re going to hit me? A criminal adding to his crimes? Shall I call the guards?” she shot back.
His face flushed red, contorting with rage, but before he could retort, another voice piped up from the corner. “Aigoo, sorry about that! My brother’s got a lot of pent-up anger. Let’s all get along, eh?”
A small, wiry man with a rat-like mustache, barely visible behind the larger figure, stepped forward with a placating grin. “Pardon the late introduction—I’m Bong Seondal, a wanderer of the eight provinces. But, miss, you said something a bit harsh just now. ‘Caught for crimes,’ you say? We’ve done no wrong. Just a little… misunderstanding in our business dealings, that’s all.”
“Oh, sure… whatever you say.”
Jiyeong couldn’t help but think how swindlers, whether centuries ago or in her own time, always seemed to share the same tired playbook. She was about to brush it off when the man who introduced himself as Bong Seondal fixed her with a curious gaze.
“I heard you appeared out of nowhere by the river near Mapo Port. Is that true? They’re calling you a ghost woman…”
It seemed the rumors had already reached this quick-witted man’s ears.
“And?” Jiyeong replied, her tone guarded.
“If it’s true, you must have some remarkable talent, no? I once heard a strange tale myself…”
Before Bong Seondal could finish, the sound of guards rushing toward the cell interrupted him. “Move it, now! Get out here!”
With a clank of locks, the cell door swung open. Guards in black jackets began dragging the prisoners out.
“What’s going on?”
“Where are you taking us? At least explain!”
The rough handling didn’t bode well, and the prisoners, gripped by fear, resisted. But the guards, wielding batons, beat them into submission, hauling them out without mercy.
Soon, Jiyeong was left alone in the cell, catching the eye of the head jailer. “What’s this? Is she one of them?”
“No, I’m not—” Jiyeong began to protest, but a sly voice cut her off.
“Oh, absolutely!” It was Bong Seondal.
“…?”
“This woman,” he continued with a grin, “she’s our leader, you see. The real brains of the operation.”
“What?” Jiyeong’s eyes widened in disbelief.
“You’re coming with us, boss,” Bong Seondal said with a wink.
Before she could argue, the jailer’s rough hand seized her arm, yanking her out. The prisoners, now bound together like dried fish on a string, were dragged off to some unknown destination. Jiyeong, incredulous, hissed at Bong Seondal as they were pulled along.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Well, let’s just say… sticking close to you feels like the safest bet. Call it a gut feeling,” he replied, his face infuriatingly calm.
His ability to stay composed in a crisis was, if nothing else, impressive. God, what a shameless…! Jiyeong could only shake her head in exasperation.
The prisoners were soon shoved into another place. As Jiyeong stumbled in, a scene both foreign and familiar unfolded before her. A hearth with flames licking out from the firebox, several cauldrons hanging above it, and rows of white porcelain and bronze dishes lined up on shelves.
This is… a real Joseon-era kitchen.
How often had she longed to see such a sight while studying ancient cookbooks? And now, here it was, vivid and tangible before her eyes.
Lost in a brief moment of awe, she was jolted back by a pointed cough. “Ahem.”
She turned to see Hong Eonguk, the official who had brought her to the Gyeonggi governor’s office yesterday, standing there.
“Forgive the abruptness of bringing you here,” he said. “But if you complete this task, I promise to grant you all a special pardon, in recognition of your efforts.”
A murmur rippled through the prisoners.
Pardon.
The word alone was enough to make their ears perk up. But a pardon was no simple matter. What kind of task could warrant such a reward?
Bong Seondal was the first to speak, his eyes narrowing. “What exactly do you want us to do?”
The prisoners’ wary gazes fixed on Hong Eonguk. His next words were utterly unexpected.
“From now on… you will prepare a meal.”
Author’s Note
The lesser villain is Sungjae, the greater villain is Sahong.
Small Im Sungjae, great Im Sahong, the most treacherous fiends of all time.
This is a historical verse describing the notorious Im Sahong and Im Sungjae, as recorded in the annals of the time.
