Chapter 4: An Unlikely Teacher

Moon Hae-min carefully took a step forward.

The closer he approached Song Seol, the more sharply he felt the chill. It was enough to raise goosebumps along his skin, too real to dismiss as mere imagination. Hae-min instinctively hunched his shoulders.

“Take it.”

Song Seol held out a bundle.

On top of neatly folded sheets of paper rested an inkstone, an ink stick, and three brushes.

“…Thank you.”

Moon Hae-min accepted the bundle. From the feel of it, the items seemed to have been prepared beforehand. The steward must have mentioned that he needed writing materials.

It was such a small thing, yet embarrassment suddenly washed over him. It felt as though a weakness had been exposed. Hae-min bowed his head politely.

“I will use them gratefully, Your Highness.”

“Do so.”

Song Seol replied indifferently.

After bowing deeply once more, Moon Hae-min left the reception room.

****

Perhaps he had not realized it before, but he must have truly been bored. Otherwise, why would copying texts feel this enjoyable?

Moon Hae-min copied the entire novel he had borrowed from the bookshop in a single night. Only when dawn broke did he briefly close his eyes for rest, before heading straight back to the shop.

“You finished all this in just one day?”

The shop owner asked with wide eyes. After checking Hae-min’s copied manuscript, he became even more astonished.

“This handwriting is far too good to waste on copying trivial books. Are you perhaps a saengwon¹?”

“I am not.”

“Really? That looks like the handwriting of someone who should be copying classical texts, not cheap novels…”

Moon Hae-min smiled bitterly.

Why would he not wish to copy classical texts? He possessed as much scholarly ambition as any Confucian student. At one time, he had secretly dreamed of passing the state examination and becoming an official.

But as the son of a concubine, Moon Hae-min was not even eligible to take the exam.

The dream he had never properly begun faded away, leaving behind only the skill of writing characters quickly and neatly.

‘Still… I suppose it’s fortunate that I learned even this much.’

He intended to make the most of that skill. Fortunately, the shop owner continued with a kind smile.

“I don’t know where you’re from, but it seems a fine copyist has come to my shop. I’ll pay you well, so why not work together?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Then could you copy three books this time?”

“Of course.”

Hae-min accepted the books the shop owner handed him. At a glance, two were novels, and one was Dongmong Seonseup.

“This book…”

“That one isn’t for sale or rental. I need it personally. It’s for my son to study.”

“Ah, I see.”

Dongmong Seonseup was a primer used by children who had already finished learning the Thousand Character Classic. When he was young, Moon Hae-min had also learned it by peeking over Hee-yul’s shoulder.

“If he’s going to study, he might as well learn from neat handwriting.”

“Please leave it to me.”

The man clearly thought highly of his writing, and Hae-min felt deeply grateful. He left the bookshop in high spirits.

For the first time in a while, motivation surged within him. Whenever someone placed expectations on him, Moon Hae-min felt compelled to meet them. Since the man trusted his abilities and entrusted him with the work, he wanted to repay that trust with a fine result.

Thus, as soon as he returned to his lodgings, Hae-min began working immediately.

He carefully copied the Dongmong Seonseup. His efforts were not wasted, the finished manuscript was so elegant it almost seemed too beautiful to be used as a child’s textbook. Naturally, the shop owner was extremely pleased when he received it.

****

Moon Hae-min’s daily life gradually grew busier.

Copying manuscripts was only the beginning. Before long, he found himself helping the shop owner’s son with his studies. Word spread, and children who wanted to learn to read began gathering around the bookshop.

Hae-min loved children far too much to ignore them. Before he knew it, Moon Hae-min had somehow taken on the role of a teache, a position he had never imagined for himself.

“Hyung, do you know how to read this character?”

“Let’s see. That’s hwang, meaning yellow.”

“No, that’s wrong. It’s nurungji! Burnt rice!”

“Nurungji!”

One child’s joke made the others burst into laughter. Hae-min did not quite understand what was so funny, but seeing the children so cheerful made him laugh as well.

“By the way, is it really alright for you to come here every day? Won’t your mothers and fathers scold you?”

“Scold us? They’re happy we’re not bothering them while they’re working.”

“That’s right!”

“My mother even praised me. She said I’m learning to read for free.”

They were all children of market vendors. Vegetable sellers, sandal makers, midwives, charcoal sellers, their parents’ occupations varied widely.

But they all had one thing in common: none of their families were well off.

When merely surviving was already difficult, there was no money to send children to a proper village school. Yet they still wanted to learn to read.

They reminded Moon Hae-min painfully of his younger self.

Just like him, who had desperately wanted to study but had never been allowed to hold a brush because of Minister Moon’s scolding.

‘If Hee-yul hadn’t helped me, I might have remained illiterate as well.’

Suppressing the tightness in his chest, Hae-min spoke gently.

“Dong-shik, if you learn well, you should teach your younger sibling later. Alright?”

“Yes! I even promised I’d teach my mother someday.”

The boy answered proudly. Hae-min affectionately patted his head.

Just then someone called out to him.

“Hyung Hee-yul!”

Turning around, he saw the bookshop owner’s son. It seemed he had come with a message from his father.

“What is it?”

“Father says to come. Something about the accounts not adding up.”

“Again?”

Hae-min stood up. The children clung to his legs, begging him to stay longer, but it was time to go.

“See you tomorrow.”

“You’ll come tomorrow too?”

“Yes, I will.”

“Really?”

Only after extracting that promise did the children finally let him go. Whether it was their passion for studying or simply their need for someone to play with, he could not tell.

After bidding them farewell, Moon Hae-min headed toward the bookshop.

Recently, he had even begun acting as the shop’s accountant.

The reason was simple: the shop owner was terrible with numbers. He had a talent for business, but when it came to calculations he was hopeless. Even after attracting many customers, he often ended up losing money due to poor accounting.

Unable to watch it any longer, Moon Hae-min had started helping with the calculations, until eventually he was managing the account books entirely.

Although his workload increased, Hae-min did not find it tiring.

He liked his newly busy life. More precisely, it felt as though his days had become richer.

Each day felt fulfilling, and Moon Hae-min savored it to the fullest.

****

One day, while walking toward the bookshop as usual, Moon Hae-min noticed something unusual.

The market was far more crowded than usual.

Namdaemun Market was always busy, but today the crowds were overwhelming.

‘Is something happening?’

From somewhere in the distance came the sound of drums, thud, thud.

Perhaps there was a festival.

Yet the atmosphere felt strange. The people passing by wore stiff expressions, and there was a tense excitement in the air. The entire market seemed to ripple with unrest.

‘What is going on?’

Curious, Hae-min moved toward the center of the commotion. As he pushed through the crowd, the whispers around him reached his ears.

“What did he do to deserve execution?”

“I don’t know all the details, but they say he got caught selling relief grain.”

“Hah, quite a trick. How did he even steal grain from the communal granary?”

“They say he falsified the records.”

Only then did Moon Hae-min realize what was happening.

This was not a festival.

A public execution was about to take place.

‘I came to the wrong place.’

Even if the man was a criminal, Hae-min had no desire to watch someone die.

He quickly turned around, but it was already too late.

The crowd kept pushing forward, making it impossible to leave.

“O-oh…”

Before he knew it, he was shoved toward the front row.

Moon Hae-min inhaled sharply.

“Ah…”

A criminal knelt before a post, tightly bound to it. Beside him stood the executioner, holding a massive beheading blade.

“The criminal Lee Eul-bok, a government clerk, neglected his duties and falsified records to satisfy his greed. His crime is grave! Therefore, the criminal Lee Eul-bok shall be beheaded. Let this serve as a warning to all officials to faithfully carry out their duties!”

An official proclaimed the charge loudly.

His face looked strangely familiar.

Moon Hae-min soon remembered where he had seen him before.

‘He is someone I saw at Prince Byeokran’s residence.’

They had never spoken, but he had passed him several times.

In other words, that official was one of Prince Byeokran’s men.

‘…So the order for this execution came from Prince Byeokran.’

It made sense upon reflection.

In all of Songdo, the only person with enough authority to execute a magistrate was Prince Byeokran.

At that moment, the executioner swung the blade.

The cold steel flashed, and crimson blood sprayed.

“…!”

Moon Hae-min squeezed his eyes shut.

But he had been too late.

He had already seen the moment of execution clearly.

The criminal, not yet fully dead, screamed.

Even without looking, Hae-min could imagine the scene. His stomach churned violently.

“Ugh…”

“Oh dear, this man…”

As Moon Hae-min gagged, the people beside him hurriedly stepped away, afraid he might vomit.

Yet when they saw him staggering, they cautiously edged closer again.

“Hey, are you alright?”

“…Yes.”

“You must have a weak stomach.”

“I didn’t realize it before… but perhaps I do.”

“Tsk, tsk. It certainly looks that way.”

****

¹ saengwon: a person who has passed the lower-level civil service examination (Sogwa) during the Joseon Dynasty.