Chapter 42
As Yi Woon ascended the main hall, Chief Choi hastily ran forward to place a chair.
Seated, Yi Woon spoke calmly.
“You two—don’t stand in the rain. Come up here.”
Officer Yeong and his assistant immediately climbed onto the veranda and bowed deeply.
“We are honored by your presence.”
They spoke loudly in unison.
Yi Woon chuckled.
“At this rate, you’ll lose your voices from shouting.”
“We beg your pardon, Your Grace.”
“Raise your heads, officers of the Market Affairs Bureau. Look at me.”
His tone was not a request but a command. The two men carefully lifted their heads.
Yi Woon’s graceful features, confident bearing, and the pure white folded fan he held made him seem almost otherworldly—like a young celestial immortal.
No wonder people called Grand Prince Hye-an a man of divine elegance and immortal bones.
Yeong wanted to ask what brought His Grace here but dared not speak. He kept his lips sealed, waiting.
“I’ve heard there’s a band of troublemakers.”
The words came suddenly.
Yeong and the assistant exchanged confused glances but remained silent.
“We are humbled, Your Grace.”
“We are honored, Your Grace.”
Yi Woon’s expression turned faintly displeased.
“Do you know of a gang called Jae-chun’s group?”
“I have heard of them, Your Grace,” Yeong replied, eyes widening.
“What sort of men are they?”
“Ruffians who roam the market streets, bullying people and stirring up trouble.”
“Did you also know they attacked an innocent merchant’s shop?”
“This is the first I’ve heard of it, Your Grace. Which shop do you mean?”
Yeong frowned. The market gangs and merchants were usually in collusion, helping one another.
“Not the Seoul market,” Yi Woon replied coldly, “but the Seoul Herbal Store at Songpa Market in Gwangju.”
His calm tone carried suppressed fury.
Yeong shuddered. He had heard of that famous shop from his wife—how they sold herbs in bundles of five, and how customers could handpick small amounts, a novelty that spread quickly through Hanyang. His wife and the neighbor women had even gone there themselves.
Yeong realized what had happened. The city’s official herbal dealers must have bribed Jae-chun’s gang to destroy the rival store. Money and power were always intertwined. Jae-chun’s group often took merchants’ requests to harass or rob peddlers outside the city’s legal markets.
“Tell me—does Songpa Market fall under the royal monopoly zone?”
“Not at all, Your Grace.”
“And yet it’s a proper store, not an illegal stall, correct?”
“Yes, Your Grace. My apologies.”
Yeong bowed again.
“Do you know why I came here instead of going to the police bureau?”
“I… am unsure, Your Grace.”
He knew perfectly well but dared not say.
Yi Woon snapped his fan shut with a sharp crack against the chair’s armrest.
“Are you mocking me?”
“Never, Your Grace. I would never dare deceive you.”
“Then speak plainly!”
His glare was enough to make mountains tremble. Yeong swallowed hard; the assistant’s shoulders quivered like a leaf.
“Your Grace, if these thugs act with the merchants’ backing, then it is indeed a matter under our Bureau’s supervision.”
“And?”
“And…?”
“Yes—and!”
Yi Woon’s tone thundered with anger.
“Your Grace, I am too foolish to understand.”
“Then listen well.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“One of the Market Bureau’s chief duties is to enforce the monopoly laws.”
“Indeed, Your Grace.”
“But tell me—does enforcing the monopoly mean merely protecting the monopoly?”
“That is to say… perhaps…”
“No. Ensuring that free commerce outside the monopoly zone can thrive safely—that too is true enforcement.”
“I see my ignorance clearly now, Your Grace.”
“Who is this man named Yi Chi-seo?”
“He is one of the senior guild elders of the herbal trade—seventy years of age.”
Yi Woon said nothing more. He didn’t need to.
Rain pattered steadily in the courtyard, filling the silence.
Finally, Chief Choi spoke up.
“Do you understand His Grace’s will?”
“Completely!”
Yeong and the assistant bowed so deeply their backs nearly broke.
“Next time, you’ll be meeting with a Royal Tribunal officer,” Yi Woon added quietly.
The words Royal Tribunal pierced their ears through the rain.
The Royal Tribunal—Uigeumbu—was the king’s own judicial authority, handling treason, conspiracies, and the gravest crimes. For such an office to intervene usually meant death.
The two men went pale.
“To harm the livelihoods of the common people—the very foundation of the nation—is this not graver than treason?”
“Indeed, Your Grace.”
“Truly wise words.”
“I chose to visit here myself, rather than summon the Minister of Finance, because I do not wish this to become a larger scandal.”
“Then… how should we proceed, Your Grace?”
“The guilt is heavy as stone, but Yi Chi-seo is over seventy. When elders retire, the king himself bestows a chair and a cane in honor of their service. Let us not make this into a spectacle. Instead, reprimand him and ensure such wrongdoing never occurs again.”
“We are deeply grateful, Your Grace.”
“And those thugs must go to the Seoul Herbal Store in Songpa and apologize.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Yi Woon exhaled deeply, the anger leaving him at last.
When Yi Woon left, Yeong collapsed into a chair, boneless.
“Good heavens… I thought my heart would stop.”
“I think I wet myself a little,” muttered the assistant, glancing down at his trousers.
“Who in their right mind would provoke the Grand Prince?”
“They must have nine lives.”
“When our inspectors return from the markets, send them immediately to arrest Jae-chun’s gang and Yi Chi-seo. And all the shopkeepers involved!”
“But why would they go all the way to Songpa Market to cause trouble?”
“Haven’t you heard the rumor? That new herbal shop that lets customers buy herbs in small bundles—it’s drawing crowds from every district.”
“Of course. Everyone’s talking about it! Wait—don’t tell me the Seoul Herbal Store they wrecked is that one?”
“Exactly. My wife went there herself. They were jealous, that’s all.”
At that moment, the main gate creaked open again.
A man entered, wearing a rain cloak. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with sharp, handsome features. Beneath his oiled paper coat was the uniform of a police officer, and in his hand he held a command baton.
Yeong recognized him instantly.
“Well, if it isn’t Inspector Hwang Hui!”
“Indeed. It’s been a while.”
“Ah, good to see you, my boy. Come, come, don’t stand in the rain.”
Yeong himself brought a chair for him.
“And how is your father these days? Tell him I’ll come by soon to pay my respects.”
“He’ll be pleased to hear that, sir.”
“So, what brings you here?”
Hwang hesitated. Yeong frowned—uneasy.
Though Yeong outranked him by two grades, their positions were not comparable. The Police Bureau investigated crimes, arrested suspects, and conducted interrogations. The Market Bureau merely supervised merchants and markets. Rank meant little when the police came knocking.
“Well? What is it?” Yeong asked, throat dry.
“I regret to say…”
Hwang tapped his baton lightly against his palm.
“Out with it—why has the Police Bureau come here today?”
Yeong cursed silently. First the Grand Prince himself shows up, now the police… what cursed day is this?
“What do you mean, ‘again’?” Hwang asked, puzzled.
“Nothing, nothing!” Yeong covered his mouth quickly, recalling the Grand Prince’s warning to keep his visit secret.
“So—what brings you here?”
“At Songpa Market, there’s a shop—an actual store, not a street stall—”
Yeong shot to his feet like a wolf scenting blood.
“You there! Send the men! Arrest Jae-chun’s gang and that bastard Yi Chi-seo—no, arrest everyone involved with those herbal dealers! They’ve messed with the wrong people. How dare they cross the Royal House and the Police Bureau! They’re dead men!”
“Did you just say Royal House—?”
“Ah! Slip of the tongue! Not the Royal House—what I meant was you, Hwang Hui. They crossed you and the Bureau!”
“The Royal House and I… are hardly comparable…” Hwang muttered, scratching his head.
Meanwhile, rain poured endlessly over Songpa Market.
The herbal shop was quiet for once.
Miyu, Bok-sil, and Woo-yu sat inside, watching the rain and chatting idly.
Then—they saw six men running from the riverside through the rain.
“Sister, aren’t those the thugs?” Bok-sil asked, voice trembling.
“Are they?” Miyu’s voice wavered.
“What do we do? Master Choi isn’t here, and neither is Scholar Choi!”
Bok-sil grabbed a broom, on the verge of tears. Woo-yu, the dog, lowered his front legs and raised his tail, growling.
They’re persistent bastards, Miyu thought. To come back after the beating they took from the inspector?
She glanced around for something to use as a weapon—and spotted a wooden carrier stick.
Gripping it tightly, she stood at the doorway, jaw clenched. Beside her, Bok-sil held her broom, and little Woo-yu growled fiercely, ready to defend their shop.
