There Is No Sejong In My Joseon [EN]: Chapter 270

< The King of Letters (2) >

Yi Do lowered his head, awaiting his brother’s response.

“That’s right.”

The moment his brother spoke, Yi Do’s heart leaped.

He had considered this possibility.

It wasn’t unheard of.

Hadn’t the Liao and Jin, the Western Xia, and the Mongols—all with languages distinct from Chinese—created and adopted their own writing systems?

This wasn’t merely about the inconvenience of memorizing Chinese characters or the difficulty of rendering their native tongues; it was about forging a distinct identity.

‘He remembered Taejo the Great’s [Yi Seong-gye, founder of the Joseon Dynasty] last words.’

Yi Seong-gye’s dying wish was etched in Yi Do’s memory.

Though not as vividly as in his brother’s, Yi Do, too, held cherished memories of their grandfather, having followed his favored brother.

And he understood his grandfather’s ambition.

‘Joseon’s own mandate of heaven [divine right to rule, independent of Chinese influence].’

The changes his brother had initiated offered hope, not only to the departing Yi Seong-gye but to the entire nation.

Yi Do couldn’t remain untouched by the King’s unconventional path since his days as Crown Prince.

It wasn’t just about being a border country; it was about standing tall as an equal power under the heavens.

Creating a unique writing system for the nation was undoubtedly a crucial element of this grand endeavor.

If that was his intention, how could he have kept it from his younger brother?

Naturally, a hint of resentment crept into Yi Do’s tone.

“Why has Your Majesty concealed these brilliant intentions for so long?”

His brother’s eyes flickered momentarily.

“Well, I’ve been pondering it, but I wasn’t sure how to execute it… I also feared public opposition…”

Yi Do sensed his brother was making excuses.

“If that was the concern, you should have consulted me.”

Oops, his tone carried a subtle rebuke.

How could he be so disrespectful?

But his heart was impatient; surely his brother would understand.

“Indeed, creating a national writing system from scratch is no simple task.

Especially since it’s meant for long-term use. How many people could devise a system that the entire populace can easily learn and use for generations? Such a person would be considered a genius.”

The elder brother turned his head slightly, appearing ashamed.

“?”

Puzzled by his reaction, Yi Do continued.

“No, ‘sage’ would be a more fitting term than ‘genius.’ Throughout history, only one person has accomplished this: Cangjie [legendary figure credited with inventing Chinese characters].”

Cangjie was said to be Emperor Huangdi’s [mythical Chinese sovereign] left-hand scribe, the creator of Chinese characters.

But could there be two such individuals in the world?

His brother’s achievements already placed him among the sages, yet he seemed to lack deep knowledge of phonology and character construction.

Then, regaining his composure, the brother spoke solemnly.

“I know someone better than Cangjie.”

“Is there such a person?”

If so, that person’s wisdom would have spread far and wide.

Yet, Yi Do hadn’t encountered anyone at court who surpassed his own intellect.

And His Majesty shared that sentiment.

“It’s you.”

Upon hearing those words, Yi Do’s heart pounded fiercely.

“Me?”

“You are well-versed in literature and relentlessly pursue knowledge, even at the cost of sleepless nights.

Whatever task is assigned, no one is better suited than you.”

“…”

He was grateful for his brother’s high praise.

Blood was thicker than water; his brother was flattering him.

After all, if a Grand Prince were to create the nation’s writing system, some would disapprove.

Considering this, he should naturally decline.

‘How dare this younger brother presume?’

He should voice those words.

However, the words remained unspoken.

‘How dare this younger brother presume?’

Creating a new national writing system was a monumental undertaking, with no clear starting point.

But success would guarantee a place in history.

‘How dare this younger brother presume?’

It must be easy to learn and write.

Unlike Chinese characters, this system must reach even the illiterate.

Otherwise, it would become another unused relic, like countless failed writing systems of the past.

It must be practical enough to accurately record spoken language.

Otherwise, it would be no better than Chinese characters and fade into obscurity.

‘How dare this younger brother presume?’

Ideally, it should be an alphabetic system, capturing sounds rather than meanings, unlike Chinese characters.

The mere thought made his heart race.

‘How dare this younger brother presume?’

Thoughts swirled in Yi Do’s mind.

What emerged from his mouth was entirely different.

===

“I’ll do it. I’ll try. I’ll do it.”

“Oh, well, do your best. I believe in you.”

Seeing his eyes light up, I knew he was the true King Sejong [Yi Do’s regnal name].

‘Compared to the King Sejong of history, he’s still a novice.’

I wasn’t sure exactly when Hangul [Korean alphabet] was created, but it was still decades away.

I had just thrown a massive quest at the 19-year-old Grand Prince Chungnyeong, who lacked the necessary knowledge and experience.

‘It’s alright, he’s confident.’

I didn’t mind if it took another decade or so.

Still, having significantly advanced the timeline, shouldn’t I offer a hint?

I recalled my Korean language classes from high school.

It had been so long that the details were hazy, but I remembered that the consonants were modeled after the vocal organs, and the vowels were based on the elements of heaven, earth, and man.

After my explanation, Do looked puzzled, but I couldn’t simplify it further.

Because I didn’t know either.

‘Since I already know the final product, it’ll eventually be done if I keep him revising it.’

I decided to relax.

I’d been living in Joseon using Chinese characters until now; how much longer could I endure?

“Then I’ll start thinking about it at the training center.”

“Are you starting research immediately? You can work outside.”

I said it out of concern for the difficulty, but Do smiled at my meaning.

“Ah, this should be done in secret. I think it’s better to avoid colleagues.”

Do put his finger to his lips and winked.

‘There’s no need for such secrecy.’

But Do’s words made sense.

If word got out before any progress was made, it would be troublesome.

I might be so embarrassed that I’d throw all the opposition into the gulag [forced labor camp].

So, it was better to wait patiently until Do succeeded.

‘He’s a smart guy; hopefully, he’ll do well with the hint.’

This level barely qualified as cheating.

It was his own writing system, after all. Was copying your own answer sheet considered cheating?

I turned around after sending Do away.

“Shit! You scared me!”

Min In-saeng, concealed in rags beside me, suddenly stood up, causing me to swear.

This man’s stealth skills were improving daily.

“…Did you hear everything?”

“Yes, I did.”

Min In-saeng answered confidently.

But his actions lacked confidence. He hurriedly hid the historical records behind his back.

Was he afraid I’d seize and destroy them again?

“No matter how secret the matter, it must be recorded in history as an example for future generations. Even if Your Majesty beheads me, I will never surrender the historical records!”

“The problem is your distortions.”

I wondered what he had twisted this time.

Min In-saeng’s slender arm was easily bent back.

Snatching the records, I saw his rough draft.

– The King secretly ordered Grand Prince Chungnyeong to create a new national writing system, and the Grand Prince declined three times before finally upholding the work of Cangjie….

I tore the records to shreds.

“Your Majesty is destroying the historical records again! It’s suppression of historians, suppression of historians!”

Min In-saeng jumped up and down.

“I didn’t issue a secret order, and Chungnyeong didn’t decline, you bastard.”

I was relieved he hadn’t written that I hid the order in my jade belt and delivered it secretly.

“Sniff, I can’t stop Your Majesty from damaging the historical records… How can I face my seniors like Sima Qian [Chinese historian] in the afterlife?”

Min In-saeng lamented as if wronged by missing a scoop, but I knew it was pretense.

He’d go home and rewrite the day’s events.

I was letting him live only because it was me, really.

===

‘I’ve left it to Do for now.’

Still, ‘reinventing’ Hunminjeongeum [original name of Hangul] alone wouldn’t be easy.

‘When I was young, I read in a biography that scholars from the Hall of Worthies [royal research institute] helped him.’

I thought I’d heard that wasn’t true, but I wasn’t certain.

Anyway, since this was a secret project, it would be better to enlist my brothers’ help rather than involving outsiders.

‘And the other officials are busy.’

The guys who are playing and eating at home should do it.

“W-What brings you here, Your Majesty?”

Soon, Grand Prince Gyeongnyeong, Yi Bi, appeared before me and prostrated himself.

I always felt my half-brothers were a little afraid of me.

There’s no brother as friendly as me, though.

“Grand Prince Gyeongnyeong, I heard you’ve been studying hard lately.”

Most of our family members lacked academic interests, but Grand Prince Gyeongnyeong was a rare exception who enjoyed writing.

Was it because he grew up with Do?

I’m proud, I’m proud.

“Ah, I’m still lacking.”

“Huh? Lacking?”

I needed to attach him to Chungnyeong and make him work hard, but he was lacking.

Grand Prince Gyeongnyeong quickly bowed his head, reading my expression.

“D-Did I make a mistake!”

‘Why do you keep stuttering, you bastard?’

I considered saying something but decided against it, thinking something was wrong with him.

“So, have you studied a little or not?”

“I only did it to the extent that Your Majesty wouldn’t worry about it.”

So, you’re saying you know how to write a little? I got it.

Further conversation seemed to trouble Grand Prince Gyeongnyeong.

I felt down as Grand Prince Gyeongnyeong retreated.

Even though I hadn’t paid much attention to my half-brothers, they were so scared of me.

Then No-bun, standing beside me, spoke.

“There’s been a strange rumor circulating about Grand Prince Gyeongnyeong lately.”

“Strange rumor?”

“When Grand Prince Gyeongnyeong was born, a white dragon coiled on the roof, leading the palace to believe it was a sign of a sage… That’s the rumor.”

“He was born in a private house, not the palace; what nonsense.”

Wasn’t Grand Prince Gyeongnyeong born when his mother was with Kim, the concubine Hyo, from the Min clan, during winter training?

It was clearly a later embellishment, whoever spread it.

“Normally, I wouldn’t care much about such rumors, but it’s a problem with someone like Your Majesty on the throne.”

“You can’t say whatever you want just because you’ve become a chief eunuch, you bastard.”

I hit No-bun on the back of the head.

“I-I meant that Grand Prince Gyeongnyeong is naturally afraid because Your Majesty’s majesty is so great.”

No-bun said with a wronged expression.

“Nonsense. Go and bring the old men from the Giroso [a retirement hall for high-ranking officials].”

Most of the people there weren’t old men but high-ranking officials.

After the collective retirement led by Nam Jae, old men like Kwon Geun, who had a rap battle with me, and Seong Seok-rin, who made a name for himself with his writing, were all in the Giroso.

I’m grateful they vacated their positions to welcome the new era, but I can’t let talented old men simply play around.

‘I can’t give them back their political power.’

There must be a mission left for them to burn themselves out for this country, Joseon, for the last time.

< The King of Letters (2) > End

ⓒ Pitkong