Black Corporation: Joseon [EN]: Chapter 251

251. Sign Change or Rebirth? (2)

With the reorganization plan finalized, Yukjo Street buzzed with activity. The court, having acquired private residences in the vicinity, began demolishing them to erect new government buildings.

Once construction was complete, officials moved in, loading carts with books, scrolls, and stacks of letters.

“Check the document manifest to ensure everything’s accounted for!”

“Nothing’s missing, right?”

“Hey! This document needs to stay behind!”

“Yes, sir! I’ll sort it out!”

“Oh! Oh! It’s collapsing!”

“I told you to stack them properly!”

Amidst the shouts and scolding, the lower and middle-ranking officials sweated profusely as they moved the heavy loads.

“Handle it with care! If you mess up, I’ll bury you in the archives for life!”

“Eek!”

* * *

The chaotic moving process paused briefly.

“Let’s break for lunch and then get back to it!”

“Yes, sir!”

The officials, relieved for a moment, scattered in small groups. While some headed to the communal dining hall, others pooled their money and summoned their servants.

“Malbok! Bunnam!”

The servants, hearing their names, stopped their carts and hurried over.

“Yes, sir!”

“You called for us?”

“Go buy *Gyejak* [a type of traditional Korean stew] for everyone, and you, get three or four containers of *Takju* [a type of Korean rice wine] delivered here.”

“Yes, sir!”

The servants, coins jingling in their pockets, quickly disappeared.

One of the officials, watching them go, grumbled to his colleagues.

“If those guys could read, it would be so much easier to give them instructions…”

Another official chuckled at his colleague’s complaint.

“Why? Are you impressed by the Samin Academy’s success and think they could manage it too?”

The first official nodded silently.

* * *

About four months had passed since the Samin Academy opened last fall, and reports on the academic progress of the children attending began to arrive from across the country.

– “Students have mastered an average of 500 Chinese characters in 3 months. Those progressing faster have completed the *Thousand Character Classic* [a foundational Chinese text used for literacy] and begun studying the *Elementary Learning* [another basic Confucian text].”

– “In mathematics, they’ve achieved proficiency in basic addition and subtraction.”

Sejong and his ministers were greatly encouraged by these positive results.

“If this continues, the common people can escape from ignorance!”

This led to a discussion about whether to teach slaves to read.

* * *

The conversation, initially a casual remark, gradually evolved into a serious debate.

The official who proposed educating slaves presented his reasoning.

“Aren’t they people too? If so, shouldn’t they have the opportunity to learn?”

The official who mentioned the Samin Academy shook his head.

“It’s not that simple. Have you forgotten how the Samin Academy achieved those results? The children are taught from morning until sunset.”

* * *

The Samin Academy’s classes were held primarily during the farming off-season. Classes began in the morning and continued until sunset. Lunch, consisting of dried rations as planned by Hyang, was provided at the academy. It was a thick, almost solid porridge, but the children enjoyed it because it contained a generous amount of meat, matching the standard military rations. While meat consumption among ordinary people had increased since the *Gyejak* reforms, it was still a welcome treat.

Furthermore, it wasn’t just dried rations. The cooks hired at the Samin Academy showcased their skills, preparing soup and side dishes to accompany the rations. Soybean paste soup with dried radish greens was a staple, along with soups made with seaweed or kelp and various salty side dishes. Occasionally, fruits donated by the village elders where the academy was located were served as special treats, further improving the children’s nutritional intake.

* * *

The official who cited the Samin Academy’s long class hours as a reason against educating slaves continued his argument.

“Even if the slaves want to learn, do you think they’ll have the time?”

“…”

The official who initially suggested the idea was at a loss for words. The opposing official pressed his point.

“It’s said that knowing the *Thousand Character Classic* gives you a basic understanding, but that’s not really the case, is it? You need to know at least 3,000 characters to be considered truly literate.”

Another official chimed in.

“Hey, you don’t need 3,000 characters. If you know around 1,500, you can understand the official gazettes posted on the wall.”

“Whether it’s 3,000 or 1,500, it’s splitting hairs. Either way, it’s impractical to teach slaves to read and then expect them to be useful in that capacity. It’s better to focus on encouraging the studies of those already attending the Samin Academy and the Middle School.”

“That’s right. Even 1,500 characters isn’t enough when it comes to official documents. Official documents contain at least 10,000 different characters.”

The officials all nodded in agreement. As soon as he finished speaking, the official who had been arguing against the idea from the start took the floor again.

“There’s also the problem of *Idu* [an early writing system that used Chinese characters to represent Korean grammar and syntax].”

“Ah…”

The mention of *Idu* caused the listening officials to nod emphatically.

* * *

Most letters and contracts exchanged between close acquaintances could be understood with the 1,500 characters mentioned earlier.

However, formal official documents or memorials to the king were a different matter. Official document writing manuals and dictionaries like the *Jade Chapter* (玉篇) were always kept on officials’ desks alongside their writing instruments. Even officials who had mastered the Four Books and Five Classics, or even the Four Books and Thirteen Classics, and passed the civil service examination, still found themselves sweating over their writing without these aids.

* * *

This problem became even more daunting when *Idu* – including *Hyangchal* [a more complex system of writing Korean using Chinese characters] and *Gugyeol* [a system of marking Chinese text to indicate Korean grammatical particles] – was involved.

*Gugyeol*, used to represent Korean particles, didn’t pose a significant problem because it only involved about 20 to 30 characters. However, *Hyangchal* was far more complicated. It required careful consideration of whether a particular *Hyangchal* notation represented the meaning or the pronunciation of a Korean word.

While there were conventional methods for distinguishing between meaning and pronunciation, they weren’t always reliable.

To make matters worse, Joseon’s expanding trade and territory only deepened the officials’ concerns.

While Myeong (China), the origin of Chinese characters, and even Waeguk (Japan) used the same characters, allowing for communication through written sentences despite differences in pronunciation, the situation was different with the Jurchens, who had recently defected in large numbers. In extreme cases, it became necessary to record the name given by Joseon, the name received from Myeong, and the transliterated name used among the Jurchens to prevent confusion. Fortunately, the Jurchens also had a way of writing their names and unique words using Chinese characters, which helped reduce errors.

The situation was even more challenging with the Huihui people (Muslims) and Westerners.

To record names like ‘Pietro,’ ‘Raphael,’ ‘Mansur,’ and place names like ‘Aden’ or ‘Alexandria,’ officials had to go beyond simple transcription and venture into the realm of creation.

If an official possessed strong writing skills, they could transliterate the notation in a way that hinted at the original meaning. However, in most cases, the best they could do was find Chinese characters with pronunciations that closely approximated the original sounds.

The most representative example was ‘亞來口山豆里亞 (A-rae-gu-san-du-ri-a),’ a transliteration of ‘Alexandria.’

The officials who reviewed Oh Ha-seok’s report immediately summoned him.

“What is this?”

“What kind of sentence is this?”

“It’s a place name. A city called ‘Alexandria.'”

The officials organizing the documents frowned at Oh Ha-seok’s explanation.

“What kind of city name is…”

“In our terms, it’s like adding a word meaning ‘city’ to the name of a famous king from the old Samhan era [ancient Korean kingdoms].”

“King’s name?”

“It’s called Alexander.”

“Alex… Keueung…”

In the end, the officials had no choice but to accept ‘亞來口山豆里亞 (A-rae-gu-san-du-ri-a)’ as it was.

Of course, a few persistent officials, refusing to give up, sought Hyang’s advice.

Hyang, after receiving the report, immediately retorted.

“Do you have time to worry about this? Do you have time to spare?”

“No, sir! I’ll just use it as is!”

The startled officials quickly retreated, tails between their legs.

* * *

“*Idu* is definitely a problem.”

“That’s right.”

“We need an alternative.”

“Alternative? Are you suggesting we just use their alphabets?”

The official who posed the question shook his head.

“Wouldn’t that be impossible? The number of countries we trade with will only increase in the future. It’s impossible to learn all the languages and writing systems of those countries, right?”

“Then what do we do?”

“Isn’t the best solution to create a writing system that can handle all of them?”

As the official finished his statement, the room fell silent. After a moment, the surrounding officials simultaneously waved their hands dismissively.

“Hey, be reasonable!”

“You’re talking nonsense!”

“Are you daydreaming?”

The official who had sparked the negative reaction smiled wryly and asked.

“I guess it’s too difficult?”

“Isn’t it obvious? Since the old Samhan era when Chinese characters were first introduced, haven’t people been thinking about this for nearly a thousand years? What’s the result? Nothing!”

“That’s true…”

The official nodded in agreement.

Finally, the most senior official among them stepped forward to conclude the discussion.

“Creating a writing system is no easy task. Creating a perfect one like you described is even harder. If someone manages to do it, they’ll be remembered in history for that alone.”

“I suppose so?”

“That’s right. Ah! The *Gyejak* and *Takju* are here! Let’s eat quickly and get back to work!”

“Yes, sir!”

With that, the officials ended their discussion and began their lunch.

* * *

“My father’s been acting too suspiciously lately, hasn’t he?”

Hyang, organizing documents in the East Palace library, crossed his arms and muttered, glancing in the direction of Geunjeongjeon [the main hall of Gyeongbok Palace].

Sejong had been asking about writing systems with increasing frequency.

He would casually throw in a question as if it had just occurred to him, but the complexity of the questions was steadily increasing.

The same was true at the morning assembly.

“Oh, by the way, Crown Prince, I was looking at a Western book on urban sanitation, and…”

As Hyang and the ministers were packing up their writing instruments and reports after the morning assembly, Sejong suddenly addressed Hyang.

“Yes, Father. Please ask.”

‘Father is extraordinary, far beyond that, actually.’

When Sejong first encountered the Latin book, he needed Hassan’s help. However, it wasn’t long before Sejong no longer required assistance. That’s why Hyang considered him ‘extraordinary.’

‘But what was that book Father was reading recently?’

While Hyang was lost in thought, Sejong posed an unexpected question.

“The letters that make up the spoken form of a word are usually around 5 or 6.”

‘He’s talking about vowels!’

Hyang, understanding Sejong’s meaning, answered immediately.

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“Is it possible to express all pronunciations with such a small number?”

“The Westerners do it by combining letters or mixing the pronunciations of other letters.”

“It’s a bit complicated.”

“That’s right.”

‘Therefore, the vowels of Hangeul are based on the three elements of heaven, earth, and man (三才)…. Ah-buh-buh!’

Hyang forcibly suppressed the words that were about to escape his lips.

‘Hold on! You’ll get scolded if you slip up! You must resist!’

Sejong, secretly observing Hyang’s struggle to contain himself, leaned back in his chair.

“I understand. Go and do your work.”

“Yes, Father.”

After dismissing Hyang and the ministers, Sejong descended from the platform.

“I will take a nap (*午睡, 낮잠*) in Gangnyeongjeon [the King’s residence], so the historian should not follow me.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

* * *

Sejong, returning to Gangnyeongjeon, entered the secret space and unfolded a piece of paper.

“It would be problematic if the number of middle sounds (*中聲, 가운뎃소리* – vowels) is too small.”

Sejong had already established the basic structure of the initial, middle, and final sounds of the writing system.

“I can’t mark them all with different shapes…”

Sejong, lost in thought, noticed traces of Hyang’s work scattered in the other room.

“Hmm…”

Tracing a shape with his finger, Sejong suddenly froze.

“Aha! Based on the three elements of heaven, earth, and man… I’ve solved it!”

* * *

Author’s words:

I apologize for taking a break yesterday.

I experienced severe chest pain while sleeping on Wednesday night, which prevented me from sleeping afterward.

I went to the hospital in the morning, and the examination results indicated no major problems, but I was advised to be cautious due to family history and current health conditions.

I took a breather, but I had to take a break from the series because I had consumed too much mental energy.

I apologize again.

I will do my best to prevent this from happening again in the future.