Chapter 18
The God of Business and the Beginners
“Keep it there for now. It’s dangerous, so don’t let your guard down.”
After a moment of thought, the young scholar spoke heavily.
“Of course.”
“How is the court reacting?”
“The deaths of Minister of Personnel Kim Duryum and Chief Censor Park Hyuk-gwon have thrown the government into utter chaos. In particular, His Majesty was furious when seditious posters slandering the Crown Prince appeared. He’s been pressing the Ministry of Justice, the Royal Tribunal, even the capital police to arrest the culprit at once.”
“Heh. No matter. Keep spreading the rumor that the Crown Prince may not be the King’s own son. Let the entire nation doubt him.”
“As you command.”
A mocking smile touched the scholar’s lips.
Depose the Crown Prince and set up a new heir…
“But, my lord,” the aide asked,
“if that happens, who will you put on the throne?”
“Who do you think?”
“Perhaps Prince Wolsan, Lady Gyeongbin’s son?”
“He’s timid and easy to handle, true—but his mother’s clan is powerful. Too troublesome.”
“Then…?”
“Prince Hyean would be best.”
“Hyean? Isn’t he famous for his sharp mind? Would he really dance to your tune?”
“The palace is a place where no one survives alone. Who would protect him? Will his dead mother rise from the grave? Will his exiled uncles return from banishment after the last purge? His only protector is the Dowager Queen, and she will soon follow the ancestors. In the end he’ll be utterly alone. If I take him in and guide him, he’ll obey.”
“The day when Joseon lies beneath your feet is not far off.”
“That’s enough for today. I have other places to be.”
The young scholar, Choi Jaeseo, rose.
He was the hidden mastermind behind it all: the murders of high officials, the slander of the Crown Prince, and even the smuggling of a thousand Japanese matchlocks shaking Joseon from the shadows.
“Good heavens! Real Saseo Samgyeong!”
“Look at them—how handsome!”
The street in front of the Gongju vegetable market buzzed with excitement. A crowd of women clogged the Songpa main road.
At a stall stood Yi-un, Byeon Hayeon, and Hwang Hee. Tall, neat, and striking even from afar, they looked anything but vendors—yet all three kept their heads lowered like guilty men, staring at their feet.
“That’s Inspector Hwang Hee himself. Up close, with a body trained in martial arts—what a man.”
“If I could just fall into that broad chest, I’d gladly be tied up with a rope.”
Clusters of women whispered and giggled about the three “Saseo Samgyeong”—the three scholarly heartthrobs.
“Byeon Hayeon is the most handsome of them all. What a face!”
“Nonsense. The painter is the best. Isn’t it proof enough that even an artist became one of the ‘Three Classics’?”
Some even argued heatedly over their favorites.
Feels just like a K-pop concert crowd,
Miyu thought, startled by their enthusiasm.
Great atmosphere—but…
The moment she saw the three men, she fumed.
How long will you just stand there blushing? You came to sell, not to sulk!
Her eyes sharpened. They had to make their move before midday.
Miyu strode toward them with a water bucket. The men sensed her approach and looked anywhere but at her:
Yi-un gazed at drifting clouds, Byeon Hayeon stared down the street, and Hwang Hee’s ears turned red as he kept his head bowed.
She thrust the bucket toward the easiest target, Byeon Hayeon.
“No need for water, Miss Miyu,” he said without turning.
Her face darkened.
“I’m not fine. I have something to say, so all three of you, look here.”
She smiled with her eyes but growled with her mouth.
The three men exchanged awkward smiles.
Glancing at the women around them, Miyu lowered her voice.
“Starting off lazy, are we? Keep this up and forget about a lunch break.”
“What have we done?” Yi-un asked coolly.
“She’s right,” Hwang Hee muttered.
“No lunch break? That’s absurd,” Byeon Hayeon protested weakly.
Missing a meal wasn’t the real issue. The thought of endless selling, hemmed in by curious women, was.
“Can’t you see people waiting? We’re about to lose customers!”
Grinding her teeth, Miyu scolded them.
“We’re just new to this…” Yi-un began.
“Don’t make excuses!” she snapped.
“We had an agreement, remember? Rich interpreter, genius painter, capital police officer—keep your word.”
With a heavy sigh the men lowered their eyes.
“Selling isn’t for just anyone. You need skill and smarts.”
“That much we know,” Byeon Hayeon said quickly.
“Good. I’ll be watching with both eyes open to see who sells best today.”
Her words lit a competitive spark.
Miyu had once read that Koreans of the Joseon era loved wagers. Some European traveler had even claimed they bet on daily necessities—a story she’d once thought exaggerated. But after meeting these three, she wasn’t so sure. They were here because of a bet in the first place.
“Don’t lump me in with those two,” Byeon Hayeon grumbled.
“I can outsell them anytime.”
“That remains to be seen.”
“I don’t like to lose, either,” Yi-un said, his pride pricked.
Even Hwang Hee straightened.
Ha! They really can’t stand to lose.
Suddenly Byeon Hayeon grabbed a bundle of spinach and called out:
“Fresh spinach! Good boiled, blanched, or in soup—fresh spinach here!”
Not to be outdone, the others jumped in.
“Fragrant shepherd’s purse, good for the body and the taste!”
“Potatoes so good you’ll fight for the last bite!”
Women surged toward the stall.
“So the young lords really are selling vegetables,” an older woman said, picking up spinach.
“Just for today,” Miyu chimed in.
“They’re helping at the Gongju market.”
“If the eldest son of a wealthy interpreter family vouches for it, the produce must be top-notch.”
“Of course. Isn’t the Byeon family rich enough to rival the royal kitchen?” another woman added knowingly.
“Seems you know my family better than I do,” Byeon Hayeon joked, drawing laughter.
“With the inspector’s guarantee, it must be delicious.”
“I’ll buy plenty—feed my husband and son well!”
“Who knows? Maybe your son will grow up to be an inspector, too!”
Maids, matrons, and grandmothers alike crowded forward, buying vegetables from the three.
“Ladies, please line up in front of the young man whose produce you prefer. Inspector here, interpreter’s son there, or the genius painter if you like,” Miyu directed, fanning the flames.
Women quickly chose their favorites. From the lines it was clear: Byeon Hayeon and Hwang Hee were close in popularity, but more women gathered before Yi-un than she expected.
The halo effect is real: rich heir, officer, brilliant artist…
People always assume what a celebrity chooses must be better.
The three sold out quickly while the Gongju grandmother tallied the money.
But Miyu’s mind was already racing ahead.
They’ll only sell today. I need a way to keep customers coming even without the “Three Classics.”
She turned to the grandmother.
“Grandma, you remember our deal?”
“Splitting the profit, you mean?”
“Yes.”
They had agreed that any profit beyond the usual two nyang would be split evenly, but Miyu wanted to be sure.
Business, after all, was about making money—and she had plans.
Once she saved enough, she intended to dash straight to Gwangtong Bridge inside the capital, where calligraphy and art shops displayed their treasures like winning lottery tickets waiting for her choice.
“Of course, child. I wouldn’t keep it all for myself. Don’t worry.”
“Perfect.”
Satisfied, Miyu nodded, closed her eyes for a moment, and then swept toward the three men, skirts swishing with determination.
