EDFF 07

Chapter 7

The Grain Tax

“So if Father can’t come up with five sacks of rice within three months, he’ll be sent off to do corvée labor?”
“Yes.”
“And this year’s corvée labor is repairing Jinseong’s city walls?”
“That’s what I’m telling you.”
Hard labor in the dead of winter. And repairing city walls at that!
At So Yeon-su’s words, So Yeon-hee’s face drained of all color.
In this age, those without money who went to work off their taxes through corvée labor often returned as corpses—or not at all, their limbs severed. It was dreadfully common.
Winter wall repairs in particular had earned a grim reputation even among corvée assignments.
Countless workers froze to death chipping at frozen earth, or were crushed beneath heavy stones, buffeted by bitter wind the entire time they labored.
Even a father hardened by years of training could not guarantee his survival through such work.
So Yeon-hee asked her younger sister, shadows deepening across her face.
“You said you heard this from Village Chief Wang’s grandson? What about Mother and Grandmother? Do they know about this?”
“Grandmother doesn’t know. When I told Father and Mother first, Father said we absolutely mustn’t tell anyone else.”
So Yeon-su’s voice wavered as if on the verge of tears, and she sniffled.
‘It seems Father has already made up his mind to go for the labor assignment instead of paying the tax.’
The tax had to be paid, but there was no money on hand. And he could hardly send his daughter or wife in his stead. As the head of household, he was resolved to bear the burden himself.
In the meantime, his eldest daughter—foolish as she was—had even collapsed from eating poisonous mushrooms, which must have weighed terribly on his heart.
A bitter taste crept up So Yeon-hee’s throat, and she bit her lip.
‘But this isn’t a problem that Father alone can solve through sacrifice.’
Moreover, the So Clan was a family in disgrace, fallen from imperial favor.
Ordinary commoners often lost their lives to such harsh labor assignments—what of one branded a criminal?
Someone might use this as a pretext to harm Father.
‘No matter what, we have to avoid the labor assignment.’
But how?
How on earth could they gather five sacks of rice in two and a half months?
‘Think clearly. Let me slowly take stock of what I have and what I can do.’
Though she had arrived in this ancient world with nothing, she possessed three very special treasures.
A Spatial Pouch, Good Deed Points, and Modern Knowledge.
With cheat codes like these, how could she possibly fail?
So Yeon-hee’s mind began to race.
“Farming would be impossible, wouldn’t it?”
“Probably. We only have a bit more than two months left.”
Then any plan to grow famine-relief crops was out of the question.
Besides, they didn’t have the means to buy seeds right now anyway.
And if they needed to make money quickly, then clearly…
“A snack business would be perfect.”
“A snack business?”
“Yes. For low-capital ventures, nothing beats it. The goods are consumed immediately, so purchase cycles are short.”
The problem was deciding what kind of snack to make…
Right then, as the thought grew deeper,
her eye suddenly caught on the hawthorn berries she’d gathered from the mountain that day.
“Oh, that’s right. I had those.”
If she made a snack from hawthorn berries, she could cut material costs significantly. The mountain was practically strewn with them—if she was diligent, raw materials would be no problem at all.
Though her siblings’ reaction was not particularly enthusiastic.
“What are you going to do with hawthorn berries?”
“Yeah. Hawthorn berries are way too sour to eat straight.”
But So Yeon-hee spoke with remarkable confidence.
“Don’t worry. I can turn them into a really delicious snack.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Just wait and see. Once I start selling them, people will be desperate to buy more.”
So Yeon-hee hugged the basket overflowing with hawthorn berries and grinned widely.
Her dark eyes now shone with hope.
* * *
The next morning, before dawn.
So Yeon-hee slipped out of bed before the sun rose.
The snack she planned to make—tanghulu—required almost no money, but demanded tremendous labor in return.
‘It was the kind of menu that chewed through part-time workers back home, so what can you expect here?’
From preparing the fruit to skewering each piece to coating it in sugar syrup and letting it cool, every step required enormous amounts of handiwork.
And that wasn’t even all of it. Without factories in this world, she’d have to carve the bamboo skewers herself.
‘The skewers? I suppose I can just saw them and sharpen them like sharpening a pencil.’
With that resolve, she shook off the last traces of sleep and stepped out of her room.
That was when her eyes met those of her father, sitting alone in the courtyard through the pre-dawn mist.
‘What in the world is he doing out here at this hour?’
Surprise held her tongue only briefly. Then she noticed the bamboo ladle and several pairs of chopsticks placed at his feet.
Looking closer, she saw he held a small knife in his hand, along with a piece of bamboo.
“Why are you outside at such an early hour?”
“I—I was thinking of making bamboo skewers.”
“Bamboo skewers?”
“Yes. I was planning to make a snack from the hawthorn berries I picked yesterday and try selling it, and I need thin skewers to pierce the fruit with.”
That simple question made her surprisingly nervous.
So Yeon-hee found herself spilling her plans before she could stop herself, then squeezed her eyes shut.
In the twenty-first century, running a snack business was no disgrace—but in this ancient world, commerce was typically regarded as lowly work.
And no matter how fallen the So Clan had become, So Yeon-hee was still a noblewoman.
If word spread that she had taken up trade herself, it would ruin her reputation.
If her grandmother or mother—those who prized propriety—found out, it would be a scandal.
Yet strangely, her father So Jin made no protest, only the faintest lift of his eyebrow.
Then he slowly carved at the bamboo and asked,
“A snack business, you say…? What made you suddenly think of doing such a thing?”
His tone didn’t sound like censure, so So Yeon-hee gathered just a little courage.
“I want to make real money, but farmwork doesn’t seem to suit me. And I thought of selling needlework like Mother does, but I have no talent for that either.”
Perhaps he took it as the petulant complaint of a foolish child. So Jin let out a small laugh at her words.
But then, with a gentle smile, he spoke to her.
“That egg-drop soup you made was delicious.”
“So I do seem to have some talent for cooking?”
“Of course. Whose daughter are you?”
So Jin said this and held up a well-carved piece of bamboo for her to see.
It resembled chopsticks in shape, but one end was tapered to a point—exactly the form of the skewer she had wanted.
“How is this? Will this do?”
“It’s perfect. I never knew you had such a skill, Father.”
“Skill? It’s nothing. Just practice over time.”
Though he spoke modestly, a slight smile played at the corners of So Jin’s mouth.
Gruff in appearance though he was, her father had always been remarkably tender toward his children.
The same in the twenty-first century as here—his nature had never changed.
‘The reason he felt distant in So Yeon-hee’s memories must have been because he was nearly always at war, caught up in matters of state.’
With such formidable military authority in his hands, Father had constantly been sent to the borderlands and dangerous battlefields.
The young “So Yeon-hee” had not yet been old enough to understand such grown concerns.
But that only made it all the more puzzling.
What was her father’s true heart, something that the body’s faint memories could never tell her?
“Father, are you not angry with me?” So Yeon-hee asked.
So Jin’s brow furrowed at such an odd question, and he answered firmly.
“Nonsense. How could I blame you for political strife that swept me up because of excessive military merit?”
How many officials had lost their posts in such fashion? he asked, cautioning his daughter not to harbor such a misunderstanding.
Then, in a voice that trembled somewhat, he added,
“So don’t make such foolish mistakes again—like eating poisonous mushrooms by accident.”
His rough, weathered hands gripped the carving knife so tightly they blanched, as he whispered,
“Tens of thousands of enemy soldiers never frightened me the way you do. Do you know how my heart ached when you were in danger?”
What could a guilty child say before such tenderness? She could only bow her head low.
So Jin then released a long, heavy sigh and added quietly,
“I survived only because of you. If I were to lose you to mere rumors, how could I ever raise my head again? And I would have no face to show the Crown Prince, who has been so kind as to help us.”
“…What?”
“The master who gave you that Wooden Box. He was no other than Former Crown Prince Tutor Tae Baek, teacher to the Crown Prince himself.”
…Oh.
So Yeon-hee released the bamboo she had been fidgeting with and fell quiet.
There was clearly more to the So Clan’s fall than she had realized.