665.So not rule, but management.
Yun Dam spent several days alternating between documents and maps.
He traced Hizen's terrain and sea routes, supply lines, and the speed at which forces from the Japanese mainland could move—one by one.
Above all, he placed Park Seong-jin at the center of every calculation.
At last, he reached a conclusion.
Short-term holding and long-term rule were not a matter of choice.
Yun Dam spoke bluntly.
"Long-term rule is premature.
The moment we incorporate this land as a Goryeo province, war with the mainland begins."
He tapped the map with his finger.
"Hizen is the point of origin for the wakō.
The instant we seize it, Japan will be forced to send troops.
To stop those troops, we would have to keep reinforcing.
That is not governance—it is attrition."
He lowered his head briefly, then continued.
"Yet leaving it empty is not the right answer either.
An empty place becomes a nest again.
What we abandon will regrow first."
Park Seong-jin lifted his head quietly.
"The same conclusion."
Yun Dam went on.
"We must remain and negotiate.
We need to draw a line of non-aggression with the shogunate."
His conclusion settled into three points.
First: Postpone permanent rule.
The provincial incorporation of Hizen and the Japanese mainland is deferred.
Goryeo's laws and institutions are not to be forcibly transplanted.
No declaration of territory—yet influence is maintained.
"Not calling this land ours is, paradoxically, the way to hold it longest."
Second: Military fixation, administrative restraint.
The army remains.
Rule does not.
Ports, fortresses, and roads are secured.
Internal affairs are left untouched.
"We hold the sword, but we do not thrust the law."
Third: Planning for the time after Park Seong-jin.
Here, Yun Dam paused.
"As long as the General is here, we can endure.
But statecraft cannot be built on an individual.
We go only as far as what will hold even after the General leaves."
Park Seong-jin nodded.
"So not rule, but management."
Yun Dam replied,
"Closer to containment."
He concluded,
"For now, we prepare for long-term rule without executing it.
Through negotiations with the Kyoto shogunate, this land will remain under lords friendly to Goryeo.
We hold Hizen—but we do not live with Hizen in our arms."
His tone was calm, and within it lay a clear resolve not to expand the war.
That night, Park Seong-jin spread the map out again, alone.
Hizen still drew his hand.
But he knew—what was needed now was not to advance further, but to know which line must not be crossed.
Letter to the Kyoto Shogunate
With utmost respect, we submit these words.
For many years, the unrest of the eastern seas has deprived the peoples of both our realms of peace—a fact your country knows well.
Our state has long valued amity with your realm, taking as its foundation the principle that we do not harm one another across the sea.
Recently, however, the depredations of the wakō have grown severe.
Coastal peoples have been slaughtered; homes and ships burned without end.
For this reason, our state has raised troops and crossed the sea—not out of a desire for war, but to block the source of the calamity.
That our forces remain in the Hizen region does not signify an intent to invade your realm.
It is solely to eradicate the wakō so that the peoples of both states may never again suffer harm.
Our state has no intention of settling here long-term to rule, nor do we desire to contest arms with your realm.
Yet without cutting off the roots of the wakō, we cannot withdraw our forces—this we state plainly.
Tsushima and Iki have long been places where our people came and went, guarding the sea.
Through this affair, their status has been clarified, and we now declare these two islands to be the territory of our state.
Taking Iki as a base, we intend to establish long-term organizations and measures to block the wakō.
If the shogunate recognizes this and cooperates, it will benefit both our states.
For the time being, our state will remain in various parts of Kyushu to dismantle remaining wakō bases and restore order to the seas.
This is not an attempt to shake the foundations of your realm, but an action aimed solely at the wakō.
We ask that the shogunate set forth, in writing, permanent measures to eradicate the wakō.
If this is done, our state will not keep its forces here unnecessarily and will seek a path of withdrawal once the seas are calmed.
We do not seek war, yet the establishment of order cannot be delayed.
We await the shogunate's clear reply.
Goryeo, Year ○○, Month ○
From the camp at Karatsu, Hizen
Jungnangjang Park Seong-jin, respectfully submitted
The document summarizing these negotiations was deliberately written in softened terms.
Through Akai, it was sent to Kyoto by the fastest route.
At the same time, Akai was tasked with gathering intelligence on Kyoto's political climate.
When reports arrived that Goryeo forces had landed at Katsura, the air in Kyoto thickened at once.
As soon as doors opened, voices were already shouting.
"What did the Kuroda think they were doing?"
The first to be targeted was the Kuroda clan—
for having done nothing.
One of Kyushu's largest domains, and among the most powerful in all of Japan.
They had not fought and lost.
They had not resisted and been pushed back.
They had simply done nothing.
"Did they sit raising cups while Goryeo crossed the sea?"
"This is the responsibility for losing Katsura!"
"Katsura was never theirs to begin with!"
Words overlapped.
Shouts drowned out shouts.
Responsibility leapt up, then fell back to the floor.
No one tried to gather it.
"Gather Kyushu's armies and strike first."
The words failed to continue.
"There are no armies left to gather."
"Half have already crossed over."
"We must send forces from the mainland."
Satsuma's withdrawal was decisive.
And it did not end there.
When Satsuma fell away, several domains that had stood behind it bowed in succession.
It was not battle.
It was choice.
They had merely opened their gates.
Someone suggested counting what remained.
Chikuzen.
Chikugo.
Higo.
Buzen.
Four.
Someone scoffed.
"They're intact not because they fought or held out—
but because they weren't diligent pirates."
The chamber fell silent.
Everyone understood what that meant.
Half of Kyushu had crossed over by choice.
And now the main Goryeo army had arrived.
Before, Park Seong-jin had been a solitary figure spreading terror as he moved.
Now it was different.
An army had landed.
Camps were raised.
They did not withdraw.
"This is war."
Someone said it.
But the words carried no force.
They were not ready to fight.
A greater problem loomed.
"We still haven't answered that letter."
No one replied.
They all knew.
Park Seong-jin's message—and the formal letter delivered in the name of a Goryeo general.
At first, they delayed.
They thought that if they held out, the Goryeo forces would withdraw.
Then another letter arrived.
"Same content?"
"More explicit."
The man gripping the document said,
"They say they will remain.
They say they will eliminate the wakō.
They wrote that Tsushima and Iki are their land."
The chamber erupted.
"Can we leave this unanswered?"
"If we respond now, it means acknowledging everything."
"If we delay, they'll settle things on their own."
Shouts pushed over shouts.
Logic drowned under emotion.
Emotion turned, again, into fear.
That day in Kyoto, there were more eyes measuring escape routes than eyes willing to bear responsibility.
The shogunate could not speak with one voice.
No conclusion emerged.
No order was given.
And everyone knew—
the longer the silence lasted, the firmer Goryeo's positions became, and the fewer the choices left.
Yet still, no one could decide.
That day's Kyoto was louder than war,
and more anxious than defeat.