746.
When the incident with Baeksu became known, Park Seongjin's name began to circulate in unexpected circles.
It was not pity that stirred, but concern.
Not concern for the man who had been struck down, but for the possibility that the next turn might be their own.
Among nobles, conversation always followed that pattern.
Not everyone thought alike, yet when framed in terms of shared interests, many arguments grew simple.
"They say he puts private justice first."
"I heard he declared that anyone who goes too far will be dealt with."
Those who had been passing such words in empty rooms fell silent once they heard that much.
They did not need to ask whom Park Seongjin had meant.
The rumors thinned quickly.
They did not vanish.
They hid.
In their place, more important matters rose to the surface.
Excessive land rents.
The habit of inflating reported yields.
Even the use of private force when tenants refused to comply.
Some of these were newly reported.
Others had long been known and quietly postponed.
The king knew.
The court knew.
The Office of Rectification of Land and Serf Registers knew.
They had simply chosen not to act.
The original standard was clear.
The state's base tax was one-tenth of the harvest, the so-called tithe.
For public lands, officials assessed the fields by grade.
Private estates were different.
The estate owner set the yield at will and decided how much to take.
In practice, a quarter was common.
In some places, half was taken.
There were even cases demanding seventy percent.
After this incident, the standard was spoken of again.
Private rents were to follow the one-tenth principle.
Anything beyond that would be adjusted down without exception.
Inflating harvest figures was prohibited.
If discovered, the standard would be imposed immediately.
If private force had been used, that force would be absorbed by the state at once.
No steward or retainer would be exempt.
Loopholes would be blocked by procedure.
Procedure would be bound by standard.
"From now on, you will not set yields at your own whim and take whatever portion you please."
"If you are caught, it goes straight to one-tenth."
The words were simple.
The sentences were firm.
Whether this was justice or belated damage control did not matter.
What mattered was that the words were finally spoken.
That Park Seongjin's name had prompted them made the nobles uneasy.
He did not step forward to claim credit.
He offered no explanations.
He made no excuses.
He merely called excess excessive and violence violence.
That simplicity unsettled habits long left undisturbed.
No one could deny that Park stood behind these changes.
They muttered in private, yet in official settings all nodded.
"It is correct."
"A proper point."
Words moved first.
Action always followed later.
The second problem was the Office of Rectification itself.
The body tasked with reform was dining alongside those it was meant to reform.
The saying about crayfish siding with crabs had not arisen without cause.
Rather than correcting private land accumulation, it had grown into a place that quietly softened excessive greed.
The paperwork was neat.
The phrasing persuasive.
The results unchanged.
Park said that this incident had revealed their true colors clearly.
He added that if the same thing happened again, those responsible would learn in their own bodies what "private retaliation" meant.
His voice was low.
His meaning unmistakable.
It was closer to a notice than a warning.
He summoned Yi Baekchung first.
Former Director of the Office of Royal Decrees, praised for elegant writing.
None of that mattered before Park.
After that, he called in senior officials of the Rectification Office one by one and reprimanded them.
He did not raise his voice.
His words were blunt.
"Do your work properly."
"Record the grievances of the people."
"Not rumors. Records."
"Who, when, where, what happened. Leave nothing out."
He said he would review them regularly.
If anything was missing, he would not ask why.
He visited offices without discrimination.
From one place he moved straight to the next connected to it.
He asked.
He listened.
He ordered correction.
"I am also an official."
Each time he invoked his title as Jungnang of the Yongho Guard.
He asserted the right to question.
To demand answers.
Thus he crossed Gaegyeong again and again.
He knew this was not the place meant for him.
Yet once begun, the matter demanded an end.
—*
Park said, "I cannot change the world, but I will not turn away from the pain beside me."
He added, "I will not hesitate to punish those who use power for private gain."
It was no grand proclamation.
Yet it spread swiftly.
For it struck precisely at the hearts of those who had long exploited others in the name of custom.
Many still took half while speaking of one-tenth.
Land was finite.
People were many.
The excuse always fell upon the weakest.
When word spread that Park personally disciplined the worst offenders, noble misconduct visibly declined.
The economic loss must have been considerable.
They chose to take less rather than end like Baeksu.
Fear sharpened calculation.
Baeksu's case was reported.
No sanction followed.
Those who rushed him were struck.
Those who drew blades were disarmed and wounded.
Those who lied to seize property were intimidated.
Legally, it was imperfect.
No one raised issue.
All understood that those rigid before the law bowed before force.
A harsh logic operated beneath it.
Park neither celebrated nor boasted.
He understood the danger of replacing law with himself.
Still, he did not retreat.
He began to walk Gaegyeong and its outskirts slowly.
As if searching for trouble.
As if confirming what had already happened.
Few knew he had reached a higher realm of mastery.
His reputation alone sufficed.
When he moved with eyes sharp, caution followed him.
He visited large estates one by one.
Asked the rate.
Urged adjustment.
Most nodded readily.
When told, "This is customary," he replied calmly, "Then I will act according to the custom of warriors."
The threat was plain.
The taking ceased.
He did not spare tenants either.
"Lower rent does not mean license to live carelessly."
"Offer good grain honestly."
"A world shared endures longer when each takes and deceives less."
When some were caught hiding grain after a reduced rate, he intervened.
"This time I pass. Next time, I stand with the landlord."
The warning sufficed.
At a temple estate, a monk claimed sacred purpose.
Park bowed briefly.
"Buddha's law preserves life. A hall built by squeezing men cannot endure."
By evening, the temple sent word lowering the rate.
He did not believe he was changing the world.
He simply asked the same question each time.
Who takes.
Who endures.
When the answer lay before him, he did not look away.