hapter 39 — In These
Chapter 39 — In These Busy Times, When Will I Ever Work for Myself?
A month had passed.
There was simply too much to take care of.
No matter how well things were handled—and though I trusted my subordinates, once my comrades, completely—it still didn't sit right with me.
Even when I did things myself, they rarely satisfied me. So how could I be content when others handled them on their own?
I went through the documents, checking them against the actual supplies, but no matter how I looked at it, the inventory records didn't match.
"What's so difficult about it?" So Cheol-ryong asked, swaggering over.
"They don't match."
"So the Daejeonghimself is trying to reconcile them?"
"If they don't match, the higher-ups are going to raise hell."
"Come on, a man of your rank shouldn't be saying 'raise hell.'"
"So what do we do with this? This one might be missing, and that one… maybe it's still in the warehouse…"
So Cheol-ryong raised his index finger and wagged it lazily from side to side.
"Why are you trying to do it yourself?"
"Then what should I do?"
"Make them do it."
"How?"
"Watch."
So Cheol-ryong called in the squad leaders.
He handed out sheets of paper and shouted:
"Balance the inventory! Half a sijin! If you don't, a hundred laps over there!"
"What? How are we supposed to—"
"Call everyone in!"
The squad leaders groaned.
"How can we do this in half a sijin?"
"Damn it, someone worse than Cheol-gu has appeared…"
"I'd rather run a hundred laps on the training ground!"
Young-woo stared at them quietly.
They had once been comrades, so the sense of hierarchy was weak.
He understood their position—but he had his own as well.
If they failed to reconcile the inventory, the blame would inevitably fall on him.
Kwak Eun-seop, the commander of the 6th unit, came over and made a show of helping.
Young-woo voiced his frustration.
"You could've managed them a bit better."
"I tried," Kwak muttered. "But do they listen? Those guys?"
"They don't listen to me either."
Kwak chuckled.
"That's because you all grew up together."
"Exactly."
"But authority has to stand. This is the army."
"Sigh…"
"I'll overlook it a few times, but if it continues, they'll say you lack control—and you'll be removed."
"Then I'll just step down."
"You think it's that simple?"
With Kwak's help, they finally managed to reconcile the records.
And even so, he made them all run a hundred laps.
When his mind had turned completely blank from exhaustion, a physician arrived.
"How did you get here?"
"I prepared this to give you before you left… and forgot."
"What is it?"
"Twenty medicinal herbs. These grow commonly in this region."
He had labeled each specimen, complete with leaves and roots.
"When you go out, find identical ones. That's the beginning."
"They all look the same to me… just weeds everywhere."
"You must train your eye. Practice every day until you can identify twenty herbs at a glance within the distance of twenty paces."
"Ah… even finding one is hard…"
Young-woo collapsed into his chair and shut his eyes tightly.
In these busy times, when will I ever be able to work for myself?
In the end, all our actions feel like nothing more than service for others.
The physician raised a single finger.
"Invest just one sijina day."
"And when you master those twenty, I will prepare another twenty for you."
"…Unbelievable."
The physician then began explaining how to distinguish wild ginseng.
"Wild ginseng only grows in good forests. Its leaves resemble a human hand—the middle finger is the longest, and the others follow naturally. The whole spread looks like a palm. That's why gatherers say, 'the hand is beautiful.'
"The stem is called the 'neck.' True wild ginseng has a thin stem with a pale purplish or reddish-brown color, standing straight with strength. They say 'the neck is fine.'
"Third, observe the site. This is the most important. Ginseng grows according to its place. A good site is a north-facing slope with little sunlight, thick layers of fallen leaves, oak or maple forests, and soft, moist soil."
Normally taciturn, the physician spoke endlessly once prompted.
By the time he finished explaining all twenty herbs and how to distinguish them, a full sijinhad passed.
Strangely, Young-woo found he remembered every single word.
"One last thing—go to the market on market days. You'll find many herbs and wild greens there. That's where you study."
"Oh, that's a good idea."
"You can also follow one or two herb gatherers around."
"When am I supposed to work?"
The physician clicked his tongue.
"If you only do what everyone else does, how will you ever become a master? You must be able to gather your own medicine."
Young-woo nodded.
"So if I gather them… do I eat them right away?"
"Absolutely not. Wild herbs are potent. Some are toxic. You must process them."
"Process?"
"Boiling, drying, grinding—all of that is processing. It reduces toxicity and enhances medicinal properties. Never consume them raw."
Young-woo asked suspiciously:
"If I bring them to you, you'll just take them, won't you?"
"Of course. I'll take them—and show you how it's done. That can count as your treatment fee."
"Treatment fee?"
"I didn't charge you a single coin for treating you."
"You're paid by the state, aren't you?"
"That only covers basic treatment. It doesn't include treating poison wounds, injuries—and cultivating your internal energy."
"…Internal energy?"
"You didn't know? More than half the medicine you've taken has been to strengthen your inner power."
"I never asked for that!"
"That was at the earnest request of Baek In-gyeom. He said you'd repay tenfold once fully recovered."
"…So it was a slave contract all along."
The physician shot him a reproachful glance.
"That's no way to speak of someone who saved your life."
"…Fair enough."
"Anyway, I'll take it that you'll gather them."
"Sigh…"
With his hands clasped behind his back, swaying them like a tail, the physician walked away.
Busy Times, When Will I Ever Wor?