Chapter 34: Admission to the Gukjagam (2)

“Splash, splash!”

“Where do you think you’re coming out already? Daewon! Back in, right now!”

Hey, you crazy bastards.

Go Daewon was the Crown Prince. Were they really dipping him in and out of the freezing winter water like dried pollack? Did they want him to be butchered before a million-strong army forty years later?

But I only said that to myself.

This wasn’t the kind of moment where stepping up and shouting, “This is wrong!” would earn me applause. That only happened in dramas.

I looked around.

‘The Taehak Scholars are watching.’

Beside them, a fire was burning, and carts were on standby.

In other words, this too was an official ceremony of sorts. Since the Gukjagam was basically this era’s military academy, it counted as training.

Even Go Daewon, though his eyes blazed, accepted it as natural. So, I had no reason to interfere. No, more than that—I had no excuse.

“Ondal, into the water!”

“Into the water!”

“Oh? Who told you to come out already?”

“Grrrrk!”

“Run one lap around the training yard! If you don’t run properly, you’ll freeze to death!”

There was no room for me to step in.

‘Damn it, this accursed Goguryeo!’

I once heard that the more elite an organization was, the stronger its obsession with authority, and the harsher its initiation rituals.

And the Gukjagam was Goguryeo’s top elite institution. Not only that, but this was a martial nation steeped in insane machismo.

Even in Confucian Joseon, people reportedly died during the coming-of-age rites. How much worse would a martial nation like Goguryeo be, a thousand years earlier?

Couldn’t endure? Then die—that was literally how things worked here. The senior blue-cloaks joked among themselves.

“Hey, you yellow-cloaks! Did I stab you with a sword or smash your head with a club? And you can’t endure this much?”

True, they didn’t beat us. Surprisingly, physical beatings were officially banned. If someone broke a bone from pointless blows, it would interfere with training.

But the problem was, they did everything except beating.

Dunking us in icy water, stripping us in winter and making us run, shoving us back into the water, forcing us to hold a horse-riding stance, and more. They knew beatings damaged the body, but apparently thought none of this did.

The second-years shouted.

“If one dies from this little, how could he lead the Goguryeo army? A leader must be stronger! A Goguryeo man does not obey someone weaker than himself!”

That applied to the Crown Prince as well.

Even more harshly, in fact.

All my peers entered the water, but the ones singled out most severely were me and Go Daewon. That much was clear.

Of course, if either of us actually died, those involved would be wiped out without exception.

And they knew that. They just didn’t care much.

‘The Crown Prince died? Then I die too, so be it!’

That was their mindset.

Some might even think, “If the Crown Prince couldn’t endure this much, then better he was weeded out before becoming King. Even if I die, it’s a relief.”

“Then die” applied equally to everyone, so at least it wasn’t hypocritical.

Besides—

“You there, move to the fire.”

“Move!”

“You too! Hey, that guy’s lips are blue!”

They had their own rules. If someone seemed truly on the brink, they moved him aside. Later, once his lips turned pink again, he was dragged back in—but still.

Hours passed like that, and by the time I lost count around thirty dunks—

“The sun has set. That’s enough.”

At the Taehak Scholars’ declaration, the blue-cloaks bowed their heads and returned to their quarters. Obedience to orders was absolute.

Thus the official hazing ended.

And… the phrase “official hazing” meant—

“Hey bastard, you’re Ondal, right?”

Of course, there was also “unofficial hazing.”

That evening, a few seniors called me out.

This was true unofficial hazing, fitting the very definition of “injustice.”

“You’re that shit-smelling bastard, right?”

“This bastard thinks he’s above us because he married the Princess? And you dare show your face at the Gukjagam?”

“Didn’t even the Grand King refuse to recognize you as royal son-in-law? Why are you still alive? If I were you, I’d have bitten my tongue and died.”

They beat me, and even spat on me.

Could they do that, even though I was married to a Princess?

Well, hadn’t the Dursleys kept beating Harry even after finding out he was a wizard?

These guys were lunatics who dunked even the Crown Prince.

If you bowed your head just because an idiot became royal son-in-law, you weren’t fit to be a Goguryeo noble.

If things were that easily solved, Go Yangseong would’ve summoned me long ago.

Of course, as royal son-in-law, I could go crying, “Waaah, Princess Boknyeo!” and have these bastards destroyed.

But Harry could’ve given the Dursleys a taste of the Stupefy spell—more famous in Britain than sardine pie—but he didn’t, right?

Because if he had, he’d have been expelled and dragged to the Ministry of Magic to dine with Dementors.

I was the same.

The moment I went crying, “Princess Boknyeo, save me!”, I would gain the stellar reputation of a man who could do nothing by his own strength and only lived wrapped in his wife’s skirts.

In Goguryeo, that was no different from social suicide.

Just then, they hit exactly that nerve.

“What, going to go cry to the Princess?”

“Go ahead, cry, you bastard! You die, I die!”

These bastards knew the truth as well—that was why they said it.

Their mindset was simply, “Kill him, and I’ll die too.”

Roughly, I understood the level of my reputation.

…I wanted to die.

‘This is driving me insane.’

As the blows kept landing, my mind grew hazy.

More than the physical pain, the real damage was to my patience.

‘These little punks… seriously?’

At this rate, I might actually beat them up. But then it would become an insubordination problem.

Just as I was battling my own patience—

“Didn’t you hear me say, gather?”

A man suddenly stuck his face in.

The bastards who were tormenting me froze.

“Did you just say, gather?”

“I did. What, you think my words are funny?”

“No, that’s not it…”

“Then hurry and get over there.”

At that, the two of them bolted like their tails were on fire.

The newcomer stretched out a thick hand toward me.

“You alright?”

“Ah, yes. I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

The second-year who said that was the very one who, at the forefront of the official hazing earlier, had shoved Go Daewon into the water.

In other words, he was the leader of the second-year Blue-cloaks.

Even without introductions, it wasn’t hard to guess who he was.

“You’re Senior Yeon Taejo.”

He was the son of Yeon Jayu, who had entered a year before me.

“Sharp eye.”

“There can only be one leader of the second-years.”

“Quick with words too.”

I carefully asked,

“How’s the situation among the second-years?”

“Better than yours. We’re all Pyeongyang Faction.”

The Domestic Fortress Faction had only set foot in the Gukjagam again this year after decades. Which meant there were none among the second-years.

“But as you can see, it’s not neat. Just because they’re Pyeongyang Faction doesn’t mean everyone likes the Domestic Fortress Faction.”

“Understandable.”

No matter how much Yeon Jayu of the Pyeongyang Faction and Grand King Go Yangseong wished for co-governance between the two factions, their rivalry stretched back a long time.

Hadn’t they drawn blades against each other multiple times? Go Yangseong and Yeon Jayu had barely managed to bring the Domestic Fortress Faction back into play, but it was still only a transitional stage.

“But at least those gathered here now aren’t ones who’ve actually drawn swords against each other.”

“Right. That’s the bigger problem.”

Yeon Taejo let out a deep sigh.

“The Gukjagam is where politics begins. And this year is historic—the first time in decades that the Domestic Fortress Faction has returned here. But if fighting breaks out already… then talk of unity is as good as dead, isn’t it?”

That was why Yeon Taejo had been running around earlier, restraining Pyeongyang brats who tried to beat the Domestic Fortress ones. If things fell apart even here, there’d truly be no solution left.

“As Father said, you’ll need to lend a strong hand. He told me himself to lean on you. I can’t help you openly—I have my own standing to consider—but I can help in other ways.”

“Other ways?”

“For example, pretending I didn’t see you sneaking something earlier?”

“You saw?”

“I’ve done the exact same thing before. The others won’t have noticed. And if that’s not enough, check under the third oak tree over there, Ondal.”

Saying that, Yeon Taejo patted my shoulder and left. Somehow, that gave me strength.

At least unofficially, I had one person on my side.

No—not one.

“You’re Ondal, right? I heard a lot about you from my sister.”

Two people. As soon as I entered the room, Crown Prince Go Daewon greeted me warmly.

‘The Crown Prince and the royal son-in-law sharing a room, huh.’

It was one of the basic principles of kingship: to cultivate close aides from crown prince days. Go Daewon looked at me and handed me something.

“You’re swollen up badly. Use this.”

“What’s this?”

“A pumice stone.”

A porous stone with many holes.

There was nothing better for rubbing on the face to reduce bruises.

I bowed my head slightly.

“Thank you, Crown Prince.”

“I told you, I’m not Crown Prince here. Keep calling me that and I’ll start calling you ‘brother,’ how about that?”

“Ah… alright, Daewon.”

“Good. Anyway… you came at the right time.”

Go Daewon pointed to one side of the room.

“A fight just broke out. Felt a bit awkward watching alone, so let’s watch together.”

At the Gukjagam, each room was shared by ten students and overseen by one Taehak Scholar.

In our room, aside from Crown Prince Go Daewon and me, it was split perfectly half-and-half between the Domestic Fortress Faction and the Pyeongyang Faction.

I heard the other rooms weren’t all split so evenly, but apparently there were hardly any rooms of purely Pyeongyang Faction.

It meant they’d mixed us on purpose.

It looked like a measure to promote harmony… but really, putting members of opposing factions in the same space and expecting them to become friends was far too simplistic.

Especially when most of the Domestic Fortress boys had swollen faces.

‘They all look like pandas.’

I wasn’t the only Domestic Fortress boy who’d been called out and beaten just because someone didn’t like the look of me.

And then—

“Well, well, your face is all tattered, isn’t it?”

The Pyeongyang Faction actually laughed at the bruised state of the Domestic Fortress boys.

“What did you just say?”

Of course, a fight broke out.

You had to hold back against seniors, since hitting them would be insubordination.

But coming back from getting hit by seniors and then hitting your peers? That was another matter entirely.

“I am Maeng Sap, son of the Western Division Leader! Long ago, Maeng Gwang who went to Northern Yan was my ancestor! Do you think someone of my bloodline will stand for such an insult?”

The burly Domestic Fortress boy, Maeng Sap, swung his fists and charged the Pyeongyang Faction like a wild boar. Watching him, Go Daewon whispered to me.

“He’s the younger brother of Lady Maeng, who just became the new Queen.”

Then… what would that make him to me? Since Lady Maeng was my mother-in-law (new!), what was the proper term for her younger brother?

I had no idea.

Anyway, the Lady Maeng I’d seen was the kind of woman often called a ‘healthy beauty,’ every action she took exuding elegance.

But her brother Maeng Sap was another story.

“Let go! Let go! You bastards dare laugh at me?”

He swung his fists wildly, boiling over with rage. Before him, one youth stepped forward.

“Enough, Maeng Sap! You’re making my ears ring.”

Maeng Sap glared.

“And who the hell are you?”

“I am Go Jaemu, son of the Southern Division Leader. Maeng Sap, it seems your sister becoming Queen has made your lungs swell, but the more you thrash about, the more her reputation will suffer. You ought to know that.”

Go Jaemu.

The royal Go clan, Go clan of Go Heul, Go clan of Go San in the Northern Division—and now the Southern Go clan appeared too.

‘Goguryeo sure has a lot of Go clans.’

That was because of the制度 of bestowing surnames (Saseong), granting the royal surname “Go” to those who performed great deeds.

Go Mil, the ancestor of Go Heul, had also received the Go surname this way, and the Southern Go clan’s Go Jaemu was the same.

Of course, there were distinguished lineages that weren’t Go clans, like the Yeon family or the royal family, but most Go clans were prominent houses.

‘So now we have the Western Division Leader’s son Maeng Sap, and the Southern Division Leader’s son Go Jaemu.’

Boknyeo had told me: once I entered the Gukjagam, I should focus on winning over the Western and Southern people.

And lo and behold, in my room were the sons of the Western and Southern Division Leaders, and even Crown Prince Go Daewon himself?

If I thought that was a coincidence, then I really was the idiot fool Ondal-chan, no additions or subtractions needed.

Clearly, Go Yangseong intended to push me hard this time.

While I was thinking that, the quarrel between Go Jaemu and Maeng Sap had escalated from words to fists.

“You’re hopeless. Let’s settle this! You’re no better than a Silla dog—or maybe a Baekjean!”

“I was waiting for you to say that. You Turkic bastard!”

Go Jaemu mocked Maeng Sap as a Turk, and Maeng Sap spat back, calling Go Jaemu a Silla.

It was nonsense. The Southern Division was on the front line against Silla, and the Western Division guarded the front line against the Turks.

They didn’t even seem to know what they were saying. I couldn’t help sighing.

‘These idiots are the sons of our border leaders?’

The Northern Domestic Fortress and the Central Pyeongyang may have been important, but they were both deep inside Goguryeo.

It was the Western and Southern Divisions that guarded the borders.

The Western Division, centered on Liaodong Fortress, defended against the Turks and western tribes. The Southern Division, centered on Hanseong, defended against Silla.

And yet, the ones who would inherit those crucial responsibilities in the future were acting like this?

‘Even so, this is the military, isn’t it?’

But then I remembered—even in the 21st-century army, a 21-year-old would berate a 20-year-old for something as petty as pouring rice into his soup without permission.

And these here were even younger, at most fifteen or sixteen, proud nobles to boot.

Maybe expecting them not to be childish was the real nonsense.

‘…My chest grows small and mean of its own accord.’

At least the shame didn’t last long.

Clang!

With a loud ring, a Bido fell between the fighters. The one who had thrown it was Go Daewon.

“Are you really going to beat each other to death with fists? If you’re going to fight, then use blades.”

Go Daewon, who had thrown the dagger, smirked.

“The future of Goguryeo sure looks bright. Hoo, when I become Grand King, it means I’ll have to drag around idiots like you? Wow, maybe I should’ve just let myself die in the water earlier.”

That blew away the tension inside me.

Maeng Sap and Go Jaemu, as if time had stopped, blinked at each other.

And then—

“…Huh?”

Both Maeng Sap and Go Jaemu turned red in the face.

But only after the Crown Prince, Go Daewon, threw a single blade did they realize just how much nonsense they had been spouting while caught up in excitement.

“Uh…”

“Ahem!”

Once the heat cooled down, people naturally began to reflect on the words they had said.

And what followed was always just one thing.

“Well, what I said earlier, that was…”

“What I meant was, that was…”

…A thick, heavy sage-time. And at the same time, the atmosphere turned dreadfully awkward.

Right now, they were about sixteen years old.

The days when you could just shake hands and reconcile after a fight were long gone. (Honestly, even at elementary school age, that only worked because teachers forced it.)

And above all, once someone had suffered an embarrassing experience in front of another, they’d naturally want to avoid that person. Facing them would only bring back the shame.

Once such a gap opened, crossing it only became harder and harder with time.

So if there was ever a moment to bridge it, it was now.

I pulled out my trump card from under my bedding.

“Tada.”

“…What’s that?”

“Can’t you see? It’s liquor.”

What I had pulled out were three bottles of alcohol.

Maeng Sap flinched and asked in shock.

“Where the hell did you get that?”

“When the seniors were busy pouring and drinking, I quietly stashed some away. Picked it back up on my way here after getting beaten.”

Thievery was one of my talents. I realized that back when I used to steal ginseng.

Yeon Taejo might have noticed, but he chose to turn a blind eye.

“Alright, take out your cups.”

Pop!—as soon as the stopper came loose, the boys’ throats bobbed as they swallowed their saliva.

1. The Saseong制度 (bestowing surnames) was common not only in Goguryeo but also in Tang. That’s why Goguryeo had so many Go clans, and Tang had so many Yi clans.

Baekje and Silla didn’t seem to practice Saseong much. The reason there are so many Kims in Silla records is simply because the Kim clan (both the Gaya line and the Naemul line of true-bone status) monopolized most of the high offices.

2. Liquor bottles of this period were likely made of iron or ceramic. Many such artifacts have been excavated from Goguryeo ruins, and considering records like “Even the smallest village in Goguryeo had a brewery,” it’s hardly surprising.

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