They say numbers don’t lie. But that’s only half the truth.

If you write false information on paper, those numbers become lies.

However, as the saying goes, a long tail gets stepped on—falsehoods in the ledgers are bound to be glaringly obvious.

“Kim Ibang.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“According to these records, the district collected 4,859 seom of rice as land tax. Additionally, for tribute, 300 geun of dried persimmons, 200 geun of anchovies, and 400 sets of paulownia wood bowls, spoons, and chopsticks. Is this correct?”

“Yes, it’s as recorded in the ledger.”

At this time, Joseon’s total population is probably just under 7.7 million.

In Jinhae, where I’ve been appointed, there are likely around 20,000 to 30,000 people.

About 1,000 to 1,500 live in what you’d call the town center.

So, the amount of land tax and tribute collected seems about right… but here’s the problem.

Did they actually collect the land tax properly?

Even if I set aside the land tax for now, what about the tribute?

Most people in Joseon spend their lives farming rice, barley, or beans. They don’t make dried persimmons or catch anchovies.

So, the ones handling the tribute collection on their behalf—did they really not pull any tricks?

If they didn’t, that’d be commendable, and I’d want to reward them. But I have a strong feeling I won’t be giving out any rewards.

In this era, temples used the money from handling tribute to lavishly repair their buildings and indulge in luxury, even in a Joseon that suppresses Buddhism in favor of Confucianism.

“The people couldn’t possibly make paulownia wood items, dried persimmons, or anchovies themselves. So, like other districts, are you procuring these through temples?”

“Yes, my lord. For the past ten years, our district has been procuring goods through the temple.”

“Don’t the people resent it?”

“At first, some disliked that the government collected rice and used it to gather specialties through the temple. But now, everyone likes it.”

That’s half true, half false.

For example, let’s say I had to make a paperclip from start to finish.

I’d need to mine iron ore, build a furnace to melt it, pour it into molds, cool it, draw it into wire, and bend it.

To make a paperclip worth 1,000 won for a box of dozens at a stationery store, I’d probably spend at least 10 million won. That’s how tough self-sufficiency is.

For farmers growing only grains, producing tribute goods would be a huge burden.

So, being allowed to pay in grain instead must have felt like a relief.

No need to spend 10 million won every time.

But the temple folks likely used economies of scale to buy tribute goods cheaply and then charged exorbitant fees.

The burden, of course, falls on the people, and part of the money probably ended up in the pockets of clerks, local elites, and higher-ups as bribes or “gifts.”

So, to pay for 1,000 won worth of tribute, the people end up shelling out 20,000 won.

Sure, it’s better than 10 million won, so I guess it’s a “peaceful and prosperous” Joseon.

*

“So, how much rice was collected to buy all the tribute goods?”

“We collected 8,234 seom of rice from the people.”

“The tribute costs more than the land tax. What a mess.”

For the record, I declared I wouldn’t accept bribes.

In other words, these guys are skimming enough tribute to bribe me and still have plenty left over.

“But, my lord, this is only natural. As you know, if we made the people produce the tribute goods themselves, that would truly open the gates of suffering for them. Items for the palace must be carefully selected, and specialties are so expensive.”

When lying, you hide it between facts.

Like hiding a tree in a forest for safety.

“If the system is flawed, shouldn’t it be fixed? And since Joseon is a Confucian state, how can Buddhists meddle in state affairs?”

If I had my way, I’d sweep away everyone involved, starting with these clerks.

But if I did that, it wouldn’t just end with my resignation. They’d slap me with charges of disrespecting nobles and try to take my head.

A flood of petitions would go to Sejong, and at the very least, I’d be exiled.

I said I want to retire and live comfortably, not get exiled and live like a beggar.

So, I’ll take down only the ones who deserve it, precisely.

Honestly, since Joseon is a Confucian state, if you have a proper justification, monks are treated as people you can conscript at will.

If I say the monks are guilty of profiting off tribute collection, no one would object.

‘Didn’t they drag monks to build Namhansanseong Fortress?’

“Which temple is handling the tribute?”

“Seongheungsa Temple is in charge.”

“Seongheungsa, huh.”

“I’ll go settle this right now. A temple, of all places, handling tribute? That’s unacceptable. Ibang, follow me.”

I stood up abruptly.

As the saying goes, strike while the iron’s hot. If I don’t act now, I’ll never get it done.

*

Seongheungsa Temple was far too lavish for a temple.

The wooden pillars were all lacquered, and the main gate was painted red.

Before chemical paints, red paint was so expensive that even nobles hesitated to use it. How is a temple this extravagant?

It reeks of overflowing wealth.

“Where’s the head monk of Seongheungsa?”

Hearing my words, an elderly monk cautiously approached.

“Namu Amida Butsu, welcome. Are you the new magistrate of the district?”

“Yes. I heard Seongheungsa has been handling Jinhae’s tribute collection… and it seems the temple has amassed quite a fortune doing so.”

“This humble monk only took on the tribute to help the poor people. Thanks to us, they’ve been spared great hardship. The temple merely earned a small income, which we used to repair the facilities.”

…For that, you’re collecting way too much money.

By my calculations, the actual cost of the tribute goods the people need to provide should be around 500–600 seom of rice.

But these Seongheungsa monks, skimming profits, bribing clerks and officials, and even paying “gifts” to higher-ups, collected over 8,000 seom of rice.

Can you really call that fair?

If they’d collected, say, 1,000 seom and used it for fees, bribes, and gifts, I’d let it slide, thinking they need to make a living too.

But according to the Annals of King Sejong, these monks act like they’re royal emissaries, even intimidating magistrates.

“From now on, the temple will only accept donations. The offerings from the people and noblewomen are enough for you to live on, aren’t they?”

“Namu Amida Butsu, we’re only helping the people. Before we handled the tribute, they bore burdens two or three times greater. But with this monk, holding the heart of Buddha, taking on this lowly trade, their burden has significantly decreased. How can you tell us to stop?”

I don’t want to cause a scene on my first day as magistrate.

If I make a mess from day one, my performance evaluation will tank, and it’s obvious how the townspeople will view me.

But this guy is really pushing my buttons.

What are you, some kind of cult?

Well, early Joseon Buddhism, while better than late Goryeo, does have a bit of a “cultish” vibe.

That’s probably why, by mid-to-late Joseon, the court increasingly treated monks as outcasts.

Using the afterlife and religious authority to manipulate the people—how could such people be treated as equals, lest they cause trouble?

Sure, nobles, with all their learning, often indulge in factional politics without proper oversight, so it’s not like the monks are the only bad ones.

I really tried to hold back since it’s my first day.

But this isn’t right. I think it’s time for some harsh lessons.

I’m not planning to burn down the temple or anything… but they need to taste some spice.

Greedy monks are no different from cultists.

“Ibang, listen.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Arrest them all. And investigate how much money is needed if the district buys the tribute goods directly. If these monks have been collecting more than double the cost of the goods… I won’t let them off.”

Ibang’s face soured—no, it twisted.

Then he grabbed my sleeve and started pleading.

“My lord, you can’t do this. It’ll stir up public discontent. The people are easily swayed by superstitions, and if you suppress revered monks…”

“His Majesty sent me here to care for the people and ease their suffering. How can I just stand by in this situation?”

I shook off Ibang and gave the order.

“Seal the temple’s storehouse immediately and thoroughly inspect their ledgers!”

If I do this and it turns out these guys are cleaner than I thought, I’ll be the one in trouble.

But no need to worry.

I’m not going to lose.