I Became a Fallen Noble of Goguryeo

Chapter 2: I Became a Goguryeo Noble

To begin with the conclusion, I, who had been the heir of the 21st‑century Goguryeo Red Ginseng Candy factory, died.

And it was the 8th year of King Pyeongwon, which in Sogi dating was the year 566.

I was reincarnated into the body of a 14‑year‑old low‑ranking noble, Kim Insam, in Gomchon near the Goguryeo capital, Pyeongyang Fortress.

The only reason I could even approximate the year was thanks to my father.

My father believed that knowing history was important, so he bought quite a few educational comics like Teacher Go X‑young’s Eastern‑history series, Manhwa‑ro Boneun Samguk Sagi, and Manhwa‑ro Boneun Goguryeo 700 Years.

From early childhood I read those over and over again, and thanks to that I could roughly estimate the year.

‘Of all names, it’s Kim Insam….’

Coincidentally it was exactly the same name as in my previous life.

I don’t know whether I was reincarnated because the name was the same, or the name became the same because I was reincarnated.

Anyway, being reborn into Goguryeo….

‘Is this a divine revelation that I should repay the humiliation and rage I suffered from China in my previous life?’

Our family was shattered directly because of Jung Yun‑hong, but more broadly it was because of the Chinese ginseng company that whispered winds into his ear.

Jung Yun‑hong was eventually arrested, but they never caught the Chinese company.

But what kind of country was Goguryeo?

Even in the 21st century, when Chinese people insult Korea they say “gaolibangzi.”

It means “Goguryeo people with clubs.”

Ah, but these days because of the Northeast Project they drop “gaoli” and only use “bangzi.”

Anyway.

A mere forty years later war with Sui would begin. I’d be in my fifties or so then.

‘China… should I wipe them out?’

If I used future knowledge I could utterly shred them so they wouldn’t even exist in the 21st century….

…or so I thought.

It wasn’t as easy as I imagined.

Because of my status.

At least I wasn’t just a low‑ranking noble.

It was unfortunate, but a noble is still a noble.

A hundred times better than a commoner.

The problem was that I was a “fallen” noble with nothing.

“Hey there, noble sir. Where are you going instead of heading to the gyeongdang (the local Goguryeo school like Joseon’s seodang)?”

“What?”

“Oh right. You figure that if you skip studying at the gyeongdang you can’t succeed? Didn’t even have money to go, did you?”

The fact was that I wasn’t a simple low‑ranking noble, but a fallen noble with nothing—not even a speck of value left.

Of course fallen nobles were common in Goguryeo.

Outside the capital you could frequently see fallen nobles farming.

But most of them fell because of economic decline. Though poor, they still retained noble status.

My family, however… fell for a different reason.

‘Specifically, political reasons.’

My maternal grandfather had originally held the rank of So‑hyeong, the 10th rank out of Goguryeo’s fourteen, and commanded 100 soldiers as a Dangju—he had been doing quite well.

Being 10th rank of fourteen, commanding a hundred men… looking at it like a modern company’s battalion leader might not seem so big—but in that era commanding a hundred men placed you in the top 0.1 % of Goguryeo’s elite.

I’ve heard he even fought heroically in the Battle of Usan Fortress against Baekje during King Anwon’s reign.

But twenty years earlier, at the end of King Anwon’s reign, disaster struck the family.

At that time King Anwon was a wise and capable ruler.

When famine and plague hit, he personally toured provinces offering relief, and he crushed King Seong of Baekje in one fell stroke at Usan Fortress.

But he failed on one thing: naming his heir.

King Anwon had two sons at the time.

One by a jungbu-in, and one by a sobu-in.

The sobu‑in was backed by the “Gungnae Fortress faction,” founded by the Goguryeo founding lords in Liaodong.

The jungbu‑in was backed by the “Pyeongyang Fortress faction,” a newly risen aristocratic group from the Korean Peninsula during Goguryeo’s expansion.

Two rival factions.

Two princes.

Only one throne.

The outcome was inevitable.

They began fighting like mad.

If this had been Joseon?

They probably would have dueled with petitions and strikes, and the losing side would have taken poison.

But this was Goguryeo.

In this country nobles were soldiers.

If the newly elected Supreme Chancellor (Dae‑daero) didn’t suit you, you could conventionally draw your sword and seize the post.

So political strife in Goguryeo was not debate—it was swordfighting.

In the civil war known as the “Chugun and Segun Rebellion,” two thousand nobles were slaughtered in Pyeongyang alone.

The result was victory for the Pyeongyang Fortress faction.

They put Yangwon‑wang on the throne—he was the jungbu‑in’s son backed by the Pyeongyang faction.

My maternal grandfather… tragically died during the internal war as part of the Gungnae‑faction, fighting for the sobuin mother.

In short, he became a loser of history.

After that, the new ruling Pyeongyang faction treated the Gungnae faction like mortal enemies—confiscating their estates and reducing them to ruin.

The remaining Gungnae faction nobles that weren’t wiped out survived, but those like my grandfather who lived in Pyeongyang were utterly destroyed.

Honestly, surviving at all was a miracle… their reputation needn’t be mentioned. Even the bald jerk in black clothes who confronts me knows.

“Hey noble sir, even your shit must be golden shit? Or, did you shit blood for being fallen?”

“Why do you pick fights so much?”

“Why? Want me to hit you? You must think I’d back down just ’cause you’re bigger … but if the village’s reputation drops, you won’t be able to set foot here, see? I can hit you.”

That’s my current situation.

“…sigh.”

In the end, I couldn’t beat that cocky brat.

If I beat him, everyone would say the fallen noble still acted like he used to—beating up commoners—and it’d become loads harder to live here.

And he wasn’t wrong.

Twenty years ago the Pyeongyang faction wiped out the Gungnae faction.

Ten years ago dissatisfied Gungnae‑faction nobles even started a rebellion that was crushed.

At the present, as a low‑ranking noble of the Gungnae faction with no retainers, no stipend lands, no influence—I was truly incapable of getting any official post.

But that was only for now.

Eight years ago, King Yangwon of the Pyeongyang faction died, and his son King Pyeongwon Go Yangseong ascended the throne.

‘A wise ruler who restored Goguryeo’s shaken national power from civil war and laid the groundwork to fight Sui.’

As far as I know, King Pyeongwon pursued a policy of reappointing sidelined Gungnae‑faction nobles.

‘A Goguryeo‑style political reconciliation.’

That means even fallen Gungnae nobles like me could have a real chance.

Though the small catch was…

The Gungnae faction people being reappointed were the powerful northern tribal nobles, the real insiders—not someone like me who had nothing.

But that didn’t matter.

If there’s a way, there’s a way—even if the path is small.

And the easiest method is clear.

‘Money.’

Make money, keep making money, make insane money.

If I had money, I could bribe my way into an official position under King Pyeongwon’s reappointment policy, or marry into a powerful noble house as a professional son‑in‑law using a bag of money—there were many ways to obtain office.

Then I’d use all my future knowledge to climb up the ranks—and then I’d beat the hell out of China.

“Ebebe, fallen noble! Retard!”

“You, what’s your name?”

“I’m Soyong from Beomchon, you noble bastard.”

“Soyong. I’ll remember that.”

While I’m at it, if I beat up the punk showing off in front of me right now, everything would be perfect.

---

Problem: How does a person from the future make money in the past?

The first things that come to mind are soap and gunpowder.

The manufacturing methods… I don’t know them.

Making soap?

City folks in Seoul think people in the countryside make soap themselves, but we bought it from the mart too.

Gunpowder? That’s something history or chemistry majors, or alternate-history novel maniacs memorize by heart.

At the very least, the educational comics I read didn’t teach me how to make gunpowder.

The only gunpowder I knew was the red caps from 500-won toy cap guns.

But it doesn’t matter.

Because I have something better.

Who am I?

The son of Punggi.

Heir to a (bankrupt) red ginseng candy factory, and the rightful successor to a three-generation ginseng farming family.

A man named Kim Insam in both his past and present life.

In short, I was a ginseng expert.

And even in this era, ginsengs like Silla ginseng, Goryeo ginseng, and Baekje ginseng were traded at high prices.

But what they called “ginseng” here would be considered wild ginseng by 21st-century standards.

‘That’s because in this era, there’s no method to artificially cultivate ginseng.’

But I know how to do that.

---

The biological difference between ginseng and wild ginseng has barely been clarified.

The difference is closer to natural versus farmed.

If it grows naturally in the mountains, it’s wild ginseng. If it’s grown in fields, it’s just ginseng.

In fact, ginseng began by planting wild ginseng seeds in fields.

That was also my goal—but right from the start, I ran into a major obstacle.

‘Where do I get wild ginseng seeds?’

My family didn’t even have money to eat, let alone buy wild ginseng, and wild ginseng seeds were even harder to find.

Just like fishermen don’t catch fish carrying eggs, diggers don’t touch ginseng with seeds—an unspoken rule of wild ginseng diggers.

In the end, there was only one way to get wild ginseng seeds.

“Mother, I want to become a wild ginseng digger.”

I had to go out and find them myself.

At those words, my mother, Geumhwa, froze.

“…A ginseng digger, you say.”

Seeing her expression, my heart skipped a beat.

It might have only been a week since I reincarnated, and one could say it was just a week’s worth of connection.

But the memories of growing up with Geumhwa… no, my mother, were vivid in my mind.

Maybe what happened to me wasn’t just ‘reincarnated at 14’ but more like ‘recovered memories of my past life at 14.’

It wasn’t that the soul of 21st-century Kim Insam stole the body of 7th-century Goguryeo Kim Insam—more like the two merged to become who I was now.

My mother looked at me and asked,

“You’re not going to the gyeongdang?”

Usually, kids from rich families at this time shaved their heads and wore black clothes, went to the local school to study the Five Classics or Records of the Three Kingdoms (the historical one, not Romance—that’s still a thousand years away), and learned archery.

Nobles would then move on to the state academy to prepare for high office.

Commoners would try to become bodyguards for nobles, join the army, or struggle to become the lowest-level official, called seonin.

But for me, that wasn’t something I needed right now.

“No. Instead of going to the gyeongdang, I’ll become a wild ginseng digger.”

“…Your grandfather was a strong man. You resemble him greatly.”

My maternal grandfather was a powerful warrior who even served as a Dangju.

Thanks to his bloodline, my body was quite sturdy.

I was a head taller than kids my age, with a thick neck almost in line with my head.

I was only fourteen, but I looked like a middle school sumo wrestler.

“If our family hadn’t fallen, you could’ve become like him… it’s all because I was born unlucky.”

My mother rubbed her eyes as she said that.

Her vision wasn’t good.

After the civil war between the Pyeongyang and Gungnae factions ended, our family’s estate was confiscated by the Pyeongyang faction.

Even the main family in Gungnae cast out my mother, trying to stay in the Pyeongyang faction’s good graces.

So the remaining family members scattered in search of survival.

The only one who stayed was the man who never forgot our family’s grace.

That man of loyalty was my father.

The two became husband and wife and had me—but not long after, Father died of an epidemic.

So I never saw my mother in my past life, and never saw my father in this one.

“Both your grandfather and father… every man I loved ended up miserable. All because I was useless….”

“Why do you keep saying you’re useless?”

Without realizing, I held my mother’s hand.

“You tried so hard.”

My mother’s hands were full of pricks and scars from needles.

Suddenly widowed, she had to raise infant me alone by sewing day and night.

Even on dark nights, she would sew by moonlight, which ruined her hands and eyesight.

‘…She’s barely thirty now.’

My mother was younger than I had been in my past life.

That was another reason I decided I had to earn money.

My mother Geumhwa’s life resembled that of my past father.

My past father also lost my mother early and raised me alone, struggling all the while.

He died eventually because his existing illness worsened from the shock.

I didn’t want to go through the same thing again.

“And who knows? Maybe I’ll find a bunch of ginseng and our family will live in luxury.”

At those absurd words, my mother smiled faintly.

She looked just like my father did when I’d said, “I’ll get rich and buy you a foreign car!” as a kid.

“Becoming a digger, huh. Alright. I’ll introduce you to one I know well.”

---

A few days later, my mother and I met an elderly man.

“My, what brings the young lady here…?”

I was surprised at the respectful address—‘young lady’?

Most people either treated us coldly or mocked and looked down on us.

No need to say “But surely a commoner wouldn’t mock a noble?”

Did you know someone performed a mukbang in front of Prince Sado as he starved to death in a rice chest?

If that happened to Joseon royalty, what of fallen Goguryeo nobles?

Needless to say.

In every world, some offer a helping hand to the suffering, while others can’t stand not mocking someone’s downfall.

In that sense, the old man’s respectful tone was refreshing.

“His name is Munso,” my mother said, introducing him.

“He showed grace to us when we had nowhere to go after our family fell. Without him, we wouldn’t have had a roof over our heads.”

Munso flinched at her words.

“Goodness, grace? If Lord Dangju hadn’t saved me at Usan Fortress from those Baekje bastards, I wouldn’t even be alive!”

Munso had once been saved by my grandfather.

In return, he’d watched over my mother to this day.

After they chatted a bit, Mother got to the point.

“We came to see you today because of my son. He wants to become a wild ginseng digger.”

“How can the young lady’s child become a digger? Absolutely not!”

“Young lady…”

Mother answered softly.

“You’re the only one who still calls me that.”

In the end, Munso agreed to her request.

---

“Listen well to this man. He’s the best digger I know.”

With that, Mother left for home if there was sewing work remaining.

And she had been right.

Munso had twenty years of experience.

He had even found wild ginseng a few times.

“Thanks to that, I married off two daughters and three sons. I’ve even got a grandson your age.”

As expected, wild ginseng was valuable even in this era.

I bowed to him.

“From now on, I’ll call you Elder Munso. Please treat me casually.”

“P-please don’t say that…”

Munso seemed flustered, but I continued anyway.

“You’ve taken good care of my mother until now. But you won’t be able to keep doing so forever.”

“Well…”

“That’s why I want to learn ginseng digging from you and look after her myself. But if you treat me too kindly, you’ll only teach me kindly. Wouldn’t that be a waste?”

“Sigh… Lord Dangju should’ve seen this.”

After thinking for a while, Munso nodded.

“Get up.”

“Yes, Elder.”

“Then from today… let’s begin your training.”

So this was ginseng digger training. What would it start with?

Digging deodeok? Identifying mushrooms?

Whatever it was, I was confident.

But what Munso taught me first completely defied my expectations.

“To climb mountains, you must first learn spear technique. Of them, the most important is the throwing spear.”

…Throwing spear?

Was he trying to turn me into a bandit?