Born As The Daughter of a Lowly Concubine - Chapter 76

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Born as the daughter of a Concubine of Low Rank.
Chapter 76
‘Why not bring in the children from Siyeongwon to work?’
There were no shortage of children who had received rigorous education and been forced to learn letters under Commandant Min and the attendants at Siyeongwon, so assigning simple tasks was hardly difficult.
Even now, children with good handwriting were taking on Copying work from the Saebaekbang.
Four years had passed since I first established Siyeongwon, and now it was running far better than I’d initially imagined.
I taught them the fundamentals of scholarship, but also placed them in various fields suited to their talents—Embroidery, Agriculture, Cooking, Hospitality—and once they earned enough money, I helped them become independent.
Of course, some grew so attached to Siyeongwon that even when they came of age, they refused to leave.
They enjoyed the bustle and crowds, so there was nothing for it.
We’d simply have to charge them rent.
Even after placing them in positions and giving them grace periods, those determined to stay meant I’d settled on collecting slightly below-market rent.
Or those who insisted on working at Siyeongwon itself pooled their money to buy or rent homes nearby, settling reasonably enough.
Still, it troubled me that children who had finally learned to read and write had so few opportunities to put that knowledge to use. True, some of the clever ones found work at trading houses, and others partnered with me in my ventures, but.
Moreover, Commoner children were in a better position at least, but if they were Lowborn, learning letters didn’t expand their options much. Especially not for girls.
‘Perhaps I should propose cultivating a corps of female medical practitioners….’
This was the sort of thing you had to push when opportunity arose.
Especially since it was genuinely true that Female Physicians were scarce, causing real hardship.
In truth, for the past several years, the position of the Medical Officials at the Royal Medical Bureau had grown precarious—they hadn’t even properly recognized the serious problem that my body hadn’t grown.
‘If I propose some reform now, there’s no grounds to block it.’
I decided to lay the groundwork first.
As for what I’d mentioned before the king and the Chief Medical Officer, I proceeded with preliminary investigation relying on the administrative apparatus already in place throughout Joseon.
I had each regional magistrate’s office report statistics on the physicians in their areas.
If there were physicians hiding deep in mountains, investigating them would be nearly impossible, but any physician with some reputation was worth tracking down.
I also had them select any rare illnesses or treatment methods mentioned in patient records or Medical Texts that those physicians possessed.
Some physicians would certainly be reluctant, but in this age of monarchy, they couldn’t refuse a royal order, and those with genuine dedication to healing didn’t resist.
‘Since I’m checking anyway, it’d be wasteful to only examine my own rare case.’
So I went ahead and compiled statistics on Medical Texts and treatment methods from each region, launching a project to edit new Medical Texts.
Rare diseases would inevitably enter that collection.
If any rare Medical Texts were discovered, they could be copied and submitted for verification by the Medical Officials, then distributed.
And to that end, I was currently recruiting the Crown Prince for the first stage of this project.
“In truth, it’ll take at least ten years to complete organizing and creating the Medical Texts.”
“Then why undertake it?”
“My illness is my own problem. If this becomes an opportunity to heal others’ ailments as well, that’s good. Medical knowledge doesn’t advance when physicians monopolize it.”
Particularly with medical techniques transmitted through Apprenticeship, many physicians were reluctant to teach others, causing knowledge to be lost entirely.
Truly skilled physicians typically had no trouble earning their living, and since they were unwilling to teach their techniques readily to others, they were often deeply uncooperative.
‘There was even a famous drama character named Jang Deok from Jeju Island who excelled at dental and dermatological treatment. She was summoned to the palace and treated the king, but faced obstruction from other Medical Officials and never received proper recognition. Later she passed her techniques to a slave girl, but it never reached Jang Deok’s level.’
If a physician isn’t properly recognized, medical knowledge becomes merely a tool for personal advancement. That way, there is no progress.
Medical knowledge held by an individual must be documented and recorded, and techniques must be transmissible to later students.
And if one were to compel that transmission, Government Slaves were frankly the most convenient option.
“What if we train Government Slaves as physicians, have them work as physicians for a set period, and then grant them and their descendants full Slave Emancipation? It’s not an unreasonable offer.”
“Emancipation, you say.”
“It targets Government Slaves, and with adequate justification, there’s no reason the ministers should object. And even for Private Slaves, if the owner is willing, the state can bear the cost of medical training, with the condition that after serving in a state institution for a set period, Emancipation follows.”
“You believe the mere existence of a system permitting Emancipation in name is important?”
He’s sharp, as expected.
“Even if someone actually becomes a physician, they might end up as a private physician bound to their master’s household. But in any case, the result would be a reduction in the number of Slaves and Lowborn.”
“Yes. The growth of the Slave population is an undesirable development.”
Of course, given the times, not all Slaves aspired to Emancipation. Government Slaves in particular sometimes preferred their status, as they were generally better off than Private Slaves.
But Government Slave Women were different.
Government Gisaeng life aside, considering how Government Slave Women were treated, there would be no shortage of those eager to become Female Physicians if it meant receiving protection.
In truth, the system of physicians was already well established, so any attempt to change it would likely face resistance.
But regarding Female Physicians, social perception was ambiguous.
Female Physicians were generally of low status and more often assisted male physicians.
Which made it quite unusual for a noblewoman in this era to express a desire to become a Female Physician.
‘Hmm… thinking of nurses in modern times, it’s no different. Employment is steady but the work is hard, it’s dirty, and the treatment is subtly poor—it’s identical down the line.’
So what I intended to cultivate wasn’t Female Physicians in the auxiliary sense, but true Female Physicians—medical practitioners in their own right.
“Even the palace attendants are mostly former Government Slave Women, except for the carefully selected inner attendants. There’s discrimination even among Government Slave Women based on their origins, but in any case, it shows that education matters. If you deny Moral Edification entirely, aren’t you negating the very philosophy of Confucianism?”
The foundational governing ideology of Confucianism held that a ruler transformed his people through education, guiding them toward the path of the sage.
To achieve this, the ruler himself must first become a sage, which is why the Crown Prince received relentless education from youth through his reign.
‘Whether the teacher is actually a sage is another matter entirely.’
There was no shortage of those who spouted flowery words about human virtue while behaving nothing like decent people.
Even the man who wrote the preface to the Samgang Haengsil-do during King Sejong’s reign—a scholar from the Jiphyeonjeon—once suspected his concubine of infidelity and confined her with his wife, subjecting her to months of abuse before secretly abandoning her. He was caught.
The king tried to punish him then too, but his fellow officials circled the wagons. Only his wife faced punishment; he merely lost his position.
‘So that’s how the law gets applied, is it.’
If only I could strengthen the Crown’s authority…
No, that’s not the point right now.
“Here’s what I’ve been thinking. What if we administered an examination, and those female physicians who passed received official rank like male medical officials or court ladies—and included them in the Outer Official Rank, so they’d have status?”
“The Outer Official Rank?”
“They won’t be working only in the palace, and Inner Official Rank ladies can’t marry, can they?”
“That’s true, isn’t it?”
“If we grant them emancipation but forbid them to marry, what good does that do?”
“I suppose not.”
“We need to increase the commoner population to collect more taxes.”
“…Wait, what is a child like you even thinking about such things for?”
But taxes are so important!
If slaves keep multiplying and commoners dwindle, tax revenue shrinks—and that’s the shortest path to ruining a kingdom!
“But still, do they really need official rank? Wouldn’t simple emancipation be enough?”
“Female physicians have no official position; most are just assistants to physicians anyway. Their status is low. That means even if something unfair happens to them, they can barely object. You know how government slave women are treated. Female physicians would likely face no better. They need protection—someone in authority to answer to.”
“I…see.”
The Crown Prince’s expression clouded as if some understanding had dawned on him.
“That’s why they need a fence around them. A guardian.”
“Why not you?”
“Well…a princess could manage them in practice, but there still needs to be someone at the very top.”
Besides, this wasn’t a bad thing for the Queen either.
More people to manage meant more authority to wield.
Medical personnel, at that.
If the Queen wanted to use them for political purposes, she could, any time she wished.
And if they were placed in the Outer Official Rank, a separate supervisor for the ranked female physicians would be appointed, managing them through that office. If she didn’t wish to be bothered, she needn’t spend any effort on administration at all.
The king himself didn’t particularly concern himself with managing the Royal Medical Bureau’s officials.
‘Besides, the Queen needs to look after her health, and if a capable female physician took care of her, she might improve considerably.’
Perhaps that’s why—the Crown Prince seemed to have his own thoughts about the separation of genders and how male physicians couldn’t properly take pulses from women.
In the historical Joseon I knew, female physicians had already been trained from government slave women since the time of Taejong.
The division between men and women was so strict in those days that male physicians couldn’t properly treat female patients.
The state was training female physicians precisely for this reason—until that notorious tyrant Yeonsangun threw ash on the whole enterprise.
Female physicians, many of them from slave backgrounds, were forcibly conscripted into royal banquets by Yeonsangun. After Jungjong’s Coup changed the regime, one might have hoped for better, but those who took over were just as bad in this regard. They too summoned female physicians to drinking parties and treated them as entertainers.
From the officials’ perspective, having readily available entertainers they could call up from within the palace was convenient. Why would they want to fix it?
Even the medical officials with rank lacked the spine to protest female physicians being summoned to drinking parties, so they just looked down on them instead. And so female physicians never gained recognition as professionals; they were called Pharmacy Gisaeng and continued to be hauled off to banquets, treated as entertainers.
How could any profession develop under such circumstances?
‘Thank goodness this world hasn’t gone that far. Female physicians aren’t treated quite so badly here.’
Still, no matter how capable a female physician is, the moment she’s treated as a peer to male physicians, those men refuse to acknowledge women’s abilities and fight her tooth and nail. It’s not easy.
In the original story, the heroine struggles for recognition, and there’s a satisfying arc where those who plot against her and the Crown Prince are caught and face karmic retribution. That part was quite popular.
‘Especially the part where the Chief Physician’s mother—who wouldn’t acknowledge the heroine—fell ill and no one could cure her, but the heroine did. After that, the mother had a complete change of heart and sided with the heroine. That was fun to read.’
But hardship and struggle don’t always make a good story, do they?
Father branded a traitor in her childhood, family ruined. Lost both parents young. Lost a sibling. Feared being dragged off as a government slave. Then, by sheer chance, worked like a servant while being drilled in medicine the hard way.
Isn’t that enough hardship for one lifetime?
‘When the heroine becomes a proper physician and returns, it won’t hurt if I’ve already paved the way for her.’
Let me try shortening the heroine’s trial-and-triumph arc.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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