I Became a Fallen Noble of Goguryeo

Chapter 1: Goguryeo Red Ginseng Candy

Funeral Hall in Punggi.

“Father….”

I downed a shot of soju in front of Father’s portrait.

“Why did you trust people so easily?”

---

My name is Kim Insam.

My grandfather, who had farmed ginseng in Punggi for generations, personally named me.

Born in Punggi, I lived with my father alone from a young age.

I heard my mother passed away not long after giving birth to me.

I’ve only seen her in pictures; I have no particular memories of her.

Still, I never really felt lacking.

People often introduced us as a family running a multinational business… though that was a bit of an exaggeration.

In truth, we barely made a living operating a small ginseng field and a red ginseng candy factory with seven employees from Southeast Asia, Mongolia, Pakistan, and Russia.

In Grandfather’s time, we just ran the ginseng farm. But Father, in his generation, went into debt and built a whole red ginseng candy factory next door.

I remember factory workers coming to our house and throwing pork belly parties.

—“Isn’t pork forbidden in Islam?”

—“Here, I’m not Pakistani. I’m Korean. I like King Sejong. I like Shin Saimdang even more.”

—“…Are you asking for a raise?”

—“No. Boss is a work demon. Even if he gives lots of work, he pays well. No complaints.”

Work Demon—that was Father’s nickname. And rightly so.

Driving the rattling Damas van at 3 a.m., saying, “What’s wrong with our ginseng, nothing wrong with it,” and rushing all the way to Seoul…

Even when that Damas flipped and he got seriously injured, he got a painkiller shot and showed up at the factory.

He had never even been on an overseas trip.

—“Let’s do that after paying off the debts.”

—“There’s still debt? It’s been five years since the factory was built.”

—“You think building a factory’s cheap? Still, another five years and I can pay it off.”

Father laughed.

—“Then, let’s go fishing.”

—“Fishing? What about Western Europe or the States? And besides… did you even like fishing?”

—“I did it once in my life. But after watching City Fisherman, I kinda wanted to try again.”

But I never got the chance to fish leisurely with Father.

It all started with the news.

\[“Chinese ginseng from Baekdu Mountain in Manchuria disguised as Korean ginseng.”]

\[“Cheap Chinese ginseng powder imported into Korea. Authorities are investigating those who used it for violating food regulations…”]

Father brushed it off as someone else’s problem.

“Tsk tsk, how could they use that stuff?”

But he was wrong.

It was our problem.

Father came home drunk and said,

“Jung Yun-hong, that son of a bitch….”

Jung Yun-hong was a close friend from elementary school.

Father cherished sharing makgeolli with him and naturally gave him an important position at our factory.

But that was the issue.

To line his own pockets, Jung Yun-hong secretly swapped in Chinese ginseng and sold it off as Korean, betraying us.

When I grabbed his collar and demanded answers later, he said he’d sold the genuine Korean ginseng we’d harvested to another factory.

“How could you do this to me…!”

Father never expected Jung Yun-hong—his childhood friend, close to the family for generations—to stab him in the back.

“Khuk!”

The moment reporters showed up at the factory, he clutched his chest. His eyes brimmed with injustice.

But injustice saves no one.

Unlike Jung Yun-hong, Father avoided arrest.

Thanks to petitions from the villagers.

Still, all our previous business contracts were canceled.

The factory shut down.

“Boss, stay strong… That pork belly here, it was really good. I’ll never forget it.”

Even the last Pakistani worker left. Only debt remained.

That day, Father collapsed.

A few days later, the police came and said,

“We requested cooperation from Chinese authorities to catch the company that diverted the ginseng, but… they won’t even read our official letters.”

“So, you're saying you can't catch them?”

“We’re doing our best, but if they don’t cooperate… there’s not much we can do.”

Father drank soju, and drank, and drank again.

He woke late, slept early.

It was a side of him I’d never seen.

They say people change before they die.

That was true.

Before long, Father passed away.

---

Thankfully, South Korea has a system called “renunciation of inheritance.”

So I avoided drowning in debt myself.

But it didn’t bring me much comfort.

Gulp.

Gulp, gulp.

I came to the now-empty factory and chugged bottle after bottle of soju.

“Damn you, Jung Yun-hong. Damn Chinese ginseng. Damn those commie bastards….”

While I was cursing the world,

I noticed, beneath a photo of Father laughing with employees, a half-open safe.

The door looked like it had been forced open.

Whether it was debt collectors or thieves, I wasn’t sure.

“Pointless crap….”

There were no gold bars or cash in that safe.

Father was a romantic, after all.

I only recently found out—he built the red ginseng factory on a whim, out of nostalgia.

With people leaving and his birthplace dying, he wanted to revive the village somehow.

Drawn in, I approached the safe.

Inside was the very first batch of red ginseng candy made at the factory.

Since it marked the beginning of our factory’s history, he never sold it and kept it stored away.

Whoever broke into the safe must’ve been disappointed to find just candy and left it behind.

\[Goguryeo Red Ginseng Candy.]

I chuckled when I saw the brand name.

That was Father’s sense of humor. I remembered our conversation then.

‘Goguryeo Red Ginseng Candy? Sounds like a knockoff of Goryeo Ginseng. There wasn’t even red ginseng during Goguryeo times.’

‘Not just red ginseng—there wasn’t even cultivated ginseng.’

‘Didn’t they have ginseng?’

‘The ginseng in records back then was wild ginseng. Only during the Goryeo period did they start cultivating it, calling the wild one “wild ginseng” (山蔘) to differentiate. Since then, all ginseng from the Korean peninsula has been called Goryeo Ginseng.’

‘Ah, I see.’

‘Also, after King Jangsu, Goguryeo was called Goryeo. We just say Goguryeo to differentiate from Wang Geon’s Goryeo.’

‘…So what’s the point?’

‘Goguryeo Ginseng is Goryeo Ginseng.’

‘Sounds like you’ll get sued….’

‘I asked a lawyer. He said it’s fine.’

In hindsight, the name was ironic.

In the end, Father died because of fake red ginseng from Manchuria—once Goguryeo territory.

I reached for the candy bag.

“It’s all sticky.”

Well, it was old candy.

I unwrapped one of the damp candies and popped it into my mouth.

Crunch—

I savored the flavor slowly, thoroughly.

“…It’s good.”

The name might’ve been a ripoff, but the taste was real.

Lying down, I drifted off to sleep.

I wondered if I’d end up like Father, but I didn’t.

After all, I hadn’t overworked myself for decades, hadn’t had my dreams shattered in an instant, hadn’t been betrayed by someone I trusted the most.

“Damn world, damn China, damn Jung Yun-hong, damn fake ginseng….”

As I mumbled and walked away—

Suddenly, my body floated.

What the—?

“…Wh-whoa?”

It wasn’t me rising—the floor had collapsed beneath me.

I looked down. It was the factory’s drainage canal.

“Why is this open…?”

Maybe someone left it open to drain water?

Not too uncommon in the countryside….

And just like that—

I plummeted into the deep sewer below.

The last thing I felt was the bittersweet taste of .