The Story of Kongji and Patji

In a prosperous village during the Joseon Dynasty, there lived a wealthy merchant named Han Bongsu who was blessed with a daughter of extraordinary beauty and virtue. Her name was Kongji, which means “little bean,” and though the name was simple, it suited her humble and gentle nature perfectly. Kongji’s mother had died when she was very young, leaving her to be raised by her loving father, who cherished her as the most precious thing in his life.

Kongji grew up to be not only beautiful but also kind-hearted, hardworking, and intelligent. She had lustrous black hair that she wore in a simple braid, clear skin that seemed to glow with inner goodness, and eyes that sparkled with compassion for all living things. Despite her father’s wealth, she was never proud or demanding, preferring to help with household chores and tend to the family garden rather than idling away her time.

When Kongji reached the age of sixteen, her father decided that she needed a mother’s guidance as she approached womanhood. After much consideration, he married a widow named Lady Park, who had a daughter of her own named Patji, meaning “red bean.” On the surface, this seemed like an ideal arrangement - Kongji would have a mother and sister, and the household would be complete once again.

However, what Han Bongsu didn’t realize was that his new wife and stepdaughter harbored deep jealousy and resentment toward Kongji. Lady Park was a woman of great vanity and greed who had married him primarily for his wealth and status. Her daughter Patji, though also beautiful in her own way, was spoiled, selfish, and mean-spirited, having been raised to believe that she deserved the finest things in life without having to work for them.

From the moment they moved into the household, Lady Park and Patji began plotting to diminish Kongji’s position in her father’s affections. They were skilled at presenting themselves as loving family members when Han Bongsu was present, but when he was away on his frequent business trips, they revealed their true nature.

“Kongji,” Lady Park would say with false sweetness when her husband was gone, “since you’re the eldest daughter in this house, it’s only proper that you take on more responsibilities. From now on, you’ll handle all the cooking, cleaning, and laundry while Patji focuses on her studies and feminine accomplishments.”

Kongji, being naturally obedient and wanting to maintain harmony in the family, accepted these new duties without complaint. She rose before dawn each day to prepare breakfast, spent her days scrubbing floors, washing clothes, and tending the garden, and often worked late into the night mending garments and preparing for the next day’s tasks.

Meanwhile, Patji lived a life of leisure, spending her time applying cosmetics, trying on beautiful clothes, and practicing arts like painting and music. But instead of being grateful for her easy life, she grew increasingly resentful of Kongji’s natural beauty and virtue.

“Mother,” Patji would complain, “no matter how much makeup I wear or how fine my clothes are, people still say that Kongji is more beautiful than I am. It’s not fair! She does nothing but housework, yet she outshines me effortlessly.”

Lady Park shared her daughter’s jealousy and began devising ways to make Kongji’s life even more difficult. She would deliberately soil floors that Kongji had just cleaned, tear clothes that had been perfectly mended, and assign impossible tasks that no one person could complete in a single day.

“Kongji,” she would say with cruel satisfaction, “you’ve failed to finish all your work again. Clearly, you need to try harder. Tomorrow you’ll have additional duties.”

When Han Bongsu returned from his business trips, he was always presented with carefully crafted stories about Kongji’s supposed laziness and disobedience. Lady Park was skilled at manipulation, and she gradually convinced her husband that his daughter was becoming willful and needed stricter discipline.

“My dear husband,” she would say with feigned concern, “I’m worried about Kongji. She seems to resent having a new mother and sister. Perhaps she needs more structure and responsibility to teach her proper respect for family hierarchy.”

Han Bongsu, who trusted his wife and wanted family harmony, began to distance himself from Kongji, believing that his new wife knew best how to manage household affairs. He failed to notice how thin and tired his daughter had become, or how her once-bright spirit seemed to be dimming under the constant burden of work and criticism.

As months passed, Kongji’s situation grew increasingly desperate. She worked from dawn until midnight, received little food and wore only the most worn-out clothes, while Patji enjoyed every luxury their father’s wealth could provide. But despite her suffering, Kongji never complained or spoke ill of her stepmother and stepsister. Her innate goodness prevented her from harboring hatred, even toward those who treated her so cruelly.

One particularly difficult day, when Kongji was feeling overwhelmed by her endless chores and her father’s growing coldness toward her, she collapsed in exhaustion while working in the family garden. As she wept quietly among the vegetables she had planted and tended, she noticed a small, injured sparrow that had fallen from its nest.

Despite her own troubles, Kongji’s compassionate heart was immediately moved by the bird’s suffering. She gently picked up the tiny creature, examined its wounded wing, and carefully nursed it back to health over the following weeks. She shared her meager food with the sparrow and spoke to it softly as she worked, finding comfort in caring for another living being.

“Little friend,” she would whisper as she fed the bird tiny insects and seeds, “we must both be strong and patient. Surely better days will come for both of us if we don’t lose hope.”

When the sparrow had fully recovered, Kongji released it into the sky, watching with joy as it flew away to rejoin its family. Unknown to her, this simple act of kindness had been witnessed by the spirits of nature, who were moved by her compassion in the midst of her own suffering.

The sparrow, it turned out, was no ordinary bird. It was a messenger of the mountain spirits, sent to observe the characters of humans and report back on their virtues and failings. Kongji’s selfless care for the injured creature had marked her as someone deserving of divine intervention.

A few days after releasing the sparrow, Kongji was working alone in the garden when she heard a familiar chirping sound. Looking up, she saw her former patient perched on a nearby branch, but it was not alone. With it were dozens of other birds - sparrows, swallows, finches, and even some larger birds like magpies and crows.

To Kongji’s amazement, the birds began working together to help her with her garden chores. They pulled weeds with their beaks, scattered seeds in perfect rows, and even brought water from the nearby stream in small containers they carried in their claws. What would have taken Kongji hours to accomplish was completed in minutes with their magical assistance.

“Thank you, dear friends,” Kongji whispered in wonder. “How can I ever repay such kindness?”

The original sparrow flew down and perched on her shoulder, speaking in a voice that was barely audible but perfectly clear: “Kind Kongji, you saved my life when you had every reason to focus only on your own troubles. The spirits of nature have seen your virtue and wish to ease your burden. Call upon us whenever your tasks seem impossible, and we will come to your aid.”

From that day forward, Kongji’s work became much easier. Whenever Lady Park assigned her particularly difficult or time-consuming tasks, she would quietly ask for help from her bird friends, and they would appear as if by magic to assist her. The birds could clean an entire house in minutes, sort rice grains with perfect accuracy, and even help with cooking by bringing ingredients and stirring pots with carefully coordinated teamwork.

But Kongji’s supernatural assistance remained a secret, and Lady Park began to grow suspicious of how quickly her stepdaughter was completing tasks that should have been impossible.

“How is she finishing all this work so fast?” Lady Park muttered to Patji. “Yesterday I gave her enough chores for three people, yet everything was done perfectly by evening. Something strange is happening.”

Patji, ever eager to get her stepsister into trouble, volunteered to spy on Kongji’s activities. Hidden behind a screen, she watched in amazement as dozens of birds helped Kongji with her work. Instead of being moved by this magical display of nature’s appreciation for Kongji’s kindness, Patji was consumed with envy.

“It’s not fair!” she complained to her mother. “Kongji has magical helpers while I have to do everything myself. I want birds to help me too!”

Lady Park, upon hearing this story, devised a cruel plan. If magical assistance came to those who showed kindness to animals, then surely Patji could earn the same help by performing a similar act.

The next day, Lady Park deliberately injured a bird by throwing a stone at it, then instructed Patji to “rescue” and care for the creature. Patji reluctantly tended to the bird, though her care was grudging and motivated entirely by the desire for magical rewards rather than genuine compassion.

When the bird recovered, Patji released it and waited expectantly for flocks of helpful birds to arrive. But instead of assistance, what came was quite different. The injured bird had indeed been another messenger of the spirits, and they had witnessed Patji’s false kindness and her mother’s deliberate cruelty.

The next time Patji tried to do household work, she found herself plagued by the opposite of Kongji’s helpful birds. Crows would scatter her cleanly sorted grains, sparrows would knock over her carefully arranged items, and magpies would steal her sewing materials. The more frustrated and angry she became, the worse the bird harassment grew.

Meanwhile, news arrived that would change everything for both sisters. The local magistrate’s son, Kim Wonseok, was seeking a bride, and he planned to hold a grand festival where all the eligible young women of the region would be invited to display their accomplishments. The family that impressed him most would have the honor of providing his future wife.

Lady Park was ecstatic at this opportunity. Kim Wonseok was not only handsome and intelligent but also came from a family of great influence and wealth. Marriage to him would elevate their family’s status significantly.

“Patji will surely win his heart,” Lady Park declared confidently. “She’s beautiful, accomplished in all the feminine arts, and comes from a good family. We must spare no expense in preparing her for this festival.”

For weeks, Lady Park and Patji focused entirely on preparations for the grand event. They commissioned the finest seamstresses to create elaborate hanbok in the most luxurious fabrics, hired the best teachers to polish Patji’s skills in music and poetry, and practiced elaborate dances that would showcase her grace and elegance.

Kongji, naturally, was not included in these preparations. Lady Park had no intention of allowing her stepdaughter to attend the festival, fearing that Kongji’s natural beauty might overshadow Patji’s carefully crafted presentation.

“Kongji,” Lady Park announced just days before the festival, “you will remain home to tend the house while the rest of the family attends the celebration. I’m assigning you the task of sorting this entire storehouse of rice grains - separating the perfect grains from the broken ones. It must be completed by the time we return.”

She led Kongji to a large storehouse filled with hundreds of bags of mixed rice grains - perfect white grains, broken pieces, foreign seeds, and bits of chaff all jumbled together. It was clearly an impossible task for one person to complete in a single day, designed specifically to keep Kongji busy and prevent her from even thinking about attending the festival.

“Furthermore,” Lady Park continued with cruel satisfaction, “I want these grains sorted into perfect piles. Any mixing or errors will result in severe punishment.”

As the day of the festival arrived, Lady Park and Patji departed in a luxurious palanquin, dressed in their finest clothes and confident of success. Han Bongsu had left earlier on another business trip, unaware of the festival or his daughter’s exclusion from it.

Kongji stood alone in the storehouse, looking at the enormous mounds of mixed grains, her heart heavy with sadness. Not only was she condemned to miss what might be the most important social event of her life, but the task before her was truly impossible. She sat down among the rice bags and began to weep.

“Why must my life be so difficult?” she whispered to herself. “I try to be good, I work hard, and I never complain, yet I’m treated worse than a servant. Will I ever know happiness or love?”

As her tears fell onto the scattered grains, Kongji heard a familiar chirping sound. Looking up through her tears, she saw her original sparrow friend perched on the storehouse windowsill, accompanied by what appeared to be hundreds of other birds.

“Do not despair, kind Kongji,” the sparrow said in its tiny voice. “Your virtue has not gone unnoticed by the spirits of heaven and earth. Today, you will receive rewards that go far beyond the completion of household chores.”

What followed was the most amazing sight Kongji had ever witnessed. The entire flock of birds descended into the storehouse and began sorting the grains with incredible speed and precision. Sparrows separated the perfect rice grains from the broken ones, finches removed foreign seeds and debris, and larger birds organized everything into neat, perfectly uniform piles.

In less than an hour, what should have taken days was completed flawlessly. Every grain was in its proper place, and the storehouse looked more organized than it had ever been.

But the birds were not finished. As Kongji watched in wonder, a group of magpies flew in carrying a package wrapped in silk. When they unwrapped it, she gasped to see the most beautiful hanbok she had ever laid eyes on. The fabric seemed to shimmer with its own light, embroidered with threads of silver and gold in patterns of flowers and butterflies that seemed almost alive.

“This dress was woven by the fairy seamstresses of the mountain spirits,” the sparrow explained. “It is a gift for one whose heart is as beautiful as her face. But you must remember - the magic will only last until midnight. You must leave the festival before the clock strikes twelve, or the enchantment will be broken.”

Additional birds arrived carrying silk slippers that seemed to be made of crystallized moonlight, hairpins adorned with precious gems that sparkled like captured stars, and cosmetics that enhanced natural beauty rather than masking it. When Kongji was fully dressed and adorned, she looked like a princess from the heavenly realm itself.

A final gift appeared as a magnificent palanquin descended from the sky, carried by a flock of large cranes. The vehicle was made of what appeared to be clouds and starlight, more beautiful than any earthly conveyance.

“Go now,” the sparrow urged her. “Attend the festival and show the world the beauty that comes from a pure heart. But remember - you must leave before midnight, or all will be lost.”

Kongji’s journey to the festival was like a dream. The magical palanquin glided silently through the air, carrying her swiftly to the magistrate’s estate where the celebration was already in full swing. When she alighted from her ethereal vehicle, every person present turned to stare in amazement at her radiant beauty.

The festival was a magnificent affair, with colorful banners fluttering in the breeze, musicians playing traditional melodies, and tables laden with delicious food. Young women from all over the region had come to display their accomplishments, each hoping to win the heart of the magistrate’s son.

Kim Wonseok was indeed a remarkable young man - handsome, intelligent, and kind-hearted. He had been politely observing the various presentations of poetry, music, and dance, but none of the young women had particularly captured his interest. He was beginning to wonder if he would find anyone at this festival who could be both a loving companion and an intellectual equal.

Then Kongji appeared, and the entire atmosphere of the festival changed. Her beauty was so radiant, her grace so natural, and her presence so captivating that everyone else seemed to fade into the background. But it wasn’t just her physical appearance that drew attention - there was something about her inner light, her genuine kindness, and her humble demeanor that set her apart from all the other carefully prepared candidates.

Kim Wonseok was immediately smitten. He approached Kongji and asked her to share poetry with him, and was amazed by the depth of her thoughts and the beauty of her verses. When they danced together, their movements were so perfectly synchronized that they seemed to float across the ground like celestial beings.

“What is your name, beautiful lady?” Kim Wonseok asked as they walked together through the garden. “I feel as though I’ve been waiting my entire life to meet someone like you.”

“I am called Kongji,” she replied simply, her natural modesty preventing her from elaborating on her background or circumstances.

As the evening progressed, it became clear to everyone present that Kim Wonseok had found his chosen bride. He spoke only to Kongji, danced only with her, and gazed at her with the unmistakable expression of a man deeply in love.

Lady Park and Patji watched this development with growing horror and rage. They had invested everything in this opportunity, certain that Patji would win the magistrate’s son’s hand. Instead, some unknown beauty had appeared from nowhere and stolen their prize.

“Who is that girl?” Patji hissed to her mother. “I’ve never seen her before, and I know all the prominent families in this region.”

Lady Park studied the mysterious beauty more closely, and a terrible suspicion began to form in her mind. There was something familiar about the girl’s graceful movements and the gentle way she spoke. But it couldn’t be possible - Kongji was at home sorting rice grains, dressed in rags and completely unable to attend the festival.

As the evening reached its climax, Kim Wonseok prepared to make his formal announcement of his choice of bride. But just as he was about to speak, Kongji heard the distant sound of a temple bell beginning to chime midnight.

Remembering the sparrow’s warning, she knew she had to leave immediately or risk having her magical disguise discovered. Without explanation, she curtsied quickly to Kim Wonseok and began hurrying toward the exit.

“Wait!” Kim Wonseok called after her, confused and desperate. “Where are you going? I haven’t even learned your family name or where you live!”

But Kongji was already running, her heart breaking at having to leave the most wonderful evening of her life. In her haste, one of her magical slippers came off and was left behind on the garden path.

Kim Wonseok picked up the delicate slipper, which seemed to be made of crystallized moonlight and was unlike anything he had ever seen. As he held it, he made a vow that would change both their lives forever.

“I will search the entire kingdom if necessary,” he declared to the assembled crowd, “but I will find the owner of this slipper, for she is the woman I intend to marry.”

Meanwhile, Kongji’s magical palanquin carried her swiftly home, where she arrived just as the clock finished striking midnight. The moment the last chime sounded, her beautiful hanbok transformed back into her worn work clothes, her elaborate hairstyle became a simple braid, and her magical jewelry disappeared. Only one thing remained - the single slipper that matched the one she had lost at the festival.

She hurried to the storehouse where she was supposed to have been working and was amazed to find that the birds’ perfect organization of the rice grains remained intact. When Lady Park and Patji returned home in a furious mood over their failure to win Kim Wonseok’s attention, they found Kongji apparently sleeping peacefully among the perfectly sorted grain piles.

“At least the lazy girl managed to complete her task,” Lady Park muttered, too angry about the evening’s disaster to examine Kongji’s work closely.

In the following days, news spread throughout the kingdom about Kim Wonseok’s search for his mysterious bride. He traveled from village to village, accompanied by an entourage of servants carrying the magical slipper, asking every eligible young woman to try it on.

But the slipper was enchanted and would only fit the foot of its true owner. It was too small for some women, too large for others, and for a few, it seemed to actively resist being worn, sliding off their feet as if it had a will of its own.

When word reached Lady Park’s household that Kim Wonseok was coming to their village to continue his search, she was initially excited. Perhaps this would be another opportunity for Patji to win his favor.

“We must prepare immediately,” she told her daughter. “When the magistrate’s son arrives, you must try on that slipper and make it fit no matter what. This may be our last chance to secure an advantageous marriage for you.”

Patji spent hours practicing walking in shoes that were too small for her, hoping to force her feet into the magical slipper through sheer willpower. Lady Park even consulted with a traditional healer about ways to temporarily shrink her daughter’s feet.

When Kim Wonseok’s entourage finally arrived at their house, Lady Park greeted them with elaborate ceremony, presenting Patji as if she were the most eligible young woman in the kingdom.

“Honorable sir,” she said with deep bows, “this is my daughter Patji, accomplished in all the feminine arts and from one of the most respected families in the region. Surely she is the bride you seek.”

Kim Wonseok, though polite, showed no particular enthusiasm as Patji attempted to put on the magical slipper. As expected, it refused to fit properly, sliding off her foot despite her desperate attempts to keep it on.

“I’m sorry,” Kim Wonseok said kindly but firmly, “but this is clearly not the right fit. Are there any other eligible young women in this household?”

Lady Park’s face flushed with embarrassment and anger. “No, honorable sir. There is only my stepdaughter, but she is merely a servant and completely unsuitable for someone of your distinguished position.”

But Kim Wonseok, remembering the grace and intelligence of his mysterious bride, insisted on meeting every woman in the household. “Please,” he said, “I would like to meet this stepdaughter as well. My bride may come from any background - what matters is her character and virtue.”

Reluctantly, Lady Park summoned Kongji, who appeared still dressed in her work clothes and covered with dust from her household chores. Lady Park hoped that her bedraggled appearance would quickly discourage Kim Wonseok’s interest.

But the moment Kim Wonseok saw Kongji, his heart began to race. Even in her humble clothes and with her simple appearance, there was something about her that reminded him strongly of his mysterious bride. Her grace, her gentle way of speaking, and especially her beautiful eyes seemed achingly familiar.

“Would you be willing to try on this slipper?” he asked gently.

As Kongji reached for the magical shoe, Lady Park and Patji watched in horror as it slipped onto her foot perfectly, glowing with the same ethereal light it had possessed at the festival. The moment it was in place, Kongji’s true beauty seemed to shine through her humble exterior, and Kim Wonseok knew with absolute certainty that he had found his bride.

“It’s you,” he whispered in wonder. “You’re my mysterious princess from the festival.”

Lady Park and Patji were devastated by this revelation. Not only had they lost their chance at an advantageous marriage, but they had to face the humiliating truth that the stepdaughter they had treated like a servant was about to become the wife of one of the most eligible men in the kingdom.

But their troubles were far from over. As news of Kongji’s engagement spread, the truth about how she had been treated in her own home began to come to light. Servants and neighbors, no longer afraid to speak, told stories of Lady Park’s cruelty and Patji’s jealous behavior.

Kim Wonseok was appalled to learn how his beloved had been treated and immediately took steps to ensure her protection and comfort. He also made it clear that Lady Park and Patji were no longer welcome in Kongji’s life unless they could demonstrate genuine remorse for their actions.

When Han Bongsu returned from his business trip to find his daughter engaged to the magistrate’s son, he was initially overjoyed. But as the full story of what had transpired in his absence became clear, he was overcome with shame and regret for having failed to protect his own child.

“My dear daughter,” he said, tears streaming down his face, “can you ever forgive a father who was so blind to your suffering? I should have seen through their deceptions and protected you as I promised your mother I would.”

Kongji, true to her forgiving nature, embraced her father warmly. “Father,” she said, “the past is behind us now. What matters is that we can build a better future together, based on love and honesty rather than deception and jealousy.”

The wedding of Kongji and Kim Wonseok was the most magnificent celebration the region had ever seen. The bride’s beauty and grace were matched only by her kindness and intelligence, and everyone who attended agreed that it was a perfect union of two noble hearts.

But the story’s justice was not yet complete. Lady Park and Patji, having lost their comfortable lifestyle and social standing, were forced to work as servants in other households, experiencing firsthand the hardships they had imposed on Kongji. The spirits of nature, who had witnessed all their cruelties, ensured that they faced appropriate consequences for their actions.

Patji, who had once been vain about her appearance, found that no cosmetics could improve her increasingly sour expression, and her jealous nature made it impossible for her to find happiness or friendship anywhere. Lady Park, who had valued wealth and status above all else, discovered that her greedy nature had left her with no true friends willing to help her in her time of need.

Kongji and Kim Wonseok, meanwhile, lived a long and happy life together, blessed with children who inherited both parents’ virtues. Kongji never forgot the magical birds who had helped her in her darkest hours, and she spent much of her life caring for animals and helping those in need.

Their love story became a beloved tale throughout Korea, reminding all who heard it that virtue is always rewarded in the end, that true beauty comes from within, and that kindness to all living creatures creates magic more powerful than any earthly force.

The magical slipper was preserved as a family treasure, a reminder that love can recognize its true match across any disguise or social barrier, and that those who remain pure of heart will always find their way to happiness, no matter how dark their current circumstances may appear.