Ch. 1 — That Drama’s Ending
My mom was a hardcore makjang drama fanatic.
What exactly is a makjang drama, you ask?
Hidden birth secrets.
Amnesia.
A mother-in-law hurling envelopes of cash.
And the one thing you absolutely cannot leave out — the legendary kimchi slap*!
*A “kimchi slap” is a famous, over-the-top dramatic trope from Korean soap operas (makjang dramas) where an angry character slaps someone across the face with a handful of fermented cabbage kimchi instead of using an open hand.
K-makjang dramas: where plausibility checked out ages ago and pure, unadulterated stimulation reigns supreme!
Among all of them, there was one drama my mom watched with particular devotion.
Its title: Tears of the Imperial Palace.
It was what you’d call an alternate-history constitutional monarchy romance — the premise being that a royal imperial family still existed in 21st-century South Korea.
The plot was as predictable as they come.
A scrappy, tenacious commoner girl stumbles her way into the imperial household by some twist of fate, then gets hopelessly entangled with a cold, prickly crown prince who just so happens to be warm and tender exclusively for his woman.
Historical accuracy?
Feed it to the dogs.
It was a royal court intrigue drama mashed together with every chaebol drama cliché in the book, and I’d silently click my tongue every time I caught a glimpse of it.
My taste runs toward prestige historical epics like Land of Morning, with their sweeping, bold narratives.
Of course, since sovereign authority over our household remote control belongs entirely to my mother, I had no choice but to respect her preferences.
That said, I couldn’t help the questions that kept bubbling up.
“Mom, isn’t it unconstitutional for the crown prince to command the military like that on his own? I thought this was supposed to be a constitutional monarchy.”
Or..
“Treason against the imperial clan? They’re arresting people over that, without a warrant? In the 21st century?”
Or..
“This is supposedly a 21st-century imperial palace, but the security is on the level of a corner convenience store. How exactly did that villainess plant a bug in the Emperor’s sleeping chambers?”
Every time, my mom would whack me on the back and defend it, “You’re not supposed to pick apart the logic in something like this! Look at that face — that’s the only logic you need!”
Apparently, the actor who’d been faithfully guarding her living room TV screen was more important than the son who’d just returned from the ends of the earth.
Sigh.
I’m such an unfilial child.
“If there’s an imperial family, why is the country still called the Republic of Korea?”
“Oh, just shut up and watch! That’s the whole point of dramas. Oh my goodness, look at that wretched woman! She’s throwing water on the heroine again!“
Cursing up a storm, yet never missing a single live broadcast — that was my mother.
But then.
“Are you kidding me?! Has the writer completely lost it?! Is this some kind of joke?!“
The woman who, through every other absurd plot development, had cheerfully cried “This writer is insane!” — because there’s really no other way to describe enjoying something while simultaneously cursing it — on the day she finally watched the climactic final episode.
I heard screaming from the living room and bolted out of my room to find my mother, face flushed crimson, huffing and puffing, on the verge of hurling the remote control straight at the TV.
A finale powerful enough to shatter in an instant the fortitude she’d built up over a decade-plus of makjang drama training.
What on earth happened between the two of them?
Curiosity piqued, I cautiously approached and asked.
“Mom, what’s wrong? Did they not get married? Are they half-siblings or something?”
“Don’t ask.”
“No, really — how did it end? Let me in on it. Is it worth watching?”
“Absolutely do not watch it!! It is the shame of my life — the SHAME! I want to gouge out the eyes that spent two months following this garbage!”
My mother stormed off to her room, and left alone in the living room was nothing but a dark, silent TV screen.
I stared at that black screen and clicked my tongue.
Just what kind of ending could obliterate the mental fortitude of my otherwise endlessly tolerant mother?
I was dying to know, but I couldn’t muster the courage to pull up the replay with her still seething in her room.
My last memory is grumbling to myself..
Geez, Mom. Couldn’t you have let me watch what the ending was? If you were going to turn it off, at least do it on your way out.
Yeah.
I truly never dreamed those would be the last thoughts of my previous life.
Or that I would be possessed into that godforsaken makjang drama.
…F*ck
Damn it all.
*
*
*
“Goddamn it. Cold. So bloody cold.”
Ganghwa Island, January.
A bone-cutting wind sweeping in off the water.
I was sniffling back the frozen drip at the tip of my nose, patching up a torn section of plastic greenhouse sheeting.
My fingers had gone completely numb long ago, and every exhale bloomed white in the frigid air.
It had already been three full years since I’d experienced the inexplicable phenomenon of being possessed.
When I opened my eyes, I found myself dropped into the world of Tears of the Imperial Palace.
Not as the male lead, the crown prince.
Not as the second male lead pining after the heroine.
But as an extra by the name of Yi Jin (李璡).
Yi Jin.
A name trailing down through the remote collateral branches of the imperial bloodline — so far down that he barely clung to a spot on the present-day Republic of Korea’s Royal Clan Registry by the skin of his teeth.
47th in line of succession to the imperial throne.
And “47th in line” was being generous.
His family ties to the direct imperial line had grown so distant that calculating the exact degree of kinship was practically pointless.
Strip away the royal clan name, and he was functionally indistinguishable from a commoner.
The only perks I enjoyed as a nominal member of the imperial family is every year-end, a wall calendar stamped with the imperial seal and a gift set of canned Spam, delivered to my door.
Naturally, I had absolutely zero connection to the imperial court’s power struggles or its fortunes.
Here on this lonely island of Ganghwa, I was living out this lifetime tilling the small plot of land left to me by this life’s grandfather, making my living as a farmer.
I’d been thrown off balance at first, but honestly?
Compared to my previous life of being ground down by corporate work, there was something more peaceful about this existence, and I adapted quickly enough.
That said, the life of a rookie farmer is no walk in the park.
Right from the first days of the new year: the greenhouse heater breaking down, the plastic sheeting tearing, the water tank pipes bursting from the freeze, and the village chief calling me before dawn demanding to know what happened with the organic fertilizer subsidy application.
“Hey! Jin! Jiin hyungnim!”
While I was wrestling with the greenhouse and swallowing a torrent of curses, a familiar, deep voice rang out from behind me.
I turned to find a broad-shouldered guy in a crew cut and a sharply-pressed coat, grinning ear to ear.
Captain Kwak Ji-hun, Second Marine Division.
“Oh, Kwak. What brings you out? Isn’t today your day off?”
“It’s because it’s my day off that I came to see you, hyung. What’s this, the greenhouse tore? Want me to give you a hand?”
“I’m good, almost done fixing it. A soldier should be resting on weekends — if you keep hanging around a farm like this, your men are gonna think you’re moonlighting civilian support ops.”
Captain Kwak was a younger friend I’d gotten close with the summer before last, when his Marine unit led civilian disaster relief efforts in our village after a typhoon leveled the whole area.
He looked like an outlaw at first glance, but he had warmth underneath — and above all, he had real people skills.
The two of us, a solitary young man farming alone on Ganghwa Island and a Marine captain, clicked surprisingly well and had fallen into the rhythm of older brother and younger brother.
“Come on, hyung, there’s nobody who looks out for his guys the way you do. You spent a ridiculous amount of your own money treating every one of them to a full dinner after they finished work that day.”
“Enough of the flattery. What did you actually come here for?”
“It’s cold and gloomy — you need a drink, hyung. And I came bearing something extraordinary today.”
Captain Kwak reached into his coat and produced a bottle of premium whisky — the kind sold duty-free at the PX*.
*PX : commissary/stores inside South Korean military bases for conscripted soldiers.
“Yah, isn’t this illegally smuggled out?”
“Pfft, I would never smug— I mean, this was legally purchased, I’ll have you know. Let’s head to the pork belly place in town! I’ll talk them into free corkage!”
If he was going that far, I couldn’t very well say no.
The sight of that luminous whisky bottle made the frozen irritation inside me melt clean away.
“Hah, Kwak Ji-hun. The pride of the Marine Corps. Alright, let me finish fixing the pipe and we’ll go. Tonight’s on me.”
*
*
*
And so we relocated to a worn corner table at a modest pork belly joint in town.
On the grill, thick slabs of meat sizzled and spat.
In the shot glasses — incongruously — amber whisky glimmered.
A delicate waft of fruit and smoky oak.
Honestly, after months of nothing but makgeolli, having quality whisky pass my lips felt like all the frost in my bones was quietly dissolving.
“Ahhh. Nothing beats military procurement whisky.”
“Right? Hyung — Happy New Year, and may your harvest be absolutely massive this year!”
“Same to you. Get that promotion already, would you.”
“Hyung, you clearly don’t know what the military’s like right now. The way things are going, I want to quit every single day.”
“Tsk. A soldier who protects the nation shouldn’t be talking like that.”
I chewed my meat and glanced up absently — and my gaze landed on the old flat-screen TV mounted to the restaurant wall.
[BREAKING] THE ROMANCE OF THE CENTURY, FINALLY REALIZED!
Live Broadcast: The Royal Wedding of Crown Prince Yi Geon and Crown Princess-Designate Im Chaeyeon
On the screen: a dazzling scene of gold ornamentation, resplendent traditional wedding garments, and Deoksugung Palace filled to overflowing with foreign press and guests.
And walking through it all — the male and female leads of Tears of the Imperial Palace.
Yi Geon, the cold imperial heir.
Im Chaeyeon, a perfectly ordinary citizen plucked from obscurity overnight to become crown princess — the quintessential Candy-type heroine.
Honestly?
Not much of a reaction stirred in me.
While I’d been breaking my back just to eat and survive, tilling dirt — the two of them had spent sixteen full episodes burning through their own soap opera of passion, betrayal, and palace intrigue, and had finally arrived at the end.
That was about the extent of my feelings.
The wedding was the very pinnacle of spectacle.
A completely different world from the dust-blown rural corner I lived in.
“Man, the crown prince really is ridiculously good-looking. That woman’s gorgeous too. Shouldn’t you be there, hyung? You’re both Yi clan royalty, aren’t you?”
Captain Kwak flipped the meat over, asking with a joking lilt.
“Please. Why would I go there. I’d get turned away at the door. Even if you packed the venue with just the direct line and high-ranking collateral members, that’s already over forty people. I don’t even qualify for a seat among the guests.”
“Still, hyung, you share the same bloodline — they couldn’t send one invitation? That’s cold.”
“Yah, at my degree of remove, I’m basically just a regular person with the last name Yi. You think those stuck-up people would even give me a proper meal?”
I smirked and knocked back my whisky.
Truth be told, I wasn’t even bitter about it.
If anything, I was relieved.
That imperial palace might look magnificent on the outside, but underneath it was a cesspool of power struggle.
Even someone like me — who’d only half-watched the drama out of the corner of one eye — knew that much.
Poisonings.
Assassination attempts.
Kidnappings.
Sixteen episodes of pure blood-and-sweat agony the main couple had to claw through just to make it to this wedding.
But that’s actually pretty strange.
I rested my chin in my hand and stared at the TV screen.
The officiant’s words concluded.
The crown prince in his formal dress uniform and the heroine in her wedding gown turned to face each other.
The grand chandeliers blazing inside Seokjojeon Hall. Thunderous applause. By any measure — a perfect happy ending.
Right.
This is the original drama’s conclusion.
Two beautiful people, tears streaming, exchanging rings.
A happy ending blessed by the entire nation.
Suddenly, a flash of memory: my mother in our living room, shaking with rage, about to launch the remote control.
What in this scene could have set her off like that?
It looked like an entirely ordinary Cinderella story reaching its finale.
The more I stared, the more peacefully it all resolved.
The ending is this beautifully, happily wrapped up — so why did Mom absolutely lose her mind and nearly destroy the remote?
A sudden pregnancy reveal?
Someone confessing they had a terminal illness?
My imagination, impoverished as it was, could conjure nothing beyond some dramatic interloper bursting in screaming “I object! I OBJECT TO THIS UNION!”
The hero and heroine finished their vows and began slowly leaning toward each other for the kiss.
The camera closed in on their beautiful silhouette.
“Ugh, rubbing it in for us single people. Hyung, let’s have one more—”
Captain Kwak grumbled and extended his glass, and I was just about to clink mine against it—
……SCREEEEEEEE—!!
The massive stone wall at the rear of Deoksugung Palace began to warp grotesquely on screen—
—BOOOOOOOOOOM!!!!
A detonation so immense it seemed to blow out the TV’s speakers rocked the entire restaurant.
On screen, the grand Seokjojeon Hall of Deoksugung Palace was swallowed whole by crimson flames and collapsed in on itself — broadcast in merciless, uncut detail.
“……What.”
Me.
Captain Kwak.
The restaurant owner who’d been slicing meat in the kitchen just moments ago.
Every one of us froze, staring blankly at the screen.
What unfolded on screen was, in every literal sense, hell.
Screaming.
Guests collapsed and drenched in blood.
The dais where the crown prince and crown princess had been standing, smiling brilliantly just seconds ago, had been blasted clean away — and half the screen was swallowed by black smoke.
“SCREEEAM—!”
“Help us! Your Highness! YOUR HIGHNESS!”
The crown prince, crumpled and soaked in blood.
And beside him — fragments of a dress so destroyed the shape was unrecognizable.
The camera angle spun wildly, sweeping across the scene of absolute pandemonium — and then, with a sharp kzzt—, the screen cut to black entirely.
[We interrupt our regular broadcast due to circumstances at the station.]
A chilling color bar.
A single flat tone that filled the restaurant with a creeping dread.
Silence.
A suffocating stillness — for just a moment.
WEEEE—!!
WEEEE—!!
BEEP!
BEEP!
BEEP!
My pocket.
Captain Kwak’s phone.
The restaurant owner’s phone.
All of them erupting simultaneously in a frenzy of emergency alerts.
[Ministry of the Interior and Safety] EMERGENCY DISASTER ALERT
National State of Emergency declared. All citizens remain at your current location and comply with government directives. Large-scale explosive terror attack confirmed within the imperial palace grounds. (Details under investigation)
“……What the hell.”
I murmured it blankly.
Captain Kwak’s expression had gone rigid.
The smartwatch on his wrist was going off loudly. He glanced at it—
“Hyung.”
He shoved back from the table and spoke in clipped urgency.
“I have to return to base immediately. This is no ordinary situation. Jindogae* Level One has just been declared across all military forces.”
*An official term for warning measures issued in the event of a localized threat situation.
“Wh— yeah, go. Go. Be careful.”
“Hyung, do not go anywhere — go straight home! If anything happens, call me immediately!”
Captain Kwak shot out of the restaurant like a bullet.
The owner was shaking as she moved to bolt the door.
I sat dumbly at the table and unlocked my phone.
I tried to load the news portal, but the servers had clearly buckled under the traffic — all I got was Unable to connect to server.
I switched to social media instead.
Every refresh cascaded with horrifying updates:
Deoksugung bomb attack! Imperial family wiped out?!
Breaking news just dropped. Emperor His Majesty, Crown Prince His Highness, and direct-line imperial family members all presumed dead following royal wedding…
Second explosion reported. Seoul is in chaos right now. Is this war??
The air was knocked out of my lungs.
Only a single word managed to escape my mouth.
“…We’re completely screwed.”
Three years after being possessed, I’d finally learned what the makjang drama’s ending was..
With five minutes left to go, blow up a bomb and kill everyone.
Fck, you crazy bast*rd writer!