Ch. 3 — Marines
Seo Yu-jin watched Yi Jin step past her and climb into the limousine, her eyes narrowed.
When Seokjojeon Hall had gone up in flames, the imperial secretariat and security detail had descended into outright panic.
In the midst of that chaos, she had prioritized securing the sole survivor above all else and made straight for Ganghwa Island.
And when she found Yi Jin, what she had expected of him was simple: a symbolic figurehead — someone to preserve the continuity of the imperial institution and serve as a rallying point.
But Yi Jin had rejected her counsel to retreat somewhere safe without a moment’s hesitation.
As the imperial secretary whose duty was to place the Emperor’s safety above all else, she should have insisted on evacuation.
Seo Yu-jin had not.
Because what she was witnessing was something she had never seen even in the crown prince, who had been groomed for this role his entire life — what one might call the bearing of a sovereign.
Without quite realizing it, Seo Yu-jin swallowed drily and straightened in her seat.
Yi Jin sat staring at the darkly tinted window, deep in thought.
In Seo Yu-jin’s mind, an entirely different image was overlaying itself onto him.
Beyond the honorific appended to posthumous temple names as a matter of ceremony, there was only one figure in this nation’s history who could truly be called a great emperor.
The mighty sovereign who built the foundations of the Korean Imperial House. The iron emperor who rose from obscure collateral origins to hold back the collapse of the nation.
Just like Yi Jin, right now.
Seo Yu-jin felt a shiver move down her spine.
No — it was too soon to count chickens.
In all the years of this imperial house, there had not been a single person of whom one could say they resembled that figure’s caliber.
And yet the way Seo Yu-jin looked at Yi Jin had shifted — markedly — from even a few minutes ago.
For his part, Yi Jin’s own thinking was rather more grounded:
History proves it.
If you hide, you end up with nothing — not rice, not porridge.
May 16th. December 12th. In both cases, the commander-in-chief chose to hide instead of command — and ended up getting arrested for it.
This was the hard-won wisdom of a citizen from a country that had been through a coup or two.
*
*
*
In the Southern Song dynasty, there was a boy emperor called the Dì Bǐng Emperor.
He was never meant to rule.
But when the Song dynasty fell and a government-in-exile was scraped together, this child was placed on the throne — likely not by his own choosing.
He was seven years old when it all collapsed around him and Mongol forces closed in.
The loyal ministers at his side decided: “The dynasty is finished, so you must die with it” — and leapt into the sea holding him.
The last words of the Dì Bǐng Emperor, who met his end in that blaze of tragic loyalty, were said to be: “Let me never be born into the imperial family again.”
Why was I suddenly drifting into thoughts like these?
Because my situation — thrown into a fight without having received a single benefit of being imperial — was mapping itself onto his rather uncomfortably.
But I had no other options.
“Secretary Seo.”
I pulled my gaze from the window and addressed the front seat.
“Please speak.”
Seo Yu-jin turned her head slowly from the passenger seat.
Her blouse was soaked in blood and her face was ash-pale, yet her posture remained as rigid and upright as ever.
“Let’s think about this logically. The rebel forces.”
“Yes.”
“In any coup or armed insurrection, isn’t the standard playbook to take a member of the imperial family hostage — use that symbolic figure to legitimize your actions?”
Given the meaning the Emperor held in this country, the coup faction would have been safer keeping at least one alive as a card to play.
Yet they had simultaneously annihilated dozens of direct and collateral imperial family members gathered in Seokjojeon Hall.
That means they were desperate.
Something panicked them into triggering it all at once — “kill them all first, sort it out later.”
Or……
An even colder possibility.
Or they intend to abolish the imperial institution entirely.
Purge everyone capable of claiming the throne.
For people like that, an imperial family member’s life would carry no value as a hostage — just old-world refuse to be swept away.
“Either way, the rebels’ stated justification will be ‘imperial corruption and incompetence.’ The late Emperor and the crown prince……”
Seo Yu-jin paused briefly, bit her lip slightly, and continued.
“It is true that the governance of recent years had become, in some respects, rather strained.”
And that plan had nearly succeeded.
Save for one miscalculation: that a member of the imperial family no one paid attention to was buried out here on Ganghwa Island.
“I’ve been curious about this since earlier. How did you find me so quickly? It’s barely been a few hours since everything happened. You couldn’t have had time to dig through the clan registry.”
Seo Yu-jin’s answer, however, was not what he expected.
“As Chief Imperial Secretary, I have committed to memory the personal details, current addresses, emergency contacts, and select notes for every imperial clan member registered with the Royal Clan Office of the Republic of Korea.”
“……Pardon? All of them?”
“Twice a year, when gifts are dispatched, I verify address updates personally. Your Majesty has resided at this Ganghwa Island farm without change, so I was able to proceed here directly by the safest available route immediately after the incident.”
Absolute workaholic.
“Is that all?”
“Yes. Is there something troubling you about that?”
Seo Yu-jin tilted her head slightly and asked.
“No. It’s nothing.”
I answered, and Seo Yu-jin continued.
“Your Majesty. Though it may be presumptuous of me as your servant, there is one concern I must voice.”
“Go ahead. I’m not about to claim I’m a hundred percent confident in my own judgment right now.”
“When even the Royal Guard Brigade — an imperial unit — has joined the rebellion, placing blind faith in the Marines as an outlying force that will offer unconditional loyalty is dangerous. Once they have secured Your Majesty, they may attempt to negotiate with the rebels or seize the initiative for their own political ends.”
She wasn’t wrong.
Seo Yu-jin’s concern was entirely reasonable.
In this era of chaos, no one could predict what ambitions a man with a gun might harbor.
But I shook my head.
“That concern goes a little too far, Secretary Seo.”
“On what basis are you so certain?”
“What day is today? The royal wedding of the century — the whole nation’s been buzzing about it for months. And it’s a public holiday.”
I murmured, looking out at the night sky.
“On a national holiday of this magnitude, any regimental commander or above trying to keep a firm grip on their unit isn’t going to be quietly sitting within their garrison zone.”
Whether it was a division commander’s golf outing or a senior officers’ dinner — any commanders with the political savvy and authority to immediately seize control of the situation and play games with me were almost certainly away from their posts right now.
In Seoul, most likely.
No wonder Kwak Ji-hun was looking to quit.
“On top of that — I have exactly one person in that unit I can trust without question.”
At that moment, with impeccable timing, one of the bodyguards spoke up.
“We’ll arrive in five minutes. We’ll escort you in directly, Your Majesty.”
*
*
*
“Halt! Halt! Approaching vehicle — stop immediately and identify yourself!”
The main gate of the 5th Independent Mobile Regiment HQ, under the 2nd Marine Division.
Marines in camouflage paint with K2 rifles had thrown up a barricade and blocked the limousine’s path.
Whether the news of the coup had reached them or not, the entire unit was locked down under full combat alert.
An armored vehicle had its gun barrel aimed directly at the gate.
SCREECH—!
Our limousine ground to a rough stop at the gate.
As the imperial bodyguards moved to exit the vehicle, Marine rifle muzzles swung to bear on the limousine as one.
“Do not exit the vehicle! Move one step and we open fire!”
“How dare you aim weapons at us in a national emergency! Get your commanding officer out here immediately!“
The bodyguard shouted, but the Marines — weapons hot, eyes hard — didn’t budge. One wrong move and this was going to become a friendly-fire shootout.
“Secretary Seo, give me the seal.”
“Your Majesty, it’s dangerous!”
“Getting riddled with bullets sitting in this car is more dangerous.”
I snatched the box containing the golden national seal from Seo Yu-jin’s hands and shoved the rear door of the limousine open.
“Don’t fire! I’m imperial family!”
The moment I stepped out — obviously wearing a battered old puffer jacket and worn-out sneakers — from a limousine bearing the imperial chrysanthemum crest, the sentries’ eyes flickered with uncertainty.
“Stand down!! Cease fire, all units! Fingers off the triggers!!“
From behind the heavy concrete blast wall of the guard post — a familiar, ear-splitting, gut-tearing shout.
There was the rapid clang of combat boots approaching, and then a figure burst through the assembled troops, shoving men aside — fully armed, ballistic helmet jammed down low.
Face flushed red in the bitter cold, chest heaving.
“Kwak.”
Captain Kwak’s eyes swept back and forth between my ragged, dirt-dusted appearance and the grim-faced imperial security detail arrayed behind me.
“Hyung…nim?”
“Yeah… well. It turned out like this. You saw the news?”
Captain Kwak, whose face a moment ago had been set in a ferocious combat expression, now looked as though someone had hit him over the head with a board.
And then — he saw the golden national seal in my hand.
“……Regiment, attention!!“
Captain Kwak snapped to a position of rigid attention as if a switch had been thrown.
“Sanhо!!“
He bellowed the old ceremonial acclaim with every vein in his neck standing out.
At that lion’s roar of a command, every soldier behind him simultaneously froze in place and turned toward me.
“Long live His Majesty! Long live His Majesty! Long live His Majesty ten thousand years!!“
There in front of the guard post — which moments ago had been a chaotic mess of aimed weapons and shouted threats — a thunderous salute and threefold acclamation rose up, directed solely at me, shaking heaven and earth.
My heart lurched and dropped — and at the same moment, something strange and indescribable moved through me from the base of my spine upward.
It hit me only now.
The reality of the situation, landing for the first time.
This is real.
I have actually become the Emperor in this utterly insane makjang drama.
Seeing Kwak Ji-hun — someone I’d thought of as nothing more than a comfortable younger brother — behaving like a genuine citizen of this world made it undeniable.
“Alright, enough of that. Everyone stand down, at ease. We don’t have time for formalities right now.”
I waved my hands quickly and had them stand down from the salute.
If I let them get through even two rounds of those acclamations, rebel forces are going to come take my head.
“I’ll escort you to the command center at once!”
The personnel officer — who had been holding the fort in the regimental commander’s absence — started in on the ceremonial acclamation as well, and was likewise cut off.
I turned my eyes to the central screen in the command and operations center.
Most of the CCTV feeds from Seoul had gone dark, and the internal military communications network was dropping in and out.
“The situation is as bad as it gets. I need to announce my accession — otherwise neither rebel nor loyalist forces can identify which side is which. Do I livestream myself on YouTube and declare my enthronement from here?”
While I’m at it, ask them to like and subscribe.
Seo Yu-jin’s expression went flat and she shook her head.
“That is not possible, Your Majesty. The major cell towers and communications networks across Seoul are already under the control of Capital Defense rebel forces. Civilian networks are completely paralyzed from the traffic surge, and above all, if Your Majesty’s location is pinpointed, an airstrike could follow immediately.”
“Then what do we do?”
“We’ll use this installation’s military communications network to attempt emergency contact with Marine Corps Command and Naval Headquarters. An Army-led coup makes it unlikely the Navy is involved. Beyond that……”
I could already guess what she was about to say.
If the internet was down, there was only one place the eyes and ears of this entire nation would be turning.
I said it flatly.
“We need to get to a broadcast station.”
*
*
*
Minutes later, engines screaming, the KAAVs (Korean Amphibious Assault Vehicles) and personnel transport trucks assigned to the 5th Independent Mobile Regiment began to roll.
The Ganghwa Bridge was blocked by military police and direct-command troops urgently dispatched from the 2nd Division headquarters — but……
[Kzzt—— Kwak Ji-hun, you son of a bitch!!]
The radio inside the armored vehicle erupted, and a voice from the division side came pouring through, veins practically audible through the static.
[What in the hell do you think you’re doing!! A subordinate regiment moving independently without the division commander’s orders?! Kill the engines and get out of the vehicles right now, you goddamn rebel bastards!! Drop your weapons before I give the order to fire!!]
Captain Kwak glanced at me from the corner of his eye, radio in hand.
Even the usually boisterous man’s eyes were visibly taut with tension.
One wrong move and they’d be opening fire on fellow Marines.
Seo Yu-jin stepped in.
She reached over and pulled the radio cleanly from Captain Kwak’s hand.
“This is Chief Imperial Secretary Seo Yu-jin of the Republic of Korea Imperial Household. We are currently escorting His Majesty the Emperor, who has lawfully succeeded to the throne, into the capital. Division forces will immediately open the barricade and permit passage.”
[……Wh— what? His Majesty the Emperor?]
There was a burst of radio chatter on the other end — whoever had been yelling went quiet — and when the voice returned, it had dropped into something considerably more deferential.
[……Acknowledged. Orders to provide immediate escort, received and understood.]
They crossed the Ganghwa Bridge without a drop of blood shed.
As they did, Seo Yu-jin spoke.
“The three major broadcasters in Seoul will have been the rebels’ first priority targets for seizure.”
She looked at me as she said it.
“Then what do we do.”
“There is an IBS secondary broadcast facility in Ilsan. Would you consider heading there?”
Before the words had fully left her mouth, the bodyguard turned up the car radio and said:
“Your Majesty, Secretary — you’ll want to hear this.”
Seo Yu-jin’s brow creased slightly.
“Is that IBS Channel 1?”
“Yes, it is.”
I exchanged a glance with Seo Yu-jin, then had him turn the volume to maximum.
And then — from the radio — came an announcer’s voice.
Rigid.
Strained.
[In a moment…… there will be a declaration from the Commander of the Revolution…]