Ch. 6 — The Emperor’s Voice
Armored vehicles crossing the Han River and appearing in the heart of Ilsan.
SCREEEEEEECH——!!
With a track-grinding shriek that could split eardrums, the armored vehicles ground to a halt, surrounding the forecourt and approach roads of the IBS Secondary Broadcast Station in Ilsan in a complete encirclement.
The night-shift security guards, confronted with that overpowering spectacle, went white with terror and scattered.
“All forces, dismount!”
“Establish perimeter control outside the building! Not a single soul gets through!”
Captain Kwak, face blazing red, roared as he vaulted off the top of an armored vehicle.
Why is he so worked up.
The Marines moved with seamless precision and seized the broadcast station’s main entrance in an instant.
Barricades went up.
The armored vehicles’ machine guns trained on both directions of the road.
“Your Majesty! Approach secured!”
Captain Kwak came sprinting to my vehicle window and shouted.
I gave a taut nod, pushed the car door open, and stepped out.
“Secretary Seo. Let’s go.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
The bodyguards closed in tight on either side of me.
The broadcast station lobby was already in complete chaos.
The interior — which must have been a war zone in its own right, scrambling to process every piece of coup news as it broke — froze as though doused in ice water at the sudden intrusion of armed soldiers.
From somewhere in the crowd, whoever was in charge shouted:
“W— who are you people! This is the Imperial Broadcasting Station! Soldiers have no right to simply barge in here!”
Quite brave.
Considering we could very well have been the rebel forces.
Seo Yu-jin stepped forward, heels clicking.
“We are from the imperial household.”
Her government ID came up, followed by the now-familiar verification procedure via the national seal in my hands — yes, this is how it is now.
Whether it was the intimidating presence of the Marines, the process moved faster this time.
“Summon the news director and chief broadcast officer immediately. Every second counts.”
“Y— yes, of course! Right away!”
He bent at a ninety-degree angle as if he might pitch face-first onto the floor, and started screaming into his radio at full volume.
The station employees’ manner had become extremely, almost painfully deferential.
Perhaps because this was the Imperial Broadcasting Station — an heir to a throne everyone had assumed wiped out had just arrived in person with an army escort.
Someone had already held an elevator for us at the far end.
I stepped in and stood there blankly, and the station employees who had followed to carry out instructions bowed their heads and took one step back.
Oh, for fck sake—
I didn’t even want to think about it anymore.
How dare they share an elevator with the Chairman — sorry, the Emperor— that’s what this was, wasn’t it.
This worldbuilding genuinely does not grow on me.
“There’s no need for that — everyone get in. Marines too.”
All the way up to the floor housing the news studio, the employees who rode up with us pressed themselves against the walls with their heads bowed.
“We’ve arrived. VIP Waiting Room One.”
The news director at the front carefully opened the door.
The first thing visible upon entering was a garment hanging in the center of the room — deep crimson, black, and gold.
“……What is that?”
“The formal ceremonial robes of the Emperor of the Republic of Korea. You must change into them immediately.”
Seo Yu-jin said it as she closed the door behind her.
“Why would a broadcast station have imperial ceremonial robes?”
Seo Yu-jin inspected the fabric of the robes with careful attention as she answered.
“IBS maintains the highest grade of imperial ceremonial dress at all times in preparation for imperial historical reenactment broadcasts and emergencies during official events. It was produced and delivered by the same atelier that makes the imperial household’s garments — however, given the circumstances, it has not been tailored to Your Majesty’s measurements. I ask your forgiveness in advance should anything be uncomfortable.”
“It’s fine. Who’s going to complain about something like that.”
I stripped off my worn-out clothes.
Going on live national broadcast in this outfit would be beyond absurd.
And this was hardly the situation to be shy about changing in front of someone.
……Are these buttons decorative?
Why won’t they fasten.
“Allow me.”
Seo Yu-jin stepped up close, nearly to my chin, and worked the front clasps of the ceremonial robes into place.
“Secretary Seo. What’s the situation with the address?”
At my question, Seo Yu-jin answered immediately.
“Fortunately, IBS falls under the Imperial Broadcasting Network, so there is a permanently stationed Yemun-gwan Eunggyo on site. I have already instructed him to draft a national address at once.”
“……A what?”
I wasn’t sure I’d heard correctly.
“A Yemun-gwan Eunggyo. One of the officials responsible for composing imperial edicts, proclamations, and formal statements.”
The imperial secretariat runs on a perfectly modern secretarial system — it’s not the old Seungjeongwon — and yet somehow the document-drafting division is still operating under the Joseon-era name Yemun-gwan. Was it because Eunggyo sounded more refined than Seungji?
Jinjja. This damn makjang drama world.
While mentally chewing the author to pieces, the waiting room door swung open.
“Your Majesty! Yemun-gwan Eunggyo Choe Sang-hyeon presents himself before Your Majesty!”
An elderly man dropped flat onto the floor in a full prostration.
Having grown up in a Confucian republic myself, I simply could not let someone considerably older than me prostrate himself without helping him up.
The more pressing reason, of course, was that there was no time for this.
“Please rise. The address.”
“H— here it is! Upon receiving word that Your Majesty had arrived, I drafted this in haste, with profound grief in my heart!”
He extended a tablet with visibly trembling hands.
A Yemun-gwan Eunggyo who uses a tablet.
He looks quite old, too.
I pressed my fingers to my brow and looked down at the text.
[By the decree of the Emperor, who receives the Mandate of Heaven and carries forward the will of Heaven:
Alas, in grief and lamentation.
As the Way of Heaven has fallen into disorder, treacherous forces have risen and invaded the imperial palace, bringing about the catastrophic severing of the imperial bloodline — His Majesty the late Emperor and all his kin — in a manner most cruel.
Therefore, with a heart torn asunder, We receive the Mandate of Heaven and ascend to the Great Throne. Let all soldiers and people of this realm hear these words.
You who have received the grace of the ancestral sovereigns across generations must rise with righteous fury, mindful of your duty to your ruler and father. Let all subjects urgently rise in loyalty and filial devotion, strike down the wicked conspirators, and lend your strength to righting the order of the ancestral shrines and the state…]
“……”
I smiled bitterly and switched off the screen.
Then set the tablet quietly on the desk.
“Secretary Seo.”
“Yes.”
Without hesitation, I took the printed copy of the address from the old official’s hands and tore it apart.
RRIIIP—!
“Y— Your Majesty! The proclamation——!”
Ignoring the appalled elderly official, I pushed through the soundproofed studio door and spoke to Seo Yu-jin as I went.
“We don’t need any of that. We do this my way.”
Seo Yu-jin exhaled and called out to the hallway:
“Is the studio ready?”
“Yes! We can broadcast immediately!”
The news director shouted from outside the door.
“Let’s go.”
I walked into the studio without looking back.
*
*
Camera lenses swung toward me as one.
Blinding lights poured down.
Cold sweat crawled down my spine.
This morning I was still a farmer on Ganghwa Island — and now I’m going on live national broadcast?
It would be strange not to be terrified.
My heart was hammering as though it meant to break through my ribs.
But if I buckled, Seo Yu-jin who was protecting me and Kwak Ji-hun who was risking his life on guard outside would both die.
The producer in the booth gripped the microphone with shaking hands.
[National network broadcast ready. Standby! Ten seconds!]
[9, 8, 7……]
I took a long, deep breath.
I said it to myself, silently.
I am not an extra right now.
At least in this moment — I am this country’s protagonist.
Burn it all down.
[3, 2, 1. Cue!]
The ON AIR lamp glowed red.
I looked directly into the camera lens and opened my mouth, as calm and measured as I could manage.
*
*
“Good evening. I am Yi Jin, Emperor of the Republic of Korea.”
What came out of Yi Jin’s mouth was the most ordinary everyday language imaginable.
“As a member of the imperial clan, and as the sole surviving heir to the throne following the terror attack at Deoksugung, I hereby declare to the people of the Republic of Korea that, in accordance with the Constitution, I have ascended to the imperial throne effective this moment.”
“The name Yi Jin will be unfamiliar to you, and I myself never once imagined that this weighty position would ever fall to me. But now, with an unprecedented rebellion threatening this nation, I will not shrink from the responsibility left to me.”
For an imperial address — the Okeum, the Voice of the Emperor — the language was strikingly plain.
Through the glass, the news director and the broadcast crew watching from outside were visibly unsettled.
“Citizens of the Republic of Korea, I will explain our current situation briefly.”
But Yi Jin continued without concern.
“At approximately two o’clock this afternoon, an explosion at Deoksugung Palace claimed the lives of His Majesty the late Emperor, the crown prince, and all direct members of the imperial family.”
“I offer my deepest condolences to all those who lost their lives in this horrific tragedy.”
Yi Jin lowered his head in a brief moment of silence.
It lasted barely five seconds — but in the studio, a silence so heavy fell that not even the sound of a swallow could be heard.
And when Yi Jin raised his head again, the look in his eyes had settled into something far calmer and more still than before.
“At the same time, a portion of our military has gone rogue, seizing key facilities in Seoul by force. The rebel faction led by Song Hak-su and others is calling this a revolution and attempting to mislead the people.”
Yi Jin paused for a moment and steadied his breath.
“But this is clearly an act of insurrection. It is treason against the constitutional order. A real soldier does not point a weapon at the people. These are nothing more than rebels who, blinded by the lust for power, annihilated the imperial family.”
And at precisely that moment, Yi Jin lightly touched his own chest and said:
“But the imperial house stands here. Alive.”
The air in the studio pulled taut.
“I, Yi Jin, as commander-in-chief of the armed forces, will commit every resource available to the immediate suppression of this situation. We will not compromise with the rebels under any circumstances, and we will not yield a single step. All that awaits those who stand at the end of this treason is the contempt of history — and the noose of the gallows.”
And then Yi Jin’s imperial command was issued.
“Effective immediately, I declare a national state of emergency across the Republic of Korea, and I issue the first imperial edict of my reign. All military forces are directed to make the suppression of the rebel forces their highest priority and to mobilize accordingly.”
“All soldiers of the national armed forces are to immediately disengage from rebel command and return to their units. Rebel forces are directed to refuse unlawful orders to fire from their superiors. Those who continue to side with Song Hak-su and the rebel faction will be regarded as traitors — but those who lay down their arms and stand down right now will face no consequences of any kind.”
Yi Jin’s words, which had been directed at the military, now turned back to the people.
“This bloody storm must end tonight. Citizens of this nation — do not be afraid. I will not run. I will resolve this situation from right here. I will show you, with my own actions, what it means to be Emperor.”
The broadcast ended.
The red light in the studio went dark.
And over the broadcast station, a quiet stillness settled.
Even the ambient noise of the city outside, which would ordinarily have drifted in, had gone completely silent.
In that moment — the entire city seemed to hold its breath.
*
*
Seoul. Capital Defense Command Headquarters.
[……I am Yi Jin, Emperor of the Republic of Korea.]
The moment the broadcast went out, the coup’s command center erupted like someone had shoved a stick into a hornet’s nest.
“The Emperor? Did he say the Emperor? Just now?”
“Where did this clan member crawl out from?”
“That’s impossible. We eliminated the entire imperial family today. And now some clan member is alive and broadcasting?”
“Shell the Ilsan station immediately! Cut the broadcast!”
At that moment, in the midst of the uproar, Revolutionary Commander Song Hak-su slowly raised one hand.
With the calm of an old tiger, he set down his teacup.
“Quiet.”
At Song Hak-su’s single word, the command room went dead silent.
“Marshal, it’s a fake. We confirmed that all imperial family members attending the wedding were taken care of.”
“I imagine so. Though apparently Seo Yu-jin disappeared with the national seal.”
The chief of staff explained urgently, but Song Hak-su smiled with something close to bitterness.
“First the Empress, and now even a mere secretary woman presumes to seize the imperial house and wield it.”
Just how far did they intend to humiliate this nation.
Song Hak-su gazed out the window at the distant nightscape of Seoul.
“The people follow whatever flag appears before them. Today we declared that we would cut out the rot of the imperial house. But if another Emperor appears over there and starts waving his own flag — the people will begin to wonder which one to follow.”
“Then we should immediately——!”
“The fact that they’re wondering at all is poison to us.”
Song Hak-su waved his hand with unhurried indifference.
“Remove him. Politely.”