Jo Ri opened her eyes to a world buzzing with strange colors. She took a deep breath as she stepped out of her room, finding her father immersed in a colossal volume, its pages shimmering with a peculiar, magical luster. Behind him, her mother was battling cooking pots, the clatter of spoons echoing in Jo Ri's ears like the beat of war drums.
Her mother spun around, her gaze as sharp as a blade.
- Honey, you are taking this girl to school today,
She declared.
- I won't risk another catastrophe. My heart nearly stopped yesterday, and it won't survive another bout of her idiocy!
- She's our daughter
The father replied, never lifting his eyes from his book.
- And she's sworn to be sensible, haven't you, sweetheart?
Jo Ri bowed with royal solemnity, lowering her gaze.
- Yes... Father, she murmured.
A dead silence filled the room. A spoon slipped from the mother's hand, hitting the floor with a jarring clang.
- Father?!
The mother shrieked, rushing toward her and scrutinizing her face frantically.
- Since when have you uttered a polite word? Your accent, your mannerisms... everything about you is suspicious! Did you lose your mind yesterday when I hit you with the frying pan? Or did my blow finally knock some sense back into you?
Jo Ri recoiled in fear, bitterly remembering that it was Di Lan who had taken the lion's share of the frying pan blows, not her. She gingerly touched her head with a hint of theatrical apprehension.
- I... I just carry a heavy weight in my heart for what I did yesterday.
- A weight in your heart?!
The mother let out a bitter, mocking laugh.
- More like a weight in my pocket from all the scandals you've caused! Now go, put on that cursed school uniform before I lose my temper again!
Jo Ri retreated to her room, her heart fluttering like a trapped bird. A school uniform?
She whispered, watching the girls outside through the window as they strolled the streets in short skirts and high socks. She touched the garments in her wardrobe with confusion.
- So, this is how they seek knowledge in this age? I must wear something that conceals me yet blends in... or I shall be exposed!
A Shield of Crimson Cloth
In a blur of haste, Jo Ri donned the clothes hanging behind the door, trying her best to mimic the girls on the street. She brushed her hair softly, but the moment she stepped out of the room, the bite of the cold air against her bare legs sent a jolt of terror through her. How could a 'Lady' of Joseon reveal her limbs in such a manner?
She surged back inside like a whirlwind, rummaging through the drawers until her eyes fell upon a pair of vibrant red trousers, adorned with two white stripes down the sides. She pulled them on quickly beneath her school skirt, finally feeling 'modestly' secure. When she emerged once more, her father let out a long whistle, eyeing the bizarre clash of colors on her legs. 'You look... truly unique today,' he remarked, bewildered.
- Elegant, I suppose?
In that instant, her mother's voice boomed like thunder:
- Don't forget your bag!
She shouted, tossing it toward her with uncanny precision. Jo Ri watched her mother in stifled amazement. Where was that frail, broken woman she had known in Joseon? Here, she had been forged into an iron lady who ruled the household a woman bold enough to strike Di Lan with a frying pan, not once, but twice! Oh, the irony of fate.
Jo Ri smiled to herself as she followed her father's lead. Here, life was turned upside down, yet it was undeniably wondrous. She had a formidable mother, a father who showered her with unconditional love, and most importantly... she was finally free from the ghost of a forced marriage to that 'spoiled prince.'
The Fall of Crowns Behind Closed Doors
Jo Ri followed her father, descending the stairs with cautious steps. Suddenly, a familiar shriek pierced the air the voice of her aunt, who had once been a Queen at whose command the very foundations of the kingdom shook. The door burst open, and Di Lan emerged, looking utterly exhausted. He was still clad in yesterday's attire, his long hair cascading over his face in a chaotic mess no one had ever witnessed before. His gaze froze as it met Jo Ri's father, then locked onto her, and he didn't blink.
Jo Ri felt the intensity of his stare piercing through her, so she took refuge behind her father's back as if he were a shield, desperately trying to hide the bizarre red trousers clinging to her frame. But the "Queen" gave him no moment for reflection; she lunged after him, grabbing his long locks and dragging him back inside by force while scolding him:
- You are not going to school looking like this wretched mess!
The Queen stopped abruptly when she spotted Jo Ri on the stairs. In a commanding tone that brooked no argument, she barked:
- Jo Ri! Call your mother this instant to cut off this hair!
Jo Ri stood paralyzed mid-stairwell, torn between her urge to flee with her father and her aunt's summons, until her father settled the matter with a smile:
- Go call your mother, dear... I'll wait for you downstairs.
The Scissors of Truth... A Look of Surrender
Jo Ri hurried upstairs, her heart racing not with fear, but with a strange thrill to see the arrogant prince in his most vulnerable state. She called for her mother, yet didn't wait for an answer, bursting inside to witness the historic scene: her aunt had bound Di Lan tightly with a long black sash, while her mother stood over him like a formidable military commander, snapping her scissors open and shut with a terrifying metallic screech.
Di Lan tried to recoil and rise multiple times, his pride refusing to allow any touch upon the hair that symbolized his dignity in Joseon. However, Jo Ri's mother kept forcing him back into his seat with firm, unyielding strikes. Suddenly, his eyes met Jo Ri's. He saw the mocking smile she tried to hide behind her hand, and the laughter that was on the verge of exposing her. At that very moment, a strange stillness came over Di Lan. He ceased his resistance and surrendered to the blades, as if accepting this fate merely to steal a few more moments gazing at her playful face.
As the scissors devoured locks of his hair, the two mothers waged a clamorous 'verbal battle,' jumping from cooking recipes to neighborhood gossip in a matter of seconds. It was a cacophony Di Lan had never encountered within the solemn silence of the palaces. Suddenly, his aunt let out a shout that shook the very walls:
- Shi Fu! Wake up, breakfast is ready!
His father emerged, staggering from sleep, offered a curt, cold greeting, and disappeared into the bathroom.
Finally, the mother held up a mirror before Di Lan's face and said with pride,
- What do you think? I left it a bit long so you wouldn't be too shocked. But tell me, when on earth did your hair grow this long? Have you been wearing a wig for the past two years just to fool us? You used to go to the barber regularly, so how did this happen?!
Mirrors of Truth and Words of Fire
Di Lan descended, his gaze colliding with colorful metallic masses lined up in total stillness silent iron beasts that required no horses to pull them. Without hesitation, he reached out to open the door of the white carriage, just as he had seen the "Master of the House" do the day before, and settled into the back seat. A heavy silence ensued, broken only by the ragged breathing of Jo Ri, who sat in the front beside her father.
The father cut through the silence, asking suspiciously,
- Did something happen between you two yesterday? This silence is unnerving you two, whose clamor never ends... did you have a falling out?
Jo Ri replied with lightning speed, her voice strained as she struggled to keep it steady:
- We've decided to live as strangers until I finish my studies, exactly as you advised me yesterday, Father.
At that moment, her eyes met Di Lan's through the rearview mirror. Her gaze was a sharp blade of warning and defiance, wordlessly commanding: Don't you dare expose us.
The father sighed deeply and said,
- I truly hope you keep this vow. Focus on your studies first; after that, you can decide whether you genuinely want to get married or not.
At that moment, the same mischievous smirk that used to drive the courtiers in Joseon mad played across Di Lan's lips. He locked his gaze onto Jo Ri's eyes in the mirror and spoke in a provocative tone brimming with defiance:
- And if we had actually married yesterday... what would you have done then, Mr... Sol Ma?
- Mr. Sol Ma?!
The father cried out in utter bewilderment, twisting his entire body toward them as the car swerved slightly.
- Why are you addressing me so formally? And did you get close to my daughter yesterday? Did you lay a finger on her?!
In a single, thunderous roar that shook the very frame of the carriage, they both screamed:
- Of course not!
The father let out a long, heavy sigh of relief and settled back into his seat, muttering,
- That's better... I trust you both.
The Palace of Learning and Strange Faces
The carriage no, the car stopped before a structure so massive it rivaled the royal palace of Joseon. But instead of sprawling courtyards, it was a vertical labyrinth, floors piled upon floors as if reaching for the heavens.
- Out, both of you! I'm late enough as it is,
Jo-ri's father commanded. He shot De-Lan a sharp look.
- And De-Lan? It's 'Uncle' next time. I won't be so forgiving if you call me 'Mr. Sul-ma' again.
As they crossed the school threshold, a flock of girls swarmed them, chirping with a familiarity that made Jo-ri's skin crawl. They knew her. They knew him. To them, they were friends; to Jo-ri, they were strangers from another world. Play the part, Jo-ri. Survive the mask, she whispered to herself. She reached out, grasping a girl's extended hand.
- Don't even speak to him,
Jo-ri snapped, her voice laced with a practiced pout.
- I'm furious with him.
A girl named Lee Tana leaned in, her eyes dancing with mischief.
- Why? What happened yesterday? Did another fire break out in your legendary romance?
Ghosts of the Past.. with New Faces
Jo-ri offered no answer, her only instinct was to retreat. But then, a familiar voice sliced through the chatter, calling out De-Lan's name. A crowd of boys swarmed the Prince, sweeping him away into the sea of students. Just as she was about to turn away, she saw him Han-ji. He was walking with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, trailing behind De-Lan's group with a cool indifference.
So, that was my friend's voice, she thought, her heart skipping a beat. But as if sensing her gaze, Han-ji turned. His eyes locked onto hers with a look so piercing and peculiar that it froze the air in her lungs. It wasn't the look of a stranger it was heavy with an unspoken history. Then, as quickly as it had happened, he looked away and kept walking.
As Jo-ri followed her friends toward the Arts Department, she felt like a ghost haunting her own life. She was thrilled to see Han-ji, but dread soon followed. Were they even friends in this world? Why did he look at her as if she were a puzzle or a betrayal? Her mind raced with a thousand possibilities, but one thing was certain: that look was far from normal.
The Mystery of the Stranger's Face
Jo-ri! Snap out of it! Mi-ri's voice broke her trance as she gushed over Jo-ri's hair.
- This style is stunning! You look like a movie star straight out of a magazine. Was this your mom's way of apologizing for... you know, that day?
- Why? What happened to me?
Jo-ri asked, her pulse quickening. Mi-ri blinked in disbelief.
- Don't tell me you've forgotten!
I just... want to know how you saw it,
Jo-ri ventured cautiously.
- Well
Mi-ri shrugged,
- if you've buried it, maybe we all should.
Jo-ri let it slide for now, but her mind was already plotting how to extract the truth later. Then, she saw it. A photo pinned to the wall her photo. But the girl in the frame was a stranger. Short hair, thick glasses, standing proudly next to a painting. The contrast was jarring. If she looked this different, what about De-Lan? Had he been a spectacled scholar in this life too?
But the moment she stepped into the Art Department, her questions vanished, replaced by pure awe. It was a cathedral of color. Tubes of vibrant oils, brushes of every imaginable shape, and canvases that breathed a sense of freedom she'd never known in Joseon. For the first time, Jo-ri felt a desperate urge to grab a brush and bleed her soul onto a canvas to paint the chaos of two worlds colliding.
"With the mysterious appearance of her old friend, Han-ji, a new shadow has been cast over the story. What do you think, readers? Will Han-ji's arrival flip the script and turn him into a formidable rival for Jo-ri's heart? Or will De-lan remain the undisputed lead, holding his crown despite the chaos of the modern world? Who are you rooting for?"