Haein clutched her notebook tightly as the train rattled along the tracks. The familiar scent of ink and old paper mingled with the faint hum of the train carriage. She muttered under her breath, “So many plot twists… how do they even act this out?” Her eyes skimmed the margins she’d scribbled with translations, cross-referencing lines from the drama script.

The cramped train restroom offered little comfort. Haein leaned over the sink, scanning passages in the novel that inspired her translation notes. Then, without warning, the train lurched violently, throwing her against the wall.

“Ouch! Jinjja… what the—” she exclaimed, gripping the sink for balance. The door rattled, refusing to open. Another sudden roll of the train sent her head crashing against the porcelain. Stars exploded in front of her eyes, and darkness swallowed everything.

---

When Haein opened her eyes again, the air smelled different—softer, scented with flowers she didn’t recognize. Sunlight poured through tall, latticed windows, casting intricate patterns across a silk robe that now clung to her body.

“What… what is this?” she whispered, staring at her reflection in a polished mirror. Her chestnut hair was swept up into a traditional style she didn’t recognize, and the robe felt heavy and unfamiliar. Panic gripped her chest. She scrambled out of the chamber, stumbling over the smooth wooden floor, until she reached the courtyard.

Around her, servants and guards paused to stare. Her cheeks burned. She pinched them, and the sting confirmed that this was no dream.

A young maid approached cautiously. “Milady… are you feeling unwell?”

Haein’s voice wavered. “I… who am I? What year is this? Where… where is my family?”

The maid hesitated, then answered politely, careful not to anger her. “You are Xiu Ying, daughter of the Xiu family. This is the Qing Dynasty, milady. Please, try to calm yourself.”

---

Meanwhile, in another wing of the mansion, the real Xiu Ying had tumbled over a large stone near the garden, unconscious, oblivious to the confusion unfolding with Haein inhabiting her body.

Back in the palace, Haein/Xiu Ying tried to absorb her new reality. Names, faces, titles—all poured over her like an overwhelming tide. “Xiu family… mother, father, siblings… I’m… someone else?” she whispered, pinching her arm again, as though proving her own existence.

The maid, glancing nervously at her, added softly, “Before, milady… you were… difficult. You had strong opinions and little patience with others. Please… try to understand our ways.”

Haein swallowed hard. If she was truly Xiu Ying, she had no choice but to play the part—at least for now.

---

Meanwhile, Zhao Tian, the young king, was attending to his royal duties. He mediated disputes, signed decrees, and moved with the calm authority that had earned him respect throughout the palace. His younger brother, Zhao Keyi, stormed in, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Brother, have you seen Xiu Ying today? She’s… different. Very different.”

Zhao Tian’s eyes flicked toward the courtyard. “Keyi… do not speak so freely. She has her traits. I will observe myself.”

Zhao Chen and the loyal guard Li Bai exchanged amused glances, quietly watching the brothers’ bickering unfold like clockwork.

Elsewhere, the concubine Yan Bai received news of the “memory-lost” Xiu Ying, a glint of calculation in her eyes. Zhao Tian’s parents, aware of the situation, discussed marriage prospects and the king’s heart, noting his unwavering focus on duty rather than romance.

---

By evening, Haein/Xiu Ying ventured with her maid to the market. Every vibrant stall, every clamor of voices filled her with awe. She moved like a child discovering a new world, testing her limits with curiosity, delighting in small discoveries, and driving her maid quietly mad with the endless questions.

“Look! What is that? Can we try it? Oh… I need to remember the names of my family!” she whispered, grinning like a mischievous child.

From a nearby teahouse, Zhao Tian noticed her immediately. The girl, Xiu Ying—or whoever she truly was—moved with a kind of grace and curiosity that made her seem unlike the spoiled daughter he knew.

He held a small sketch of her from earlier in the courtyard and smirked. “Interesting,” he murmured, as his gaze lingered on her in the bustling market.

---

That night, Haein/Xiu Ying returned to the mansion, offering small gifts to the staff—a gesture of warmth and sincerity. Confused but pleased, the household accepted them, noting the stark contrast with the real Xiu Ying’s formerly spoiled demeanor.

And in the shadows, Zhao Tian’s smirk lingered. He had no doubt now that this girl—this Xiu Ying—was unlike anyone he had ever met.

End of Chapter 1.

The morning bells chimed through the mansion, soft yet commanding. Haein stirred awake beneath layers of embroidered blankets. For a moment, she almost expected her phone alarm to buzz. But when her eyes opened, she was greeted not by the familiar beige walls of her Seoul apartment, but by carved beams, silk curtains, and a maid waiting silently by her bed.

“Milady, it is time for the morning meal.”

Haein rubbed her temples. Right. I’m not Bae Haein anymore… I’m Xiu Ying.

Still, she nodded with forced composure, rising as the maid guided her to the ornate vanity. As pins and combs clattered around her, Haein studied her reflection in the bronze mirror. The hairstyle was elegant, elaborate, but entirely foreign to her.

“I must ask,” she said carefully, “what am I expected to do today?”

The maid blinked, startled by the question. “You… you will visit the palace, milady. His Majesty has summoned you.”

The words sent a chill down Haein’s spine. The king. She hadn’t even adjusted to her supposed new identity, and now she was being dragged straight to the heart of danger.

---

By midmorning, a carriage carried her through the capital. The streets bustled with life—vendors shouting, children darting between stalls, guards marching in perfect formation. Haein kept peeking through the carriage window, wide-eyed, like a tourist gawking at a living museum.

Her maid leaned in. “Milady, please… today, try not to speak strangely in front of the king.”

Haein forced a smile. “I’ll try. But I make no promises.”

---

The palace loomed ahead, magnificent and intimidating. Tall red gates opened to reveal sweeping courtyards and towering pavilions. Servants bowed low as the carriage stopped, and Haein’s pulse quickened.

She was escorted inside, past intricate murals and silent guards, until she entered the throne hall. There he sat—Zhao Tian.

The king’s presence was overwhelming. Draped in golden robes, his sharp eyes locked onto hers the moment she stepped in. For a heartbeat, Haein forgot how to breathe.

“Xiu Ying,” his voice resonated, low and steady. “I hear you are… different.”

Haein’s throat tightened. She forced a polite bow, hoping she wasn’t doing it wrong. “Your Majesty, I… I had an accident. Things feel… confusing.”

The corner of his mouth curved into the faintest smirk. “Confusing? Or convenient?”

Her brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

He rose from the throne, descending the steps with calm, measured strides until he stood a breath away from her. “The Xiu Ying I knew was sharp-tongued, demanding, spoiled. Yet now, you look at me as though I were a stranger. That is… interesting.”

Haein swallowed, her heart racing. He’s too close. Too perceptive.

But before she could speak, Zhao Chen entered, breaking the moment. “Your Majesty, forgive the interruption. General reports are ready.” His eyes flicked curiously toward Haein, noticing the unfamiliar softness in her expression.

Zhao Tian dismissed him with a nod, though his gaze lingered on her. “You may return home. But remember, Xiu Ying—whatever game you are playing, I will discover the truth.”

---

That evening, Haein sat in her chamber, replaying the encounter in her mind. The way his eyes seemed to pierce straight into her—had he guessed something already?

Her maid entered with a tray. “Milady, are you unwell? You’ve barely touched your food.”

Haein let out a sigh. “I just… don’t belong here.”

The maid tilted her head, confused. “But this is your home, milady.”

Haein whispered to herself, “Not my home. Not my time.”

---

Meanwhile, in another wing of the palace, Concubine Yan Bai sat before her mirror, brushing her long dark hair. Her maid whispered, “It seems Xiu Ying has changed, my lady. Even the king noticed.”

Yan Bai’s lips curled. “Changed? No… she is pretending. And I will prove it.”

---

Back at the Xiu mansion, Haein finally lay down, staring at the candlelight flickering against the walls. For the first time since she arrived, the weight of reality pressed in fully.

She didn’t know how to return to her world. She didn’t know how long she could keep pretending. But one thing was certain—Zhao Tian’s eyes would not leave her easily.

And neither would this strange, inescapable fate.

End of Chapter 2.

The Xiu family mansion buzzed with preparation. Servants hurried about, carrying silk cushions, setting tables, polishing lanterns. Tonight, the emperor’s court officials and noble families would gather for a mid-autumn banquet.

For Haein, it felt like stepping into an elaborate play she had never rehearsed for.

Her maid hovered nervously, adjusting the jade pins in her hair. “Milady, please… tonight you must remember proper etiquette. Do not speak out of turn. Do not laugh too freely. Do not—”

Haein groaned. “So basically, don’t be myself.”

The maid blanched. “Exactly.”

Haein sighed, but she forced her lips into a smile. Alright, Bae Haein. You’ve hosted press junkets, translated for celebrities, survived live TV. How hard can a little banquet be?

---

The banquet hall glittered with lanterns, casting golden light across rows of nobles dressed in embroidered robes. Musicians plucked strings, dancers floated across the floor. Every move, every glance carried centuries of formality.

Haein entered with her parents, bowing stiffly when announced. She felt dozens of eyes on her—curiosity, suspicion, even envy.

But one gaze in particular weighed the heaviest.

Zhao Tian sat at the head, his expression unreadable as ever, but when his eyes found hers, she felt her skin prickle. He inclined his head faintly, almost mockingly, as if daring her to slip up.

---

Haein sat beside her family, trying to mimic the way others held their chopsticks, the way they sipped tea. But her disguise cracked when one dish arrived—braised duck with spices she adored.

“Oh! My favorite!” she blurted in Korean before realizing. Silence fell for a heartbeat.

Her father’s eyes widened in horror. “Ying’er—”

She coughed, switching awkwardly to Chinese. “I-I mean, truly delicious!”

Across the hall, Zhao Chen bit back laughter while Zhao Tian’s smirk deepened.

---

As the evening stretched, scholars recited poetry, generals recounted victories. Then came the turn for Xiu Ying.

Her name was called. She froze.

The maid whispered from behind, “Milady, you always prepare verses… you must recite.”

Haein’s mind went blank. She knew history, she knew dramas, but classical poetry? That wasn’t in her translator’s job description.

Panic surged—until a memory sparked. A line she once translated for a historical show script. Slowly, carefully, she spoke:

> “The moonlight flows like water, yet cannot wash away longing.”

The hall fell quiet. Then applause rippled, polite but approving.

Zhao Tian’s eyes lingered on her, sharper than before.

---

Later, as dancers entertained the court, Haein excused herself to the garden, desperate for air. Lanterns swayed gently in the night breeze, casting shadows across the lotus pond.

She leaned against the railing, muttering, “I can’t keep this up. One mistake and I’m done.”

A voice answered from behind. “You made many mistakes tonight.”

She spun around. Zhao Tian stood there, hands clasped behind his back. His presence filled the quiet space, steady and imposing.

“Your chopsticks. Your speech. Your verses. None were as they should be,” he said, stepping closer.

Her throat tightened. “Then why didn’t you expose me?”

For the first time, his eyes softened, though only slightly. “Because, Xiu Ying, I find this version of you… far more intriguing than the one before.”

Her heart stuttered. She forced a shaky laugh. “So you’re entertained, that’s it?”

His lips curved faintly. “Perhaps. Or perhaps you are no longer a mask, but the truth beneath one.”

Before she could reply, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed. Zhao Tian straightened, his mask of cold authority snapping back into place. “Return to the hall,” he ordered.

She watched him disappear into the lantern-lit corridors, her pulse still racing.

---

Back inside, Concubine Yan Bai observed from across the room, her gaze sharp as a blade. She had seen Zhao Tian’s unusual attention, and jealousy burned in her chest.

Quietly, she whispered to her maid, “Find out what happened between them. If Xiu Ying thinks she can steal the king’s eyes, she is mistaken.”

The banquet continued, but for Haein, the night felt like the start of something far more dangerous than she could have imagined.

End of Chapter 3.