chapter 5

And she needed one fast.

‘Your Majesty, she is in the gardens,’ one of the servants informed, bowing his head slightly as he spoke.

Ha-Yoon didn’t even pause. ‘Fetch her for me and tell her I’m awake,’ he ordered, his voice steady, his posture straight despite the absolute mess of thoughts raging inside his head like a storm on the open sea.

But then—

‘My son, no need to bother her,’ Queen Sae-Ron interjected smoothly, a saccharine smile curving her lips, though her eyes gleamed with something far less kind. ‘Perhaps she is plucking some flowers… she might be working… Why don’t you let me do it?’

Her tone was so sweet it made Ha-Yoon’s teeth ache.

Like honey laced with poison.

He just barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes.

This woman…

Oh, he knew her type.

The kind that spun pretty words like silk, delicate and refined on the surface, yet woven with razor blades beneath. The kind that smiled while watching others burn. The kind that whispered reassurances while quietly tightening the noose around someone’s neck.

And that smirk—

That little smirk, that fraction of a second in which she let the mask slip—

It made his stomach coil with something sharp and ugly.

‘No need, woman,’ Ha-Yoon said, waving a dismissive hand, his tone colder than before. ‘I have servants who can do that.’

He let the words settle, let the weight of them press down upon the room like a sudden shift in air pressure before he added, ‘Right now, please leave my room. Your presence is making me… sick.’

He let that last word drag, slow and deliberate, his gaze locked onto hers like a predator watching its prey.

The shift in Queen Sae-Ron’s demeanor was instantaneous.

For a moment—just a moment—her perfectly composed mask cracked. Her fingers twitched at her sides, clenched just a little too tightly, her posture stiffening, the smile on her lips frozen in place, struggling not to slip into a grimace.

Oh? Hit a nerve, did he?

Good.

She stood there, silent, seething beneath that carefully curated exterior. Then, without another word, she turned on her heel and swept out of the room, though Ha-Yoon didn’t miss the barely audible curse she muttered under her breath before disappearing beyond the doorway.

The tension in the room snapped like a stretched bowstring.

A few of the servants exchanged glances, their eyes wide, their expressions a mixture of shock and barely concealed amusement.

‘Your Majesty…’ Dae, one of the bolder servants, finally spoke, his voice hesitant. ‘You have never been this bold before. I mean… like…’

Ha-Yoon arched a brow. ‘Oh no, no—continue.’ He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbow on the armrest of his chair, his fingers tapping idly against his temple. ‘I wanna know. How was I before? How did I behave? Because damn—’ he exhaled sharply, shaking his head ‘—I don’t understand shit.’

And that was putting it lightly.

He was grasping at straws here, trying to piece together a puzzle with missing pieces, fumbling in the dark without a single damn candle to guide him. His mind was still reeling from the absurdity of it all—waking up in this unfamiliar body, in a time period that made no sense, surrounded by people who expected him to know things he absolutely did not.

If he was going to survive this ridiculous medieval soap opera, he needed information.

Fast.

Dae hesitated for a moment before speaking again, his expression shifting between wariness and genuine curiosity. ‘Well… you were…’ He trailed off, carefully choosing his words. ‘Quiet. Reserved. More… obedient.’

Obedient?

Ha-Yoon nearly gagged at the thought.

Yeah, no. That wasn’t happening.

‘Obedient?’ he echoed, his tone laced with disbelief. ‘You mean to tell me that I—this body—was just letting that woman walk all over me without so much as a word?’

Dae winced. ‘Well… yes. Your Majesty rarely spoke out against the Queen Dowager. You were—’ he hesitated ‘—sickly, too. You often fell ill, and Her Majesty handled all political affairs on your behalf.’

Oh.

OH.

So, let’s get this straight—

He was a pushover.

A sickly pushover.

A sickly, obedient pushover who let his mother (or whatever the hell she actually was to him) dictate everything in his life.

That…

That explained a lot.

Ha-Yoon let out a low whistle, shaking his head. ‘Well,’ he muttered, stretching his limbs lazily as he leaned back, ‘guess that’s changing now.’

Dae blinked. ‘Your Majesty?’

Ha-Yoon smirked, sharp and dangerous.

‘Let’s just say the days of “obedient and quiet” are officially over.’

Because if there was one thing he was sure of in this insane new reality—

He wasn’t going to play the part of a weak-willed, easy-to-control noble.

Not anymore.

Then—

BAM!!

The doors to his room burst open with the force of a cannon blast, sending a jolt of shock rippling through the already tense atmosphere.

"Your Majesty! Your Majesty!"

The voice was frantic, breathless, urgent—like someone had just sprinted across the entire palace in sheer desperation. And when Ha-Yoon’s eyes snapped to the doorway, his heart nearly stopped.

Jinju.

Or at least, that’s who his brain told him it was.

Same face. Same eyes. Same warm, familiar presence that made something in his chest tighten painfully. The moment their eyes met, a wave of emotion crashed into him like a tidal wave, overwhelming, unstoppable, suffocating in its intensity.

"JINJU?! JINJU!!!"

Without thinking, without hesitation, Ha-Yoon bolted forward, closing the distance in an instant before throwing his arms around her, squeezing her so tight it was like he was afraid she would vanish if he let go.

A broken, relieved sob tore out of his throat. "JINJU, YOU’RE HERE! I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU’RE ALSO IN THIS WORLD! WAAAAAH! BOOHOOO!"

He clung to her like a drowning man grasping onto a lifeline, his grip desperate, fingers digging into the fabric of her robes as his entire body trembled. The sheer relief, the sheer joy—it was overwhelming, blinding, like an oasis in the middle of a scorching desert. Because if Jinju was here—

Then maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t completely alone in this insane, medieval fever dream.

But then—

The maid stiffened in his arms.

And slowly, carefully, she pulled back just enough to look at him, her face a mix of shock and confusion.

"Jinju?" she echoed, tilting her head slightly. "No, my lord... I am Bo-Ra. Your most trusted servant."

Ha-Yoon froze.

His brain short-circuited.

Wait. What?

His breath hitched, his grip on her sleeves tightening for just a fraction of a second before he quickly, forcefully, shoved the hopeful delusion out of his head.

Right.

Right, right, right.

This wasn’t his world. This wasn’t his life. Of course Jinju wouldn’t be here. Of course everything would be different. What had he been thinking? That some divine entity had conveniently dropped his best friend into this strange, medieval existence just for his sake? That fate was somehow kind enough to grant him a familiar face in this absolute nightmare?

He swallowed hard, forcing down the lump in his throat as reality crashed down on him like a hammer.

"Oh. Right…" he muttered, his voice quieter now, more subdued. "Bo-Ra. That’s… your name. Of course."

A bitter chuckle escaped him, dry and humorless.

Ha-Yoon, you absolute idiot.

Bo-Ra, however, didn’t seem fazed. Instead, she studied him with those same warm, concerned eyes, her brows furrowing slightly.

"My lord… are you okay?" she asked softly, her voice filled with genuine worry.

For some reason, that simple question nearly made him crumble.

He forced a wobbly smile, inhaling deeply before exhaling through his nose. "Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine," he said, though the words felt like a lie. "I’m just… I’m sorry for calling you the wrong name, Bo-Ra. But… I’m really happy to see you."

And it was true.

Even if she wasn’t Jinju, even if she wasn’t the same person from his past life, there was something about her that felt safe. Familiar. Like she had been someone important to this body, to Hae-Won, and now, to him.

So before he could overthink it, he pulled her into another tight hug—less desperate this time, but just as sincere.

Bo-Ra let out a small, surprised noise before chuckling softly, patting his back in a soothing manner. "I’m glad you’re fine, my lord," she said, voice gentle. "I thought… I thought you would never wake up. I was so scared. But seeing you like this… truly, I am relieved."

Ha-Yoon swallowed hard, his throat tightening again.

God, why did those words make his chest ache?

He quickly blinked away the sting in his eyes before pulling back, clearing his throat. "Should I… bring you your meal, my lord?" Bo-Ra asked, smiling warmly now.

He nodded. "Yes… please do. I would appreciate that."

And for the first time since waking up in this world, he meant it.

As he watched Bo-Ra exit the room, a new thought settled in his mind—one that felt less panicked and more focused.

Finally.

Finally, he had found an ally. A real, tangible person he could trust in this strange, unfamiliar world.

Now all that was left…

Was figuring out why the hell he was brought here.

And for what purpose.

The blaring sirens of the ambulance ripped through the night, wailing like a mourning mother as the vehicle sped through the rain-slicked streets. Inside, Ha-Yoon lay unconscious on the emergency stretcher, her body barely moving, her face deathly pale, her once vibrant energy reduced to the shallow, struggling rise and fall of her chest. The paramedics worked frantically, their voices sharp and urgent as they tried to stabilize her, hands pressing against the deep, unforgiving wound that stained her entire torso with crimson. Blood seeped through the white sheets, soaking everything beneath her. The metallic scent filled the air, heavy, suffocating—too much, too much.

Jinju sat in the corner of the ambulance, her entire body trembling violently. Her hands, once delicate and warm, now felt like ice—cold, stiff, stained with Ha-Yoon’s blood. Her dress was ruined, soaked in red, clinging to her skin like a second layer of guilt and despair. Her fingers curled into her lap, her nails digging into her palms so hard she barely noticed the sting.

Tears streamed down her face in endless rivers, hot and unrelenting, blurring her vision as she stared at her best friend’s still form. “Please, please, don’t die,” she whispered, her voice hoarse, desperate, broken. “You promised me. You promised we’d grow old together. You can’t leave me. You can’t.”

The moment they reached the hospital, chaos erupted. Doctors and nurses stormed into the emergency bay, shouting orders as they wheeled Ha-Yoon away. The stretcher’s wheels squeaked loudly against the pristine hospital floors, and Jinju tried to follow, but a nurse stopped her with a firm hand on her shoulder.

“Miss, you need to stay here,” the nurse said gently but firmly.

“No! I need to be with her!” Jinju sobbed, trying to push past the barrier of medical staff. But the nurse only shook her head, guiding her to a nearby chair. “We’ll do everything we can,” she assured, before disappearing behind the heavy doors of the operating room.

And then, silence.

Jinju stood frozen in the hallway, her body swaying slightly as if she would collapse any second. The walls around her felt like they were closing in. The air was too thin. Her chest was too tight. She couldn’t breathe. She staggered toward the row of chairs, barely managing to sit down before burying her face in her bloody hands.

She had never felt this kind of fear before. A fear so deep it rooted itself in her bones, an icy grip around her heart that refused to let go. She hiccupped, her body shaking with each ragged sob, her mind racing with every possible worst-case scenario.

And then—

“Jinju!”

A familiar voice cut through her spiraling panic. Strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her into a warm, solid embrace. She gasped, clutching onto the fabric of his jacket as if he were the only thing keeping her from falling apart completely.

“Taehyung,” she choked out, her voice muffled against his chest. “Taehyung, I’m scared. I’m so scared.”

His arms tightened around her, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other rubbing slow, soothing circles on her back. “I know, baby, I know,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “But I’m here. I’m right here. And everything is going to be okay. Ha-Yoon is strong. She’s a fighter. She’s not going to leave us.”

Jinju shook her head violently against him, gripping his jacket even tighter, as if she could squeeze the fear out of herself. “But there was so much blood, Taehyung. So much. I—” She swallowed hard, the memory flashing before her eyes—the sirens, the gurney, Ha-Yoon’s limp body, the blood pooling beneath her. “I don’t know what to do.”

Taehyung pulled back just enough to cup her face in his hands, his thumbs gently brushing away the fresh tears streaking her cheeks. His eyes, deep and steady, searched hers, grounding her in a moment where she felt like she was drowning.

“You’re doing everything you can,” he said firmly. “And you’re not alone. I’m here. We’ll get through this together.”

Jinju inhaled shakily, her hands still clinging to him like a lifeline. She wanted to believe him, to cling to the hope in his words, but the fear was relentless, gnawing at her insides, whispering cruel possibilities in her ears.

She closed her eyes, sending one last desperate prayer into the universe.

Please. Let Ha-Yoon live.

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