Even rubbing his eyes and looking again, it was unmistakably Hangul. Ha-hyeon asked in a trembling voice.
“Instructor, how do you know this script?”
Could it be — did you also come from another world, like me? Ha-hyeon swallowed the question that had risen all the way to his throat. The Instructor, as if he had anticipated Ha-hyeon’s reaction, calmly picked up his brush.
I learned it from my teacher.
“Your teacher?”
Ha-hyeon’s mind grew complicated. Right after he had fallen into this place, he had gone through a truly strange experience. Despite it being a world he knew absolutely nothing about, he had no trouble whatsoever communicating with people.
As if an automatic translator had been installed inside his brain, he could hear what people said and speak the same language as them. But reading and writing were a different matter. He had no ability to read or write Seoran’s script.
Fortunately, the character Ha-hyeon had possessed was set up as someone with little education, so he could learn from the basics without anyone suspecting he couldn’t read. He’d barely managed to learn it, only to come to the Daehyeon Empire and find himself at a loss — though the saving grace was that the script used here was Chinese characters. Starting with Seoran’s script, he had encountered the written languages of the seven nations bit by bit, but none of them resembled Hangul in the slightest. And yet here he was, encountering it like this, in a place like this.
The Instructor calmly continued writing.
My teacher was someone who had come from another world a very long time ago. He was wise and knowledgeable. He built waterways in our impoverished village, spread farming techniques, and brought prosperity to our community. And he took me in — an orphan with no one in the world — and raised me as if I were his own child.
“He came from another world? Your teacher? Would it be possible for me to meet him?”
Ha-hyeon couldn’t contain his excitement and grabbed the Instructor by both shoulders.
Someone else had also come from another world besides himself. If he was alive — if he could meet him — perhaps he could learn a way to return to his original world. Ha-hyeon’s chest swelled with anticipation.
In truth, he had given up. He had been waking up to the fact that he had possessed a character inside a novel, and had even begun to wonder whether he hadn’t actually possessed a fictional character at all, but rather that everything was a delusion conjured by his mind from the shock of a terrible accident.
“Why aren’t you saying anything?”
The Instructor met Ha-hyeon’s desperate gaze and made a bitter expression. He set down the brush he was holding for a moment and let out a heavy sigh. Then he picked up the brush again and wrote.
Regrettably, my teacher passed away ten years ago. Just before he drew his last breath, he suddenly stared into empty air, then took my hand and spoke as if leaving final words. He said that someone from the same place as him had just set foot on this land.
“Ah…….”
The strength drained from Ha-hyeon’s hands where they gripped the man’s shoulders. The balloon of hope that had swelled up deflated in an instant, as if pricked by a needle.
But the sorrow lasted only a moment — Ha-hyeon was seized by a shock like being struck hard on the back of the head. Ten years ago coincided, as if by design, with the time he had opened his eyes in this place. Even if someone were laying a trap, could they really know details like this?
Did Yeong-ui’s Songbaek also come from another world?
“…….”
Belatedly, an alarm began blaring loudly inside Ha-hyeon’s head.
What if this is a trap?
Cold sweat ran down his spine. Regret came flooding in too late. His own careless behavior just moments ago — eyes lighting up, asking if he could meet the teacher — felt painfully foolish in hindsight.
The Instructor was someone the Emperor had assigned to him. What if this was a cleverly laid snare set by the Emperor to expose the fact that Sa Ha-hyeon was not truly a princess of Seoran?
The very instant distrust and suspicion rose to Ha-hyeon’s face, the Instructor — as if he had read the subtle shift in the air — picked up the brush and wrote the next line.
In truth, showing you the Hangul was a gamble with my own life as well. But I was certain. The more I observed you, the more I sensed something off — as though you were not a person of this world. Your attitude, unbeholden to rank or position, and the unfamiliar words you occasionally let slip — those were my reasons.
He was right. Ha-hyeon thought he had been performing perfectly, but modern habits must have been slipping out without him realizing. And this sharp-eyed man had been watching, not missing a single one of them, for a long time.
“Why did you ask whether I came from another world? Even at the risk to yourself?”
It is because of the memoir my teacher left me before he passed. That book contains all of my teacher’s knowledge, and within it lies a prophecy about the future as well. It is also a book of prophecy. But regrettably, I could neither read nor understand it. I desperately wanted to know the contents of that prophecy — what lies ahead for this nation.
“You knew Hangul and still couldn’t understand it? You said it was written in Hangul.”
At Sa Ha-hyeon’s question, the Instructor reached into his robe and pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper, holding it out.
후ㅂH…빙으lㅈr™ ㅇㅔㄱH 남ㄱ1는 뀰…ⓣⓘⓟ – see footnote below
“……What?!”
No way, senior! Were you perhaps a heavy internet user back in the day?!
Sa Ha-hyeon barely managed to swallow the laughter threatening to burst out. To see this here, of all things. Now he instantly understood why the Instructor had been unable to comprehend the prophecy book his teacher left behind, even having learned Hangul. It was internet slang — the kind that only someone steeped in early Korean internet culture could decipher.
Would you be able to understand it?
The Instructor was looking at him with eyes full of reverent hope.
“Yes, I can see what it means.”
Ha-hyeon answered in a trembling voice. He simply could not bring himself to say “This is just the writing style of an internet addict” and shatter the reverence the Instructor had harbored for his teacher his entire life.
Please help me.
“That is…….”
Ha-hyeon sank into deep thought. He himself was a stranger who had come from outside, so it didn’t really matter to him whether he knew the future or not — but the Instructor was different. He was a person born in this world, who had to go on living in it. Was it truly right for someone like him to know a predetermined future, one written in a book of prophecy? One wrong move, and he could reveal secrets of heaven and twist the flow of history.
But he couldn’t refuse, either. Without knowing the tips left behind by the predecessor who had possessed this world before him, Ha-hyeon would have no clues to help him escape and return to his original world. And more than anything, Ha-hyeon was desperately curious about the contents of the memoir.
I’ll just read it, and dodge the important spoilers.
“Yeong-ui! Are you in there!”
Cutting through the howling blizzard, a heavy and imposing voice shot through. Sa Ha-hyeon and the Instructor froze at the same time. The two of them swiftly hid the paper and brush.
“I heard that the heavy snowfall has left you stranded and unable to return to Byeoksong Palace. I was worried, so I came personally to fetch you — come now…….”
“Your Majesty.”
As the door opened, through the white curtain of falling snow, Wei Wuyuan’s figure appeared, having dismounted from his horse. His shoulders and hair were piled white with snow from pushing through the fierce blizzard. His gaze moved to Ha-hyeon’s shoulders. His expression soured immediately.
“Tsk.”
That sharp gaze fixed itself on Ha-hyeon’s Instructor, who was dressed in a thin martial arts uniform ill-suited for the weather.
“Yeong-ui, why are you wearing another man’s robe — a man who is not even your husband?”
Wei Wuyuan’s eyes bored into Ha-hyeon with relentless, piercing intensity.
Is that illegal too? This is insane, truly.
Was wearing someone else’s robe some kind of capital offense? The Martial Arts Instructor slammed his forehead into the cold floor the moment the Emperor’s words left his mouth, with a resounding thud. It was an act of apology — and a display of submission, signaling that he would await whatever punishment was handed down.
But Wei Wuyuan’s expression, far from softening, blazed even more fiercely. The look in the Emperor’s eyes as he gazed down at the Instructor’s prostrated head was murderous — as though he might draw the sword at his hip at any moment and take his head off right then and there.
Shit! No!
If that man died here, Ha-hyeon would never be able to see the memoir or the prophecy book ever again. The moment that thought hit him, Ha-hyeon’s body moved on instinct. He threw off the robe from his shoulders and ran to prostrate himself flat at Wei Wuyuan’s feet. Beg. Beg with everything you’ve got.
“I did not know it was a breach of etiquette. This consort’s body is one that must attend Your Majesty this very night, and I feared that catching even a cold might cause you inconvenience — that is the only reason I did so. It was a transgression born of this consort’s unfamiliarity with the laws of the imperial palace. The Instructor bears no fault whatsoever. If his crime was giving his robe at my instruction, then that is all it is. Your Majesty, please……. I implore your mercy.”
“That is to say — you did it solely for my sake?”
Wei Wuyuan looked down at Ha-hyeon with an expression of deliberate interest and pleasure, as though the anger of a moment ago had never existed. Ha-hyeon nodded vigorously. Right now, there was no room for pride or anything else. The immediate priority was to appease this unhinged Emperor and save the Instructor.
Wei Wuyuan let out a small smirk and yanked Ha-hyeon firmly into his arms. A wave of cold air rushed off his armor and robes from having pushed through the blizzard.
“Because of this unexpected snow, my body has grown very cold. So Yeong-ui will warm this body of mine with all due devotion.”
“Su-surely. Here?”
Ha-hyeon’s face flushed hot. Wei Wuyuan, without waiting for an answer, wrapped his arm around Ha-hyeon’s waist right then and there. The Emperor looked down at the prostrated subject at his feet with an arrogant expression. Then the Emperor looked back at Sa Ha-hyeon and spoke.
“Let us go. To Byeoksong Palace.”
Ha-hyeon was hoisted up onto the Emperor’s horse as if being swept away. As the sound of hoofbeats grew distant, through the white curtain of falling snow, the Instructor’s figure — still lying with his forehead pressed against the cold floor of the storage shed — shrank smaller and smaller into the distance, until he was nothing but a dot.
Footnotes:
This is Korean internet slang / intentional “typo-style” writing that was popular in early 2000s Korean internet culture — sometimes called “야민정음” (Yaminjeongeum) or just chaotic netspeak.
The full message reads:
“A tip left behind for the junior possessor — golden advice.”
