A royal headache
Bong-hwan had survived his first ten minutes in Joseon's most powerful female body—and barely. The palace was a maze, and every hallway felt like a trap. Women bowed, whispered, stared. Men averted their eyes—but only slightly. The palace was a place where eyes spoke louder than words.
"I need to get out of here," he muttered under his breath, fidgeting with the long sleeves of the queen's robe. "Figure out what brought me here, and how to reverse this... freaky gender-bending time warp."
But the Queen's body had its own agenda. A wave of nausea hit as she was led to court. The hall was filled with ministers, concubines, and of course—him.
King Cheoljong.
He sat on the throne like a man with secrets buried deeper than the palace foundation. Handsome, yes. Polite, yes. But Bong-hwan's chef instincts screamed: This guy's hiding something spicy.
"Your Majesty," the King said with a soft smile, "you seem... different this morning."
Bong-hwan froze. He had rehearsed "elegant queen" in his head, but what came out was:
"Well, maybe someone finally remembered to warm the floor tiles. My royal toes nearly froze off yesterday."
A collective gasp.
The King arched an eyebrow. "Indeed... you do seem more spirited."
"Try possessed," Bong-hwan muttered under his breath.
The Queen's duties came one after another—greeting ministers, reviewing embroidery samples, attending the Queen Dowager's tea ceremony (a trap if he ever saw one). Each encounter layered the pressure: everyone expects So-yong to act a certain way. But Bong-hwan wasn't So-yong. He wasn't graceful. He wasn't soft-spoken. He was a modern man trapped in a royal mess.
But beneath the chaos, Bong-hwan started noticing things.
Servants avoiding certain doors.
Guards whispering about "that night at the lake."
And worst of all: So-yong's memories. Faint flashes. The cold water. Her screaming. The fall.
Someone had tried to kill the real Queen.
Bong-hwan had landed in her body just in time.
And now—whoever wanted her dead… might still be watching.