EPISODE 1: "When Destiny Whispers"
NARRATOR:
"They say some stories are not written in books alone.
Some stories... are written in lives.
Love that transcends lifetimes... is not just found in movies.
Sometimes... it is the truth.
This is the story of Aarohi and Hwan-Myung.
Two people from different worlds. Two separate lives.
But one shared destiny.
Do you believe... in past lives?
Do you believe... that some bonds are stronger than death itself?
This story... will make you believe.
Because this is not just a romance.
This is... a love story beyond time.
This is not just Aarohi and Hwan-Myung's story...
This is Princess Aashvini and King Kim Chul-Rok's... incomplete love story.
One that... is about to be completed."
PART ONE: AAROHI - THE DREAMER Chapter 1: Ordinary Life, Extraordinary Dreams
The soft glow of the laptop screen illuminated Aarohi's face as her fingers hovered over the keyboard. It was past midnight in Delhi, and the world outside her window had fallen into a peaceful silence. But inside her small, cozy room, creativity refused to sleep.
On her screen was a half-finished illustration—a young woman standing before a swirling portal of light, her hand reaching forward as if pulled by an invisible force. The image was part of Aarohi's ongoing project: a time travel comic book that had consumed her thoughts for months.
"Just a little more detail on the portal," she muttered to herself, adjusting the digital brush settings. Her eyes, though tired, sparkled with determination.
Aarohi was twenty-three, a design student with dreams bigger than the cramped Delhi apartment she shared with her family. She wasn't extraordinary by any conventional measure—no striking beauty that turned heads, no brilliant academic record that earned scholarships. She was simply... Aarohi. Simple. Grounded. Real.
But what she lacked in glamour, she made up for in heart.
"Aarohi!" Her mother's gentle voice drifted up from downstairs. "Beta, it's late. You have class tomorrow."
A soft smile touched Aarohi's lips. "Just ten more minutes, Maa!"
Her relationship with her mother was the cornerstone of her existence. While other girls her age had large friend circles and active social lives, Aarohi had her mother—her confidante, her guide, her best friend. She didn't need anyone else.
The sound of footsteps on the stairs made her look up. Her mother appeared at the doorway, holding a glass of warm milk—a nightly ritual that Aarohi had long since stopped protesting.
"Still working on your time travel story?" her mother asked, settling down on the edge of the bed.
Aarohi nodded, accepting the milk. "It's almost done, Maa. Just the final chapters left."
Her mother's eyes held a knowing warmth. "You've always been fascinated by time, haven't you? Past lives, reincarnation, destiny..."
"It's your influence," Aarohi said with a gentle laugh. "All those temple visits we've made—Mathura, Barsana, Varanasi, Jammu... You've made me believe that life is more than what we see."
Her mother smiled, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind Aarohi's ear. "Life is more, beta. We're all souls on a journey. Sometimes, souls meet again and again across different lifetimes."
Aarohi fell silent, her mother's words stirring something deep within her chest—a strange, unexplainable longing she couldn't quite name.
"Maa..." she began hesitantly, "what if someone keeps having the same dream? Over and over again?"
Her mother's expression grew thoughtful. "Dreams are messages, Aarohi. Sometimes from our subconscious. Sometimes from our past. Sometimes... from destiny itself."
Before Aarohi could respond, a sharp voice cut through the quiet moment.
"Of course! Aarohi and Maa having their secret conversations again!"
Meghna stood at the doorway, arms crossed, her expression a mixture of irritation and hurt. At eighteen, Aarohi's younger sister was everything Aarohi wasn't—outgoing, rebellious, modern. Where Aarohi was content in solitude, Meghna thrived in crowds. Where Aarohi obeyed, Meghna questioned.
"Meghna, beta, come join us," their mother offered gently.
"No, thanks. I wouldn't want to interrupt your special bonding time," Meghna replied, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "It's always about Aarohi anyway."
She turned and walked away, her footsteps heavy with resentment.
Aarohi's heart clenched. This was a familiar wound—one that never quite healed. Her mother sighed, the weight of a parent caught between two daughters evident in her eyes.
"She doesn't understand, Maa," Aarohi whispered. "I'm not trying to be anyone's favorite."
"I know, beta. But sometimes, people see what they want to see." Her mother stood, kissing Aarohi's forehead. "Don't let it burden your heart. You have a pure soul, Aarohi. That's why everyone loves you."
"Am I weak, Maa?" The question escaped before Aarohi could stop it. "Meghna says I'm weak because I always listen to you and Papa. Because I don't fight back."
Her mother's eyes filled with a fierce, protective love. "Beta, strength is not in raising your voice or creating conflict. True strength is in maintaining peace even when your heart is screaming. You choose harmony over ego—that's not weakness. That's wisdom."
Those words settled over Aarohi like a warm blanket. She nodded, feeling the familiar comfort her mother always provided.
"Now sleep," her mother said firmly. "And stop thinking so much."
But as the door closed and darkness enveloped the room, Aarohi knew sleep wouldn't come easily. Because there was something she hadn't told her mother—something she couldn't explain even to herself.
The dreams.
They had been coming for six months now. Not every night, but often enough to leave her restless and searching for answers. Dreams of palaces she'd never seen, of silk sarees she'd never worn, of a life that felt hauntingly familiar yet impossibly distant.
And tonight, as Aarohi finally closed her eyes, the dream returned—more vivid than ever before.
Chapter 2: The Dream That Changes Everything
In the dream, Aarohi found herself walking down a busy modern street. Cars honked. People rushed past. Everything was normal—until it wasn't.
The sound of a truck horn blared behind her. She turned, heart pounding—
And the truck transformed.
Before her eyes, metal and machinery melted away, replaced by a galloping horse. On its back sat a man dressed in black, his face hidden, a dagger gleaming in his hand. A bandit. A threat.
The horse charged directly at her.
Aarohi screamed, frozen in terror—
Then suddenly, strong arms grabbed her, pulling her aside with incredible force. She crashed into a solid chest, and when she looked up, her breath caught.
A man. Young. Impossibly handsome. His features were distinctly Korean—sharp jawline, intense eyes, traditional royal attire that seemed to shimmer with gold embroidery. He was a king. She knew it instinctively.
Time seemed to slow. Their eyes met, and in that brief moment, Aarohi felt it—recognition. As if her soul knew his, even though her mind had never seen his face.
Then the sounds crashed back into reality—screams, cries, the wailing of women and children. The world around them was in chaos. Villages burning. People running.
The fear overwhelmed her. Darkness crept at the edges of her vision.
Just before she fainted, she felt the king gently lower her to the ground in a safe corner, his touch surprisingly tender. Then he was gone, disappeared into the chaos to fight.
When Aarohi's eyes fluttered open in the dream, she was no longer on a chaotic battlefield. She lay in a quiet grove, surrounded by ancient trees. The air smelled of sandalwood and earth.
An old man appeared before her.
He had a long white beard that reached his chest, and his eyes—though aged—burned with an otherworldly knowledge. He wore simple robes, and there was something about him that commanded both respect and fear.
"You have arrived," he said, his voice echoing as if spoken from a great distance. "I have been waiting for you."
Aarohi tried to speak, but her voice wouldn't come.
The old man smiled gently. "Do not be afraid, child. You are exactly where you need to be. The wheel of time turns, and you... you are part of its design."
"Who... who are you?" Aarohi finally managed to whisper.
"I am a keeper of memories. A guardian of what was and what will be." He extended a wrinkled hand toward her. "And you, Aarohi... or should I say, Princess Aashvini... your journey is about to begin."
The name hit her like a physical blow. Aashvini. Why did that name feel like it belonged to her?
Before she could ask, the old man began to fade, his form dissolving into mist.
"Wait!" Aarohi called out. "What do you mean? What journey?"
His final words drifted through the air like a prophecy:
"When the time comes... you will know. And when you know... everything will change."
Aarohi jolted awake, gasping for air.
Her heart hammered against her ribs. Sweat drenched her nightshirt, and her hands trembled violently. For a moment, she couldn't remember where she was—couldn't separate dream from reality.
"Just a dream," she whispered to herself, trying to calm her racing pulse. "Just a dream."
But it hadn't felt like a dream. It had felt like a memory.
The door creaked open, and her mother rushed in, worry etched across her face. "Aarohi! I heard you cry out. Are you alright?"
"I'm fine, Maa," Aarohi lied, forcing a smile. "Just a bad dream."
Her mother sat beside her, feeling her forehead for fever. "You're burning up, beta. And you're shaking."
"I'm okay. Really." Aarohi took a deep breath, willing her body to calm down. "It was just... intense."
Her mother didn't look convinced, but she didn't press. Instead, she simply held Aarohi's hand until the trembling stopped.
After her mother left, Aarohi sat alone in the darkness, replaying every detail of the dream. The Korean king's face was burned into her memory—the way he had looked at her, the way he had saved her without hesitation.
And that name. Aashvini.
Unable to resist, Aarohi grabbed her phone and typed into the search bar: "Princess Aashvini India history."
The results were sparse—mostly myths and legends, nothing concrete. But one article caught her eye: "The Legend of Princess Heo Hwang-ok: The Indian Princess Who Became Korea's Queen."
Her hands froze. Korea. India. Princess.
With trembling fingers, she clicked the link and began to read.
According to Korean historical texts, Princess Heo Hwang-ok was believed to have traveled from Ayodhya, India, to Korea nearly two thousand years ago to marry King Suro of the Gaya Kingdom. The story was shrouded in legend—some believed it, others dismissed it as myth.
But as Aarohi read, her heart began to race.
The connection. The dreams. The Korean king in her visions.
"This can't be a coincidence," she whispered.
For the rest of the night, she couldn't sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his face—the mysterious king who had saved her in the dream. She saw the old man's knowing eyes. She heard the name: Aashvini.
By the time morning light filtered through her curtains, Aarohi had made a decision.
She needed answers. And somehow, she knew exactly where to find them.
PART TWO: HWAN-MYUNG - THE HAUNTED STAR Chapter 3: The Price of Fame
Eleven thousand kilometers away, in the bustling heart of Seoul, South Korea, Kim Hwan-Myung sat alone in his luxury penthouse apartment, staring out at the glittering city below.
To the world, he was everything. A superstar actor whose face graced billboards across Asia. A heartthrob whose name trended on social media daily. A symbol of success, wealth, and unattainable perfection.
But inside these expensive walls, surrounded by awards and empty rooms, Hwan-Myung was nothing.
He was twenty-five years old and utterly hollow.
His phone buzzed incessantly on the marble counter—messages from his agency, interview requests, fan letters, brand endorsement offers. He ignored them all. Instead, he reached for the bottle of whiskey he'd promised himself he wouldn't open tonight.
The golden liquid burned as it slid down his throat, but it was a welcome distraction from the ache in his chest—an ache that had no name, no source, no cure.
"Hyung, you're drinking alone again?"
Hwan-Myung didn't turn around. He recognized the voice—Jung Yul-Hwan, his childhood friend and current manager. The only person in this city who still called him "hyung" instead of "Hwan-Myung-ssi."
"Go home, Yul-Hwan," Hwan-Myung said quietly.
Instead, Yul-Hwan walked in, closing the door behind him. He grabbed the whiskey bottle and set it aside, his expression a mixture of concern and frustration.
"You canceled three interviews today," Yul-Hwan said. "The director is asking if you're okay. Your fans are worried. What's going on?"
"I'm tired."
"You're always tired these days." Yul-Hwan sat down across from him, studying his face. "Is it the dreams again?"
Hwan-Myung's jaw tightened. He hadn't told anyone about the dreams—except Yul-Hwan. And even with him, he'd been vague, dismissive.
"They're getting worse," he finally admitted.
"Then see a therapist. A sleep specialist. Something."
"I've seen four doctors, Yul-Hwan. They all say the same thing: stress, overwork, exhaustion." Hwan-Myung laughed bitterly. "They want to prescribe sleeping pills. As if medication can fix... whatever this is."
Yul-Hwan leaned forward, his voice softening. "Then tell me. What are these dreams about?"
Hwan-Myung hesitated. How could he explain something he didn't understand himself?
"I see... a woman," he began slowly. "An Indian woman. She's dressed in traditional clothes—silk sarees, jewelry, like a princess from centuries ago." He paused, struggling with the words. "And I'm someone else. Not me. Someone... royal. A king, maybe."
Chul-Rok's expression remained carefully neutral. "And?"
"And there's this name. Aashvini. I keep hearing it. Calling it. Crying it." Hwan-Myung's voice cracked. "Last night, I dreamed I was in a forest, screaming her name. I was crying like I'd lost something irreplaceable. And when I woke up..."
He touched his face, remembering the wetness on his cheeks.
"My eyes were swollen. I'd been crying in my sleep. Real tears, Yul-Hwan. Like I'd actually lost someone."
The room fell silent.
Yul-Hwan's expression was unreadable, but something flickered in his eyes—something Hwan-Myung was too exhausted to decipher.
"You need rest," Yul-Hwan finally said. "Real rest. Not just sleep, but time away from everything."
"I can't. The schedule—"
"I'll handle the schedule." Yul-Hwan stood, his tone firm. "You're no good to anyone like this. Take a few days. Clear your head."
Hwan-Myung wanted to argue, but he didn't have the energy. Instead, he simply nodded.
After Yul-Hwan left, Hwan-Myung remained seated, staring at nothing.
Aashvini.
The name echoed in his mind like a haunting melody. Who was she? Why did she feel so important? And why did losing her—someone he'd never even met—hurt so unbearably?
Chapter 4: The Burden of a Broken Home
Hwan-Myung's life hadn't always been this way.
He'd grown up in a wealthy family—his father a successful businessman, his mother a former actress turned socialite. On paper, they were perfect. In reality, they were shattered.
He was twelve when he first learned the truth about his father's affairs.
He'd come home early from school, excited to show his mother a drawing he'd made. Instead, he found her sitting on the bathroom floor, pills scattered around her, tears streaming down her face.
That image had never left him.
His mother had survived that day, but something in her had died. She became a ghost in their home—present but absent, smiling but empty. She stayed with his father for appearances, for wealth, for reasons Hwan-Myung never fully understood.
And his father? He continued his affairs without shame, his betrayal a constant, festering wound in their family.
That was when Hwan-Myung learned his most important lesson: Never trust. Never love. Never let anyone close enough to destroy you.
He'd built walls around his heart so high, even he couldn't see over them anymore.
His fame had been accidental. His uncle, a renowned director, had needed a lead actor for a historical drama at the last minute. Hwan-Myung had agreed reluctantly, expecting to fail.
Instead, the series became a global phenomenon.
Suddenly, he was famous. Desired. Chased.
But none of it filled the emptiness inside.
Women threw themselves at him—actresses, models, heiresses. They offered everything: their bodies, their time, their devotion. But Hwan-Myung saw through them all. They didn't want him. They wanted the image. The status. The fantasy.
So he remained alone.
Better alone than betrayed.
Chapter 5: The Dream That Broke Him
That night, exhausted and emotionally drained, Hwan-Myung fell asleep on his couch without bothering to move to his bedroom.
And the dream came again—but this time, it was different. More vivid. More real.
He was dressed in traditional Korean royal attire—heavy silk robes embroidered with gold, a ceremonial sword at his waist. He recognized the place: an ancient palace, though not one from modern Korea. This was older. Much older.
He was King Kim Chul-Rok. The name rang through his consciousness like a bell, absolute and undeniable.
He stood in a dense forest, the trees towering above him. His heart was breaking. Physically breaking, as if someone had reached into his chest and torn it apart.
"AASHVINI!" he screamed, his voice raw with desperation. "AASHVINI, WHERE ARE YOU?"
But only silence answered.
He fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face. He couldn't remember what had happened, couldn't remember how he'd lost her. But the grief was overwhelming, suffocating.
"Please," he sobbed, his voice barely a whisper now. "Please come back to me. I can't... I can't do this without you."
An old man appeared before him—the same ancient figure with the long white beard, eyes filled with infinite sadness.
"She is gone, Your Majesty," the old man said gently. "Taken by fate. Lost to time."
"No!" Hwan-Myung—Chul-Rok—roared. "I'll find her! I'll search every kingdom, every corner of this world! I'll bring her back!"
The old man shook his head. "Some losses cannot be undone, my king. But..." He paused, his expression shifting to something resembling hope. "Perhaps... in another life. Perhaps when the stars align once more."
"Another life?" Chul-Rok grabbed the old man's robes desperately. "Tell me! How? When?"
"When the time is right," the old man said cryptically. "When both of your souls are ready. You will find each other again. This, I promise you."
The scene began to dissolve, reality fragmenting like broken glass—
Hwan-Myung woke with a violent gasp, his body convulsing as if surfacing from drowning.
His face was wet. His pillow was soaked. He touched his cheeks and his fingers came away glistening with tears.
He'd been crying. Really crying.
His eyes burned and when he stumbled to the bathroom mirror, he saw the swelling, the redness. He looked like someone who'd spent hours grieving.
But grieving for what? For whom?
Aashvini. The name whispered through his mind like a ghost.
Panic seized him. This wasn't normal. This couldn't be just stress or overwork. Something was happening to him—something he couldn't control, couldn't explain.
He grabbed his phone with shaking hands and called his doctor, demanding an immediate appointment.
Two hours later, he sat in a private clinic, recounting everything to a psychiatrist who listened with professional detachment.
"It's not uncommon," the doctor said when Hwan-Myung finished. "Vivid dreams, emotional responses during sleep—these can all be symptoms of extreme stress and exhaustion. Your body is trying to process repressed emotions."
"But why do I keep seeing the same woman? Why does her name feel so real?"
The doctor adjusted his glasses. "The mind creates narratives to make sense of our subconscious. This 'Aashvini'—she might represent something you're longing for. Love, perhaps. Connection. Something missing from your life."
Hwan-Myung wanted to believe that. Wanted to accept the logical, scientific explanation.
But deep in his soul, he knew the truth was something else. Something the doctor couldn't measure or medicate.
This wasn't his mind creating fantasies.
This was his soul... remembering.
Chapter 6: Seeking Distraction
Desperate to escape his thoughts, Hwan-Myung did something he rarely allowed himself to do: he went out without security, without a schedule, without his manager knowing.
He drove to a children's shelter on the outskirts of Seoul—a place he'd been secretly funding for years. The staff knew him, but the children were always new, always changing. They didn't see "Kim Hwan-Myung the actor." They just saw a kind man who played with them.
For a few precious hours, surrounded by innocent laughter and simple joy, Hwan-Myung forgot about the dreams. Forgot about the ache in his chest. Forgot about the mysterious princess who haunted his sleep.
But the moment he returned home, alone in his car, the silence crashed back.
And with it, the name.
Aashvini.
Tears filled his eyes unbidden. He gripped the steering wheel, trying to breathe through the sudden wave of longing that threatened to drown him.
"Who are you?" he whispered into the empty car. "Why can't I forget you?"
No answer came.
That night, he tried to distract himself with music—his favorite songs, the ones that usually brought him peace. He ate a quiet dinner, checked his schedule for the next day (interviews, a photoshoot, a script reading), and forced himself to go through the motions of normalcy.
But when he finally lay down to sleep, dread settled over him like a heavy blanket.
Because he knew—he knew—that she would be there again.
In his dreams.
Always just out of reach.
Always breaking his heart.
PART THREE: DESTINY CALLS Chapter 7: Parallel Paths
The next morning arrived with a strange, electric tension in the air—as if the universe itself was holding its breath.
In Delhi, Aarohi woke early, her mind already racing with plans. She'd barely slept, her thoughts consumed by the legend she'd read about, the dreams that wouldn't let her go, and the inexplicable pull she felt toward something she couldn't name.
She found her mother in the kitchen, preparing breakfast.
"Maa," Aarohi began carefully, "can we go to the museum today? The National Museum? I need to research something for my project."
Her mother looked up, surprised. "Today? Don't you have classes?"
"I'll skip them. This is important."
Something in Aarohi's tone made her mother pause. She studied her daughter's face—the dark circles under her eyes, the barely contained urgency—and slowly nodded.
"Alright. We'll go after breakfast."
Aarohi's heart leaped. She didn't know what she was looking for, didn't know what she expected to find. But something was pulling her there. Something undeniable.
In Seoul, Hwan-Myung received an unexpected call from his agency.
"Hwan-Myung-ssi, we have an interesting opportunity," his agent said, excitement clear in her voice. "There's a new historical drama being developed—an international production. Korea and India collaboration. It's based on the legend of Princess Heo Hwang-ok."
Hwan-Myung's blood ran cold. "What did you say?"
"The legend of the Indian princess who came to Korea. It's a beautiful story, and they want you as the lead. The Korean king." She paused. "The script is incredible. I really think you should consider it."
His hands were shaking. "Send me the script."
"Already done. Check your email."
After hanging up, Hwan-Myung opened his laptop with trembling fingers. The script was there, titled: "The Forgotten Queen: A Love Beyond Time."
He began to read.
And with every page, his heart beat faster.
The story was hauntingly familiar. A Korean king. An Indian princess. A love that transcended kingdoms. A separation that broke both their hearts.
"This isn't possible," he whispered. But the evidence was right in front of him.
The old man in his dreams had said: "When the time is right... you will find each other again."
Was this it? Was this the sign?
His manager had also sent another message: "There's a Korean-Indian cultural exhibition at the National Museum tomorrow. The production team wants you to attend for research. Are you available?"
Hwan-Myung stared at the message.
A museum. Tomorrow.
Something inside him whispered: Go.
He typed back: "I'll be there."
Chapter 8: The Night Before
That night, neither Aarohi nor Hwan-Myung could sleep.
Both lay in their beds, thousands of miles apart, staring at their ceilings, feeling the weight of something enormous approaching.
And at exactly 3:00 AM, both of them fell into the same dream.
The old man appeared to Aarohi, his form glowing with ethereal light.
"Princess Aashvini," he said gently. "The time has come. Tomorrow, when the sun begins to set, you will reach your destination. At the museum... your destiny awaits."
"What destiny?" Aarohi asked, her voice trembling. "I don't understand any of this!"
The old man smiled. "You will. Trust the path, child. Trust your heart. It remembers what your mind has forgotten."
"But who is he?" Aarohi whispered. "The king in my dreams... who is he?"
"He is what you have been searching for across lifetimes," the old man replied. "And tomorrow... you will find him again."
The same old man appeared to Hwan-Myung, standing in a misty void.
"Your Majesty, Kim Chul-Rok," he said, bowing slightly. "The wait is over. Tomorrow, when the sun begins to set, you will meet your Queen again. At the museum... your future awaits."
"Aashvini?" Hwan-Myung's voice broke. "She's... she's real? She exists?"
"She has always existed," the old man said. "In your heart. In your soul. And tomorrow, she will exist before your eyes once more."
"But how do I find her?" Hwan-Myung asked desperately. "How will I know?"
"Your soul will know," the old man said. "It has known her for a thousand years. Trust it."
He began to fade.
"Wait!" Hwan-Myung called. "Tell me more! Please!"
The old man's final words echoed through the void:
"Some questions can only be answered... when you are brave enough to take the first step."
Both Aarohi and Hwan-Myung woke simultaneously, gasping, their hearts pounding.
Aarohi sat up in bed, her entire body trembling. "Tomorrow," she whispered. "It's tomorrow."
Hwan-Myung stood by his window, looking out at the Seoul skyline. "I'm coming," he said softly, as if speaking to someone only he could sense. "I'm finally coming to find you."
Neither of them knew that in less than twenty-four hours, their lives would change forever.
Neither knew that destiny had been waiting centuries for this moment.
Neither knew that the love story of Princess Aashvini and King Kim Chul-Rok was about to be reborn in the most unexpected way.
But the universe knew.
And tomorrow, it would make sure they found each other.
NARRATOR:
"Have you ever wondered... if the dreams you see are not just dreams?
Have you ever wondered... if the people who enter your life are not just coincidences?
Aarohi and Hwan-Myung... neither of them knew.
But fate... was about to bring them together once more.
The past had called out.
And soon... the present would be transformed.
Tomorrow... their true story would begin.
Tomorrow... they would become Aashvini and Chul-Rok once again.
But were they ready?
Are you ready?
Because what is about to happen...
Is beyond belief."
EPISODE 1 - END
To be continued in Episode 2...