You awoke with a violent gasp. Your lungs burned as though they were still filled with smoke. The last thing you remembered was the apartment building collapsing around you—the heat tearing through your clothes, the frightened child clinging to your neck, and the relief of seeing firefighters reach for her before the ceiling came down. Then darkness. “Y-Your Majesty?” A maid jerked awake beside the bed. She had fallen asleep in a chair, her cheek pressed against her folded arms. The moment she saw your eyes open, she dropped to her knees. “Forgive me! I did not mean to sleep. I was ordered to remain until you awakened.” You stared at the vast bedchamber, the silk canopy, and the golden walls. Then memories that did not belong to you flooded your mind. Empress Seraphina Valerienne. The tyrant from the reverse-harem novel The Empress and Her Men. You dressed quickly, barely noticing the maid’s trembling hands as she fastened your gown. When you thanked her, she looked at you as though you had spoken in another language. You left before she could respond. The palace corridors were unfamiliar, but Seraphina’s memories guided your steps.

So when my steward rushed into my study, pale-faced, saying, "My lord... Lady ____ has arrived," I assumed you were here on official business. I never imagined you had come for me. The moment you stepped into the manor, the room seemed brighter. My rehearsed greetings vanished, replaced by the awkward silence I'd never outgrown whenever you smiled at me. Then you said you had rejected every proposal. My heart stumbled.

Three years. Three years since Princess Aurelia had ridden away on the eve of their wedding after her brother's assassination. Three years since she had promised she would return once Valeria was stable. I never blamed her. Her kingdom needed her more than I did. The servants thought I had forgotten my wife. The nobility whispered that the marriage had failed before it had even begun. They urged me to annul the contract and find another duchess. I refused every time. A promise was a promise. This afternoon, I was in the gardens speaking with Lily, one of the younger maids. She had been in tears after accidentally breaking a vase that had belonged to my late brother, Maelor II. "It can be repaired," I told her, handing back the cracked porcelain. "My brother valued kindness more than possessions. He would not have wanted you punished over an accident." Relief washed across her face as she bowed repeatedly in thanks. Then... The entire garden fell silent. The maid's eyes widened as she looked past me. I turned.

As the host, you welcomed guests beneath glittering chandeliers while an orchestra filled the ballroom with waltzes. The only rule of the evening was simple: No one was permitted to reveal their identity until midnight. When the great doors opened, the music faltsred. Lord Cassian Valerius stepped inside wearing a black filigree mask and a deep crimson coat embroidered with gold, fresh from the battlefield only days before. Conversations ceased as nobles instinctively stepped aside for the kingdom's celebrated hero.

The last thing you remembered was finishing the final chapter of The Shy Lord's Second Spring, a romance novel that left you furious. The male lead, Lord Elias Everhart, had suffered through two years of emotional abuse at the hands of his arranged wife, Lady Evelyne Valmont. Readers hated her. She insulted servants, humiliated her gentle husband, refused to consummate their marriage, and eventually divorced him because the marriage had never been sealed. But now you have been transmigrated into her body on the day of the wedding day. How will you finish this story?

Rain lashed against your apartment windows thunder rolled across the night sky. Curled up on the couch, you finished the final chapter of The Duchess's Revenge with a frustrated sigh. The ending felt wrong. In the novel, Crown Prince Raphael Ruberian fell in love with Lady Selene Thornvale, while Duchess Ashbourne, driven mad by grief over her parents' murders, tried to kill Selene. Branded a villainess, she was stripped of her title, banished from the Kingdom of Rubia, and died alone in the frozen northern wastes. Selene became the future Queen, and everyone hailed it as a happy ending.You slammed the book shut. "It doesn't make sense," you muttered. "The Duchess was desperate for the truth. Someone else had to be behind everything." At that moment, lightning split the sky. A blinding flash burst through your apartment, swallowing the room in white. ... When you opened your eyes, cold rain struck your face. You stood on a marble balcony overlooking the Crimson Palace. Before you stood a man with golden-blonde hair and crimson-red eyes. "Duchess Ashbourne," Crown Prince Raphael said quietly. You weren't reading The Duchess's Revenge anymore. You had become Duchess Ashbourne...

The smoke was suffocating as I searched room after room. Then I found him. A large beam had collapsed across the doorway. Beneath it lay a young man with silver-blond hair, unconscious, shielding a maid with his own body. I quickly checked his pulse. "Alive." The maid's eyes snapped open. The moment she saw me, her face turned pale. "M-My Lady!"She scrambled to her feet, not even looking at the unconscious man beside her. "I-I can explain!" Before I could say a word, she gathered her skirts and ran out of the room. I blinked. "...Seriously?" Then I remembered. In the original story, this maid was rumored to be Duke Emeric's latest affair. Amara had believed the gossip without ever hearing his side. I rolled my eyes."Really? You leave the unconscious duke behind to save yourself? Some affair." There wasn't time to think about it. Using a broken iron poker as leverage, I pushed the beam just enough to free Emeric. His breathing was steady, but blood trickled from a cut on his forehead. "You certainly know how to make things difficult." I pulled one of his arms over my shoulders and hauled him upright. He was heavy. Every step through the burning corridor felt like a battle. Flames licked the walls while burning timbers crashed around us. I pushed forward just as part of the ceiling collapsed behind us in a shower of sparks. The cool night air hit my face. Servants gasped. "The Duke!" "His Grace is alive!" Duke Philippe rushed toward us as several guards carefully lifted Emeric from my shoulders.

Rain drummed softly against the windows as you double-checked the address on the small insulated pharmacy bag. Penthouse 1507. Jeong Jun-seok. Rush Delivery. Your best friend worked for one of Seoul's specialty pharmacies, but she'd come down with a fever that morning. "Just drop it off the medications in the outside mailbox," she'd insisted over the phone. You hadn't thought much of it. After all, it was just another delivery. The elevator carried you to the fifteenth floor before opening into a quiet hallway lined with dark wood and polished stone. You open the box and drop the medication in it. A metallic click echoed from the opposite end of the hallway. You looked up. The penthouse door slowly opened. Standing in the doorway was a man in a white dress shirt, several buttons undone, black slacks hanging low on his hips. His dark hair was tousled as though he'd been running his hands through it for hours. Jeong Jun-seok.

The bustling marketplace of Hanyang was alive with the sounds of merchants calling out prices, children laughing, and ox carts rumbling over the stone streets. Hidden beneath the wide brim of a black gat and dressed in the simple robes of a noble scholar, King Yi Yeong walked among his people with only one trusted royal guard trailing several paces behind. Few knew that the quiet young man inspecting pottery and speaking with merchants was the king himself.

Unlike the throne room, it was a place where titles mattered less than patience. Brushes, pigments, silk canvases, and the scent of pine soot ink filled the room. The afternoon sun poured through the open lattice windows, painting warm patterns across the polished floor. You were already arranging your brushes when the doors slid open. "His Highness, Prince Lu Ten." You rose and bowed.

The sea always told me when strangers approached. Long before the watchtowers spotted the sails, I had stood on the western balcony overlooking the harbor, feeling the warm ocean wind shift against my skin. Hundreds of ships entered Haesong each year—merchants, diplomats, wandering scholars—but something about today's arrival unsettled the calm that had followed me since dawn. "My king." Chief Chamberlain Min bowed deeply behind me. "The envoy from the northern kingdom has reached the palace gates." I kept my eyes on the horizon for another moment before turning away.

Snow fell in thick silence over the fortress of Leracal. The towering black gates stood open for the first time in months, revealing an endless procession of crimson banners advancing across the frozen plains. Southern cavalry rode in perfect formation, their polished armor gleaming even beneath the gray winter sky. Behind them came imperial guards, diplomats, servants, wagons filled with gifts, and finally a carriage carved from dark ebony trimmed with gold. Every soldier upon the walls tightened their grip on their weapons. "The Southern Crown Prince has arrived."

My attention remained on the thick proposal spread across my desk. LOREA A luxury lifestyle company that had conquered the United States before expanding into France with astonishing success. Hotels, fashion, home collections, and now one of the fastest-growing luxury fragrance brands in the world. Now… They wanted South Korea. More specifically… They wanted Kang Holdings. Not because they needed investors. Not because they lacked resources. Because they wanted a Korean partner that understood luxury. A knock interrupted his thoughts. "Director Kang." My assistant stepped inside. "They've arrived.”

You wake slowly to the scent of pine, jasmine, and warm cedar. Your body feels strangely heavy. Water laps quietly against porcelain. Blinking, you realize you're submerged up to your shoulders in a deep stone bathing tub, steam curling lazily around you. Golden afternoon light spills through delicate hanji-paper windows, casting soft patterns across polished wooden beams. Someone has braided fragrant herbs into the bathwater, their petals floating around you. "...Where am I?" Your voice barely leaves your lips.

The same question echoed through my mind. If this wasn't my world...

A housekeeper rushed to greet you. "Doctor." You bowed politely. "Where is he?" The woman looked relieved. "Second floor." You noticed several staff members standing nervously in the foyer. None of them were willing to go upstairs. That wasn't a good sign. As you climbed the staircase, you immediately felt it. The pressure. Heavy Alpha pheromones saturated the air. Most Omegas would've struggled to breathe. Even some Alphas would've found it overwhelming. The scent grew stronger with every step.The private sitting room doors were slightly open. Warm light spilled into the hallway. You pushed one open. Everything happened at once. A blur of movement. A powerful hand closed around your wrist. Before you could react, you were spun around. Your back met the wall. The medical case slipped from your fingers The room tilted. Your pulse jumped. Before you could react, a large hand wrapped around your wrist. The medical case hit the floor. Something crashed somewhere behind you. Then suddenly— Your back met the wall. The breath left your lungs.

Kang Tae-seok hated meeting new guides. Most of them walked into the room already intimidated. Some were afraid of him. Others admired him. Many wanted something from him. None of them lasted. After fifteen years as South Korea's strongest Esper, he had stopped expecting otherwise. The compatibility tests would be conducted. The guide would fail. The Association would apologize. It always did. So when his secretary informed him another foreign guide had arrived, he barely looked up from his paperwork. "She's here."

The man's gaze moved first to Tae-neul. Then to your grandfather. Then finally— To you. Dark eyes. Sharp features. Completely unreadable expression. Tae-neul smiled. "Perfect timing." The old gangster gestured toward the newcomer. "Since we're discussing the arrangement..." His smile grew. "You might as well meet my grandson." The newcomer sighed as though he already regretted being here.

After nearly three months at sea, your ship finally entered the harbor of Hwangryonghang. The capital of Yeonhae-guk was unlike anything you had ever seen. White stone palaces rose above turquoise waters. Golden-roofed pavilions connected by bridges stretched across the harbor. Palm trees swayed beside lotus ponds. Colorful banners danced in the ocean breeze. The entire city seemed to float between sea and sky. You were staring at the view when your foot slipped on the wet dock.The stack of official documents in your arms scattered everywhere. Scrolls rolled across the wooden planks. Letters bearing royal seals tumbled toward the water. You immediately knelt to gather them. Then another pair of hands appeared. Large hands. Calloused hands. Not the hands of a pampered noble.