The first thing I noticed was the weight.
Heavy silk pressed against my skin.
Layers.
Tight around my waist.
My lashes fluttered open.
Gold.
Red.
Wood carved with dragons.
This wasn't a hospital ceiling.
This was—
"Your Highness?"
A girl's voice trembled near my ear.
I turned my head.
A young maid knelt beside a massive bed draped in embroidered curtains. Her clothes looked like something straight out of a historical drama.
No.
Not a drama.
The air smelled of incense.
Real incense.
My heart started pounding.
Slowly, carefully, I pushed myself upright.
Long sleeves slid down my arms.
Silk.
Hanbok.
Bright red.
Wedding red.
Memory hit.
Accident.
Divine court.
Two lives.
Mission.
My gaze snapped forward.
A faint golden interface shimmered in the corner of my vision.
ANCIENT WORLD INITIALIZED
IDENTITY: Crown Princess Consort
MISSION PROGRESS: 0%
So it wasn't a dream.
I inhaled slowly.
Calm.
Observe first.
"Why are you staring at me like that?" I asked the maid.
She lowered her head immediately. "Forgive me, Your Highness. His Royal Highness… the Crown Prince… awaits you in the main chamber."
Of course he does.
Wedding night.
I swallowed.
Same man?
Or different version?
"Where is this place?" I asked casually.
The maid looked confused. "Your Highness… this is the Eastern Palace."
Eastern Palace.
Crown Prince.
Marriage.
This was real.
I stood up carefully. The layers of fabric made walking difficult.
Don't panic.
Think.
If I'm here… then he must be here too.
The man from the accident.
The cold eyes.
The sharp jawline.
If fate is this dramatic, he'll be the Crown Prince.
The maid helped adjust my hair. Heavy ornaments weighed against my scalp.
"His Royal Highness is known to have a… temper," she whispered nervously.
Good to know.
We stepped out of the bridal chamber.
The palace hallway stretched endlessly, lanterns casting golden light over polished floors. Guards stood on either side, spears upright, faces emotionless.
This wasn't fantasy.
This was power.
Politics.
Danger.
The doors to the main chamber opened.
And there he was.
Seated casually on a raised platform.
Wearing deep blue royal robes embroidered with golden dragons.
Crown resting against perfectly styled black hair.
Sharp eyes lifted.
Locked on mine.
Recognition flickered.
Just for a second.
Then it vanished behind indifference.
So it is him.
The man who hit me.
The man who died with me.
He stood slowly.
Tall.
Commanding.
Cold.
The maids quickly withdrew, sliding the doors shut.
We were alone.
Silence stretched.
"You," he said first.
Not "wife."
Not "Princess."
Just—
"You."
I crossed my arms inside the long sleeves of my hanbok.
"You're alive."
His gaze sharpened.
"As are you."
Good. He remembers.
The faint golden interface blinked again.
RULE REMINDER: Revelation Prohibited.
A sharp pain pricked behind my ribs.
Right.
We can't openly talk about divine trial.
He must have seen the same warning.
His jaw tightened slightly.
So he tried too.
Good.
We stood there like two generals in a battlefield.
"You don't seem surprised," he observed calmly.
I tilted my head. "Should I be?"
"You were an ordinary noblewoman yesterday."
"And today I'm Crown Princess. Congratulations to me."
His lips almost twitched.
Almost.
So the cold prince has expressions.
Interesting.
He stepped closer.
Not rushed.
Not hesitant.
Measured.
"Do you fear me?" he asked quietly.
A test.
Maybe in this world, the Crown Prince is known for cruelty.
I met his gaze directly.
"Should I?"
Silence.
Tension thickened.
His eyes searched mine like he was looking for something familiar.
Something modern.
Something out of place.
"You speak differently," he murmured.
"And you think differently," I replied.
Another flicker of recognition.
We both know.
But we cannot say it.
He turned slightly, walking toward the window overlooking the palace courtyard.
"Do you know why you were chosen to marry me?" he asked.
"Political alliance," I answered immediately.
His shoulders stilled.
"You've been educated well."
Not educated.
Modern brain.
Strategy.
Observe. Adapt.
Survive.
I walked toward him slowly.
The palace courtyard below glowed under lantern light. Soldiers patrolled. Servants moved carefully.
This world was unstable.
Power struggles everywhere.
The system interface shimmered again.
PRIMARY OBJECTIVE (ANCIENT WORLD):
Secure the Crown Prince's position.
Prevent palace coup.
Stabilize succession.
Well.
That's not simple.
I glanced sideways at him.
He was watching me now.
Carefully.
"You're thinking too much," he said softly.
"So are you."
Another long silence.
Finally, he spoke.
"This marriage is political. You will not interfere with my affairs."
Ah.
There it is.
Cold prince.
Walls up.
I folded my hands neatly.
"Fine."
He looked slightly surprised.
"But," I added calmly, "if your affairs threaten my survival, I will interfere."
His eyes darkened.
"Are you challenging me on our first night?"
"I'm setting boundaries."
The air shifted.
Something electric.
Not hatred.
Not attraction.
Recognition.
Two people who remember dying.
Trapped in royal marriage.
Bound by a divine mission.
He stepped closer.
Close enough that I could see the faint scar near his temple.
The same place he hit during the crash.
My breath caught.
He noticed.
His fingers unconsciously touched the exact same spot.
Our eyes locked.
He knows.
I know.
But we cannot say it.
The golden interface flickered violently for a second—
WARNING: DO NOT DISCLOSE ORIGIN.
Pain shot through my chest.
I inhaled sharply.
He froze.
He must have felt it too.
Interesting.
Shared penalty?
Or shared system?
This just got more complicated.
He stepped back slightly.
"For tonight," he said calmly, regaining control, "you will remain in the inner chamber."
"And you?" I asked.
"I have matters to attend."
Of course he does.
White moonlight?
Concubine?
Political snake?
We'll find out soon.
He walked toward the exit.
Before leaving, he paused.
Without turning around, he said quietly—
"If you intend to survive in this palace… do not trust anyone."
Then he left.
The doors closed.
Silence returned.
I exhaled slowly.
Ancient palace.
Political marriage.
Cold Crown Prince who remembers dying.
Mission at 0%.
And somewhere in modern Seoul—
Another version of me must be waking up.
I glanced at the interface again.
ANCIENT WORLD STATUS: ACTIVE
MISSION PROGRESS: 1%
One percent?
Already?
I smiled faintly.
So cooperation increases progress.
Interesting.
Alright then, Your Highness.
Let's see which one of us breaks first.