I'm a King Too
“This is a problem,”
PD Gi Hyo-won muttered, scratching the back of his neck with a scowl, while head writer Kim Seong-chae clicked her tongue nearby, slicing a green apple.
“Ugh. I told you to go easy on the drinking.”
“What was that?”
“Something about your hangover?”
“What was that?”
“Guess not.”
Kim Seong-chae answered breezily, then popped a fully sliced apple into her mouth and settled into the seat across from the PD at the big conference table.
Gi Hyo-won glared at her for the tactlessness of being the only one eating an apple—but tact was not the only thing Kim Seong-chae lacked. She had no ability to read the room either. She kept munching away whether he glared or not, and even when another staffer nudged her ribs in warning, it went completely over her head.
Watching this, the PD let out a sigh and muttered again.
“One problem here, another problem there.”
Only then did Kim Seong-chae go, “Ohhh,” and ask as if she understood.
“So Jang Tae-ri and Shin Jo-woon still won't budge? Both of them insist on being the king? Dragging the CEOs in really is exhausting, huh.”
“That's not all. Now Woo Yeon-woo says he wants to be king too.”
“Huh? Didn't he agree to be a eunuch?”
“He says there's a difference between a role you don't use and a role that doesn't exist, so he refuses to play a eunuch. He's going to be a king.”
At the sheer absurdity of it, Gi Hyo-won burst into a disbelieving laugh, and Kim Seong-chae smirked. “No way. Did his manager say that? I doubt Yeon-woo himself would say something like that.”
“Straight from the man himself. He texted me at dawn.”
Kim Seong-chae choked on the apple in her mouth, sputtering violently, her face screaming, What did I just hear?
“Whoa. Woo Yeon-woo texted you at dawn?”
“Yep.”
“I've heard of people refusing a role, but never one volunteering for it.”
The other staff members snickered and chimed in.
“Yeon-woo's famous for being a lunatic anyway. A lunatic with a moral compass.”
“Right? Seems like he really will do anything that isn't outright illegal. Texting a PD at dawn, though. Well, whatever—just slot whoever you like wherever you think they fit, PD.”
Gi Hyo-won shot her a look.
“If I could do that, I would've already.”
“What's stopping you?”
“That's the CEO of World Boom we're talking about. You want me to pick an open fight with the head of World Boom?”
“Then just make Shin Jo-woon the king, Jang Tae-ri his queen, and Yeon-woo the eunuch.”
Jang Tae-ri was a self-made tycoon, but not in any industry that could lean on broadcasting. And Woo Yeon-woo, popular as he was, was still just one idol on the rise. From Kim Seong-chae's perspective, it was a reasonably rational bit of favoritism: side with the one whose influence actually mattered.
“That's true, but…”
Still, Gi Hyo-won couldn't answer easily, drumming his fingers on the table.
“Then the whole picture just falls apart, you know?”
There had to be a better composition. It just wouldn't come into focus. After all, he was assembling the three most talked-about people in the country right now—he had to squeeze out every drop of screen time they were worth. These were three people who generated buzz just standing around chatting among themselves.
If he failed to capitalize on that, people would say it was because Gi Hyo-won simply lacked the skill.
As he sat there turning it over and over, his eyes happened to land on three apple slices Kim Seong-chae had cut. The slices sat in a row, shaped so identically they could have been twins.
The moment he saw them, the perfect concept flashed into his head.
“That's it. We'll do that.”
“What?”
Gi Hyo-won shot to his feet and shouted.
“That's it! We do that!”
I rubbed my eyes.
Rubbed them, it was still there, so I rubbed them again.
Are they out of their minds.
The setting is the inner royal palace of a virtual Joseon,
and the base premise is absolutely unhinged:
“Among the people of Joseon, a strange rumor began to spread: there are not one, but three kings.”
For the record, those three kings are Jang Tae-ri, Woo Yeon-woo, and Shin Jo-woon.
Apparently they're all doppelgängers.
Does that make any sense?
Those three are distinct enough that even someone with 0.1 vision could tell them apart.
The production team has lost it.
“I am a king?”
It was the very moment that a single community post had thrown into confusion not only Woo Yeon-woo's fans and the devoted viewers of the Dating Process two-timing team, and the loyal audience of Time Machine for Just One Week, but even people who had never once watched the show—and Rembrary, having heard the same news from Jong-woo, was absolutely delighted.
“Yes. Still, honestly. Three kings? Really.”
Jong-woo grumbled under his breath, but Rembrary, thoroughly satisfied, replied with pride swelling in his chest.
“A king is better than a eunuch, no matter how you slice it.”
“You could've had the other two play king and taken the eunuch role yourself. At least then you wouldn't stand out.”
“Even if I don't stand out, king is better.”
Rembrary was so delighted at the thought that he broke into a little shoulder-shimmy.
“How on earth do you manage to look bad even doing a shoulder dance…”
Jong-woo sighed at the sight, but Rembrary couldn't have cared less. He truly, truly did not want to play a eunuch.
Hye-gyeol, who had been slurping away at a konjac jelly while listening to the exchange, grinned and added his two cents.
“If the setting is virtual Joseon, then something like Joseon-era speech… Ah. Right, that's just how you talk normally, hyung. Guess you don't need to do any research on how a king speaks.”
“Did the kings of Joseon speak as I do?”
“I don't know how historically accurate that is, but that's the general image? You know, just—bring the voice down a little more.”
“Like this?”
“Graver! Grander!”
“Like this?”
“That's it!”
“Ahem. Ahem. I am the king. I am the sovereign. Behold—I am the sovereign. Rapping. I am a sovereign who raps. A sovereign, not a eunuch.”
As Rembrary laid down the beat in his gravest voice, Hye-gyeol clapped enthusiastically—great, great!—while Taein watched the pair of them and clicked his tongue.
Those idiots…
Cathy, instead of sneering alongside Taein, actually waded into the conversation and started offering advice of his own.
“You should study the vocabulary too. Words and stuff. That show's famous for never giving out long scripts.”
“Ah, is that so? Are the scripts as long as Dating Process's?”
“Never seen a Dating Process script, so I wouldn't know.”
“Hyung, Cathy hyung's got a point. It's a Joseon setting even if it's virtual—if you go around using English, people will drag you for being a total ignoramus. Study your words, hyung. Words.”
Cathy, having offered his advice in good faith for all of a moment, apparently changed his mind, because he turned around and started needling Rembrary with a sly grin.
“Well, he can't do English anyway. He only ever uses the same few words over and over.”
“Ah. Fair point, actually. Hyung can't do English to save his life.”
Cathy really is a strange one, Jong-woo thought, clicking his tongue. They weren't close, but they weren't not close either—watching from the sidelines, the guy just flip-flopped constantly.
While he was mulling that over, Rembrary turned to Jong-woo with a question.
“Jong-woo. Is there such a thing as a Joseon-era vocabulary book? A dictionary would do as well.”
“I don't think one exists? Pretty sure not.”
“Then how am I to learn the words in order to speak?”
“…Just talk the way you always do. It's not a serious historical drama, so unless you start flaunting English outright, the viewers will let it slide. And if it's a word that's genuinely hard to replace, they'll understand.”
“Is that so?”
“Mm. Still, it couldn't hurt to look up a few famous period terms. Like okru—jade tower—things like that. I'll dig them up and print you a list, so memorize them and put them to use.”
At that very moment, Taein—who had been quietly staring down at his phone—let out a small, mischievous chuckle all on his own. A wonderful idea had just come to him.
“Honestly, the man's diligent.”
Several hours later, Jong-woo—who had researched period-drama vocabulary, printed out the results, and carried them to the practice room—paused in admiration at the sight of Jungseo sitting alone against the mirrored wall, quietly reading over his script.
With his audition tomorrow, Jungseo was unusually focused; no matter how much noise the others made around him, he didn't so much as twitch, and the sheer diligence of it was genuinely impressive to behold.
People like you are the ones who deserve to make it. Conscientious, steady, capable, hardworking.
At Jong-woo's praise, a faint smile surfaced over Jungseo's otherwise expressionless face.
Seeing that smile, Jong-woo's admiration only deepened, and he added warmly, “You're going to go far.”
“Thank you.”
After patting Jungseo's shoulder once more, Jong-woo went off in search of Rembrary to hand over the materials. But Rembrary had apparently gone somewhere in the meantime and was nowhere to be seen.
“Ah, Jungseo. Give this to Yeon-woo later, would you?”
In the end, Jong-woo passed the stack to Jungseo, the member closest to Rembrary. But before Jungseo could even lift his head, Taein, sitting beside him, quickly shot out a hand and intercepted it.
“Jong-woo hyung, I'll deliver it.”
Jong-woo gave him a doubtful look.
“You?”
“Jungseo's busy,” Taein answered calmly. “His audition's tomorrow, remember.”
Jong-woo very nearly blurted out, It feels weird having YOU of all people—the guy who doesn't get along with him—deliver it…, but stopped himself, not wanting to seem like he was stirring up trouble between the members. Then again, with the whole group gathered here, surely Taein wouldn't pocket the materials and just never pass them along. And for all that Taein and Yeon-woo didn't get along, he'd never once bullied him behind his back, either.
“All right. Just make sure he actually gets it.”
“Yeah.”
“So where'd Yeon-woo run off to, anyway?”
Having traded texts with Shin Jo-woon, Rembrary sent a triumphant message to Jang Tae-ri as well.
He was in the middle of this lively back-and-forth with the two of them when it happened.
One by one, fuzzy, indistinct shapes began to appear in the air of the room.
When Rembrary lifted his head, he saw it: outside the window, an ox's head was poking in, staring straight at him.
The moment their eyes met, the ox head glanced warily left and right, then spoke with a thoroughly cowed expression.
[Have something to say. Words I want to say.]
Rembrary arched an eyebrow and pointed a finger at his own chest.
Me?
When he mouthed the question, the ox head nodded, then carefully eased the window open and slipped inside. It didn't come close, though—it stopped at a distance, positioned so it could bolt at any moment—and asked, its face twisted with fear:
[I am quiet and I am obedient, moo moo, why do you do this to me, why do you do this to me]
Wondering what on earth that was supposed to mean, Rembrary raised his brow sharply, and the ox head shrank back even further.
[The humans join hands. They even lace their fingers together. We must join hands too, if we are to survive. Do not hate me. Do not hate me.]
— End of Chapter 121: I Am Also a King —