Why Are You My Wife?

I stared blankly at the message floating before my eyes.

The hell is this?

My head was spinning. Just a moment ago, I had been lying in my tiny one-room apartment in Seoul, binge-watching a web novel while shoving my face with late-night delivery chicken. The title was something like I Became a Reclusive Master in the Alternate Universe. It was the kind of trashy power fantasy that made you feel good for about five seconds before the cringe hit.

I remembered muttering to myself, “Man, if I had to possess someone, at least make it a cool martial artist or a rich young master. Not some shut-in loser.”

Then everything went black.

When I opened my eyes again, I was in an unfamiliar room that looked like it belonged in some historical drama. Silk bedding. Wooden furniture that screamed expensive. And a woman—no, a girl—who looked barely twenty was staring down at me with wide, tear-filled eyes.

She had called me “Husband” in the most heartbreaking voice I’d ever heard.

That’s when the status window popped up like some cheap mobile game notification.

I tried to sit up, but my body felt strangely heavy. No, not heavy. Different. The limbs were longer, the shoulders broader. I glanced down at my hands. These weren’t my hands. These were the hands of someone who had clearly trained in martial arts for years.

“This… this can’t be happening,” I muttered.

The girl—my supposed wife—flinched at the sound of my voice. Her delicate features twisted with worry. She had that classic beauty you only see in manhwa: pale skin, large doe-like eyes, and hair that cascaded like ink down her back. She was wearing a hanbok that looked far too elegant for everyday wear.

“Husband… are you feeling unwell? Should I call the physician?”

Her voice was soft, trembling. The way she looked at me made my chest tighten in a way I didn’t like. It wasn’t just concern. There was something deeper there. Obsession? Devotion? The kind of yandere energy that usually ended with the protagonist locked in a basement.

I swallowed hard.

“Who… who are you?”

Her eyes widened in shock, then filled with tears almost instantly. “Husband, it’s me. Cheon Yeon-hwa. Your wife. Have you forgotten me already?”

Cheon Yeon-hwa.

The name rang a distant bell. In the novel I’d been reading, there was a character by that name—the tragic first wife of the protagonist who ended up going completely insane after he neglected her for his cultivation. She was supposed to be one of the heroines in the harem route, but most readers hated her because she was too clingy and ended up as a villainess in the bad ending.

Wait. Hold on.

If I’m the protagonist now… and she’s calling me husband…

Then that means I’ve possessed the body of Han Young-hoo, the reclusive master who was supposed to spend the next three hundred chapters hiding in a mountain cave while the world burned around him.

“Fuck my life,” I whispered in Korean before I could stop myself.

Yeon-hwa’s tears spilled over. “Husband… why are you speaking in that strange tongue? Did the recent qi deviation damage your mind? Please, don’t scare me like this. I… I can’t live without you.”

The way she said it sent chills down my spine. Not in a bad way. In a dangerously attractive way. Her fingers clutched my sleeve like she was afraid I’d vanish if she let go.

I needed to calm her down. Fast.

“I’m… I’m fine. Just a little confused. Must be the aftereffects of the qi deviation.”

She immediately brightened, though the tears still clung to her lashes. “Then I’ll prepare some medicinal ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠porridge. You must regain your strength. The Grand Conference is only a month away, and those bastards from the North Sea Ice Palace are already spreading rumors that you’ve gone soft.”

Grand ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Conference? North Sea Ice Palace?

This was definitely the world of that novel. An alternate history version of the Korean Peninsula called Cheonje, year 1000 AD, where martial artists, sorcerers, and political intrigue mixed together like some fever dream of wuxia and sageuk.

And I was now the strongest but laziest master in the entire damn continent.

The original Han Young-hoo had chosen to live as a recluse because he was tired of politics and responsibility. He only came out when his wives or disciples were in danger. Classic overpowered shut-in trope.

But now that I was inside his body…

I looked at Yeon-hwa again. The way she was gazing at me with such pure, desperate love made something stir in my chest. Was this the body’s residual feelings? Or was I just a sucker for beautiful women who looked at me like I hung the moon?

Either way, one thing was clear.

I couldn’t just run away and hide in a cave like the original owner planned.

Not when I had a wife who looked like she would literally follow me into death if I abandoned her.

“Yeon-hwa,” I said carefully, testing the name on my tongue. It felt strangely natural. “I won’t leave you. I promise.”

Her entire face lit up like the sun breaking through clouds. She threw herself into my arms, burying her face in my chest. Her body was warm and soft, and she smelled like plum blossoms and faint medicinal herbs.

“Thank you, Husband. I was so scared… I thought you might have grown tired of me.”

Her voice was muffled against my robes, but I could hear the raw emotion in it. This wasn’t acting. This girl was genuinely, dangerously obsessed with me.

Or rather, with the original Han Young-hoo.

But since I was him now, that obsession was now directed at me.

I patted her back awkwardly, feeling the weight of this new reality settle on my shoulders.

The status window that had caused all this trouble was still hovering in the corner of my vision, flickering like it was mocking me.

Seven wives?

The original novel really wasn’t kidding about the harem ending.

I let out a long sigh and held Yeon-hwa a little tighter. Her arms wrapped around me like vines, as if she never wanted to let ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠go.

“Alright,” I muttered under my breath. “If I’m stuck here, I might as well do it properly. No more being a lazy shut-in. I’ll protect what’s mine.”

Yeon-hwa looked up at me with shining eyes, her cheeks flushed.

“Husband?”

I smiled at her, feeling something warm bloom in my chest despite the absolute chaos my life had become.

“Nothing. Just thinking about how I’m going to spoil my wife from now on.”

Her ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠smile was so bright it almost hurt to look at.

Yeah.

This was going to be one hell of a ride.