I Am Sado Hwan
Even the emperor's palace couldn't have been more resplendent than this grand audience hall.
A woman sat upon a jade throne shaped like a coiled black dragon.
She was a vision of mystery and beauty, as if sculpted from ice itself—untouched by the mortal world.
Her gleaming silver eyes held an air of supreme dignity.
The world called her the Heavenly Demon, their voices laced with awe and terror.
"Your brother, Sado Gwang, is dead."
Yet this Heavenly Demon was betrothed to my brother, Sado Gwang.
"The Heavenly Demon Divine Cult's tradition dictates that if the elder brother dies, the younger takes his wife. Therefore..."
Her expression was icy, her voice a chilling whisper.
"Sado Hwan. From this moment, you are my fiancé."
I'm screwed.
Because I'm not the real Sado Hwan.
"You idiot. Can't even handle one simple task?"
I gaze down at the man before me.
"I've never failed to take what I want since the day I was born. Nor have I ever failed to crush what I wished to destroy. That's who I am."
I lean in, bowing at the waist while thrusting my face aggressively forward.
"Ta-il Group's head of headquarters. Lee Soo-oh."
Not yelling, but whispering softly—enough to instill maximum dread.
"Go fetch it now. Unless you want to be the one who ends up broken."
With a final flourish, I yank off my tie—rough yet paradoxically elegant.
Then I bow precisely ninety degrees.
Yes, I was at an audition. Trying out for the role of a spoiled chaebol third-generation heir in a weekend drama.
Everyone harbors dreams deep in their hearts.
The average salaryman commuting daily by subway might secretly yearn to shred a guitar on stage with his band.
The guy in the next seat, Assistant Manager Kim, once pulled all-nighters dreaming of rap stardom. Even the department head who barks orders every day confessed to once aspiring to be a pro baseball player.
Even those reading novels on the train fantasize about being the protagonist.
I'd come here chasing my own dream. Tired of being just another cog in society's machine.
Of course, I faced mockery disguised as concern.
A perfectly fine job... well, it was a decent mid-tier company, but quitting to suddenly pursue acting? Naturally, they laughed.
But there was no future there.
Coworkers scheming with politics, bosses who only berated without fair pay.
Our team leader, a parachute hire, spent days glued to NewTube instead of working, then hounded us for poor results.
The ultimate dirty-networking kingpin.
Then he crossed the line. Mocking my orphanage upbringing, calling me rootless.
I punched him and quit on the spot.
Once out, reality hit hard—no clear path ahead. But since I'd burned that bridge, I decided to chase the vague dream I'd always harbored.
Acting.
I'd been in the theater club in college, so passionate I'd even gotten scouted by a few troupes after they recognized my talent.
But I'd chosen the safe office life to put food on the table.
No more.
Chasing a dream isn't wrong, right?
I'd landed a few bit parts before, but they always got edited out.
My longest "role" was the back of a passerby's head near the lead.
This audition was my shot.
A prime-time weekend drama, with a recurring villain in the early episodes—perfect for getting noticed.
And practically speaking, I needed to land it. My savings were nearly gone. No family to lean on, so once the money ran dry, it'd be day labor or bust.
Backed into a corner?
Strangely, my gut felt good.
Playing arrogant, violent, and haughty wasn't easy, but I'd nailed it.
Voice projection, imperious expressions, gait—even the tie flourish brimmed with character. I was proud.
I had to get this.
To shove it in the faces of those who'd sneered.
Brimming with anticipation, I straightened from my bow.
"Yeah, sure. That was fine. Anyone else have comments?"
"Nah, not really."
"Me neither. Next? We're short on time."
Contrary to my hopes, the panel's reaction was lukewarm.
The PD on the far right was even propping his chin, scrolling his phone.
I'd been so immersed, I hadn't noticed—he hadn't even watched properly.
Why?
One judge snapped irritably, "What're you waiting for? Get out."
A staffer bowed and approached at the judge's command.
This industry was as narrow as any other. Tempted to flip the table, but I couldn't.
"Thank you! Hope to see you again!"
"...Good work. Your acting was solid. Shame about the circumstances."
One judge—the only one who'd actually watched—added that.
As I slipped out, the PD's voice leaked through the door crack.
"Why say that? Now it's awkward."
"But his acting was legit great. Gave me chills, like a real scumbag. Self-taught too—no academy. That's genius level."
"That's the problem. Should've networked through some academy first. Can't cast a total unknown. Ratings come first."
"Sigh... The kid we picked is Kim Yul, right? Idol background?"
"Yep. Acting? Editing covers it. Ratings first, then we make more dramas, scout newbies. No choice."
My head spun.
The audition was a sham—pre-decided. All those edited bit parts? Same reason.
I'd quit over dirty politics, only to find disillusionment chasing my dream.
I trudged out of the audition hall.
"Fuck. It's cold."
Craved a smoke after ages. I'd quit for vocal health.
Fuck it now.
Bought a pack at the convenience store—first in half a year.
"Cough!"
The hot drag triggered violent coughing. No—more like spewing rage.
"Hoo..."
A long sigh. Winter wind and a cigarette sharpened my mind.
"Right. Kim Dong Yun. When has society ever been easy?"
If life were a game, mine was hardcore mode.
Orphanage kid.
No parents, relatives, inheritance.
Not a genius scholar or athlete. Decent looks for acting, but no star-level magnetism.
But I had one thing.
Willpower.
Not unbreakable, but I shook off shit fast and pushed on.
So this time too.
Think positive.
This is an opportunity.
I memorized every name and face on that panel.
Just let me hit the top...
I'll make 'em beg. Sniff and ignore if they plead to work with me.
Lost in vengeful thoughts, I reached home. Two hours on foot.
Can't waste on transit.
Opened the gate, descended to my semi-basement.
A package waited.
Pretty heavy one.
"Wha... what?!"
Sender's name jolted me. Kicked off shoes haphazardly, tore it open inside.
Inside: the item I'd longed for.
"D-did I... win it?"
As a total dirt-poor nobody, hobbies were scarce.
Web novels were cheap entertainment. Plus, great input for acting.
Anyway, Murim Return was my favorite.
Hearing it was becoming a drama sent shivers down my spine.
An aspiring actor couldn't sit idle.
I applied for auditions.
But pre-production meant main roles were cast. Info beyond a nobody like me.
Couldn't give up. Poured my sob story onto paper, hand-wrote a letter to the author.
Author had no pull, but replied they'd try.
Scripts arriving meant an audition slot, right?
Sure enough, the enclosed note had schedule, venue, contact.
Audition Details:
Date: [One week from now]
Venue: [Location]
Contact: [Phone number]
Perfect—a week's buffer to analyze scripts and build the character.
"Yes! Yes! Yesssss!"
I shadowboxed the air like a madman.
Second chance seized.
Diehard fan here. Read every chapter on release. Knew characters and story better than anyone.
Scripts up to episode 8.
Forgot to change, dove right in.
Two hours later.
"Tsk..."
No mirror needed to know my face screamed ambivalence.
Ambivalent.
Fun, sure. Immersive as hell.
Even if Korean wuxia dramas rarely pop off, the content worked.
Some changes from source—adapted settings, unfamiliar bits—but plausible enough.
Characters were the issue.
Murim Return followed con artist Mu Jin soul-swapping into a Heavenly Demon Divine Cult member's body.
The twist? The host was a fake too—second-rate posing as elite with bluster and tricks. Everyone bought it.
Classic wuxia: Heavenly Demon Divine Cult vs. Murim Alliance war. Protagonist awakens to real power amid it. Characters were key.
"...This ain't it."
The host body: Sado Hwan. Arrogant noble type, all facade—but extremely haughty.
Clashes with free-spirited Mu Jin birthed the episodes.
But this Sado Hwan?
"Too sweet."
Pure sweetheart. Sacrifices all for heroine—like a weekend drama's loyal secretary. No clear heroine in original either. Some random now was.
Mass appeal tweak?
Maybe shifts post-episode 8?
Still wrong. Sado Hwan couldn't start like this.
I stood before the mirror. Full-length from Daiso—big investment for practice.
Started with expressions.
Sado Hwan: arrogant, aristocratic, violent. Like that chaebol heir earlier.
Chin slightly up, eyes haughty but relaxed, laced with boredom.
Posture next. Neck straight like a crane, movements precise.
Voice last.
Power from the gut. Steady, imperious tone.
"How dare you."
The mirror Sado Hwan spoke.
"Draw your sword before me? Do you wish to die?"
Even I was impressed. Perfect embodiment.
Then it happened.
The reflection shifted—not me, someone else.
Clad in ornate silk robes fit for a historical drama.
'G-ghost?'
Chills. I froze stock-still, yet he moved alone.
Our eyes met in the glass. He spoke.
"I am Sado Hwan."
I stumbled back. Cheap rent due to ghosts?
Next instant.
I was sucked into the mirror.
Acting as the Heavenly Demon