Objective: Survival
Back in my modern life, I was what people called a hardcore history nerd.
Not that I ever asked to get dropped straight into the Joseon Dynasty, mind you.
To make matters worse, waking up inside a body that didn't have a single family member left in the world left a distinctly bitter taste in my mouth, but...
"Bong-bong-ah! Why haven't you come out yet? What are you doing in there?"
"Ah, comin'!"
Seol-hyang's brisk voice cut clean through my brooding.
What's the point of dwelling on a past life anyway? Right now, figuring out how to survive has to come first.
Muffled voices drifted in from beyond the paper door; the court maids were likely gathering to celebrate Ipchun, the Beginning of Spring.
The mood out there is bound to be downright vicious, isn't it?
The sheer thought of facing the Chwiseondang palace maids for the first time made my entire body clench up in dread.
At this exact point in the timeline, Royal Noble Consort Jang Hui-bin had not only suffered the humiliation of being demoted from queen back down to royal consort, but her relationship with King Sukjong had grown icy and distant. Naturally, for the court maids serving under her, life must have felt like walking across paper-thin ice over a frozen lake.
Everyone's nerves will be frayed to the snapping point. I need to read the room and mind my step. If I can just get through the day without being beaten black and blue, that'll be a miracle...
Grisly historical accounts of what modern people would label Joseon-era child abuse flickered through my mind, sending a chill down my spine. Still, I forced myself to get a grip.
Remember: the objective is survival.
If there was one thing I had going for me, it was that my spirit had been forged in the fires of hell by a thesis advisor famous for being notoriously impossible to please. Taking a deep, bracing breath, I reached for the sliding door's brass loop.
This was it: the grand debut of Hwang Bong-bong, the child maid, stepping out into the arena of Chwiseondang.
Please let this not be an immediate disaster.
Something was profoundly wrong.
I had stepped out bracing myself for a chilling, terrifying atmosphere, but what actually greeted me was...
"Oh, my goodness! Sweet girl, are you Bong-bong?"
"Good heavens, look at those chubby little cheeks!"
"How on earth are her eyes so big and round? Tiny as she is, she's an absolute darling!"
"Didn't they say she's turning four soon? It's been ages since someone this little entered court service, hasn't it?"
The palace maids were swooning over me, completely beside themselves with adoration. One pinched my squishy cheek, another ruffled my hair, and someone else slipped a piece of sweet yumilgwa pastry—pulled straight from her silk sleeve—neatly into my mouth.
"Hullo eberyone," I mumbled around the pastry, giving them a polite little toddler bow.
The moment I did, the courtyard erupted into squeals.
"Eeeek!"
"She's too precious!"
To be entirely honest, my brain couldn't process what was happening.
Is this... actually Chwiseondang?
Had I somehow wandered into the wrong compound?
By my historical calculations, Jang Hui-bin had roughly one year and nine months left to live. Right now, she was trapped in what could easily be described as the darkest, most desolate period of her entire existence. She had lost Sukjong's royal favor, her political backbone in the Southerner faction had effectively crumbled, and her brother and chief ally, Jang Hui-jae, was languishing in exile.
And yet, the court maids of Chwiseondang...
How on earth can they all look so radiant and carefree?
Before long, Queen Inhyeon's death would unleash a bloody tempest across the inner court. And that very storm would drag nearly every single maid standing in this courtyard to the execution grounds.
"Bong-bong-ah, look over here!"
"Look at how baggy her little jeogori is!"
"She reminds me so much of my baby sister back home... She's so cute I could die..."
I didn't have time to stay lost in thought, however, because I was currently being passed around and prodded like a stuffed rag doll.
...Now this is what I call a total catastrophe.
My growing anxiety played a part, but above all else, I simply couldn't tolerate dozens of hands poking and squeezing me all over. Irritation surged like a tidal wave, making me feel as though my mental age had regressed right along with my physical body.
So that's how you want to play it, huh?
In a predicament like this, there was only one foolproof escape tactic available to a toddler like me.
Hic.
Hiccup.
"Waahhhh!"
...Granted, I hadn't intended to burst into such an earth-shattering wail.
The sudden waterworks caught the maids completely off guard. Of course, within seconds, they began cooing that even my crying was adorable. Still, after that theatrical sob fest, I finally slipped free of their relentless clutches and managed to catch my breath up on the wooden veranda, clutching a stick of yeot taffy someone had thrust into my tiny hands.
"Have any of you heard the latest from the Queen's Palace?"
At that single remark from one of the maids, my tears vanished as if by magic. If I wanted to survive in this den of vipers, gathering intelligence was top priority. My ears perked up instantly.
"Heard it? How could I not? They say an enormous abscess formed on her leg and oozed an ungodly amount of pus."
"The royal physicians are saying there's nothing more they can do."
"So the rumors are true—her days really are numbered."
In their hushed gossip about the Queen Consort—the woman known to history as Queen Inhyeon—there was neither reverent respect nor a trace of pity. From the perspective of Chwiseondang's maids, that was hardly surprising.
This was the royal palace, a ruthless cage where a lady's station dictated the lives and deaths of everyone serving under her. To the women here, Queen Min was nothing less than the sworn enemy who had dragged Royal Noble Consort Jang down from the queen's throne.
When in truth, both Queen Inhyeon and Jang Hui-bin are just tragic pawns in the grand scheme of things...
A pang of bitterness tugged at my heart, but what could anyone do? Joseon was a brutally unforgiving world for women.
"In any case," someone whispered conspiratorially, "once the Queen departs this world..."
"Then Her Ladyship Hui-bin-jaga will surely be reinvested as Queen Consort. And all of us will return to the Queen's Palace in triumph."
"Exactly. In the end, it's just a waiting game."
...Excuse me, ladies? You are all so catastrophically mistaken it hurts.
Only then did I finally comprehend why the maids were so nonchalant and buoyant. Every single one of them possessed rock-solid faith that the moment the Queen's seat fell vacant, Lady Jang would effortlessly reclaim the throne.
"Haaaah..."
I lowered the taffy stick I had been gnawing on. Forget taffy; what I desperately needed was a bowl of ice-cold water to wash down this suffocating dread. Better yet, a shot of soju.
I quietly pushed myself up onto my feet, using my tiny, fern-like hands to scoop up a few loose sheets of chuncheopja scattered across the wooden floor.
Time to get moving.
Pasting auspicious spring couplets onto the palace pillars was an indispensable Ipchun ritual. For now, I would play the part of a dutiful little court maid ringing in the spring. Of course, that was merely a convenient pretext; my real objective was scouting out the grounds of Chwiseondang.
The maids remained thoroughly engrossed in their lively gossip. Not a soul noticed the child maid slipping away from the far corner.
Hup!
I nearly despaired at how comically short my legs were when trying to hop down off the elevated veranda without help, but I pulled it off.
Tiptoe, tiptoe.
Once out of the inner courtyard, my little legs pumped into a full sprint. My destination was crystal clear. Even if I didn't know the exact room, the historical annals had left an indelible record.
The western sector of Chwiseondang.
The very spot where the private shamanic shrine used to curse Queen Inhyeon was erected—the fateful fuse that would ignite Jang Hui-bin's death sentence. I was going to find that shrine.
There's nothing here.
Chwiseondang was considerably larger than I had anticipated. Despite scurrying about until fine beads of sweat dotted my brow against the biting winter chill, I hadn't uncovered a single suspicious corner.
I had run into a couple of close calls while toddling around, nearly caught by two older child maids who were wandering the vicinity and muttering under their breath. Fortunately, my pint-sized frame had allowed me to duck out of sight in the nick of time.
Still, I think I've searched thoroughly enough.
Empty annexes, maids' quarters, the bathhouse perimeter...
Aside from the private inner sanctum of Lady Jang's bedchamber, I had poked my nose into practically every corner. There wasn't a trace of ritual altars, talismans, or shamanic paraphernalia anywhere.
"Whew..."
Catching my ragged breath, I sank down onto a stone stepping block.
Erecting a shamanic altar to place a deadly curse on Queen Inhyeon was the decisive, unforgivable charge that sent Jang Hui-bin to her death.
Which meant... what if the shrine hadn't even been built yet?
For the first time since plunging into this era, a spark of genuine hope ignited inside my chest.
If I prevent that shrine from ever being built in the first place, couldn't I avert Jang Hui-bin's poison-bowl ending entirely?
Prevent the shrine from being established.
→ Stop the curse against Queen Inhyeon from taking place.
→ Prevent Jang Hui-bin's execution.
→ Prevent the wholesale massacre of Chwiseondang's palace maids that followed in the wake of her death.
→ Conclusion: Hwang Bong-bong survives!
"Yes! Dat's it!" I declared, pumping my tiny fist in triumph.
Having to film an extreme survival drama trapped inside this puny toddler body was utterly suffocating, but what choice did I have? Even if the heavens collapsed, a resourceful graduate student always found a way to crawl out of the rubble.
Just as I braced myself to scramble stoutly back to my feet...
"Hey! What do you think you're doing over here?"
"A pint-sized pip-squeak like you is already slacking off?"
Two child maids of about ten years old materialized out of nowhere, planting themselves squarely in front of me with folded arms. I recognized their faces immediately.
It's the two who were loitering around earlier.
To be fair, ever since I first stepped out before the palace maids, these two had been glaring at me with venomous side-eyes.
We literally just met today, so why are they glaring at me like I owe them money?
As I blinked up at them with a blank expression, the taller of the two sneered.
"She looks so weird."
...Me?
"Her eyes are so huge they're downright creepy. And look at those flabby, bulging cheeks. Why is everyone making such a fuss over something so grotesque?"
"Tell me about it. I bet she's from filthy stock too. You're a slave girl, aren't you?"
Gasp. The unprovoked, unfiltered vitriol left me momentarily speechless.
...Calm down. Let's be understanding. Until I showed up, these two were probably the youngest, most pampered little darlings of Chwiseondang. They're just eaten up with jealousy.
I decided to summon the benevolent maturity of a twenty-something adult.
So keep it to one verse, children. Don't push your luck.
"Hey, how old did you say you were?"
I wasn't a pushover, and I certainly wasn't in the mood to give meek, obedient answers to playground bullies.
"Why you wanna know dat?"
"Ha! Where did this little insolent thing come from?" The glaring girl sneered with insufferable arrogance. "We're ten years old."
"Oh... weally?" I deadpanned, utterly unimpressed.
Listen here, kids. I am currently very busy plotting a grand survival strategy to keep myself, you two, and every maid in this pavilion from having their heads lopped off. So do me a favor and buzz off...
"Ha! She doesn't understand a single word!" The taller one scoffed in utter disbelief. "Hey. Back when I entered the palace, we were so terrified of our elders we couldn't even lift our heads when they walked by! But look at you—staring right into our faces with your chin held high!"
Oh.
A Joseon boomer?
"Exactly! As expected of lowborn trash, lazy to the bone!"
"I'm not playin'! I'm pastin' these up!"
I fluttered the paper chuncheopja in my hand, but all I got in return was a frigid, mocking sneer.
"Oh, is that so?"
The tall girl snatched the spring couplets right out of my hand. In a split second, the paper crumpled with a violent crunch. She flung the balled-up parchment straight into my face, sending the shorter girl into peals of spiteful laughter.
This isn't school bullying; it's palace bullying. Spiteful, rotten brats exist in every single era of human history...
With a heavy, resigned heart, I stared up at Big Ten-Year-Old and Little Ten-Year-Old as they cackled over their petty triumph.
Hey, you two... do you have any idea what you've done?
Because right now, you've just stepped into a whole world of trouble.