The Man Who Took a Photo with the King

A movie about King Danjong had just come out. It wasn't about his reign; it was about the aftermath of the Gyeyu Reconstruction, after everything was already over and he had been exiled to Yeongwol.

As for the ending... well, to avoid spoilers, unless you spent your middle and high school Korean history classes in a deep, uninterrupted coma, you already know it. Shockingly, Danjong dies.

People had plenty of opinions about the plot, the historical accuracy, and the direction, but personally, my take was simple: I cried like a baby. The elderly woman next to me sobbed, and the middle schoolers in the front row, who looked like they'd come together, wailed so hard they were loudly blowing their noses. Yet, not a single soul complained about the noise. Honestly, no one had the emotional bandwidth left to care. I can't even remember if the person who grabbed my arm and wept, mistaking me for their relative, was that elderly woman or some random middle-aged man. It couldn't be helped, really.

The movie poster itself was downright sadistic. It featured a strangely youthful-looking idol-turned-actor standing shoulder-to-shoulder and smiling with a veteran middle-aged actor whose legendary filmography consisted of carrying entire movies on his back. Even if you stripped away the title and the tagline, the message was clear. It was practically a threat from the production crew: We are going to make you cry tears of blood. How could anyone look at that poster and not buy a ticket? Just staring at it made me picture the final scenes and choke up. At the very least, ten million people in South Korea would agree with me now—which is to say, ten million people were eager to throw themselves into this emotional woodchipper and sob. My Instagram feed proved it. It was flooded with lunatics who had watched the movie and immediately dragged themselves all the way to Yeongwol the very next day.

"..."

"Over here! Come here! There's a photo zone right here! A photo... Excuse me, young man!"

"...Yes?"

"Could you take a picture of us here?"

Well, make that one more lunatic. I had suggested the trip to the friends I'd watched the movie with, but they'd all flatly refused. So I came alone. All the way to Cheongryeongpo in Gwangcheon-ri, Nam-myeon, Yeongwol, Gangwon Province. A reasonably young guy wandering around by himself was the ultimate target for group tourists looking for a photographer. Sure enough, people kept swarming me, thrusting their phones into my hands. I had just finished taking my fifteenth group photo for ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠some hiking club and handed the phone back to an older gentleman, receiving high praise that I should turn professional.

It had been a grueling journey. I'd waited over three hours just to board the ferry to Cheongryeongpo. Hailing a ride to the dock had taken forever, and the bumper-to-bumper traffic on the highway had tested my sanity. No wonder my friends had bailed. Still, I had persevered. I'd hoped to snag at least one decent photo for my Instagram feed, but with no one to take it for me and every square inch of the background crawling with tourists, it felt hopeless. Not that I regretted coming. Well... okay, maybe a little? It was far more crowded than I'd anticipated, and my selfies were turning out garbage. It was still early spring, so the trees were completely barren. I was desperately tilting my phone, trying to find a flattering angle, when—

"Excuse me! Over here!"

"..."

...Scratch that. No, not the part about regretting it.

"Would you like me to take a photo of you?"

Compared to this guy, I wasn't a lunatic at all.

"Uh... yes. Thank you."

After all, anyone who had dragged themselves all the way out here wearing a full gonryongpo—the royal crimson robe—was on a whole different level of madness. I stared at the man. He wore the robe, the ikseongwan crown, and he'd even styled his hair into a flawless, authentic topknot. If he'd gone to all the trouble of putting together such a high-effort cosplay, shouldn't I be the one taking his picture? The thought naturally crossed my mind. But before I could speak, I found myself handing him my phone. He fiddled with the screen for a moment, then aimed the camera at me.

"Oh... oh! It works. I'm finally getting the hang of this."

"Ah, ahaha... Thank you."

"No matter how many times I see this, it's fascinating. A portrait appears with just the press of a button."

...He was really committed to the bit. Though speaking in modern Korean was a bit of a slip-up for a historical roleplay. I stood there awkwardly, unsure of how to play along, as the man gestured for me to shift left and right. He snapped a photo and showed it to me. Huh...

"...This actually turned out amazing."

"Well, I don't have much else to do around here, so I might as well practice."

"Do you work here?"

"Ah, something like that. I... handle civil petitions? I do a bit of everything to get by."

"Uh... right."

"Though my rank might go up soon? I thought I'd be able to do a few other things... but haha, it's not going very well."

"Wait, why..."

At those words, the man suddenly seemed to choke up. Handing my phone back, he said:

"Well, the thing is... I used to have a job, but someone suddenly started bullying me, and I got demoted."

"Excuse me?"

"And then I got fired entirely."

Wait, he looks incredibly young. Why is his life so full of dramatic twists and turns?

"After that, I managed to find a new job... but when I tried to make a fresh start, that same person bullied me again. People around me got hurt, and I got demoted from there too..."

"What? If ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠you don't mind me asking, how old are you...?"

"Me?" The man rolled his eyes as if wondering if he should say it, then counted on his fingers. "These days... you use international age here, right?"

"Yes."

"Then, well, it's a bit complicated, but roughly... sixteen?"

"Are you insane?!"

"Whoa, you startled me!"

"Sixteen is just a kid! You should have just entered high school, or... wait, where are you working part-time? Who is bullying you like that, and where?"

"Oh, come on, it's fine. Lots of people are coming here lately, and I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠think my rank is going to go up..."

"What kind of part-time job is like that?!"

"It's not really a part-time job, and well, it's complicated to explain..."

"Complicated... to explain?"

"Ah, no, that's not what I meant."

"A sixteen-year-old... working in some 'complicated' place and getting bullied? I'll help you, so tell me. What's your name, and where do you live?"

"You mustn't say such things so lightly!"

"..."

"...Ah, no, I'm sorry for shouting. It's just... it's not like that."

"Sigh, fine."

"Then..."

"I'll help you. I asked for your name."

"I told you, saying such things lightly—!"

"Quiet. An adult is talking."

"..."

Am I crazy? How could I just stand by? In the movie I just watched, wasn't Danjong sixteen when he died? I just cried my eyes out over that movie, dragged myself all the way here, and now I'm supposed to just nod and move on after hearing this kid's story? If I did that, I wouldn't be human. So I spoke up.

"Look, I said I'd help you. It's not like you're some orphan who was born in Aoji and drifted down to South Korea, right? Just tell me your name, and I'll—"

"N-no..."

Suddenly, the boy's face turned pale, and he collapsed to the ground.

"I... I told you, you mustn't say such things so lightly..."

I had no idea what kind of trauma he'd been through to react like this, but I couldn't just stand by and watch. I rolled up my sleeves and reached down to pull him up.

Just then, my head spun. My vision blurred so violently that the boy split into doubles and triples. As I collapsed, the boy frantically grabbed my arm, trying to pull me up. He seemed to be shouting something, but I couldn't hear him. No, wait, something was flickering before my eyes. Something... a strange image was overlapping with his afterimage.

Gong-ui On-mun Sun-jeong An-jang Gyeong-sun Don-hyo Great King... Did I study too hard? I can read it instantly... Wait, below that. The Spirit of Prince Nosan. ...And below that.

"Hongwi."

"I-I told you not to call me that!"

Of course, there was no way I didn't know that name. That name was the entire reason I'd rushed all the way to Yeongwol... Wait, what? Why does it feel like the ground is giving way...? Whoa! My body plunged downward. Straight down.

"I told you not to say those things so lightly!"

The boy's voice echoed like a fading memory. I fell endlessly, as if plunging into a bottomless well. All the light and sound of the world condensed into a single point and drifted away. I fell deeper and deeper. Darkness enveloped my entire body. In the slowly receding beam of light, the boy kept screaming in sheer panic. Even his voice grew faint. Ugh... uuuugh...

The speed of my descent surpassed the limits of my sanity. I gritted my teeth and squeezed my eyes shut. No way... it can't be that, right? With that thought, I forced my eyes open. In the distance, the 'boy'—Yi Hongwi, or rather, King Danjong—was desperately mouthing something. I couldn't make out his words, but I understood them instinctively: Yes, it is. Then, he threw something wildly toward me, but I couldn't tell what it was. I just closed my eyes tight.

...

...

...

An eternity seemed to pass. I blinked. Suddenly, a cold, crisp wind wrapped around my body. Before I could even process it, a strange light enveloped me, and I fell. *Plop.*

...Actually, it wasn't a hard thud, but a soft plop. Finally, the seemingly eternal fall had ended. I had never been so grateful for the simple existence of solid ground. But my relief was short-lived. The biting wind whipped against my face, threatening to freeze my cheeks off. The moment my senses returned, a bone-chilling cold surged through my entire body. I scrambled to my feet, only to find myself surrounded by a vast expanse of snow. But there was something far more alarming. I looked up at the towering forest canopy. I looked down at the snow-covered ground. It didn't change the reality. My line of sight was low. Ridiculously low. I stared at my hands. Then at my legs. They were tiny. Incredibly, impossibly small. While I stood frozen in shock, a flood of memories I had no right possessing rushed into my mind. Following the King's decree, my family had packed up everything to settle in the far northern frontier... No, no, wait. Why did these memories stop at age five? Please. Please tell me this isn't happening. Shivering violently, I stumbled toward a nearby frozen pond. I kicked away the snow with my poorly shod feet and peered into the icy surface. I saw a face. No, it wasn't my face. To be precise, it was my face from when I was about five years old.

As I stood there in a daze, I heard a soft crunch in the snow beside me. I whipped around and spotted a tiger cub about the size of a house cat. The most notable feature? It was bright blue. Of course, since I had been shrunk down to a five-year-old toddler, the cub didn't look particularly small to me. Strangely, though, I wasn't afraid. I felt absolutely zero fear. It was suicidal, really. If there was a tiger cub wandering ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the mountains, its parents were bound to be nearby, ready to tear me limb from limb. Yet, the thought didn't even cross my mind. Instead, it felt like a gift sent specifically to me.

"Uh... where are we?"

I even had the bizarre feeling that it could understand my words...

Gag.

*Plop.*

Well... okay. I picked up the small silk pouch the blue tiger had just coughed up and opened it. Inside was a slip of paper covered in tiny, cramped writing. It was written in Hangul—modern Hangul, not the archaic Hunminjeongeum. What's more, it was written horizontally from left to right. The font, of all things, was the Yeongwol typeface—a custom font developed by Yeongwol County—which I had seen plastered all over town on my way to Cheongryeongpo.

According to the new memories I had just acquired, the promulgation of the Hunminjeongeum was still a long way off. So, the sender was painfully obvious. The content of the note made it even clearer.

"..."

No, this can't be happening. This really, really can't be happening.

"Young Master! Oh, for the love of... Young Master! Where on earth did you go? Wandering off in a place where a tiger might carry you away, scaring me half to death...!"

It was a voice that felt strangely familiar. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't have recognized it, but according to this body's memories, it belonged to a family slave. He had followed us when my family pooled every last penny they owned to invest in the northern frontier development. Cold sweat began to pour down my neck. I had absolutely no idea what to do. For now, I turned to the baby tiger.

"What... year is it?"

Gag.

Great. Now I understand perfectly.

"H-hey... tiger? Can you pass a message to your master?" As the slave's voice drew closer, I whispered frantically to the cub. "So, look. I've read a few of these web novels. Is there, like, a quest or a goal I'm supposed to achieve...?"

Gag.

Ah. I see. A five-year-old toddler stranded in Aoji, Hamgil Province, just has to defeat Grand Prince Suyang and prevent the Gyeyu Reconstruction eighteen years from now. I understood perfectly. I collapsed face-first into the snow and wailed. I kept crying until the slaves finally found me and carried me back home.