An All-Too-Familiar Ceiling
"This is an unfamiliar ceiling..." I muttered to myself, but in truth, it was a ceiling I knew all too well.
A throbbing pain struck the back of my head irregularly, like being clubbed with a rock. When I groped my head with my hand, I felt a thin cloth. Judging by how my fingertips were stained red, the bleeding must have been severe. If I fell off a horse and didn't die, that's a win, right?
Anyway, I figured after my life flashed before my eyes all the way back to childhood, I'd get a black screen with massive white letters spelling out "The End" or maybe some grim reapers in hell would argue my case. But nothing like that happened. Instead, I just relived my life before being born as Yi Bang-yeon.
My previous life had been utterly ordinary. Born into a middle-class family in the capital region, I got into a decent Seoul university, and around age 27, I jumped off the Han River Bridge—a typical story for a guy in his twenties or thirties in the 2030s. Still, the interesting part was that, just like now, the back of my head had smashed into the ground at the end.
Oh, and the genders being completely flipped, too.
I wasn't sure if society here was rigidly patriarchal like in my past life or strictly matriarchal like this one seemed to be, but one thing was clear: in the 14th century, where human rights were a foreign concept, being born as the "weaker sex" outside the social elite was a raw deal.
There's an anecdote from 15th-century Germany that illustrates how the socially weak were treated back then. A man and woman met through rape, fell in love, but one day the woman vanished without a trace. The man, puzzled, went to her home looking for her, only to find her father instead. The father said, "I was short on cash, so I sold my eldest daughter to a brothel with me—what's the problem?" The man replied, "Damn... you should've at least told her before selling." And off he went to rape another woman. That was daily life in the Middle Ages.
To emphasize: I was born as a social weakling in that Middle Ages.
Compared to contemporary Europe, Goryeo treated men relatively better. Influenced by Buddhism, it promoted a somewhat horizontal moral system, emphasizing "nominal" equality even if differences existed. And due to the matriarchal structure, it couldn't entirely exclude men from political power, so in theory, men could enter officialdom and rise to positions like prime minister or minister.
But "nominal" and "in theory" mean "practically impossible."
In Korean history, the number of men who reached the power core as prime ministers or ministers is minuscule. Even expanding to Chinese history, it's just a few dozen. In this gender-reversed late Goryeo-early Joseon world, there's zero path for a man to rise.
That said, giving up on advancement for a comfortable life comes with massive risks. I've never heard the name Yi Bang-yeon in my past life. Yi Seong-gye's sons all appear, even briefly, in accounts of the First and Second Princes' Rebellions, so aside from Taejong Yi Bang-won or King Jeongjong Yi Bang-gwa, they're all mentioned at least once. Yet in every book or paper I've read, the sixth prince Yi Bang-yeon never comes up.
That means I either died before the Princes' Rebellions or I was born as a daughter. Historically, the real Yi Seong-gye only had two daughters from his wife in Hamheung. In other words, there shouldn't be two or more brothers born under my father in Hamheung. But right now, I have one younger brother below me. And my mother is pregnant.
She's already had one son and two daughters with her new husband in Gaegyeong, who's ten years younger. So the child she's carrying now is probably Yi Seong-gye's youngest, Princess Gyeong-sun.
If not, that's a whole other problem. If it's a girl, it just adds another player to the family's power struggles, complicating the math—and I hate complications.
Anyway, the lesser evil is that my reincarnation altered the Jeonju Yi clan genealogy just by my insertion. The worst is if Yi Bang-yeon—that is, me—died before 1392.
That's why I must pursue an official career. In this era, elites die from three main causes: 1) Yi Bang-won, 2) illness, 3) battle. Yi Bang-won's later clubbing can be avoided by not rebelling. Illness can be dodged with hygiene. But in this insane warrior clan, there's no escaping the draft.
In original history, the Jeonju Yi clan dragged all their kids except daughters to the battlefield. No joke— the Annals of the Joseon Dynasty record Yi Seong-gye's sons fighting on the front lines by age 17. In this gender-reversed world, being male offers no safety.
My own brother is already off cooking in the north. In this brutal family that casually collects enemy heads for fun when bored, there's only one way to avoid conscription: pass the gwag eo as fast as possible.
Indeed, Yi Bang-won lived cushily at his father-in-law's in Gaegyeong, laughing it up while his brothers slew wokou pirates, because he was the pride of the family as a gwag eo passer.
So for my survival, I need to pass the gwag eo at the earliest possible date and distance myself from the clan. It's ironic after calling the system useless, but right now isn't the time to nitpick ranks—it's about survival odds.
"Ow, my head hurts..." Thinking too hard with a cracked skull was agony. Maybe rolling around on the pillow didn't help.
I pushed open the door, and a star-studded sky twinkled into view—like someone had poked holes in cosmic paper lattice windows, letting silver light seep through. I slipped on some shoes haphazardly and staggered to the well.
The midnight estate was silent save for the occasional tick of sparks from torches. The round moon reflected on the water's surface. I cranked the pulley, and the moon melted away smoothly. Being only ten, I was too short to reach the bucket easily. I clambered onto nearby rocks, stood on tiptoe, leaned over—and my fingertips barely skimmed the floating bucket.
The moon was especially bright tonight. Just like when Li Bai drunkenly drowned gazing at it—
"Fuck."
The rock underfoot slipped out with a clack. My balance pitched forward violently. The water rushed up to my eyes. Just before my face hit, my vision lurched upward with a jolt.
"Can't leave you alone for a moment without an accident. We have slaves to draw water—why go to the well and try to drown yourself?"
I dangled like a kitten gripped by the scruff—right hand of my second-eldest sister, future King Jeongjong maybe, Yi Bang-eun.
She lifted me effortlessly, and our cold eyes met.
"Looks like the fall wasn't too bad if you're out here trying to turn yourself into a drowned rat. Bang-ul came in sobbing, cradling your blood-soaked body—I was worried. Glad my concern was unfounded."
Her red eyes bored into mine without a flicker. After a moment, she set me down.
Yi Bang-eun hauled up the bucket and handed it over, brimming to the point of sloshing.
"It's late. Drink and get back to bed."
"Yeah."
"Bang-yeon. Use proper speech."
"Yes, sister."
"Sisters don't get formal speech, Bang-yeon."
"Got it, sis."
"Even 'got it' isn't proper..."
She let out a long sigh. She waited silently until I finished drinking, then took the bucket and tossed it back into the well with a splash.
"Now really go sleep. Don't forget to greet Mother tomorrow. She's very worried too."
"Yeah, got it, sis."
Yi Bang-eun looked down with her still chilly, sharp gaze. After a brief silence, her firm lips parted.
"Don't be too hard on Bang-ul. It'd be great if everyone were as smart and stoic as you, but most people aren't. Be kinder to her—she's leaving for Gaegyeong soon, no need to drive another wedge into her heart."
"I won't say more to Bang-ul sis until she leaves for Gaegyeong."
"Good thinking. Does your forehead hurt, aside from the back?"
"Nah. Why?"
She knelt and stroked my forehead gently—delicate motions that never strayed to my occiput, her callused palm a stark contrast.
"Don't think Mother doesn't love you. She's just bad at showing it, but no one cherishes us more. You didn't see it, but she was the most shocked when you came home covered in blood. So don't hate her too much."
"I'll try to think positive."
Yi Bang-eun's eyes softened a touch. Her short hair swayed in the night breeze.
"And after Bang-ul leaves, don't suffer alone—come to me if it's tough. I'm here too."
She ruffled my hair roughly one last time and turned toward her room. She vanished silently into the darkness without a sound.
I stared after her, lips twitching as if to speak, then let it go.