The staff burst into whispers as Mr. Kim settled back into his seat. His expression was unreadable, but his tone left no room for argument.
“Play it on the television,” he said.
Assistant Byun obeyed without hesitation, grabbing the remote as the room collectively held its breath.
“It’s out.”
“It’s trending before it was even uploaded.”
“Already hit a hundred thousand views—and it’s only been ten minutes.”
Phoenix frowned. The noise around him was rising, but his focus narrowed to the game on his screen. He didn’t recall getting the script for this drama—or maybe he had, and ignored it. After all, he’d been deep into filming Backstreet Fighters. But even so, the buzz in the room left a bitter taste in his mouth.
They weren’t this excited for his project.
Then he heard the name, and it all clicked.
“Oska’s in this,” someone whispered with awe. “Two more roles and one more award, and he’s in the Imperial Class.”
“That’s why everyone’s hyped, huh?”
“Are we sure it’s not because of Zeno Han?”
Phoenix didn’t answer. He simply shrugged and turned back to his phone, resuming his game as Assistant Byun finally pressed play.
No wonder they were excited. Oska Baek was in it.
The screen lit up.
A man stood at the edge of a rooftop, framed by moonlight. His silhouette trembled in the cold glow, wind teasing the hem of his long coat. Below, the world bustled with noise and light—but up here, it was nothing but stillness.
His eyes were hollow and haunted but somehow still peaceful.
It appeaered he had given up yet found freedom in doing so. Then, without a word, he stepped forward.
With one breath and heartbeat—
He fell.
The screen cut to black.
A chorus of gasps echoed in the room.
– Did he fall for real?
– Fuck, AI is getting scarier by the day. That looked real. Like… real real.
– I thought he actually jumped.
– I hate to admit it, but the production and editing are insane.
– You’re all liars. Didn’t you all swear to boycott this? And now look at you.
– Including you, mate. Don’t act innocent.
The trailer continued.
Hajin burst into view, charging down an alley, fists clenched and blood trailing behind him. Shouts rang from behind—”Get back!”—but he didn’t stop. His steps were ragged and desperate. The camera followed him through winding streets, down uneven cobblestone alleys, into darkness.
Then, he crashed into a courtyard lit with paper lanterns and strange, watching eyes.
A pavilion of silk and suspicion where nobles froze mid-conversation.
But Hajin stared back, harder. Because he knew this place.
And in that moment, the realization hit.
He wasn’t from here.
The next scene plunged him into a river, water thrashing around him. He gasped for air, arms flailing—and caught sight of his reflection.
It wasn’t him anymore.
“Hajin Yi!” a voice cried out.
He froze. That wasn’t just a dream. He had transmigrated.
The river faded, and now he stood in a golden hall. On the high throne stood King Jum, towering above them all.
“You have a chance,” the king said, voice reverberating across the marble chamber. “Each and every one of you. Sons. Nephews. Cousins. Do you not see what is at stake?”
Silence.
The camera panned slowly—ambition shimmering in every royal’s eyes. But Hajin… Hajin already knew how this story would end.
He’d read it all. The betrayals. The lies. The secret deaths behind silk curtains. He hadn’t come to this world for power.
He came here to live quietly and freely.
But then, he stepped forward.
“I am Hajin,” he began.
A shiver ran down Assistant Byun’s spine. Something about the voice didn’t feel like acting. It felt lived. As though Zeno Han had ripped this character from another life and bled into him.
And suddenly, Assistant Byun forgot what he was supposed to be doing—finding flaws intthe trailer. He was mesmerized.
Zeno spoke again.
“Son of the Crown Prince. Son of the woman you tried to erase.”
He smiled.
Just a little. Just enough to rattle the room.
“And today…” Hajin declared, “I eat first.”
The court froze. One official lowered his head. Then another. And another. Until only the royals remained, locked in their seats, rage simmering beneath their stillness.
Hajin looked at them all.
“And if the heavens allow it,” he said, “I will burn this house down.”
He stepped forward again.
“Brick by brick.”
“Lie by lie.”
“Until all that remains—”
A pause. Then—
“Is a throne.”
Flashes erupted across the screen.
Swords drawn in shadow.
Poison swirled in crystal goblets.
Screams in long palace corridors.
Brothers bleeding.
Cousins wailing.
A kingdom collapsing.
And in the middle of it all was Hajin.
Walking calmly through the ruins.
At last, the chaos dimmed. The throne stood, gleaming in silence.
And Hajin stood before it.
He turned.
One look.
And the only word that came to mind was glorious.
Darkness swallowed the screen.
THE FORSAKEN PRINCE
The staff room fell into stunned silence. The only sound came from Phoenix’s phone.
“All Kill!” the voice-over boomed, announcing the complete annihilation of his in-game team. Their towers were being invaded now. Phoenix stared blankly at the screen, then tossed his phone onto the table with a sigh.
But then he looked up.
Everyone’s faces had changed.
The television still glowed with the bold letters.
THE FORSAKEN PRINCE
Phoenix slowly turned to Mr. Kim, who once again tapped his pen rhythmically against the table.
The CEO’s usual air of confidence was replaced with something pensive.
The original objective had been to push Oska into Imperial Class. The trailer alone might’ve been enough to achieve that.
But there was a problem.
Throughout the trailer, he didn’t notice Oska. Not even once.
Along with that, Ryeo Wang hadn’t taken the spotlight either.
It was someone else.
Someone Mr. Kim wasn’t fond of.
Zeno Han.
Mr. Kim rose from his seat. All eyes turned to him, expecting a comment or even an insult.
But he said nothing. That was the worst part—his silence. He always had something to say. A correction. A cutting remark. But now, he remained eerily still.
The room grew colder.
The trailer ended minutes ago, but the title still glared on-screen.
Mr. Kim clicked his tongue and turned sharply to Assistant Byun.
“Turn it off.”
