The soft glow of your television was the only light left in your apartment.

Outside, the city had long since settled into its usual rhythm of distant traffic and scattered streetlights, but inside, the only sound was the ending credits of yet another episode of My Royal Nemesis. You'd lost count of how many times you'd rewatched the series. It had become a comfort show—the kind you put on after a long day because you already knew every twist, every confession, every betrayal, every moment that made your heart race.

You knew exactly when Cha Se-gye's expression would soften for the first time.

You knew every argument that would eventually become flirtation.

You knew which characters could be trusted and which smiles concealed knives.

Most importantly...

You knew how the story ended.

As the final notes of the soundtrack faded, Netflix automatically minimized the credits, asking if you wanted to replay the series.

You smiled to yourself.

"I probably could recite the dialogue at this point."

Stretching your arms above your head, you stood from the couch and wandered toward the kitchen. Your mug of tea had gone cold hours ago, forgotten the moment the episode reached one of Cha Se-gye's most memorable scenes.

You shook your head, laughing quietly.

"Seriously," you muttered to yourself. "Someone tell that man to communicate like a normal human being."

Despite your teasing, you couldn't deny he was your favorite character.

Not because he was impossibly handsome—though that certainly didn't hurt—but because beneath the polished suits and icy demeanor was someone painfully human. Every decision he made came from years of pressure, loneliness, and expectations that no one should have to carry alone.

He wasn't cold because he enjoyed it.

He'd simply forgotten there was another way to survive.

You'd always admired that gradual transformation throughout the drama. The way he learned to trust. To laugh. To let someone else shoulder part of his burdens.

Your phone buzzed on the counter with a notification, pulling you from your thoughts.

You barely glanced at it before setting it aside.

Another email.

It could wait until tomorrow.

Returning to the living room, you paused in front of the television. The replay countdown ticked lower.

Five...

Four...

Three...

With a small shrug, you grabbed the remote.

"One more episode."

The screen flashed.

Not the normal transition.

White.

Blindingly white.

The television emitted a high-pitched ringing unlike anything you'd ever heard before.

Your smile disappeared.

"...What?"

The light grew brighter.

Far brighter than any television should be capable of producing.

You instinctively shielded your eyes.

The air around you shifted.

At first it felt like a gust of wind, impossible considering every window was closed. Then the floor beneath your feet vibrated.

The bookshelf rattled.

Picture frames tilted.

Your heartbeat quickened.

"This isn't funny..."

The room stretched.

No...

It warped.

The walls twisted inward as though your apartment had become a reflection in rippling water. Furniture blurred into streaks of color while the television expanded until it occupied your entire field of vision.

You tried to step backward.

Your foot found nothing.

Your stomach lurched.

The sensation of gravity vanished completely.

You were falling.

There was no floor.

No ceiling.

No apartment.

Only endless light swallowing everything you knew.

You opened your mouth to scream, but the sound never escaped.

Instead—

Silence.

...

A voice drifted through the darkness.

"...Miss?"

Another voice.

"Is she alright?"

"...Should someone call security?"

Your eyelids felt impossibly heavy.

When you finally managed to open them, brilliant crystal chandeliers came into focus overhead.

You blinked.

Once.

Twice.

That...

That wasn't your ceiling.

Slowly, you pushed yourself upright.

A polished marble conference table stretched before you.

Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked an unmistakable skyline.

Dozens of men and women in tailored business suits stared directly at you.

Some looked confused.

Others looked annoyed.

One woman appeared deeply concerned.

The room was utterly silent.

"...Miss?"

A younger man standing near the projector offered an awkward smile.

"Are you feeling alright?"

Your pulse hammered in your ears.

Where...?

No.

It couldn't be.

You looked around more carefully.

The company logo displayed on the presentation screen made your blood run cold.

BIOJEI

Your breath caught.

"...No way."

You recognized that logo.

You'd seen it in almost every episode.

It was the headquarters.

The boardroom.

The exact boardroom.

"No..."

Your whisper was barely audible.

"No, no, no..."

This wasn't possible.

This wasn't real.

It had to be a dream.

You looked down at yourself.

Your own sweater.

Your own jeans.

The same sneakers you'd been wearing in your apartment.

Your hands trembled as you touched your face.

Your hair.

Your skin.

Everything was still yours.

You hadn't become Shin Seo-ri.

You hadn't swapped bodies.

You were...

You.

A ripple of panic spread through your chest.

If you were still yourself...

Then where was the female lead?

Before you could think further, an unfamiliar silence settled over the room.

Not awkward.

Expectant.

Every executive's attention shifted past you.

You instinctively followed their gaze.

At the opposite end of the table sat a man in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit.

One hand rested lightly against a stack of documents.

The other held a sleek fountain pen.

His posture was impeccable.

Dark hair neatly styled.

Sharp jawline.

Expression unreadable.

Eyes that seemed capable of dissecting every thought before it was spoken.

Cha Se-gye.

Not Heo Nam-jun.

Not an actor.

Cha Se-gye.

Real.

Alive.

Watching you.

His presence somehow felt even more intimidating than it ever had on television.

The room itself seemed to revolve around him.

He didn't need to raise his voice.

He didn't need dramatic gestures.

The simple lift of one eyebrow was enough to make several executives visibly tense.

He studied you for several long seconds.

His gaze flickered briefly over your completely inappropriate clothing before returning to your face.

"...Is there a problem?" he asked calmly.

His voice.

Exactly the same.

Deep.

Measured.

Controlled.

The voice you'd heard dozens of times through your television speakers now echoed through the conference room.

You completely forgot how to speak.

Cha Se-gye tilted his head almost imperceptibly.

"You've interrupted today's presentation."

Every word was polite.

Professional.

Yet somehow carried enough weight that you felt like a student being questioned by the strictest professor imaginable.

"If something requires our attention," he continued, "I'd appreciate knowing what it is."

Your brain finally restarted.

Presentation?

You looked toward the projector.

A half-finished PowerPoint remained frozen on the screen.

Then memory crashed into you.

This scene.

This exact scene.

Episode one.

This was supposed to be Shin Seo-ri's disastrous first meeting with Biojei.

The meeting where she accidentally embarrassed herself in front of Cha Se-gye.

The meeting that started everything.

Except...

Shin Seo-ri wasn't here.

You were.

A horrifying realization settled over you.

If the heroine wasn't here...

Then the story had already changed.

Every future event suddenly became uncertain.

Would Kang Dan-sim still appear?

Would the historical soul still cross into the modern world?

Would every major event unfold differently because one person was missing?

Or...

Had you replaced her entirely?

"...Miss?"

One of the executives spoke again.

"You seem pale."

You forced yourself to inhale.

Think.

Think.

You knew this drama.

You knew every twist.

That gave you an advantage.

Didn't it?

Unless your mere existence had already rewritten the script.

Cha Se-gye rose from his chair.

The movement was smooth and unhurried, yet every person in the room instinctively straightened.

He walked around the conference table with measured steps until he stood only a few feet away.

He was taller than you'd imagined.

Close enough now that you could notice details the camera had never captured—the faint scent of cedarwood from his cologne, the subtle crease between his brows that appeared whenever he was evaluating someone, the quiet confidence in the way he carried himself.

His expression remained unreadable.

"You've been staring at me for quite some time."

Heat rushed to your face.

Right.

You'd been openly gawking.

Fantastic first impression.

He waited.

Patiently.

Not impatient.

Not rude.

Simply waiting for an explanation.

Your mind raced through every possible response.

Tell him the truth?

"Hi, I'm from another universe and I've watched your entire life unfold on Netflix."

Absolutely not.

Lie?

About what?

You didn't even know why you were standing in this room.

What role you were supposed to have.

Or how anyone here knew your name.

Cha Se-gye seemed to notice your hesitation.

His gaze sharpened ever so slightly.

"There wasn't a scheduling error."

His tone remained calm.

"You were expected."

Expected?

Your confusion must have shown because he continued.

"You accepted today's invitation personally."

Invitation?

You had?

Except...

You hadn't.

Someone else had.

Someone who no longer existed.

Or perhaps...

Someone whose place you had somehow taken.

The realization sent another chill down your spine.

This wasn't simply a visit.

The world had already rewritten itself around you.

To everyone else in this room...

You belonged here.

You swallowed hard.

Across from you stood one of the most powerful men in Korea—a man whose entire future you knew by heart.

At least...

You thought you did.

Because the moment you had opened your eyes in this world, the story of My Royal Nemesis had stopped following its script.

And whatever happened next...

Neither you nor Cha Se-gye had any way of knowing how the ending would change.