Chapter 1. I Take Care of My Own Body
If only something like a novel would happen to me.
Staggering along Yanghwa Bridge, I thought that.
And then I regretted it.
This wasn't why I'd become a Korean medicine doctor.
I never imagined I wouldn't even last three years after opening my clinic.
I never imagined I'd end up buried under a mountain of debt—really, truly never.
But at that moment, I couldn't have foreseen it.
That I would fall from Yanghwa Bridge—
And become the crown prince of an empire straight out of a novel.
That I would scorch a vampire's back with moxibustion.
That I would drive long acupuncture needles into a dragon's wing joints.
And that I would come to be called the divine physician of a fictional world—
Back then, honestly, truly, I had no idea.
♣
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Ugh… it's hot.
A voice tapped lightly inside my head.
At the unfamiliar alert, I-han furrowed his brow. Somehow, even in his sleep, he could feel heat.
Had the alcohol not worn off yet?
Was this a vicious hangover?
That might be it.
Just moments ago, a bitter winter wind had been howling across Yanghwa Bridge. If I'd collapsed and fallen asleep there, I should have been freezing. No—actually, I had…
I fell.
I-han flinched, hunching his shoulders.
Now that I thought about it, it came back to him.
He hadn't meant to fall.
His chest just felt unbearably tight.
Drunk, he thought he'd shout it all out, clear his head.
He'd grabbed the railing of Yanghwa Bridge and raised his voice—
And then he'd slipped over the edge.
Then right now, I should be in the Han River in the dead of winter.
A death he hadn't even meant to choose. Fear welled up.
And yet, strangely, he wasn't cold.
He was hot.
At least that was something, he thought.
A crooked grin spread across his lips.
Then it happened.
"…Your Highness."
A strange voice tapped against his ears.
Filled with concern, the voice called to him again.
"Your Highness the Crown Prince, are you conscious?"
It didn't stop there.
A soft palm pressed against his shoulder, shaking him gently, anxiously.
…What was this?
Right now, I should be dedicating my entire body to checking the Han River's water temperature(?). Had 119 already arrived so fast? Had they pulled me out before I died?
As expected of Korea's legendary 119.
I-han smiled in satisfaction.
So I wasn't dead. That was good.
That was enough. As long as he was alive, he could start again. The debt piled up after closing the clinic was terrifying, sure—but it was still better than dying.
Let's do better this time.
Paying off debt would mean a lot of hardship.
Still, let's find some courage.
Let's make a fresh start.
With that firm resolve, he opened his eyes.
And went blank.
"…Huh?"
The scenery before him looked nothing like the Han River.
And the person in front of him wasn't a 119 rescuer either.
"Your Highness! Can you see me?"
A man shaking him, on the verge of tears.
A foreigner.
And an unbelievably handsome middle-aged man at that. Smooth features, brown hair, and a mustache. If you took Brad Pitt and Tom Cruise, mixed them 50:50, chopped them up, mashed them together, and went ta-da—that kind of face.
Swallowing his bewilderment, I-han asked without thinking,
"Um… who are you?"
"…Pardon?"
He had asked just one simple question.
Yet the handsome middle-aged man's face crumpled even further. His reply was soaked with tears.
"Sn–sniff…! Your Highness, don't tell me you truly don't remember me? Even so, I will continue to serve you. After all, I am your personal physician, Gardin!"
"..."
Something was very wrong with this situation.
At first, I-han thought it might be some kind of prank.
But the more he looked, the more it clearly wasn't.
If that was acting, then forget the Grand Bell Awards—he'd easily take home an Academy Award for Best Actor. And beyond the handsome middle-aged man, the scenery around them was strange too.
It's indoors. And ridiculously luxurious. What is this place?
I-han rolled his eyes around.
Even being generous, the room had to be over 300 square meters. And the walls and ceiling were extravagantly opulent beyond belief.
Perhaps noticing his unease, the man who called himself "Gardin" spoke quickly.
"Do you remember now? This is Your Highness's bedchamber. You were writing in your diary earlier, so I stepped out for a moment… but when you didn't call for me after a while, I came back in and found you unconscious, having vomited blood."
Bedchamber? This place?
And I'm 'Your Highness'? Why?
Nothing made sense anymore.
Confusion swirled.
I-han tried to stay calm.
He spoke to the still-sniffling middle-aged man.
"Um… my throat's a bit dry. Could I have some water…?"
"Here it is!"
Before he could even finish, the man thrust a cup toward him at the speed of light. It was an outrageous goblet, lavishly decorated with gold, silver, and gemstones.
"..."
That diamond embedded in it—no matter how you looked at it, it didn't seem like cubic zirconia. And the handle… the more he looked, the more it screamed 24-karat gold.
It somehow felt sacrilegious to even put his lips to it.
But thirst came first.
He took the cup.
Tilted it.
Gulp, gulp. He drank deeply.
Then, by chance, his gaze landed on a large mirror standing some distance away. In it was the image of a pale, unfamiliar young man.
"..."
A man sitting up in bed. A man drinking from a goblet while staring into the mirror. And yet, the goblet in the mirror didn't feel unfamiliar at all.
A 24-karat gold handle.
Diamonds on an entirely different level from cheap cubic zirconia.
A cup so extravagant it felt wrong to even touch with one's mouth.
Holding that cup, quenching his thirst—
"…Pff!"
He spat it out.
Both here, and in the mirror.
At the same time, a huge spray of water burst forth.
"Y-Your Highness!"
Gardin jumped in shock, hurriedly pulling out a towel. He dabbed gently at I-han's mouth and chest as though handling priceless treasure.
All the while, I-han stared unblinkingly at the mirror. In it, Gardin was wiping down the young man's lips as well.
That… that's me?
Not a man in his early forties.
But a fresh young man in his early twenties.
And somehow, that face felt strangely familiar.
He was certain he'd seen it somewhere before…
"…Rakiel Adria Magentano."
It came back to him.
Without a doubt.
That pale face.
That prickly expression and sharp gaze.
The novel he'd been reading up until just that afternoon—
The Emperor of the Demonic Sword… also known as Demon Sword Emperor.
It was a character from that novel. The illustration of the crown prince looked exactly like this. No—this was practically a carbon copy pasted straight into reality.
Then… am I Rakiel right now?
Is this for real?
No, it felt like a dream.
But no matter how he looked at it, it was reality.
The sensations of his body, the scenery around him—far too vivid and concrete to dismiss as a dream or hallucination.
"H-haha…"
A belated realization.
A laugh slipped out on its own.
It was like shackles had fallen away.
So I've become the crown prince inside a novel?
That seemed to be the case.
And the meaning of that was perfectly clear.
The enormous loans and interest that had remained after his Korean medicine clinic went under.
It meant he had escaped that shackle.
It also meant he no longer had to claw his way through life just to pay off debt.
"Hah… hahaha, haha."
This must be exactly how it feels to pick up a winning first-prize lottery ticket off the street.
His chest swelled with emotion.
He jumped to his feet.
And then—
"…Huh?"
Whiiirl.
Suddenly.
Without warning.
The world spun.
Anemia? Dizziness?
He didn't know.
His legs simply gave out.
As a result, he couldn't even fully stand and had to slump back onto the bed.
"A-ah?! Y-Your Highness!"
A horrified Gardin hurried to support him.
"Ugh… I… why…?"
Why did his entire body feel so powerless?
It was strange.
It didn't make sense.
At his early twenties, he should have been in his prime. And yet he felt weak and frail, like someone who hadn't eaten properly in ten days. Far more feeble than his original body back in his forties.
"…Wait."
I-han froze.
His gaze turned toward the mirror.
"..."
Then it came back to him.
The early storyline of the novel Demon Sword Emperor.
Crown Prince Rakiel wasn't the protagonist. He was nothing more than a background character who appeared briefly at the beginning.
A chronic illness he'd suffered from since childhood worsened.
He coughed and hacked in bed until—croak.
He died at the young age of twenty-two.
After that, the empire was swept into the vortex of a great war. Amid that chaos, the true protagonist walked the path of a real hero.
That was the opening of the novel Demon Sword Emperor.
…Let me summarize. So this means I've possessed a sickly crown prince who suffers from a chronic illness and goes 'ugh' and dies in the early part of the novel.
So much for becoming royalty.
So much for being done with hardship.
The soaring joy crashed down into icy dread. Only now did realization come crashing over him like a wave.
Let me say this clearly.
If this really is reality—
I'm screwed.
♣
"Whew. So this is real."
Thirty minutes had passed.
I-han—no, Rakiel—stood facing the familiar mirror. In it was a pale, silver-haired man. Crown Prince Rakiel Adria Magentano.
This is wild.
It really was.
That the person in the mirror was himself.
Honestly, it was hard to believe.
But that's not what matters.
Rakiel furrowed his brow.
Whether he was a crown prince or not.
Whether he held power and wealth or not.
If he died coughing up blood, it was game over.
And the more he learned, the worse the situation became.
"Gardin. I'm twenty-one years old right now?"
"Yes, Your Highness."
"..."
Current age: twenty-one.
Judging by the novel's progression—
Even if I stretch it as far as possible, that means I've got at most one year left to live.
A deep sigh escaped him.
How had he ended up like this?
This isn't some novel cliché…
How on earth had he become a character inside a novel?
He didn't know.
He couldn't understand it.
But there was one fact that was absolutely certain.
I've finally reached a high status, and I could live a carefree, cushy life.
But there was an obstacle.
A very big one.
I'm supposed to die before even a year passes.
Amid his repeated sighs, Rakiel recalled the novel's opening chapters. Fortunately, he had a very good memory and could retrace most of the plot.
Rakiel was the crown prince, and he received every treatment the imperial family had.
He enjoyed the very best medical care.
He received countless blessings from priests.
But none of it mattered.
Even after pouring in the full might of the imperial family like ladling out bone broth, Crown Prince Rakiel in the novel failed to overcome his illness and died.
Which means there's only one answer.
With the medical arts of this world, there was no hope of survival. Even mobilizing the greatest clergy made no difference. The novel had already proven that all of those methods failed. Knowing that, he had no intention of relying solely on this world's medicine.
So then?
There was only one option left.
Rakiel reached his conclusion.
Do you really think I'm going to die meaninglessly, just like in the novel, after finally getting this guaranteed life of wealth and glory as royalty?
He absolutely did not want to die.
He would try everything he could.
And thankfully—truly thankfully—he possessed something that had never been attempted in this world: Korean medicine.
"Whew. Gardin?"
"Yes, Your Highness?"
Rakiel spoke to him.
"From now on, I've got some acupuncture to do… no, some things to take care of. Go out and bring me needles. The size doesn't matter—just bring as many as you can."
"…Pardon?"
Gardin flinched in surprise.
Rakiel smiled faintly.
And in his heart, he made a firm vow.
If he was a crown prince standing on the brink of death—
And if the medicine of this world couldn't save him—
Then constitutional reform, restoring vitality, nourishing the body, boosting stamina and life force—
From now on, I'll take care of my own body.