“I want to eat kimchi.”
Every Korean would deeply understand and resonate with these two words, nodding in agreement.
Imagine this:
A man, born as a proud Korean, endures the mandatory military service, working through 18 months of hardship on a salary that’s less than half the minimum wage.
His life consists of grueling labor and constant control and suppression, 24 hours a day, 365 days a year.
He lives in an isolated, remote place, cut off from society, surrounded by a group of other men, rubbing sweaty shoulders with one another.
For 18 months, or two years in the past, they must endure this life.
The absurdities from the seniors, the incompetence of the juniors, and the irresponsibility of the officers constantly beat him down.
He suffers, but still manages to keep going.
He saves every penny from his military pay, putting it into his military savings fund, dreaming of a happy future.
Youth.
He plans to enjoy his youth once this hell is over.
When his time on this island without a sea is over, he’ll use the money he’s saved to embrace youth.
First, he’ll get a clean passport, search for affordable plane tickets online.
England? France? Germany? Japan? Anywhere is fine.
He imagines buying a ticket with his now full wallet and flying in economy class, if not first class, enjoying the in-flight meal served by a beautiful flight attendant.
At that moment, it hits him.
Ah, I’m traveling abroad.
Paris in France? Tokyo in Japan? London in England? Wherever it is, it doesn’t matter.
He leaves behind the densely forested, cramped Korea and arrives in a completely different culture, trying their food until his taste buds, accustomed to military food, are overwhelmed.
After spending three blissful days, waking up in a soft queen-size bed in a hotel bathed in warm sunlight, he dresses lightly and heads to the lounge for a cup of coffee.
Sipping the rich, slightly bitter coffee with a tangy flavor, he mutters to himself:
“But I’m starting to crave kimchi.”
That’s how it goes. It had to be.
Born a man in Korea, after experiencing his first overseas trip post-military service, he enjoys the first pages of his youth, and in the future, he’ll reminisce with a wrinkled smile about this time.
At least, at the very least…
“….Excuse me? What did you just say, miss?”
It’s not the kind of thing you’d expect from a noblewoman dressed like someone from a fairy tale.
“Oh! I was just talking to myself! No, really, just talking to myself!”
The woman, who had been sighing moments earlier, quickly waved her hands in embarrassment at the maid’s question, nervously switching between formal and informal speech.
“Yes, I understand, miss.”
‘….Yes. Right.’
‘I still can’t get used to this…’
Looking through the mirror at the maid, who had gone back to focusing on her task, the woman sighed again.
Then, she turned her gaze away from the mirror and looked straight ahead.
The first thing she saw was her long, glossy black hair.
The waves at the top were coated with fragrant oil, making it feel as smooth as silk.
Below that, her sharp eyes and long lashes gave her a striking, almost fierce look.
Blinking her crimson eyes, as red as rubies, she looked like a typical villainous lady.
Even she, who was gazing at herself in the mirror, found her appearance both beautiful and intimidating.
Suddenly—
“Ouch?!”
While quietly receiving the maid’s brushing, some of her hair got caught, and she winced in pain.
“Oh no! I’m so sorry, miss!!”
The maid, who had been carefully tending her hair, instantly went pale, dropping the brush and apologizing while trembling like a vibrating phone.
“…It’s fine, get up.”
“…Pardon?”
“I said it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”
It was just a small incident while fixing her hair, nothing to fret over.
The woman gently placed her hand on the maid’s shoulder and reassured her softly.
This woman, now called Rosaria Evergarden, had somehow found herself in the body of a character from a fantasy novel she’d read back when she was still in the military.