Chapter 3: A Star’s Secret Legacy

When I was in middle school, I was cast on the street and became a trainee. After many ups and downs, I finally debuted, but I wasn’t very popular.

Still, the few fans we had always supported us from the audience whenever our team performed, bought our albums, and listened to our songs.

While others ignored us, these fans kept watching over me and sent me their love.

Growing up as an orphan in a childcare facility, I felt both grateful and guilty for receiving such unconditional love. I had nothing to give back in return.

The only way to repay those fans was to improve my skills, work hard, and present them with amazing performances and projects.

But now they want me to abandon my fans and live in hiding?

I can’t do that. That would be a betrayal of the fans who have supported me.

After much hesitation, I opened a communication app. While it wasn’t strictly limited to fans, it felt more comfortable than public social media.

[You must have been really worried. I’m sorry.]

-Are you okay?

-Don’t say sorry ㅠㅠㅠㅠ

-It’s okay.

-We understand, so don’t feel bad.

-I prayed for you every day!

I slowly read through each of their responses.

When something bad happens to a favorite celebrity, the fans suffer too.

They get hurt, argue with malicious commenters who cross the line, and worry endlessly. That made me feel even more sorry toward them.

[I’m discharged and resting at home. You must have been waiting for that live broadcast. I’m sorry.]

-Noㅠㅠㅠㅠ

-Oppa, you must have had a harder time, so why are you apologizing?

-Lee Young-ah, don’t be sorry.

Even the pre-recorded broadcast, filmed before the accident, was never aired. Ironically, my worries about my shoulder scar being exposed turned out to be pointless.

As I read the fans’ responses, I thought about how to address the upcoming news articles.

There was more shocking news beyond my manager’s death and the discovery of my grandmother.

Earlier that day, the DNA test results came out—it confirmed our blood relationship.

That also meant my real name was Song Yi-young.

Then, my grandmother told me the shocking truth behind my birth.

“I was born as the daughter of the Emperor of the Korean Empire and a shaman.

That’s why my identity was hidden and I was raised by other royal family members.

The sacred relic must be protected by the royal bloodline, so I accepted the spell that was engraved on my back.”

“Huh?”

I could only respond dumbfoundedly.

“You are a descendant of the Korean Empire’s royal family. The mark on your shoulder is a seal containing the sacred relic.”

As if discovering my grandmother wasn’t shocking enough, now I was told I was of royal blood?

I couldn’t even process my emotions and just listened to her story in a daze.

When the Seongso Temple disappeared, the shamans had to go into deeper hiding.

Shamans who weren’t the High Priestess sometimes entered the palace as court ladies.

Among them, one served the Emperor closely and bore his child. That child was then sent to a noble family expecting a baby.

“When the spell was engraved on my back, I learned the truth about my birth. But at that time, the country was on the verge of collapse, so I didn’t even care about who my real parents were. I never received a title anyway.”

Among the royal family, my grandmother was the only one who reacted to the sacred relic.

To protect it from invaders, they sealed it onto her back with a spell.

To hide the seal, she left Hanyang, and after the fall of the empire, she moved deep into the mountains of Gangwon Province.

“The elders always said the sacred relic must never fall into enemy hands. Fortunately, I was an unknown princess, so escaping Hanyang was easy.

But soon, things got even worse. People were being taken away to enemy nations. I knew that if I got caught, it would be over.

So I hid myself. I even dug a hole in the ground and lived inside it at one point.”

The other royal descendants were forcibly sent overseas. Even after Korea’s liberation, my grandmother continued to live in hiding.

Then, she met a skilled farmer, married him, and had a daughter. Even as her daughter grew up and started a family, she never left Gangwon Province.

But one day, my parents decided to move to Seoul.

“My son-in-law was scouted by a company in Seoul, so they wanted to raise you there. I was terrified and objected, but they insisted on leaving.”

Less than a year later, the police came knocking.

“They said it was a car accident. The bodies were so damaged they were barely recognizable.”

So my parents also died in a car accident… They hadn’t abandoned me after all.

But another car accident?

The police said it seemed like they had been dead for over a month when they were found.

“The spell on Yeon-ju’s back disappeared, so I thought it had vanished with her death. When I went to Seoul to find you, you were nowhere to be found.”

She had checked unidentified child victims of accidents, reported me missing, and even looked through police records.

“It was hopeless, so I sought out the royal descendants’ gathering. I didn’t have the strength to find you alone.

Luckily, there were people who knew about me and the sacred relic, so they helped me search for you.”

And now, she had decided to stop living in hiding.

“I was wrong to see you as a child and dismiss your career. You have your own life, but I was trying to impose my will on you.

And hiding won’t help anymore. It’s better to reveal the truth, even if it brings danger.

That way, if something happens to me, people will at least know why. It might also help protect you from those who wish to harm you.”

The first step was a press conference led by my grandmother and the royal descendants’ group, The Royal Association.

They planned to expose the ongoing attacks against royal descendants.

“But will you be okay with the world knowing you’re a royal descendant?”

Her question made me hesitate.

Fame brings money and prestige, but it also makes you vulnerable. One mistake, and everything can come crashing down.

Would revealing my royal lineage affect my career as an idol and actor?

I was worried, but in the end, I agreed—hoping that this would help catch the hit-and-run driver who killed my manager.

[My dear Creams! There’s an article coming out tomorrow, so don’t be too shocked. I’ll explain everything in a live broadcast later.]

-What happened?

-We’ll wait! But can you give us a hint?

-Is it bad news?

-Are you announcing a full-group comeback?

-Will the live be tomorrow? I won’t be home until after 8!

★★★

At noon, the press conference took place, and news articles flooded the portals in real-time.

[‘Stop the Terror Attacks on the Korean Empire’s Royal Descendants,’ Demands Royal Association]

[Princess’s Daughter and Son-in-law Died in a Mysterious Accident 17 Years Ago]

[Who’s Behind the Hit-and-Run Targeting a Royal Descendant?]

[Persecution of the Fallen Royal Family: Truth or Paranoia?]

One reporter at the conference immediately linked the hit-and-run incident to my recent accident

“Not long ago, Lee Young was involved in a hit-and-run accident in front of the broadcasting station. Is the descendant of the imperial family you mentioned the same Lee Young, the singer and actor?”

The hands of the journalists typing out the article froze. Everyone in the press conference room waited for an answer.

“Yes. He was the grandson of my daughter, who passed away in an accident. But regardless of who they are, should people still be killed simply because they are descendants of the imperial family?”

The journalists immediately added my name to the article.

[Lee Young, Imperial Descendant, Manager Killed in Recent Hit-and-Run]

[Singer-Actor Lee Young—Was There a Conspiracy Behind the Traffic Accident?]

I expected some reaction, but I didn’t realize there would be this much interest in an imperial descendant.

[Should the Cursed Lineage Be Respected?]

[Imperial Family: Pro-Japanese vs. Supporters of the Independence Movement—Endless Debate Without Evidence]

Articles like these flooded the social and news sections every day, setting online communities ablaze. It was like a spark had landed on a pile of dry firewood.

Worried about the situation, I checked the fan cafe. But to my surprise, I only found posts with similar titles:

[Whoa, Our Prince Is a Real Imperial Descendant?!]

Well, at least the fans seem fine.

★★★

At 10 p.m., some of the lights illuminating Hyangwonjeong Pavilion in Gyeongbokgung Palace were turned off.

The part-time workers, who had worked hard until the end of the autumn night palace experience event, quickly changed in the dressing room and left for home.

However, one shadow did not leave and instead moved toward Gyeonghoeru Pavilion. A long shadow stretched across its darkened roof.

When the figure gestured toward the eaves, the first japsang (roof figurine) at the front of the roof ridge cracked with a sharp thud.

Thud, thud, thud…

One by one, ten more japsang shattered. When all eleven of them were gone, the dragon head guarding the ridge made an even louder noise as it burst.

Fragments and dust briefly hung in the air before disappearing.

The next morning, Gyeongbokgung Palace reopened.

Visitors, both locals and foreigners, entered, and photographers came to capture the beauty of autumn in the palace.

One person, who had been taking pictures, lowered their camera and looked up at the roof of Gyeonghoeru Pavilion.

“…Huh?”

Their eyes widened in shock. After a moment of confusion, they ran toward Gangnyeongjeon Hall.

“…What??”

Every japsang on the eaves of the palace pavilions had vanished. Even those on Gwanghwamun Gate.

★★★

Feeling guilty for not informing my group members in advance, I cautiously apologized in the group chat.

I was worried that appearing in the social news section might bring trouble to the team.

-We’re all doing solo activities right now anyway, so how would this affect us?

-If anything, you’re making our group more famous.

The members didn’t seem particularly fazed by the news.

-Hey, look at this. Something broke in the palace.

One of them sent a link to the group chat.

When I clicked on it, a live streaming broadcast appeared.

-“Wow, they’re really gone!”

Only the voice was heard, while the screen showed the roof of a palace pavilion.

The streamer, seemingly using a drone, provided an aerial view of the entire structure.

They flew around Geunjeongjeon Hall twice before asking the live viewers:

-“Judging from the empty spots where the japsang used to be, they must have been there before, right?”

Floods of critical comments appeared in the chat:

-Would they say something existed if it never did?

-Are you even Korean?

-Streamers should take an exam before getting a license.

-Isn’t it illegal to film with a drone in Gyeongbokgung?

-Is this going to end with handcuffs?

Of course, some comments took the situation more seriously:

-Were they stolen?

-I’d bet my wrist that they’re already in the cargo hold of a plane heading overseas.

-Wait, I’m at Changdeokgung Palace right now, and they’re missing here too!

The streamer read the comments and asked in surprise:

-“Huh? The japsang are missing at Changdeokgung too? Did they originally have them?”

-Duh, every Korean palace has japsang, you idiot.

-Not just palaces—Sungnyemun has them too.

-Even the Blue House has them.

-Guys, this isn’t the time to show off your knowledge. Are you saying the japsang are really missing from Changdeokgung?

-What the hell is going on…?

-Then, what about the other palaces?

-Let’s go check Changdeokgung!

-Let’s check them all!

And so, the race began.