There were many things Han Seoryu expected to do while faking his identity inside a Joseon royal palace: drink expensive tea, flirt with cute guards, survive by playing the helpless damsel.
What he did not expect?
To get thrown into a live-action episode of Survivor: Royal Harem Edition—hosted by none other than the Empress Dowager herself, starring a cast of bloodthirsty concubines, two alpha females, and one chaotic Gen-Z surgeon in stolen maid robes.
Yes, bestie. The Test of Queens is officially underway.
That morning, a royal summons was sent to every single concubine in the Crown Prince's harem.
"The Empress Dowager cordially invites all concubines to a private banquet in the South Pavilion. Attendance is mandatory."
Seoryu stared at the scroll in his hand and whispered to himself: "Mandatory? Sounds fake. But okay. I love danger."
He showed up twenty minutes late, cradling Kimchi the cat, wearing a slightly wrinkled lavender hanbok and no makeup. The maid at the door gasped.
"Lady Yura! You're late! And your hair—!"
"Inner beauty matters more," Seoryu replied coolly, tossing Kimchi a sardine like the unbothered queen he was.
Inside the pavilion: silken cushions, gold-rimmed teacups, and desserts that looked like Instagram filters.
Lady Jihae sat at the center like a Renaissance painting. On her left: Lady Hwayoung, looking like she chewed lemons for breakfast.
All conversation stopped when Seoryu entered.
Hwayoung tilted her head, smiling venomously. "Oh? The village girl's here. I almost thought you'd faint on the way up from the barn."
Jihae sipped her tea. "Lady Yura has a talent for survival. So far."
Seoryu smiled back sweetly. "Apologies, I was delayed. Kimchi had diarrhea. It was a royal emergency."
Gasps. Someone choked on their tea.
Jihae blinked. "How… uncultured."
"I'm more of a freestyle edition," Seoryu beamed. "Raw, organic, straight from the marketplace."
At that exact moment, the Empress Dowager entered.
"All rise."
Everyone bowed.
Clad in flowing purple robes embroidered with dragons, the Empress radiated power. Her voice was calm, yet sharp.
"I've watched you all long enough. Now it's time to see who among you is worthy to rise above the rest."
Seoryu's mind: 'Excuse me? Did I just get yeeted into a royal reality show?'
The Empress raised her hand catching all the attention.
"There will be three tasks," she announced. "You will be judged on elegance, intelligence, and compassion. At the end… one shall be chosen as the First Consort candidate."
Gasps. Whispering erupted across the pavilion.
Lady Hwayoung's lips curled into a smirk. Jihae's face remained unreadable.
Seoryu leaned down to whisper to Kimchi: "Had I known there was a quiz, I would've studied, girl."
The first challenge: TEA.
Trays were wheeled in, each with an assortment of herbs, flowers, and tiny jars.
"You must craft a perfect blend," said the Empress. "Serve it to me, and explain its purpose."
Hwayoung: "A calming blend for grace and beauty. Chrysanthemum and lotus petals."
Jihae: "Red dates and ginger—for strength and vitality. A tribute to the Prince's lineage."
Then came Seoryu.
He stared at the tray like a college student seeing the exam paper for the first time.
"Mine's for sore throats," he said brightly. "To cleanse toxic energy. Ginger, honey… calamansi, if we've got it."
He bowed and offered the tea.
The Empress sipped.
"…Surprisingly balanced."
Jihae and Hwayoung's eye twitched.
"For the second challenge," the Empress said, "you will demonstrate compassion."
A weak servant was brought in—pale, coughing, clearly struggling.
"You must help him. Without tools. Only instinct."
Hwayoung flinched. "But this is a healer's task. We're not trained—"
Jihae stepped forward, composed. She dabbed the servant's brow and offered warm tea.
Then came Seoryu's turn.
Seoryu's mind: 'Pulmonary distress. Could be a blocked airway. No stethoscope. No meds. Think fast.'
He knelt beside the man, tapped along his back, feeling for tightness.
'If I can trigger a cough reflex… force the blockage out…'
He gently pressed on pressure points and poured water in slow sips, guiding the man's breath.
The man suddenly coughed—loud and wet—and expelled thick mucus.
He gasped. Then… he could breathe again.
The room fell silent.
Jihae's smile cracked just a little.
The banquet resumed.
A fourth cushion had mysteriously appeared beside the Empress's seat.
"The final challenge," said the Empress, "is a debate. Each of you will speak. What is your vision for the Crown Prince's future?"
Hwayoung stepped forward, fan in hand like a sword.
"I offer strength. I will stand beside him without fear, even in war."
Jihae rose like a queen. "I offer legacy. Wisdom. The power of the Seong Clan."
All eyes turned to Seoryu.
He stood awkwardly.
"I… I offer vibes?"
Silence.
He cleared his throat.
"I mean—honesty. Laughter. The Crown Prince is a warrior. But behind every strong man… should be someone who reminds him to live. To breathe. To laugh. If life is only blades and pressure… the heart forgets how to feel."
Dead silence.
Then… the Empress laughed.
Genuinely.
"A bold answer. Unorthodox. But sincere."
Jihae's knuckles whitened.
The Empress stood. Regal. Commanding.
"All three of you showed skill. But only one surprised me. Only one showed usefulness… in the unexpected."
Her eyes landed on Seoryu.
"Lady Yura."
Gasps. Hwayoung's fan snapped in her hand. Jihae's jaw clenched.
"You are not First Consort. Not yet. But you will undergo further evaluation. Personally."
Then her smile turned cryptic.
"Let's see how deep your honesty truly runs."
Seoryu's stomach dropped.
Kimchi meowed in terror.
Seoryu's mind screamed in terror too: 'HOLY SHIT. I JUST UNLOCKED A HIDDEN BOSS LEVEL.'