Nikita was not like five ordinary girls. An old library by the busy streets of Seoul was her favorite place. One day, she found a large, dust-covered book with a heavy cover. The title of the book was "The Forgotten Crown."
The moment Nikita opened the first page, everything around her blurred strangely. She realized she was no longer in the library. Instead, she was standing in the middle of a vast royal palace. Right in front of her, on a grand throne, sat a powerful and imposing king.
The king stared at her in shock, raised his sword, and roared,
"Who are you? How dare you enter my kingdom without permission?"
Without panicking, Nikita held up the book in her hand. She understood—somehow, she had fallen into the pages of history, or perhaps into another world entirely.
But hearing the sharp gleam of the king's sword and his thunderous voice, Nikita didn't wait another second. She turned around and ran as fast as she could, her long, silky hair flying behind her like waves in the wind.
She had never run this fast before. The sound of her footsteps echoed across the stone floors of the palace.
As she ran, she noticed—
Hair Trouble: Her long hair kept getting caught on the decorated pillars of the corridor, but she didn't stop.
The King's Shock: The king shouted from behind, "Stop! Who are you? I have never seen such strange clothes or hair so long!"
Endless Corridors: The palace corridors seemed endless. Suddenly, she stopped in front of a massive mirror.
Inside the mirror, she could see her own world—the old library. But to reach it, she would have to escape the guards.
At that very moment, the king's chief commander blocked her path.
Nikita sprinted and reached a huge chamber. From its appearance, she guessed it was the queen's bedroom. Hearing the guards' heavy footsteps behind her, she rushed inside and slammed the door shut.
Leaning against the door, Nikita gasped for breath. After calming down, she began to observe the room.
Luxurious Decor: Golden carvings covered the walls, and blue velvet curtains hung elegantly. Strangely, the room felt abandoned, as if no one had lived there for years.
A Note on the Bed: A large bed stood in the center, with an old piece of paper resting on it. Nikita carefully picked it up.
Another Door: In the corner, she noticed a small, intricately carved hidden door, blending into the wall.
Curious, Nikita approached it. When she pushed it open, she found no furniture inside—only hundreds of hanging mirrors and an ancient map placed in the center.
Suddenly, she noticed her long hair being pulled toward the mirrors, as if they were magnets.
Outside the queen's room, chaos erupted. The palace trembled with the king's roar and the thunder of hundreds of boots.
The king stood before the door, his face red with rage.
"Break it down! How dare a mere girl stand before my throne and mock me!"
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Guards struck the heavy wooden door with axes and maces. The wood began to crack, dust filling the air.
Inside, Nikita stared desperately at the hidden door. Time was running out.
Just then, a large oil painting on the wall began to slide aside by itself, revealing a dark tunnel behind it.
As one side of the door nearly collapsed, Nikita gathered her long hair with one hand and jumped into the tunnel without hesitation.
The Tunnel's Mystery
The tunnel wasn't pitch black—it glowed with a strange blue light. As she ran, she heard the king entering the queen's room behind her.
"Where is she?" the king shouted. "There is no way out of this room!"
As Nikita ran, she noticed strange Korean letters carved into the tunnel walls—letters from her own language.
She thought in shock,
"How can there be Korean writing in a thousand-year-old palace? Does this kingdom have some ancient connection to me?"
The tunnel ended abruptly, opening into a vast underground library where thousands of books floated in the air.
Just as Nikita reached the end—
A powerful hand suddenly grabbed her long hair from behind.
She gasped and froze.
The king had caught her.
Fuming with rage, he yanked her toward him, his eyes burning.
"Did you think you could escape my palace? You won't take a single step until you tell me who you are and why you're here!"
Nikita winced in pain, but her courage didn't waver. She turned her head and glared at him—not like a subject facing a king, but like someone scolding a street thug.
"Hey! Let go! Are you crazy?" she shouted. "Who pulls a girl's hair like that? What kind of barbaric king are you?"
The king froze.
No one in his kingdom had ever dared speak to him like this—let alone call him crazy and barbaric.
Startled, he loosened his grip slightly. Nikita pulled her hair free and stepped back, muttering angrily,
"Do you have any idea how hard it is to maintain this hair? How long shampooing takes? You savage king!"
Now the king was truly stunned. Lowering his sword, he asked,
"Shampoo? Savage? What language is that? And your clothes… are you a foreign sorceress?"
Nikita wasn't about to back down. She freed her hair completely, planted her hands on her waist, and stared at him with pure irritation instead of fear.
"Aren't you ashamed?" she snapped. "You call yourself a king and pull the hair of an unarmed girl? Does your era have no manners at all? You look royal, but your behavior is worse than street thugs!"
The king tried to speak, but Nikita raised a finger and continued,
"Sitting on a throne doesn't make you a real king. Learn how to talk to a woman first. Your sword and loud voice don't scare me at all. Honestly, I feel sorry for you—such a big palace, but not an ounce of intelligence! Did you think pulling my hair would make me your servant? Impossible!"
The guards behind the king trembled in fear, expecting his sword to strike her down.
But the opposite happened.
For the first time in his life, the king stood speechless. Everyone feared him—yet this girl mocked him openly.
Nikita finally added,
"Even traffic police in my country get more respect than you. What a savage king!"
The king's face slowly drained of color. Beneath the anger, there was shock—perhaps even admiration for her audacity.
Sheathing his sword, he said gravely,
"Do you know who you're speaking to? With one command, I can decide your fate."
Nikita smirked and replied,
"And what will you do? Lock me up? Go ahead. But remember— you can imprison my body, not my mouth."
Seeing Nikita's fearless attitude, it felt less like she was standing before a king and more like she was scolding him in a classroom. When the king said,
"Do you have any idea what can happen to you with a single gesture of mine?"
Nikita didn't flinch at all.
Instead, she stepped closer—right into his personal space.
The king instinctively tried to step back, but Nikita didn't give him the chance. With furrowed brows and a dismissive wave of her hand, she acted as if he were threatening her with the cheapest scare tactic imaginable.
Mockingly, she said,
"And what can happen? At worst, you'll lock me in some dark dungeon, right? Or drag me before an executioner? What else—cut off my long hair? Please. These are dialogues from ancient movies. Do you really think I'll faint in fear just because you waved your finger?"
She looked straight into the king's eyes, gave a sarcastic smile, and shook her head.
"Listen, Your Majesty. Where I come from, we carry things far bigger than your sword in our pockets. Your orders and threats sound completely bland to me. You might be able to imprison my body, but handling a smart, fearless girl like me? No one in your entire kingdom has that ability. So stop wasting time with these gestures—they're painfully outdated."
The way Nikita spoke—and her body language—left the king completely stunned. He had never seen a woman who dared lecture him like this. The guards stared open-mouthed, unable to decide whether she was a sorceress or someone from a world far beyond their understanding.
Lowering his voice slightly, the king asked,
"What… what are you trying to say? Are you truly not afraid of me?"
Nikita broke into a wide grin.
"Afraid? Of you? Look at yourself in the mirror first. You look more confused than angry right now. Learn some manners before trying to scare people."
That was the final blow.
The king's pride shattered. Roaring in fury, he ordered,
"Throw this insolent girl into the darkest dungeon immediately! Her arrogance has gone too far!"
As the guards moved to grab her, something strange happened.
Nikita suddenly lowered her head and began to sob. Seeing her tears, the king thought, So she's finally scared.
But the next second, the sobs turned into wild laughter.
Nikita burst out laughing like a madwoman and said,
"Are you serious? I cried because your acting was ridiculous—and now I'm laughing at your stupidity! You'll imprison me? Go ahead. I'll just lie down on your precious sofa and see who dares move me!"
With that, she casually walked past everyone and plopped herself down on the king's luxurious royal sofa. Not just sat—she sprawled out, spread her long hair across the cushions, crossed her legs, and said,
"Ugh! Standing here insulting you for so long has made my legs tired. I need some rest now. And listen, Your Majesty—if I don't want to move, not even fourteen generations of your ancestors could drag me off this sofa. I'm staying right here."
The king and his guards stood frozen like stone statues. Never in the history of this empire had anyone dared sit on the royal sofa, cross their legs, and swing them casually in front of the king.
Leaning back, Nikita winked at him.
"What's wrong? Why are you staring? Can I get a cup of coffee? Oh right—you don't have coffee. Fine, bring tea instead."
That was it.
Grinding his teeth, the king pulled out his gleaming silver sword. Its sharp blade flashed, filling the room with cold light.
He advanced slowly.
Nikita didn't move.
Sitting calmly on the sofa, she watched every step he took, her eyes cold and unblinking.
The king pressed the blunt edge of the sword against her chest. The sharp blade brushed her clothes as his hand trembled with rage. In a low whisper, he said,
"Still smiling? Still mocking me? With one thrust of this sword, I can tear your chest open and spill your blood. Do you understand that?"
Nikita stared at the blade without blinking. His breath was hot against her face. The guards clutched their chests, certain blood would spill at any moment.
Then Nikita took a deep breath—and smiled.
She understood.
Everything clicked.
This sword, this king, these threats—everything is written inside this book.
This book is an illusion.
If I fear it, it becomes real.
If I know it's false, it cannot touch me.
She didn't move back.
Instead, she leaned forward—pressing her chest slightly closer to the blade—and calmly said,
"Your sword has no edge, Your Majesty. Because the world you come from is trapped inside a fictional cover. Kill me if you want. Let's see what your imaginary sword can do to a real girl."
The king froze.
It felt as if the blade was dissolving into air instead of piercing her. The entire kingdom trembled under the weight of Nikita's unwavering belief.
Suddenly, the king changed.
He didn't fully withdraw the sword, but leaned closer, right next to Nikita's ear. The guards were too far to hear his voice as he whispered in a deep, heavy tone,
"You're stirring too much chaos, Nikita. You have no idea what consequences your actions may bring."
His voice was no longer angry—it carried a warning.
"You think this book is false? That this world is an illusion? Remember this—some illusions are far more dangerous than reality. If you disrupt the balance of this story, you won't just be trapped here… you'll be erased from your own world as well."
Nikita felt his breath against her skin. A chill ran down her spine.
The girl who had been laughing moments ago grew serious.
In the king's eyes, she no longer saw only rage—but deep sorrow and ancient secrets.
Straightening up, the king addressed everyone,
"Do not take her to the dungeon. Take her to the highest tower of the palace. I still have many accounts to settle with her."
Nikita stood up from the sofa. Her long hair spilled across the floor like dark silk. She realized the game was far more complex than she had thought. The king knew she had seen through him—and now he was trying to break her psychologically instead of threatening her.
Before leaving, Nikita turned back, smiled softly, and said,
"Don't scare me with consequences, Your Majesty. I never close a book without reading the last page."