Joseon Idols

 

After spending a few days here, I was certain that this was definitely not just a dream.

 

My conclusion was that I’d either been reincarnated or transported to an alternate world—a world that resembled Joseon, but wasn’t quite the same as the history I knew.

 

So, I decided to call this place the “New Joseon Era.”

 

And here, I was known as the gukbap (rice soup) master.

 

Handling the scalding hot gukbap bowls or lifting the lid of the stove was no problem for me. Carrying several bowls balanced on a large wooden tray on my head felt as natural as breathing.

 

Even collecting money from customers and hiding it in jars in the backyard or under heavy brass bowls… all of it was second nature.

 

Looking at the growing pile of coins, I was even a bit impressed.

 

“Maybe a tavern keeper’s life isn’t so bad for making a living in Joseon…”

 

I had always been someone who chased dreams rather than seeking stability. My heart had always raced for the entertainment business—that’s what I did passionately. And coming here hadn’t erased that dream overnight.

 

As I approached the well and looked at my reflection, I saw how worn-out I looked.

 

The white traditional korean outfit, once clean, was now stained and yellowed with grease, and my face was flushed from the heat of the stove.

 

I looked almost as worn as I had in that last prison uniform I wore.

 

I gently touched my cheek.

 

And felt the roughness under my fingertips.

 

I still didn’t understand what had happened after I closed my eyes in that coffin, but one thing was certain: this wasn’t what I had wanted.

 

My last wish had been to meet Choi Hyukjae again in the afterlife and send him to hell!

 

As I lingered in sorrow, a leaf fell into the well, sending ripples across the water.

 

In the wavering reflection, I thought I saw glimpses of my Eternal members’ faces. A pang of longing hit my heart.

 

How were they doing in that world? I could only hope they were happy and smiling now that it had been revealed to everyone that I, the head of WON Entertainment, had been wrongfully accused.

 

But as much as I cared for my kids back in Seoul, my immediate problem was survival here in Joseon.

 

The great Seo Ahwon as a lowly commoner?

 

Even in Seoul, people obsessed over backgrounds, dividing each other by the “type of spoon they were born with,” but I never let that bother me. I always thought you had to make the best of the hand you were dealt.

 

I was sure I had some kind of talent, and if I handled this life well, things could still work out.

 

But could my new talent really be cooking? In Seoul, I never cared about cooking at all.

 

Yet this tavern was bustling with people day and night.

 

Hunger was a universal clock. People from all walk of life, regardless of status, came to the traven.

 

“One bowl of gukbap, please.”

 

“Hey, madam…”

 

The way people spoke to me, the way they addressed me, varied widely. Some even had their servants or subordinates speak for them, as if they couldn’t bear to interact with me directly. 

 

But in this rigid class society, such things were inevitable, and I wasn’t the type to be wounded by that sort of pettiness.

 

Whenever work slowed down, I found myself daydreaming about earning enough money to build a sturdy thatched cottage where I could live a quiet, easy life.

 

A neat yard, a dog, rows of corn… That was the ideal version of a Joseon-era “forest life.”

 

Lost in my contented imaginings, I suddenly snapped back to reality when someone shouted right into my ear.

 

“Hey, you!”

 

Clutching my ear, I shot a glare at the speaker, sizing him up with a scowl.

 

‘What is he? A reincarnation of a goat?’

 

The man stroked his sparse goatee, clucking his tongue as he asked, “Is there no place here where the lady might rest, somewhere free from these commoners?”

 

I scoffed and replied, “I am a commoner myself, so will you even be able to stomach food prepared by one?”

 

“Hah! This lowly wench doesn’t even realize who’s here! The lady of our district magistrate, no less!”

 

His little goatee quivered as he grew angrier, practically frothing as he tried to assert his master’s importance. 

 

Holding back a laugh, I crossed my arms, turned my head, and responded casually, “I don’t care if he’s the district magistrate or some other official. Just tell them to sit wherever they like and eat. We don’t do ‘special treatment’ here.”

 

I’d never been one to put up with people throwing their weight around, and I saw no reason to change that just because of my current “reincarnation.”

 

The goateed man scurried to the entrance, bowing deeply as he greeted a woman in the jangot, the traditional outer garment, with an obsequious nod. 

 

Curious, I glanced at the entrance too. The woman, still on her horse, had lowered her veil and was glaring at him with irritation.

 

Under her small, beady eyes, puffy cheeks protruded, displaying an avaricious glint. A large mole next to her mouth twitched whenever she moved her lips, and as her gaze settled on the tavern with disdain, she suddenly softened her expression as she looked at someone behind her horse.

 

“Jjangdol needs to eat well if he’s going to keep his strength up and stay in good spirits, wouldn’t you agree?” 

 

She said with an oddly affectionate tone.

 

Jjangdol? What a name.

 

It seemed pretty clear that he was a commoner too. Though I couldn’t see his face behind the horse, I could tell from his broad shoulders alone that he was a stout and well-built man.

 

As the goat-bearded servant led the horse to the stable on one side of the tavern, the lady continued to coo sweetly at the man in its shadow, Jjangdol.

 

“Oh, imagine me staying in such a lowly, filthy place.”

 

“Yes, yes, of course!” The servant chimed in, eager to echo her every complaint.

 

“If it weren’t for you, I’d never set foot in a place like this. Do you have any idea how I feel?”

 

The lady’s voice was dripping with feigned sweetness, directed entirely at Jjangdol—a broad-shouldered man who, clearly, was no district magistrate himself. Curious, I crossed my arms, enjoying this unexpected drama.

 

The solid, stoic man stepped forward as soon as the horse stopped, bowing deeply and positioning himself to create a step for the lady to dismount. 

 

She paused dramatically, balancing on his back, and let out an exaggerated little gasp, “Omo!”

 

The man, head down and utterly motionless, showed no reaction, but the goat-bearded servant darted forward with an outstretched hand.

 

“Oh, ma’am, please take my hand!”

 

She swatted it away with a cold look. “I just felt a bit dizzy! That’s all.”

 

Only after her feet touched the ground did Jjangdol stand up. Without a word or a backward glance, he shrugged off his outer garment, grabbed the horse’s reins, and headed to the stable.

 

“How about setting up under that tree over there?” the servant asked eagerly. “That… that brute, he just clams up and refuses to eat when he’s hungry. Such bad manners….”

 

Even as the servant babbled away, her gaze remained fixed on Jjangdol’s retreating figure. 

 

It wasn’t hard to see why.

 

As he ate, others in the tavern couldn’t help but sneak glances at him, their eyes drawn to his rugged physique. Watching Jjangdol, I couldn’t help but recall all the people back in Seoul who practically lived in the gym, pushing their limits to sculpt bodies that powerful. But even with all their effort, none quite reached the raw, primal form I saw in him.

 

This was a body that hadn’t been crafted for vanity or show—it was the result of sheer hard labor, discipline, and maybe even a bit of nature’s gift. Defined muscles rippled across his back like a statue carved in meticulous detail. His forearms bulged, veins visible even at rest. Any observer could only think of one word: strength. 

 

I gave a small, approving nod. The man was born with this. If he’d grown up in Seoul, he’d have made a fine bodybuilder.

 

Just then, the goat-bearded servant called to me.

 

“Hey, we’ll take five bowls of gukbap here.”

 

Three people, and yet five bowls. Judging by the way that haughty lady only picked at her food, it was clear that either the servant or Jjangdol himself had an enormous appetite.

 

When I brought the food, Jjangdol didn’t join the others at the table but instead sat cross-legged on the ground beside the main post, his head lowered and posture defeated. He seemed almost drained, as though carrying the weight of the world on those sculpted shoulders.

 

Sweat was trickling down his shoulders, tracing the ridges of his powerful muscles before dripping away. The servant, Goat-beard, licked his lips at the sight of the food, while the lady wrinkled her nose in mild disgust, resting her fingers lightly on her nose bridge.

 

“Leave two bowls here and give the rest to that one over there.”

 

I crouched down to place the bowls in front of Jjangdol. Suddenly, he lifted his head and locked eyes with me, and I nearly fell backward from shock. 

 

That face—I knew him!

 

In an instant, he grabbed my arms with a firm grip, catching me and the tray I held just before I tipped over. 

 

Jjangdol was no other than the idol I had nurtured back in my former company.

 

It was Byeolho, member of Eternal.

 

Our reliable third son who had played the role of Beast in Beauty and the Beast musical.

 

He was a bit naive, but with a good heart, a healthy appetite, and an endless love for fitness. And now, here he was, standing right in front of me in this other world.

 

“Byeolho yah!”

 

He looked at me, then at the gukbap in my hands, as if he didn’t understand why I was calling him that. Without a word, he snatched the tray from me and buried his face in the food, eating with a ravenous hunger. I stared at him, dazed, as he devoured the meal with gusto. 

 

The lady tugged sharply on my skirt, snapping me back to reality.

 

“What’s your business here, anyway? Why are you lingering around someone else’s servant?”

 

“This person seems cranky on an empty stomach but calms down once he’s full, doesn’t he?”

 

The lady raised an eyebrow, considering my comment. “Hmm… yes, I suppose his temper does soften a bit after he’s eaten.”

 

Goat-beard was noisily slurping his gukbap when he suddenly choked and started coughing violently. I returned to the kitchen since there were more orders piling up, but I couldn’t shake the frustration in his voice as he spoke to the lady.

 

“One of these days, we’ll have to knock some sense into that disrespectful brute! It’s because you’re so soft on him, ma’am, that he dares to climb all over us!”

 

No matter how I looked at him, Byeolho—no,

Jjangdol

—looked far too much like the Byeolho I used to know. Could he, too, have died in Seoul and somehow ended up here?

 

I had so many questions swirling in my mind when, all of a sudden, a commotion erupted from the area where Byeolho was sitting. Turning toward the noise, I saw Goat-beard leap up from the table, his face red with rage, and without warning, he kicked Byeolho squarely in the head.

 

“Did I ask you to talk back when I told you to fetch water? You worthless wretch, remember who saved your sorry life!”

 

I bolted toward them, but before I could reach them, Byeolho deftly ducked, dodging another kick aimed at his head. With a sigh of exasperation, he grumbled. 

 

“Fine, fine. I will go after I finish eating this.”

 

The lady observed the scene with an amused wave of her fan, and Goat-beard, out of breath, slumped back down, shoveling more gukbap into his mouth.

 

Byeolho stood up casually and walked toward me. “Uh… could I trouble you for a scoop of water?”

 

I went to the well, drew a ladle of fresh water, and handed it to him. He flashed a cheeky grin, then plucked a handful of weeds growing nearby and scattered them across the surface of the water.

 

Wait a second… wasn’t he adding a little

too

much? He’s going to end up drinking more dirt than water at this rate!

 

“That woman named Minam gets all fussy if I don’t float some weeds on top.”

 

He said, laughing innocently, so much like the real Byeolho that I couldn’t help but grab his hands, staring into his face.

 

“Byeolho, it’s really you, isn’t it? What are you doing here? How did you end up in this place?”

 

“Byeolho? What kind of name is that?”

 

I let out a small sigh. 

 

“Is ‘Jjangdol’ really your name?”

 

“Well… I’m just a person to be sold wherever, so what would I know about my name? When the master changes, my name usually does too.”

 

This wasn’t right.

 

It’s one thing for me to end up as a tavern owner, but my Byeolho here, working as a servant for that scrawny guy and a woman who looked like a spoiled landowner’s wife? This was unacceptable!

 

“Do you actually want to keep following those people around?”

 

He just looked at me blankly. 

 

“Then what else can I do?”

 

“How about helping me here instead? We could… live together like siblings.”

 

He laughed out loud at that. 

 

“No chance they’ll let me go that easily.”

 

A pang of sadness hit me. I could already see how people like that would exploit Byeolho’s gentle nature, mistreating him and wearing him down.

 

I followed him with the water ladle in hand and stood before the lady and the man with the goatee. Despite their earlier complaints about the smell, they’d both finished off the soup, as if they’d never been reluctant.

 

“I have a request.”

 

I said, addressing the lady. But the man with the goatee stepped in front of her, blocking my path.

 

“What nerve does this wench have, speaking like that? Talk to me!”

 

I simply pointed at Byeolho.

 

“I’ll get straight to the point. That man over there. Let him go.”

 

A high-pitched voice came from behind me as the lady scoffed. 

 

“What? Who do you think you are, telling me who I can release? He’s my servant, my property! Do you even know how many bags of rice I spent to buy him?”

 

These people, treating a person like property—no different from those selfish types like Choi Hyukjae. Are there always people like this, wherever you go?

 

Glaring at her, I turned and went back inside the tavern. Over the years, I’d managed to save up quite a bit of coin, and I grabbed the bundle and returned, tossing it onto the table in front of them.

 

Money could be earned again, but if I left Byeolho to live like this, it would haunt me for the rest of my life.

 

“You like money so much? Here, take this and let him go. He’s your ‘property,’ right? This should buy you several dozen bags of rice.”

 

The lady’s eyes widened, but as she reached for the coins, she shoved the goateed man aside and started pressing her finger firmly against my forehead, her anger flaring.

 

“You must have lost your mind, thinking that just because I came all the way here and graciously ate your food, I’d let you pull such a stunt.”

 

“What’s the issue? Didn’t you say you wanted money? Here it is!”

 

“My lover—no, my servant—isn’t something you can just scheme to take away because you want him.”

 

Just as I thought. And judging by the way the goateed man was glaring at Byeolho with his lips quivering, it was clear this was some absurd, tangled love triangle. 

 

Meanwhile, as if he had nothing to do with this, Byeolho sat on the ground, happily shoveling the rest of his meal into his mouth without a care in the world.

Hey! Now is

not

the time to be eating! You idiot!

Hi everyone! It's Flo here!

I usually translate BLs but I wanted to try something new and it's very interesting and fun for me to read so I hope you guys enjoy it too! The chapters will be updated every Thursday!

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