Chapter 1
I got reincarnated into a martial arts novel.
The smell of herbal medicine, gold decorations filling the room, pillars carved with dragons I’d only seen on TV as a kid.
Anyone could tell this was a martial arts world.
Lying on a silk bed, I went through the usual stages anyone in my situation would:
Step 1: Denial.
Yeah, this is a dream. I should go back to sleep.
But then—
“Are you awake? It’s time to take your medicine.”
An older man approached and handed me a bowl of herbal medicine. I drank it and realized:
This isn’t a dream! It’s way too bitter!
The intense taste, the strong smell, the heat from the bowl—my senses were too vivid for this to be a dream.
So I accepted it.
Step 2: Figure out the original story.
“Miss Soyok, the whole household is in chaos. Do you know what your actions yesterday have caused?”
The man handed me a honey snack while scolding me.
Soyok?
The name felt familiar, and then I remembered.
Of all things… it had to be that?
It was a novel my aspiring-writer friend wrote—the only martial-arts romance fantasy I had ever read: “It’s a Martial Arts Story, I’m Telling You!”
A sloppy story with messy worldbuilding and poor research.
And now… I had become the very character I harshly criticized.
The protagonist wasn’t clearly good or bad, sick or healthy, kind or rude—just vague and unlikable.
I sighed.
Now that I knew the story, it was time for the final step:
Make a choice—follow the story or change it.
Of course, I chose to change it.
The character I became, Soyok, was weak, had little martial power, and was mistreated because of her villainous mother.
If things continued as in the original story, she would live miserably and die.
So I decided to survive.
Ten years later.
I rose from the outskirts to the central martial world, united the demonic cult, and earned the title Ice Flame Sword Empress.
In short—I became one of the strongest.
“Congratulations, my lady.”
And today was my political marriage to the leader of the demonic cult.
An absurd ending for a traditional martial arts world—but thanks to my friend’s sloppy writing, it became possible.
Honestly, I was grateful.
“At last, you can be happy,” my maid Dana said while dressing me.
“You say that like I’ve been unhappy.”
She sighed.
“You were looked down on for being weak as a child… nearly died from overtraining… and now you’re marrying the very enemy you fought.”
She wasn’t wrong.
I fought to survive. I followed one rule in this world:
Power is everything.
No love. No friendship. No romance.
So after clawing my way to the top… I ended up marrying a villain.
Great.
Still, I endured it. I wanted peace.
“Are you really okay?” Dana asked.
“With what?”
“Marrying Lord Heuk-hwi.”
Heuk-hwi—the leader of the demonic cult. Ruthless, cruel, responsible for the fall of many sects.
Our marriage was meant to bring peace.
Even if I didn’t love him.
“I hope in your next life, you’re truly loved,” Dana said softly.
“Fine. Next time, I’ll marry someone I love and be loved by everyone.”
She smiled.
Then—
“Ah! A loose thread!”
She bent down—and suddenly, an arrow shot past where my head had been.
I pulled her back and grabbed my sword.
Someone was trying to kill me.
Before I could find out who—
“My lady, I came to escort you.”
He walked in.
“Heuk-hwi…?”
My future husband.
“…What are you doing?” I asked.
“Just because.”
Something was wrong.
His eyes turned red, dark energy flowing from him.
He had activated a forbidden technique—burning his life force for power.
“I’ve always wanted to defeat you,” he said.
No talking would work.
I attacked.
Our swords clashed.
“If I can’t win,” he smiled, “then let’s die together.”
He struck.
Dana jumped in front of me.
I moved instinctively, pulling her into my arms—
“My lady!”
Her scream.
“What is this…” my own voice, hollow.
“In your next life… please be happy…”
And then—
I died.
A terrible ending. The kind where the protagonist dies for no reason.
…
“Wake up! Roll call soon!”
Someone shook me violently.
“Stop… my head hurts…”
My voice—
Wasn’t mine.
“Klone, are you awake?”
A girl with green eyes stared at me.
“Who are you?” I asked, grabbing her wrist.
“Ow! That hurts, Klone!”
Klone?
Not Yuna. Not Soyok.
Klone.
Something felt wrong.
I looked around.
Stone walls. Straw on the ground. Iron bars.
“…What is this?”
Not Korea. Not a martial arts world.
I looked at my hands.
No calluses.
No scars.
I lifted my clothes.
Smooth skin.
No injuries.
This wasn’t my body.
“Is there a mirror?” I asked.
“A mirror? Klone… this is a prison. We’re prisoners.”
A bad feeling crept in.
“…Again?”
I grabbed the girl’s shoulders.
“Who am I?”
The girl introduced herself as Arte Sicilian.
She said I had been sick and must have lost my memory.
My name was Klone. No surname.
I was 18.
Unmarried.
Apparently, I used to talk in my sleep about wanting a “prince on a white horse.”
Great.
When I asked my crime—
“I don’t know,” she said.
I sighed.
New body. New world.
No idea who I was.
But one thing was clear:
First, a martial arts novel.
Now, a romance fantasy.
I got reincarnated again.
