Chapter 1: Waking Up in a New Reality

My head feels like it’s splitting apart.
Too much alcohol last night?
Without opening my eyes, I roll them beneath my lids, trying to piece things together.
What happened?
Yesterday, Director Jang was a total jerk, apologized, and dragged us out for drinks.
The drinking went on for three rounds…
I sent the junior staff home, dropped that guy off at the dorm at dawn, and then at 3 a.m., a truck came from the opposite direction…

“Gasp.”

My eyes snap open.

Right, it wasn’t the alcohol—it was the truck that hit me.
The memory of those glaring yellow headlights freezes my blood.
My body went rigid, and I swear I felt myself lift off the ground, my vision flipping upside down.
But oddly, aside from my throbbing head, nothing else hurts.
Did I get off lightly?
I cautiously open my eyes, and the first thing I see is a pristine white ceiling glowing softly under LED lights.
Turning my head, I spot a pile of flower baskets by my bedside.

‘A private hospital room?’

It looks like a set from one of our drama shoots.
I thought I’d been hit-and-run, but… checking my body, there’s no cast, no pain.
A sigh of relief escapes me.
Then, anxiety hits hard.
I need to call the set and let them know I’m laid up from a traffic accident.
My throat lets out a hoarse croak.

“My phone…”

Someone approaches quickly.
It’s a doctor.
The moment our eyes meet, he gasps, then spins around, shouting as if he’s seen a miracle.

“He’s awake!”

Footsteps thunder closer.
In seconds, three doctors surround me, looking down.

“Young master, are you fully conscious?”

Me?

The formal address hits me like a bucket of cold water, and I blink rapidly.
Young master?
They’ve got the wrong guy…
But that’s not the priority right now.
I glance at them cautiously and ask.

“…Can I have my phone?”

“Here it is. Don’t worry, we’ll contact the chairman. He’s on the first floor.”

One of them hands me a phone with a polite bow, then gives instructions to someone behind him.

I watch their actions, utterly confused.
Chairman?
Is the owner of the truck that hit me some kind of chairman?

I notice a nameplate on the doctor’s chest: [Seonjeong Hospital, Head of Neurosurgery].
The hospital name feels familiar, but I can’t place it.

Soon, an elderly man with glasses, supported by a young woman, walks in.

“Seung Hyun! Thank goodness, you’re finally awake.”

His booming voice echoes through the private room.

He limps slightly, but otherwise looks spry enough to not need assistance.
As he rushes to my bedside and grabs my hand, the bed’s mattress automatically lifts, propping me up.
The old man speaks.

“My eldest grandson, are you hurting anywhere?”

“Uh…?”

I’m at a loss for words.
I’m no one’s eldest grandson—my parents passed away years ago.
And I’ve never seen this man before.
The only thing he got right was my name.
Then, the young woman who helped him in speaks, her voice icy.

“He’s awake, so he’s fine, right?”

I look up to see a striking woman with a chilling presence.
Her medium-length hair falls to her neck, and she’s dressed in a crisp white suit.
She’s more intimidating than beautiful.
Her voice is polite, her lips smile, but her eyes are cold as ice.
Her skin looks like it wouldn’t yield to a needle.
With the barest hint of a smile, she looks down at me, her voice dripping with frost.

“You’ve seen he’s awake, so go rest now. I’ll handle this.”

The old man frowns, clearly displeased, then sighs deeply.

“He couldn’t even open his eyes for two days… If it were up to me, I’d make sure the punks who did this to my grandson paid dearly…”

He pauses, clearing his throat.

“But since they’re hospitalized too, let’s call it even.”

Suddenly, everyone in the room stares at me, as if waiting for my reaction.
It feels like I should say, “Sure, let’s do that,” but I can’t.
They’ve clearly got the wrong person.
As the room falls silent, I finally speak up.

“Sorry, but… who are you?”

“What?”

Not just the old man, but the cold-faced woman with her arms crossed twitches an eyebrow.
The old man’s face hardens as he turns to a doctor.

“Dr. Han, is something wrong with our Seung Hyun?”

“No, sir. We checked his vitals, and everything’s normal.”

“Just to be safe, check again. He got hit in the head with a glass bottle—maybe some shards are still in there?”

“Haha, no way, Chairman.”

I blink, confused.

“I got hit with a glass bottle?”

As the old man’s face grows more serious, the woman steps in, stopping him.

“Grandfather, I’ll talk to him. He just woke up; he’s probably disoriented.”

“…Fine.”

The old man leaves, and the woman turns to the doctors with a polite smile.

“Can you give us a moment? I need to talk to my brother alone.”

The three doctors bow briefly and exit.
She looks to be in her mid-to-late twenties, but her demeanor screams someone used to giving orders.
Nothing like me, a nearly thirty-year-old freelancer scraping by at a drama production company.

Once the room is empty, her forced smile vanishes completely.

“Hey, Choi Seung Hyun, are you on drugs too?”

“…What?”

What’s she talking about?
Her face grows colder as she continues.

“Or what, you smashed someone’s head and now you’re faking amnesia to dodge the consequences? Don’t worry. The adults already settled it. Hanseong’s not pressing charges or anything. You and that jerk are both trash who probably do drugs, so no one wants this blowing up in the media.”

I’m too stunned to speak.
She glares even harder.

“You’re lucky you got hit too, so they settled it like this. Get it together. If you can’t, just die.”

Her verbal assault is brutal.
Compared to the yelling I’ve endured on set, it’s nothing, but being blamed for something I didn’t do stings.
I raise my hand calmly, like a student interrupting a lecture.

“Hold on, that’s not it.”

She shudders, like she’s seen a bug.

“And why are you suddenly being polite? You’re acting like a total lunatic. Drop the act.”

“…My name is Seung Hyun, yes, but it’s Park Seung Hyun, not Choi Seung Hyun. I don’t do drugs. I think I’m here because a truck hit me yesterday. Could there be some mix-up? I don’t have siblings.”

“What?”

Her brow furrows sharply.
For a moment, she’s silent, then covers her mouth with one hand, looking horrified.

“Are you actually crazy?”

She scans me up and down, then storms out without waiting for a reply.
I smack my lips.
It seems like they’ve mixed me up with some chaebol heir.
Anyway, I need to call Director Jang.
I’ll probably get chewed out for missing work, but I’ve lasted longer than most, so I doubt I’ll get fired.
Good thing it’s before the drama shoot starts.

But as I pick up the phone, I catch a glimpse of a stranger’s face in the dark screen.

‘Huh?’

I rub my eyes and look again.
The face in the reflection is unfamiliar.

‘…Did I get plastic surgery while my head was splitting?’

Is it the dark screen?
The face looks much younger than mine.
And there’s not a single missed call or text.
Impossible—Director Jang would lose it if I was even a minute late.

…Did I already get fired?
I unlock the phone to find Director Jang’s number, but it’s not there.
Instead, the contacts are filled with unfamiliar names.

[Grandfather / Choi Seung Hee / Father / Mother / Manager Jo / …]

“…?”

Something’s off.

Like a man possessed, I open the camera app and switch to selfie mode.
This time, I let out a real scream.

“What!?”

The screen shows a pale, sharp-eyed man I don’t recognize.
This isn’t my face!

At that moment, the woman who left earlier returns with the doctors, bursting through the door.
She speaks to them.

“Sorry, but he’s acting really out of it. Can you check him again?”

“Yes, Miss Seung Hee.”

Seung Hee…?

A bolt of realization hits me like lightning.
Seonjeong Hospital, the lavish private room, the old man shouting about his eldest grandson, the name Choi Seung Hyun, and this woman…

“…Choi Seung Hee?”

“What, you’re back to your senses?”

I glance around, stammering nervously.

“Where’s Director Jang? Hyun Soo, is this a hidden camera? Did you secure the location? This isn’t funny.”

“He looks serious. Please check his head quickly,” she says to the doctors.

“Understood.”

At Seung Hee’s words, the doctors approach, gently lifting me from the bed.
I’m still reeling, looking around like I’ve been slapped awake.
I don’t resist their careful hands because, honestly, I think I’m losing it too.

If I’m right, this is the world of Romantic Cinderella, the drama I was supposed to work on as an assistant director.