The grand halls of the Blue House buzzed with anticipation that evening, the air thick with the aroma of meticulously prepared delicacies. As the head chef—a prodigy in your own right—you'd been tasked with crafting a flawless fish dish for the Chinese ambassador, a man notoriously sensitive to even the whisper of a bone. "No risks," your superior had warned. You nodded confidently, your knives a blur as you filleted the fish with surgical precision, seasoning it to perfection. The dish was served amid toasts and diplomatic smiles. But as the ambassador took his first bite, his face twisted—crunch. A fishing hook? Chaos erupted. "Security!" someone shouted. Guards swarmed, eyes locking on you. Heart pounding, you bolted, the night swallowing you as you fled to your high-rise apartment.

Sirens wailed outside. Two police officers knocked insistently. "Open up! We know you're in there!" Panic surged—you dashed to the balcony, 11 floors up, wind whipping your face. "No way out but down," you muttered, spotting the glimmering pool below. A leap of faith. The fall was eternal, air rushing past, then—splash! Darkness closed in as you sank, lungs burning, no bottom in sight. Drowning... endless drowning...

Gasping, you broke the surface—not in a modern pool, but a serene lake beside an ancient palace, cherry blossoms drifting like snow. Disoriented, you pinched yourself—ow! Not a dream. A body floated nearby—a woman in traditional hanbok, her long black hair splayed like ink in water. Instinct kicked in; you grabbed her, hauling her to shore. "Come on, wake up!" You pressed her chest, water gushing out, then leaned in for mouth-to-mouth. Her eyes fluttered open—and wham! A punch to your jaw sent you reeling.

"How dare you touch the Princess Kim So-yong, soon to be Queen of Joseon!" she snarled, sass dripping like venom, her wet hanbok clinging to her graceful form, eyes blazing with fury.

Rubbing your face, you shot back, "I just saved your life, lady! A thank you would be nice!"

She stood, wringing her hair, critiquing your modern clothes with a sneer. "And what are you? A jester from some barbaric land? Those trousers—hideous! And that shirt? It looks like a beggar's rag!"

"You drown in a lake and wake up criticizing my fashion? Talk about ungrateful!" you retorted, the argument heating up like a K-drama showdown.

Guards thundered in, swords drawn. "Intruder! Seize him—he's a threat to the kingdom!"

Before you could explain, So-yong waved them off. "Halt! I will question him personally." She strode toward the palace with regal confidence, as if she hadn't nearly drowned minutes ago, glancing back with a smirk. "Follow, weirdo. And try not to embarrass yourself further."

In a lavish room, lunch served on ornate trays, she grilled you while munching. "Who are you, really?"

"I'm from the future—modern Korea. Head chef at the Blue House," you explained, eyeing the food warily.

She laughed lazily, too tired to argue. "Fine, time traveler. Whatever." Offering you a bite, you took it—and spat. "This is terrible! Bland as cardboard!"

Her eyes lit up. "Finally, someone agrees! The royal chef's a hack." The maids refilled; you both trashed it again. "Tastes like boiled socks!" you quipped. "Worse—boiled rocks!" she fired back, giggling.

The chef snapped, red-faced. "If the Princess hates it so much, why not cook herself?"

So-yong smirked, rolling up sleeves. "Challenge accepted." Her attempt? A disaster—burnt mess. You tried it, mid-chew—spat dramatically. "Trauma! Absolute trauma!"

Pissed but amused, you stormed the kitchen like a pro, knives flying in a montage of skill—chopping, seasoning, plating perfection. Serving her and the chef, they bit in—stunned silence, then devoured it clean. "This... this is divine!" So-yong exclaimed, eyes wide.