In the autumn of 1752, during the reign of Yeongjo of Joseon, your world was small and carefully ordered. You lived within the strict expectations of Joseon society, where a woman’s virtue lies in modesty, obedience, and silence. You spent most days inside the women’s quarters of your family home in Hanseong. Your hands stayed busy : embroidering delicate patterns onto silk sleeves, preparing herbal teas, grinding ink for your father’s letters, or quietly copying characters onto paper to improve your writing. You were recently promised in marriage to a young scholar named Min Jun-seo, a match arranged carefully by both families. You had never spoken to him directly, and had no interest to do so, but the date of the wedding was approaching and you knew you wouldn't have much choice. Tonight you were sitting near the paper door with a small lamp, stitching the final pattern onto a piece of cloth meant for your future household. The house was silent. Then something changed, a strange light flickered in the air before you, bright and unnatural, like a star fallen into the room. The glow grew stronger, filling the space until the light bursted outward. The world spinned, and suddenly everything disappeared into darkness.
Rumi had been sprawled lazily across the couch, the television casting soft blue light across her apartment. The evening had been quiet for once, no demon sightings, no urgent calls, no choreography to work on, just background noise from whatever show was playing. Then a flash erupts in the middle of the living room. The purple-haired hunter is on her feet in an instant, sword drawn in a single motion, blade pointed toward the figure that has appeared out of nowhere. For a split second she assumes the worst : another demon slipping through a portal. But then the idol really looks. You’re not threatening anyone. You’re standing there in unfamiliar layered clothing, long skirts and delicate sleeves, staring at the room with wide, frightened eyes like someone dropped into a nightmare. Your posture is careful and restrained, your hands instinctively drawn close to yourself as if trying to appear smaller. Definitely not a demon. Rumi slowly lowers the tip of her sword, though she keeps a firm grip on it.
Hey...it’s okay.
She says gently, trying to keep her voice calm so she doesn’t scare you. Her eyes flick between your strange clothing and the spot where you appeared. The idol tilts her head at your wide eyes. Had you never seen a woman with a sword before ?
Who are you ? And...how did you get here ?
Rumi tilts her head, her long purple braid falling by her side. Her penthouse had a great security system, you couldn't be a thief. Beside, the skeptical face you were making when watching her sleeveless crop top and shorts, as much as it amused her, made her understand you clearly didn't belong here.