Ch.1The Body of an Imperial Princess

* * *

“The Ural Soviet Committee hereby sentences you to death.”

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

On the screen, the last Tsar Nicholas II and his family were executed by the Bolsheviks.

The last imperial family of the Romanovs received the people’s judgment through Bolshevik bullets.

The Russian people, including the Bolsheviks, had already turned their backs on the Romanovs’ tyranny, abandoning the once-fatherly Tsar.

Once they were the glorious Tsar and family of Imperial Russia.

Now they ended their days confined in a mansion in Yekaterinburg, meeting an end too cruel and wretched for an imperial family—executed by firing squad in a basement.

The bodies of the Romanov family were carelessly mutilated and buried in a place untouched by human feet.

“Hmm. So that’s the end of the movie.”

I sighed deeply after watching “The Last Romanov.”

It was thrilling, I suppose.

I’ve seen plenty of incompetent emperors and their families die throughout history, but still.

This just doesn’t seem right.

No matter what, dying at the hands of reds feels wrong.

Not just as a citizen of South Korea who upholds freedom and democracy, but really. It’s too miserable for an imperial monarch to fall victim to a virus-like ideology like communism.

Communists should be beaten—that’s how it should be. Sigh.

In the eerily quiet theater, I wasn’t alone—

There was someone watching the movie right next to me.

“So you think those Romanovs were in the right?”

Beside me sat a foreign old man with a frightening face—whether that was his natural expression or just how he looked, I couldn’t tell.

It’s rare enough to see elderly Korean men these days.

What’s a white-haired foreigner doing in a place like this?

Why is he suddenly asking if the Romanovs were right when I didn’t say anything?

Is he some kind of mind reader?

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Your face says it all.”

“They weren’t right. But still, dying at the hands of reds—how disgraceful is that?”

The Austrian Archduke who died at the hands of a Serbian youth with anger management issues had it better.

Dying at the hands of reds is just too shameful.

“Oh?”

“Especially those Russian red Bolsheviks. After seizing power, didn’t they follow Stolypin’s reforms—the same Stolypin who was assassinated during imperial times? Then they did that nonsense called collectivization, causing Ukrainians to die in such numbers they resorted to cannibalism.”

“I see. But isn’t it ultimately Russia’s business? You’re Korean, aren’t you?”

“If reds hadn’t been responsible for cutting the beautiful S-line of the Korean peninsula in half, I wouldn’t be grumbling like this.”

It’s not that I don’t have pride in the Korean peninsula.

Honestly, isn’t the Korean peninsula’s outline incredibly beautiful?

There’s even a natural border at the Yalu River.

“Hmm, I see. You have a point. So you support monarchies over communist parties?”

“Why are communism and monarchism the only options? Where’s democracy in these choices?”

Korea also has the unfortunate history of being under Japanese rule for 36 years due to the incompetent blunders of the Yi Dynasty. Why would I support a monarchy?

“Aren’t you curious?”

“About what?”

“The story after that movie.”

“I could just search Russian history for that.”

Why would that matter to me as a Korean anyway?

I’m busy enough just trying to survive day by day.

“You could create it yourself.”

“Me?”

“Kerensky had a car.”

“What?”

Who the hell is Kerensky?

Suddenly throwing out some name I don’t know.

“But with the world in this state, there’s no one suitable in Russia.”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, though there’s some distance, aren’t Russia and Korea somewhat allied? The Russian Empire even went to war with Japan to help the Korean Empire.”

No matter how little I know about history.

That’s not right, you damned old man.

How can you twist things like that?

What’s with this person? His eyes are dangerously intense.

They’re glowing fiercely as if they could devour someone.

“No, why are you making these connections? I don’t know anything about Russia. I don’t know what you’re trying to use me for, but I’m just an ordinary Asian person. Sir, I don’t know anything.”

“That’s fine. Humans are creatures of adaptation.”

“What?”

“So I’ll be counting on you.”

Counting on me for what?

“I’m leaving it to you.”

Leaving what to me?

“It’s a bit forced, but this needs to be cleaned up somehow.”

Whatever it is, you should clean it up yourself.

I needed to object somehow.

But as this man muttered something, I felt my consciousness becoming comfortable.

“Since you’re of foreign origin, I’ll provide for you, so you won’t die.”

With those words, my vision went dark.

* * *

Whatever happened, when I next regained consciousness, I was lying down.

Just carelessly thrown aside.

My whole body felt stiff.

Did that old man dump me here and disappear?

I don’t have anything valuable.

But I shouldn’t be in pain.

As I struggled to open my eyes, I saw powerfully built white men sprinkling something on me.

Ah, I know these people.

The Bolsheviks who executed Nicholas II’s family.

Useless memories are flooding into my head as if forcibly injected.

Memories flow in endlessly, like data being transferred.

This body isn’t mine.

Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanova.

The youngest daughter of Nicholas II, a girl who dies with her family, shot by Bolsheviks in Yekaterinburg.

Let me quickly assess the situation.

Starting with Bloody Sunday—when protests asking for better treatment of citizens were violently suppressed—the Russian Empire began to collapse.

Then, supporting Serbia after they killed the Austrian Archduke, Russia joined World War I on the side of the Entente, only to have Germany stir up revolution.

The empire fell, the new Russian Republic was born, then power transferred to the Bolsheviks, creating the Soviet Union.

In this process, killing the Tsar’s family was an important trophy announcing the revolution’s success.

A case of children paying for their parents’ mistakes.

Of course, the real motive was to eliminate a potential rallying point for the White Army fighting against the Bolsheviks’ Red Army.

Still, they killed them by firing squad without even a trial, too blatantly.

The memory remains clear in this body.

Initially survived thanks to jewels hidden in her corset, but then those reds stabbed Anastasia’s body with bayonets.

I’m not a world history expert.

But I know the basics from wasting time in libraries reading world history.

Anastasia died from bayonet wounds, and I entered her body.

That old man told me to complete the story after the movie.

In other words, he wants me to create an alternate history.

I heard the Romanov family’s bodies were burned with oil and hastily buried.

From the current situation, these guys are pouring something on this body—my body now.

Yes, it’s probably oil.

And they’re throwing fire.

Hiss

But strangely, my body remains intact.

The fire doesn’t catch.

More precisely, flames rise around me, but I alone don’t catch fire at all.

-You won’t die.

So that’s what he meant by not dying.

If he was going to possess me with a spirit, couldn’t he have done it in pre-World War I Russia?

Did he have to possess a girl’s body?

At the very least, Alexei—no, Alexei was sickly—or maybe Olga, who was mentioned as a throne candidate.

Wouldn’t it have been better to possess someone during the golden time to kill Rasputin and reform Russia?

No.

Why put a Korean guy in Russia in the first place?

No matter how chaotic the original world was, there must be more Russians than Koreans.

Just possess someone in Joseon like in novels.

At least then there’d be some Korean pride element. Suddenly becoming Anastasia without any connection…

“Hmm?”

“Huh?”

Ah, I made eye contact with the guy who threw fire at me.

Seeing his face frozen in shock, I winked at him with one eye.

Of course, from their perspective, it must be bewildering—a girl who should be dead is alive, even after being repeatedly stabbed with bayonets.

Surviving is the priority now.

I refuse to just lie here and be buried, so I need to get out of here and figure out what to do.

Yes, once I leave here, should I flee to America? Or England, where Nicholas II’s cousin George V is?

Though he opposed their asylum, if only the youngest daughter of Nicholas’s family survived the execution, wouldn’t he take me in?

Let the White Army fight on their own.

Meanwhile, that red fell backward in shock as I kept winking at him.

I’d be shocked too if a woman I’d stabbed to death suddenly got up.

If I play this right, I might be able to turn this situation to my advantage.

So I stood up confidently.

Being in the body of a 17-year-old princess, the height difference takes getting used to, but I needed to move somehow to protect my lifeline.

Escape?

Escape from this place full of Bolsheviks?

I’d just be deliberately inviting a shower of bullets and proving to the world I’m a zombie.

I need a different approach.

Anastasia was later canonized as a saint by the Russian Orthodox Church in 2001.

What if I act like a saint?

Yes, that’s good.

I’ve already returned from death.

That red is looking at me in disbelief. It’s all or nothing.

Do I let rumors of zombie Anastasia spread?

Or somehow survive as a saint?

I chose the latter.

I boldly shook off the flames that wouldn’t burn me.

As I stood up and took steps, other Bolsheviks came into view.

They were all staring at me with wide eyes.

See? This is what it means to be of chosen blood.

Grand Duchess Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanova, Russian princess, is alive!

“What’s happening? How is the princess still alive?!”

“Comrade! We definitely stabbed her mercilessly with bayonets and beat her with rifle butts until she died! We just poured oil on her and set her on fire, but she’s not dying—she’s perfectly fine!”

It’s strange that I can understand Russian as if it were Korean.

What’s certain is that these guys are quite bewildered.

Carefully, I opened Anastasia’s delicate lips, now mine.

“I am a saint.”

“What?”

“God has spoken. He has given me another chance and commanded me to destroy the Bolsheviks who do not believe in Him.”

“Nonsense!”

Bang!

Really? This bastard shoots while someone is talking.