The Son of Heaven’s Crash Course in Korean Life

Hwanung's arrival in South Korea was nothing short of a cultural shock. The moment his feet touched the bustling streets of Seoul, he felt like he had been dropped into another realm entirely. The air smelled of grilled meats and gasoline, neon signs blinked chaotically, and the sheer noise level was overwhelming.

But what caught him off guard first were the people—or more specifically, the women.

A girl rushed past him in a whirlwind of plaid skirt and oversized hoodie, her phone glued to her ear as she muttered rapid-fire Korean. Before he could step aside, she slammed into him, sending his balance teetering.

"Yah! Be careful!" she snapped, barely glancing up before darting off again.

Hwanung blinked. "That... was rude." He glanced down at his hanbok, its flowing sleeves attracting odd stares. Maybe he stood out too much?

He now regrets refusing the free guidance about the modern world he had been offered back in the castle.

His second mistake came on the subway. He stepped in, marveling at the seamless automation and the strange rectangular lights people carried in their hands, which seemed to captivate them more than their surroundings. He spotted a girl standing nearby, her outfit making him freeze.

Her shorts barely covered her thighs, and her cropped shirt left her midriff entirely exposed. Hwanung stared, his mind racing.

What happened to modesty? Have humans abandoned clothing altogether?

The girl noticed his gaze and frowned before narrowing her eyes. "Yah, are you staring at me?!" Her voice was sharp enough to make heads turn.

"I..." he began, trying to explain.

"Pervert!" she hissed under her breath, stepping away from him.

Hwanung's ears burned as whispers rippled through the subway car. He lowered his gaze, realizing too late how his actions might have been interpreted. 'So much for the son of the Heavenly Lord,' he thought bitterly.

When he wasn't inadvertently causing scenes, Hwanung tried to understand the world around him. What shocked him the most wasn't the fashion or the technology but the realization that Korea, his homeland, was divided into two.

"Two Koreas?" he muttered aloud after seeing a world map in a bookstore.

The clerk behind the counter raised a brow. "Uh, yeah? North and South? You live under a rock or something?"

Hwanung clenched his jaw. "Under a rock? No, but I might as well have."

His discoveries continued. Why did everyone bow to a rectangular box in their pockets? Why were people obsessed with "likes" and "followers"? And why did everyone seem to care more about idols than the heavens themselves?

He tried watching a TV drama to understand modern human values, only to be greeted by over-the-top tears and a man screaming, "Geudaega saranghanda!" (I love you!). The drama ended with the woman fainting into his arms, and Hwanung groaned, muttering, "Humans haven't changed much, have they?"

But perhaps the most baffling thing was the food. He tried kimchi for the first time and nearly spat it out. "Why is it so... spicy?!" he gasped, gulping water.

By the time night fell, Hwanung stood on a rooftop overlooking the vibrant cityscape, his mind whirling. This world was strange, chaotic, and far too loud. Yet, as he watched the people below laugh, shout, and live their fleeting lives, he couldn't help but feel a strange tug at his chest.

Maybe there's something worth protecting here after all.

This was like a drama he could call, TheSon of Heaven's Crash Course in Korean Life.

Hwanung didn't expect life on Earth to be this damn complicated. Sure, he'd spent centuries watching humans from the Heavenly Realm, thinking, How hard could it be? But now, standing in the middle of Seoul, it felt like he'd walked straight into a K-drama.

First, he needed to fit in. He couldn't just stroll around looking like some ancient sage with long white hair and flowing robes.

People were already staring at him like he'd stepped out of a fantasy webtoon. So, after a few hours of research—thank heavens for smartphones and Wi-Fi—he figured out what he needed to do. With a flick of his fingers, he shortened his hair, leaving it an icy platinum that would pass as "dyed" but still retained that celestial glow. His old robes? Gone.

He conjured up a sleek black outfit: a tailored shirt with just enough buttons undone to make him look effortlessly sexy, dark jeans that hugged his long legs, and boots that screamed main character energy.

When he stepped out of the alley, his transformation was complete. But blending in? That was another story.

As soon as he hit the streets, the chaos began. Girls froze mid-step, clutching their phones like lifelines, mouths hanging open.

A few even whispered, "Omo, omo!" as if he were some top-tier idol they hadn't recognized yet. Others weren't as subtle, pulling out their phones and snapping pictures. The clicking sounds followed him like paparazzi.

At first, he thought they were trying to attack him with strange devices, but he quickly realized they were just... fangirling?

'What in the name of the heavens is wrong with humans?'

After a few minutes of dodging stares and side-eying pedestrians, a sleek black van—a GMC, if his research was right—screeched to a halt in front of him. The tinted windows gave it the mysterious vibe of a celebrity ride. He stopped, unsure what to do, but then the door slid open.

Out stepped a woman who looked as if she had been plucked straight from the cover of Vogue Korea. Her black bob framed her sharp features perfectly, and her outfit—a white crop top, high-waisted shorts, and a gray jacket slung lazily over her shoulders—screamed modern chic.

Her boots clicked against the pavement as she approached him with the confidence of someone who owned the world.

"Do you want to be an idol?" she blurted out, her voice tinged with excitement. No greeting. No introduction. Just straight to the point.

"Idol?" he echoed, narrowing his eyes. Of course, he knew what she meant. He'd read about the concept in his crash course on Earth culture.

But still... the audacity.

The woman blinked, suddenly realizing she might've come off too strong. "Ah, sorry! I was just so excited," she said, bowing quickly. "Joesonghamnida!" (I'm sorry!)

Hwanung tilted his head, the corners of his lips twitching upward. "It's okay," he said coolly, his voice carrying a warmth that immediately softened her awkwardness.

She straightened up, clearing her throat. "I'm Jaehee," she introduced herself, her tone more measured now. "And you... you're like, insanely good-looking. Like... god-tier." She laughed nervously. "No pun intended."

Hwanung smirked. If only she knew.

The woman, whose name turned out to be Jaehee, leaned against the open van door, still grinning at him like she'd just won the lottery. "Come on," she said, motioning towards the van. "Let's talk inside. You're too good-looking to be wandering around like this. People will think I'm filming some secret drama."