The hours stretched on endlessly as I waited alone in the sterile hospital room. The beeping monitors and humming fluorescent lights provided my only company as I struggled to make sense of my bizarre situation.
Somehow, I had woken up in the body of Yoo Da-Min, the fictional character I had created late last night. The nurse had called me Ms. Yoo, confirming my impossible suspicion. I was inhabiting the body, life, and identity of a girl who existed only in my imagination up until now.
Panicked thoughts swirled as I stared down at the unfamiliar hands I could now control. Had I gone insane? Was I hallucinating in a coma after an accident? But the coarse hospital gown and irritating IV needles felt unsettlingly real against my skin. Somehow, this was all physically happening.
I wracked my brain trying to recall details about Da-Min from the text I'd written over the years. She was set to attend a prestigious academy for the elite, though she came from a modest background. Two rival wealthy students were vying for her affection, despite having every advantage Da-Min lacked.
In this very hospital, Da-Min had regrettably just awoken from a near fatal accident. But in my version of the story, her family and friends would have been anxiously awaiting her recovery. Instead, I was trapped here alone, with no clue about playing the role I had created for her.
I shook my head in disbelief. How could fictional events cross over into reality? Had my intense yearning to escape my dreary life somehow summoned me into Da-Min's world? But I had only written random scenes, barely sketching a framework for her character. There were gaping holes in her backstory I now desperately needed to know.
At last, the door swung open to reveal an older doctor, spectacles perched on his nose as he peered down at a clipboard.
"Ah, Ms. Yoo, I'm glad to see you're awake," he said briskly. "You've been unconscious for nearly a day after your nasty tumble. How are you feeling?"
I hesitated, unsure whether to confess I wasn't who he thought. But perhaps playing along would provide clues about Da-Min's life.
"I'm still feeling quite disoriented," I began carefully. "My memories are...fuzzy."
The doctor nodded. "Yes, a degree of amnesia is common with head injuries like yours. I'm sure it will come back with time and rest." He proceeded to check my vital signs and neurological responses. I remained silent, heart pounding.
Once finished, the doctor settled into a chair beside my bed. "Now then, Ms. Yoo, your CT scans showed no permanent damage, which is quite fortunate. You have a mild concussion and some bruising, but no broken bones or internal bleeding after that nasty ten foot fall into the pool. We'd like to monitor you for one more night to be safe."
Pool? So that explained the nurse's words about an accident. But why had Da-Min fallen? And who had found her unconscious and rushed her to this luxurious private hospital? The doctor spoke as if I should understand the context, but I was completely lost.
As I opened my mouth to ask more questions, the door suddenly banged open, making me jump. A severe-looking middle aged woman marched in, clad in an impeccable pantsuit and heels. Her hawk-like gaze zeroed in on me.
"Da-Min! Thank heavens you've finally awoken." Her tone was crisp more than relieved. She turned immediately to the doctor. "She appears quite well. We really must be going soon. I trust you can discharge her into my care?"
The doctor blinked in surprise at her abrupt manner. "Well, I'd recommend at least one night here for observation—"
"Nonsense!" The woman waved her hand dismissively. "You heard she has no serious injuries. I insist you release her to me now. She will rest better at home."
Though phrased politely, her words held the weight of one accustomed to issuing commands. She exuded an intimidating air of authority I instinctively recoiled from.
The doctor cleared his throat. "If you insist, Madam Yoo. I'll have the release papers drawn up. But be sure to monitor for any concerning symptoms."
Mrs. Yoo nodded. "Of course, Doctor. Thank you for all your efforts." With an air of finality, she pulled out her phone and began typing rapidly.
Panicked at being discharged into this stranger's care, I desperately turned to the doctor. "Wait, there's been some mistake—"
"Hush now, Da-Min," Mrs. Yoo interjected without looking up from her screen. "You must still be quite shaken up. Once we get you home, you can rest properly."
"But my name isn't Da-Min!" I blurted out in frustration. "It's Seol Jin-Ae. I don't know who any of you are! This is some bizarre mistake. Let me give you my parents' number..."
I rambled off my real parents' names, my home address, my high school. But Mrs. Yoo merely studied me coolly before turning back to the doctor with a tight smile.
"You see the extent of her delirium? Please hurry with those discharge orders."
I helplessly watched the doctor exit the room before rounding on this maddening woman. "Why won't you listen? I'm not your daughter!"
Mrs. Yoo frowned, looking me up and down. "Don't be foolish. You are Yoo Da-Min, my daughter. The fall must have truly rattled your senses." Her stern eyes bored into me. "I understand transitions can be...difficult. But you know there is no other option. It's time now."
Cryptic sympathy softened her severe expression ever so slightly. But before I could decipher her meaning, she moved briskly to help me change into normal clothes she had brought, ignoring my spluttered protests.
Within minutes, I found myself being escorted from the hospital by this imposing stranger, dizzying skyscrapers towering around us as we approached a waiting luxury car. Mrs. Yoo's stern presence and vice-like grip on my arm made fleeing impossible.
I had no choice but to surrender to the persistent reality pressing down on me from all sides. No one would believe my pleas. Until I understood how and why I was trapped here, I needed to appear compliant.
As the sleek car wove through crowded streets past mammoth steel structures, I stared numbly out the tinted windows, feeling disconnected from everything. Nothing made sense right now.
Somehow, my consciousness had been sucked into the fictional realm I had created, merged with my protagonist's identity. I now inhabited her body and life in this alternate world instead of my own dull but familiar reality.
I clung to the hope that this was only temporary, that I would wake up soon back in my old life. But for now, I was a stranger in a stranger land, surrounded by people who thought they knew me but saw only the character I had conjured.
Who was the real Yoo Da-Min? And how long would I have to pretend to be someone I didn't fully know myself before I could find my way home?
The sleek black car continued weaving through congested city streets, futuristic skyscrapers towering around us. I pressed myself against the leather seat, trying to melt into the upholstery. Mrs. Yoo sat ramrod straight beside me, issuing clipped instructions to the driver.
My mind spun as I took in the luxury vehicle's pristine interior. Back in the real world, my working class family could never afford such opulence. I had written Da-Min to have a similarly modest background before her admission to a prestigious academy.
Yet now, her mother dressed and behaved like an elite member of society. Where was the caring maternal warmth I had imagined for Da-Min? Mrs. Yoo's stern demeanor jarred with my limited memories of the character's background.
As we passed glistening shop displays and sleek cafés, even pedestrians' expensive attire exuded privilege I had never experienced. Nothing aligned with the version of Da-Min's life I had created.
My head throbbed as I grasped at fragmented recollections of scenes I'd drafted. Da-Min was supposed to be a poor scholarship student at the elite academy she mysteriously gained admittance to, despised by privileged classmates who looked down on her shabby clothes and mediocre status.
Yet the aloof woman beside me had the air of a dignified aristocrat. And the hospital's VIP amenities far exceeded what any scholarship student could access.
What was going on? I scoured my memories for any clue, searching the archives of random bits I had scribbled over the years when inspiration struck. When I wrote Da-Min's character, I never fully plotted out her background or social status in detail. I simply let my imagination wander, jotting scenes as they arose.
Amidst the jumbled vignettes, one half-formed recollection emerged. Late one restless night, I had penned a scene of a colder, regal mother chastising young Da-Min for shaming their elite family name with her clumsy mannerisms. She had forced Da-Min into rigorous etiquette training day and night to correct her deficiencies.
At the time, I had envisioned it as an overbearing elite mom pushing her child to be a straight A's. But the memory matched Mrs. Yoo's rigid demeanor and comportment all too well. Could there have been some truth lurking in that stray scene?
I snuck a furtive glance at the woman beside me. Her hawk-like profile and pressed lips betrayed no softness or vulnerability. She seemed fully enmeshed in her role as a powerful chaebol matriarch.
Before I could probe further, the car pulled up a long, tree-lined driveway leading to towering wrought iron gates. They noiselessly slid open, allowing us access to the sprawling mansion beyond.
My eyes widened as I took in the palatial estate and immaculately manicured gardens unfurling before me. This was worlds away from the cramped apartment I had imagined for scholarship student Da-Min.
Mrs. Yoo maintained her inscrutable expression as the car came to a stop before a grand portico with Doric columns. "Come, Da-Min," she commanded while exiting the vehicle. "The house staff have prepared your room and a light meal."
I followed mutely through an ornate front door into a dazzling marble foyer with vaulted ceilings. Mrs. Yoo led me up a curved staircase without another word, her heels clicking authoritatively on the steps. We proceeded down carpeted hallways displaying oil paintings in gilded frames.
At last she paused before an arched doorway, pushing it open to reveal a bedroom suite so spacious it could have housed my entire family. I blinked slowly, taking in the lavish furnishings fit for royalty. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked sculpted gardens and an enormous swimming pool below.
This was the world of the 0.001%, utterly foreign to me. The only sliver that felt familiar was a small desk in the corner, stacked tall with books. Mrs. Yoo noticed me eyeing the literary tower.
"I had the housekeeper purchase replacements for all the texts damaged by the pool water. Be more careful about leaving them near ledges going forward." Her tone held a note of exasperation.
So that was why Da-Min had supposedly fallen into the pool - retrieving a wayward book. But how could an elite daughter of such means also be a bookish introvert? And which version was the real Da-Min - wealthy or scholarship student? The contradictions made my head throb.
Mrs. Yoo gestured to an ornate tea service left on a marble table. "Eat, rest, and refresh yourself. We have important matters to discuss over dinner. A gown will be laid out for you." With that, she swept from the room, heels clicking down the hall until silence fell.
I stood fixed in place, struggling to reconcile my fading impressions of Da-Min's character with this unfamiliar reality. Had I somehow blended multiple narrative threads I'd imagined for her over the years? But consuming amnesia still obscured any concrete recollections from my past life. I didn't even know what was true memories and what was false.
Wandering through the suite, I trailed my fingers along silk upholstery, hardly daring to sit down for fear of soiling something irreparably. Such luxury still felt foreign to me.
But according to all those around me, I was Yoo Da-Min, heiress to this vast estate, not the impoverished scholar scraped into a prestigious academy through luck and charity. The role sat strangely about my shoulders, ill-fitting and confining.
I leaned against the window pane, peering out at sculpted apple trees dotted across rolling emerald hills. Somewhere beyond the imposing iron gates lay bustling city streets and the elite academy Da-Min was set to attend.
Had I conjured this world and incredible wealth from my deepest imaginations? Or did it stem from stray details and scenes I had long forgotten writing? Either possibility seemed equally implausible.
A light knock at the door made me jump. A young woman entered, inclining her head politely. "Excuse me, Miss Da-Min. I'm Ong Chun-Hei, I've been assigned as your personal attendant during your recovery. Please let me know if you need anything at all."
I simply stared at her blankly. Da-Min had servants at her beck and call too?
She shifted awkwardly at my silence. "Perhaps I should let you rest now. Please call anytime if you need me, day or night." With another gentle bow, she backed from the room.
Alone once more, I sank down onto the massive canopy bed, head in hands. How long could I pretend to be Da-Min with her mother and an entire retinue of staff? I was an imposter in this unfamiliar world.
But until I understood the tangled threads connecting my reality to Da-Min's, I had no choice but to play along. Tonight at dinner, I would pepper Mrs. Yoo with questions to unravel my improbable situation.
With my true identity stripped away, what remained of the fictional character I had created? I wished I could remember the nuances of her personality and history in full detail. Perhaps then I could convince everyone of the bizarre truth.
For now, I turned my focus to surviving dinner with the imposing Mrs. Yoo and gleaning whatever knowledge I could about the life I had found myself trapped within. The answers I sought might be my only hope of escaping this strange reality.
I clung to the fragile hope that waking up in Da-Min's world was only temporary, that soon enough I would return to the tiresome but familiar confines of my own existence. Yet an unsettling premonition warned me that the way back may not be so simple.