I Became the Last Princess of the Brown Bear Kingdom

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* * *

“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 shot by the Bolsheviks.

The final imperial family of the Romanovs faced the people’s judgment through the bullets of the Bolsheviks.

The Russian people, including those Bolsheviks, had already turned their backs on the Tsar, who was once like a father to them due to the tyranny of the Romanovs.

Once, they were the brilliant Tsar and his family of Imperial Russia.

Now they were cruelly and humbly executed in the basement of their mansion in Yekaterinburg, being under house arrest.

The bodies of the Romanov family were thrown into places where no one would step foot, disfigured and buried haphazardly.

“Hm. Is this the end of the movie?”

After watching the film, “The Last Romanov,” I let out a deep sigh.

It was thrilling, but still…

I’ve seen incompetent emperors and their families meet their ends in history countless times.

But this felt different.

Still, dying at the hands of those Reds feels just wrong.

It’s too horrific that the monarch of an empire suffers due to a viral ideology like communism—not as a citizen defending freedom and democracy in the Republic of Korea, but just as a human being.

Reds must be defeated; that’s the point, right? Ugh.

In the eerily quiet theater, it wasn’t just me alone.

There was someone sitting right next to me who was also watching the movie.

“So, do you believe that the Romanovs were right?”

From beside me, I couldn’t tell if it was just his expression or his frightening face, but he looked like a scary foreigner.

Even Korean grandfathers lately are hard to come by.

What on earth is an old white man doing in a place like this?

I hadn’t said anything suddenly, and here he was asking whether the Romanovs were right.

Is he some kind of fortune teller?

“I didn’t say a word.”

“Your face just seems to say that.”

“Not at all. But really, dying at the hands of those Reds? How pathetic is that?”

It would be better to have died at the hands of a Serbian youth with anger management issues like the Archduke of Austria.

Dying at the hands of the Reds is just too disgraceful.

“Oh?”

“Especially those Russian Reds, the Bolsheviks. After taking power, they just ignored the reforms of Stolypin, who was assassinated back in the imperial days, and now they’re indulging in collectivization or whatever, leading Ukrainians to cannibalism as they die off.”

“I see. But in the end, it’s still a Russian matter, isn’t it? You must be Korean after all.”

“If those Reds hadn’t been the reason for the scars on the beautiful S-line of the Korean Peninsula, I wouldn’t be grumbling like this.”

I’m not saying I’m completely devoid of national pride.

Honestly, isn’t the line of the Korean Peninsula immensely beautiful?

With the natural border of the Amnok River, for instance.

“Hmm, I see. That makes sense. So, do you support a monarchy over a communist state?”

“Why is it that while communism and monarchy exist, there’s no option for democracy?”

Korea has a regrettable history of being rolled over by Japan for 36 years due to the incompetence of this damned Joseon, and here he is, asking if I support a monarchy.

“Are you not curious?”

“Excuse me?”

“The backstory of that movie.”

“Well, you can find that just by searching for Russian history.”

Does it even matter to me who’s Korean?

I’m busy living day by day as it is.

“You should create your own.”

“Me?”

“Kerensky has a car these days.”

“Excuse me?”

Who the hell is Kerensky?

Suddenly dropping a name of someone I don’t know.

“Still, the way the world is now, there seems to be no one left in Russia.”

“Excuse me?”

“Right. It may be a bit far-fetched, but Russia and Korea are sort of allied countries, aren’t they? The Russian Empire even risked everything to help the Korean Empire during the Russo-Japanese War.”

Even if I don’t know much about history…

That’s just absurd, you old man.

How do you connect that?

What’s with this man’s eyes? They gleam dangerously, as if ready to devour someone.

“No, why try to make that connection? Whatever it is, I don’t know anything about Russia. I don’t know what you’re trying to persuade me to do. I’m just a mere yellow man, old man. I don’t know anything.”

“Fine. Humans are, after all, creatures of adaptation.”

“Uh?”

“So, I’m counting on you.”

Count on me for what?

“I’m entrusting this to you.”

So what exactly?

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

I don’t know what it is, but it seems I have to sort it out.

I needed to argue back, but the man muttering something made my consciousness feel cozy.

“As a foreigner, I’ll take care of you so you won’t die.”

With those words, my vision went dark.

* * *

I don’t know what happened, but when I regained consciousness, I was lying down.

It was in a manner as if carelessly tossed away.

My whole body ached.

Did that old man throw me here and disappear?

I have nothing to my name.

And surely my body shouldn’t be hurting.

As I tried to open my eyes, I saw very strong-looking white men pouring something on me.

Ah, I recognize these people.

The Bolsheviks who shot Nicholas II’s family.

Right now, useless memories are pounding into my head as if they were forcibly injected.

Memories keep flowing in endlessly, just as if transmitting data.

This body isn’t my own.

Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanova.

The youngest daughter of Nicholas II, who was shot dead along with her family by the Bolsheviks in Yekaterinburg.

Let’s lightly recap the current situation.

I want to live. Starting from Bloody Sunday, where the army suppressed the protesters asking for a little consideration for the people, the Russian Empire began to collapse.

By supporting Serbia, who killed the Archduke of Austria, we entered World War I as a negotiating party, ended up in a mess in Germany, and revolutions ensued.

The Empire collapsed, giving birth to the new Russian Republic, which later fell to the Bolsheviks, leading to the creation of the Soviet Union.

In this process, taking the lives of the Tsar (Emperor) and his family served as crucial spoils to announce the success of the revolution.

It’s a case where even the children bear the consequences of their parents’ mistakes.

Of course, if you dig deeper, it was a preemptive strike to eliminate the White Army’s center, which was fighting against the Bolshevik Red Army.

But they executed them without trial and in such a blatant manner.

It’s clearly etched in this body’s memory.

Due to the jewels hidden in my corset, I initially survived, but later the Reds stabbed Anastasia’s body with a bayonet.

I’m not an expert in world history.

But after wasting time in the library reading about world history, I know the surface-level stuff.

Anastasia, who died after being stabbed by a bayonet, was gone, and I entered that body.

That old man told me to complete the backstory of the movie.

In other words, he’s telling me to create an alternate history.

The corpses of Nicholas II’s family were burned with oil and buried haphazardly, as I had heard.

Judging by the current situation, it’s evident that they are in this body.

Yeah. The oil that’s probably being poured into my body now.

And they’re setting it on fire.

Chhhh!

Yet my body feels strangely intact.

The fire does not catch.

To be precise, the fire around me erupted, but I myself didn’t burn at all.

-I won’t die.

Is this what it means not to die?

If you’re going to reincarnate, couldn’t you have at least put me in Russia before World War I?

Did I really have to be reincarnated into a girl’s body?

At least, make it Alexei. No, wait; Alexei was said to be weak, so how about Olga, who was mentioned as a potential heir?

Wouldn’t it be good to possess her just as the golden time arrives to kill Rasputin and reform Russia?

No.

Why put a Korean into Russia in the first place?

No matter how chaotic the original world is, there should be more Russians than Koreans.

Just like in novels, I could be reincarnated in Joseon.

Then there would be some nationalistic ingredients. Suddenly being Anastasia without any roots feels off.

“Hmm?”

“Uh?”

Ah. I locked eyes with the guy who threw fire at me.

His face was stiff, so I winked with one eye.

After all, a girl who should’ve been dead is alive. That must be totally absurd for them because I’m still standing even after being stabbed by a bayonet.

For now, it’s important to survive this place.

Remaining idle and being buried is not an option; at least, I need to get out and think of a way to maneuver.

Alright. Should I escape to America once I leave here? Or maybe I could go to Britain where George V, Nicholas II’s cousin, is?

Though he opposed their asylum, if only the Nicholas family was shot and their youngest daughter survived, wouldn’t they take me in?

Let the White Army handle their own fights.

By the way, the red guy looked surprised and fell backward as I kept winking at him.

Even I would be taken aback if a girl I stabbed suddenly stood up.

If things go well, I could turn this situation to my advantage.

So I stood up confidently from my seat.

Could it be because I’m a princess at 17? The height difference was hard to adjust to, but I had to get my body moving somehow to save my life.

Run?

Escape in this Bolshevik-infested place?

That would surely lead to zombie certification across nations while enduring a hail of bullets.

Then another approach is necessary.

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

Then how about playing the role of a saint?

Yeah. That sounds good.

After all, I survived death.

Look, that red guy looks like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. Then it’s all or nothing.

Should I let rumors of Anastasia being a zombie spread later?

Or should I somehow survive as a saint?

I was thinking of the latter.

I shook off the flames that didn’t even stick to me.

As I stood up and began to move, the other Bolsheviks also noticed.

They were all wide-eyed, staring at me.

Do you see? This is what it means to be of a chosen lineage.

Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanova, the Russian princess, is alive!

“What’s going on? No, why is the princess still alive?”

“Comrades! We clearly stabbed her with a bayonet mercilessly and then hit her with a rifle butt to kill her! Now we’re pouring oil and burning her, yet she’s unscathed!”

It’s pretty novel that I can understand Russian as well as Korean.

One thing’s for sure; even the authors seem quite flustered.

I carefully opened now my mouth, the pretty mouth of Anastasia.

“I am a saint.”

“What?”

“God has spoken. He will grant another chance; you must eradicate the Bolsheviks who do not believe in God.”

“Bullshit!”

Bang!

No, that guy’s speaking while shooting at me.