THE VANISHED PRINCE OF BUSAN

Vanished Prince of Busan_ I can’t attach a real .docx file here, but if you copy-paste this into Google Docs or Word and follow the 3 steps at the bottom, you’ll have a print-ready file in 2 minutes.---*THE VANISHED PRINCE OF BUSAN* _He was born a prince. He had to disappear to become a man._ A Contemporary Korean Drama / Romance --- *PAGE BREAK* *COPYRIGHT* © 2026 [Your Name] All characters and events are fictional. Cover design: Canva Free ISBN: [KDP will assign free ISBN] --- *PAGE BREAK* *PROLOGUE: A CITY THAT NEVER FORGETS* Busan exhales salt. The sea air clings to skin, neon reflects on wet pavement, and the city stays awake long after Seoul has gone quiet. Ferries groan against Haeundae. Rooftops in Marine City hum with music. This is where Min-ho was born a prince, with his name printed on buildings before he could spell it. And this is where he would have to disappear to become a man. Busan does not forget a face, but it will let a man vanish if he learns to be quiet. --- *PAGE BREAK* *CHAPTER 1: NEON AND NOISE* Min-ho Han entered Club VELVET at 11:03pm on May 2nd, his 23rd birthday. The velvet rope parted like it always did. Flashbulbs popped. Influencers angled their phones. He was the Crown Prince of Han Group, KAIST graduate, and Busan’s favorite headline. The DJ saw him and dropped the beat harder. Six hours earlier, dinner at the Han estate in Haeundae. Chairman Han Jae-sung set down his chopsticks and looked at his only son. “Vanity is expensive, Min-ho.” Lady Han So-young, his mother, said nothing. She just refilled his tea, eyes worried. His younger sister, Han Min-ji, 19, university freshman, kicked him under the table. “Ignore him, Oppa. It’s your birthday.” Min-ho bowed 90 degrees, perfect posture. He smiled. He came anyway. Inside VELVET, the air was cold AC and sweat and expensive cologne. He drank first. Then he danced. The bass vibrated through the floor. Through the glass wall, Marine City glowed like a circuit board. He was 23, old enough to sit on boards, young enough to believe he was untouchable. At 11:47pm he went live. “Toast to me, Busan.” 40,000 viewers in three minutes. Comments flooded: _PRINCE_, _GOD OF BUSAN_, _MARRY ME_. The press had a name for him already: _“Busan’s Playboy Prince.”_ He wore it like a crown he never had to earn. By 1am, the crowd shifted to models, founders, DJs. Everyone wanted a photo. He said yes to all of them. His father’s warning sat in his pocket like a coin he refused to spend. His mother had texted: _“Come home safe.”_ He left it on read. Min-ji had sent a selfie from her dorm: _“Save me some cake, Oppa.”_ He replied with a fire emoji. At 2:12am they moved to a rooftop bar. Wind off the water. Someone handed him champagne. Someone else handed him a phone. “Do the Chuseok dare. It’s trending.” He hesitated half a second. Then he lifted the phone. The screen lit his face. At 3:58am his phone vibrated on the glass table. Assistant’s name. Then a text over the live: _“Chuseok schedule. Mandatory. 8am ancestral rites. Chairman.”_ Red letters. No emoji. No room. He read it. Smirked. The live was still running, 60,000 now. He swiped the notification away with his thumb like lint. “One more round,” he said. Glasses clinked. Below, Busan kept breathing. The tide would turn. It always did. He just didn’t know it would turn on him next. --- *PAGE BREAK* *CHAPTER 2: THE CLIP THAT BROKE HIM* Chuseok morning. All of Korea bowed to ancestors. Min-ho was on a yacht off Dadaepo with models, champagne, and leftover fireworks. He turned the camera on himself, hair messy, eyes bright from no sleep. “Why do ancestors when you can have anesthetics?” He laughed. The ocean laughed with him. By 6:04am the clip was on Naver. By 9:12am #PlayboyPrince was trending nationwide. By 12:30pm Han Group stock dipped 4.2%. Board members’ group chat exploded: “Disrespect to tradition.” “Unfit to represent.” “Public apology or resignation.” Chairman Han did not yell. He never did. He called legal. One call. Then another. By 6pm, Min-ho’s accounts were frozen. His black card declined at a convenience store. His security detail was reassigned. His name vanished from the Han Group website, leaving a blank space where his photo was. At the Han estate, Lady Han So-young wept quietly in the kitchen. Min-ji threw her phone across her room. “Appa, you can’t erase him!” Chairman Han looked at his daughter and said only: “He erased himself.” At 8:03pm, a security guard came to Min-ho’s penthouse. No words. Just an envelope. Inside: a KTX ticket with the destination line blank. In black ink: _“South City.”_ And a note in his father’s handwriting: _“Learn to be seen for something other than your face. Return when Busan forgets you.”_ Lady Han called him 14 times that night. He didn’t answer. Min-ji texted: _“Oppa please. Come home.”_ He deleted the messages.