Reading Time: 7 min
About Story: The Ghost Bride of Han River is a Legend from south-korea set in the 20th-century. This Dramatic tale explores themes of Romance and is suitable for Young. It offers Moral insights. A love lost to the river, a spirit bound by sorrow, and a whisper that lingers through the night.
The Han River is the lifeblood of Seoul, a vast stretch of shimmering water that has seen centuries of history unfold along its banks. By day, it is a place of laughter, where couples stroll hand-in-hand, children chase kites, and street musicians fill the air with melodies. But by night, when the mist creeps low over the water and the city lights flicker like distant stars, the river tells a different story.
A story of sorrow. A story of a bride who never found peace.
The Ghost Bride of Han River is no ordinary spirit. She does not seek vengeance, nor does she lash out in anger. Instead, she waits—always waiting, searching, hoping to find something she lost long ago. Those who see her describe the same thing: a woman in a flowing white hanbok, standing at the water's edge, gazing into the depths as if expecting someone to rise from the river.
Some say she is harmless, a mere echo of the past. But others insist that if she calls your name, you must not answer—for if you do, you may find yourself drawn toward the river, unable to resist the pull of her sorrowful embrace.
This is her story. Seoul, 1923. In a quiet hanok near the Han River, Seo Ha-eun sat by the window, listening to the sound of the water lapping against the shore. It was a sound she had known since childhood, a lullaby that had always comforted her. But tonight, it felt different. She traced the delicate embroidery of her sleeve with trembling fingers. Tomorrow, she would become Choi Joon-ho’s wife, the daughter-in-law of one of the most powerful families in Seoul. It was a marriage her father had arranged, a union meant to elevate their family's standing. It was also a marriage she did not want. Because her heart belonged to Lee Min-jae. Min-jae was everything Joon-ho was not—kind, gentle, and free from the weight of a noble name. He was a fisherman’s son, his hands rough from years of casting nets, his laughter warm like the sun on a summer’s day. They had spent countless stolen hours beneath the willow trees by the river, whispering dreams of running away together. And now, it was time. She had sent him a message earlier that evening, instructing him to meet her at their secret place. She would wait there until he arrived, and together, they would flee before dawn. Her heart pounded as she slipped out of her room, her wedding garments hidden beneath a simple cloak. The night was cool, the air thick with the scent of river mist. She hurried toward the willow trees, her feet knowing the path by memory. And then, she waited. Minutes turned into hours. The moon traveled across the sky, casting silver ripples on the river’s surface. But Min-jae never came. Her fingers clenched around the ribbon in her hands, the same ribbon he had once tied around her wrist as a promise of his love. Had he changed his mind? Had something happened to him? When dawn’s light broke through the horizon, she knew her fate was sealed. She returned home in silence. That evening, she became Choi Joon-ho’s bride. Joon-ho was a man of discipline, raised to value honor above all else. His family’s name was his pride, and his wife was to be an extension of that pride. At first, he treated Ha-eun with cold politeness. But as the days turned to weeks, he noticed the way she avoided his touch, the way she flinched at his voice, the way she gazed out the window at night, always toward the river. Rumors reached his ears. Servants whispered of a fisherman’s son, of late-night meetings beneath the willows. One evening, as Ha-eun sat at her dressing table, brushing her hair, Joon-ho stood behind her. His voice was calm, too calm. "Do you love me, Ha-eun?" She froze, her fingers gripping the brush tightly. "You are my husband," she said, choosing her words carefully. His reflection in the mirror darkened. "That is not what I asked." The silence between them stretched. And then, without warning, he reached forward and grabbed her wrist, turning her to face him. "Who is he?" Ha-eun’s breath caught. "I... I don’t know what you mean." But he saw the flicker of fear in her eyes. That night, Joon-ho followed her. The Han River was quiet, the water smooth as glass beneath the moonlight. Ha-eun stood beneath the willow tree, clutching the ribbon Min-jae had given her. She wasn’t sure why she still came here. Perhaps, deep down, she still hoped to see him. A soft footstep behind her made her turn. But it was not Min-jae who stood there. It was Joon-ho. His eyes burned with fury. "So it’s true," he whispered. "You still wait for him." "Joon-ho, please," Ha-eun pleaded, stepping back. "Let me explain—" But his face twisted with rage. "You humiliated me," he hissed. "I gave you everything, and still, you long for another." Ha-eun turned to run, but he grabbed her wrist, dragging her toward the water’s edge. "Is this where you waited for him?" he snarled. "Do you still dream of running away?" She struggled, but his grip was unyielding. The river lapped at her feet, cold and merciless. "You will never leave me," he swore. And then, with one final shove, he let her go. The river took her in silence. Days later, they found her body downstream, her white hanbok billowing like ghostly petals on the water’s surface. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted as if she had been calling a name in her final breath. Min-jae was the first to hear the news. He did not weep. He did not scream. He simply walked to the river and stepped into the water, following her into the darkness. They never found his body. But that was not the end. Because soon, whispers began. A woman in white, seen standing at the river’s edge. A soft voice calling a name on the wind. Footsteps leading into the water, but never coming back. The Ghost Bride of Han River had been born. Present-day Seoul. But one night, as he walked along the river, a chill ran down his spine. He turned, and there she was—a woman in white, standing beneath the willow tree. She lifted her gaze to him. Her lips parted. "Min-jae?" Ji-hoon’s breath hitched. The air grew thick. The mist curled around his feet. And then, she began to move toward him. He ran. But behind him, the whisper followed. *"Min-jae... where are you?"* The Han River still flows, its waters deep with secrets. And on certain nights, when the mist hangs low and the world is quiet, you might hear her. Calling. Waiting. Searching for the love she lost. So if you ever walk alone by the Han River and hear a voice on the wind—whatever you do—do not answer.The Betrothal
The Unforgiving Marriage
The River’s Embrace
A Love That Never Fades
The Last Witness
Kim Ji-hoon never believed in ghosts. He was a journalist, a man of logic.
Epilogue: A Warning on the Wind
