“So, I should just play autonomously for now, right?” Jinwoo asked.
A brainwave-measuring headband was wrapped around his forehead, and a thick headset covered his ears. Large, mysterious patches were attached to his wrists and ankles. This feels like I’m getting an ECG. That was Jinwoo’s first impression of the surprisingly simple setup.
He was in the innermost room of the Kim Euishin Metacognitive Cultural Technology Research Institute. Although the nameplate on the door said ‘Laboratory,’ the room was decorated more like a bedroom. The moderate lighting, optimal humidity, and mild indoor temperature created the perfect conditions for a deep sleep. The overall cozy atmosphere was as flawless as the spring weather currently gracing South Korea.
The mic must have been on; in the quiet moments, he could hear faint noises from beyond the booth. The click of a mouse, the clatter of a keyboard, the squeak of an old metal chair, and the low murmur of a highly educated person groaning—all these sounds seeped in through his headphones. They say white noise is the sound most calming to the human mind, and they weren’t wrong. A wave of drowsiness washed over Jinwoo as he let his body relax.
“Sleepy?”
As the wait time stretched on, his eyes were beginning to flutter shut. He had given up on counting the grid patterns on the ceiling a long time ago. Letting out a small yawn, Jinwoo answered slowly.
“Mm, a little? I think I could fall asleep the second I close my eyes.”
“You can sleep if you’re sleepy.”
Jinwoo turned his head, his gaze drifting past the glass window. Outside the booth, Kim Euishin was still bustling about. A blue light shimmered on the lenses of her aggressively blue-light-blocking glasses. A moment later, as if she’d felt his stare, she added an explanation.
“I’m in the middle of setup, and it looks like it’s going to take a while.”
From inside the booth, which had no outward-facing windows or a clock, it was impossible to gauge the time. How long have I been in here? No idea. Jinwoo shook his head lightly and pressed the back of his hand against his heavy eyelids.
“It’s okay. I’ll wait until you’re done.”
He’d waited this long, he could wait a little longer. Besides, right now, Seo Jinwoo was getting paid to lie down. The satisfaction from that fact alone was enough to keep him lounging around like a bum all day. Even as he had that thought, another yawn escaped.
Exactly ten minutes later, Jinwoo, despite his bold declaration, was fast asleep. His body, having endured a job interview, a tense negotiation, and a contract signing all in one morning, could not resist the sudden wave of drowsiness. Unable to fight the encroaching languor, Jinwoo’s breathing slowly, very slowly, evened out into a steady rhythm.
***
And when Seo Jinwoo opened his eyes, the world had been completely remade.
“…What is this?”
People were rushing past him. Footsteps of different rhythms filled the air, and a wave of hot air brushed against his cheeks. The faint, fishy smell of water wafted from somewhere. Cherry blossom petals, long past their season, scattered on a west-to-east wind.
Waaaaah!
A cheer erupted from a crowd somewhere nearby. The chaos, as dense and disorienting as a subway car in the Seoul metropolitan area, made his stomach churn.
In that moment, battling an untimely bout of motion sickness, Seo Jinwoo found himself in the middle of a bustling marketplace.
“My lord,[1] watch out!”
A cart laden with water barrels swerved past him by a hair’s breadth. Barely regaining his balance, Jinwoo planted his feet firmly on the ground. He felt the unfamiliar texture of silk shoes on his feet. At the same time, a thick cloud of dust billowed up, scratching at his eyes. He squeezed them shut reflexively, rubbing them with the back of his hand. His eyes stung as if he’d gotten sand in them.
Despite the sharp pain, the surroundings remained just as noisy, his insides just as unsettled. Prying his gritty eyes open, Jinwoo struggled to focus on what was in front of him.
“Is this really a game? Not the Mungyeong Saejae outdoor film set?”[2]
Only when the feeling of grit subsided did his vision return to its normal clarity. Taking a step back, he managed to get to the side of the road and placed a hand over his chest. His startled heart showed no signs of calming down.
Gasping for breath, Jinwoo leaned his forehead against a wooden pillar he’d grabbed onto for support. Unsurprisingly, his actions—a man in broad daylight, clinging to a pillar for no apparent reason—drew stares.
He met their gazes without flinching. In response, the eyes of the people dressed in white blinked, flickering like old filament light bulbs. Just like Seo Jinwoo, they had the same physical organs. Those eyes, filled with curiosity, were the exclusive domain of the living. No matter how he looked at it, this was all real.
“No, what the…”
The words wouldn’t come out right. Of course they wouldn’t; just moments ago, Seo Jinwoo had been sound asleep on an expensive recliner. Euishin had said the setup would take a while, but she’d never mentioned she’d send him straight to the Joseon era without so much as a turn signal. Still dazed, Jinwoo quickly checked his condition.
A smooth, crimson dopo[3] enveloped his body, and the strings of his gat[4] hung long below his chin. It was the attire of a young master from some noble house.
Wait, a broke job seeker in the real world, but the son of a high-ranking nobleman in this world? Is that the setup?!
His heart swelled with excitement as he cupped his cheeks with both hands.
His fantasy, however, was short-lived. A translucent window popped up right in front of him, shattering his delusion.
Ting-♪
[Seo Jinwoo / Male, 21 years old
– Matador[5] (Senior 1st Rank)
– Key Supporter (Senior 1st Rank)
– Individual Agent (Junior 1st Rank)
– Not Blaming the Heavens, Nor Fault Others[6] (Senior 3rd Rank)
– Recovery (Junior 3rd Rank)
– Amplification (Senior 9th Rank)
– Block (Senior 9th Rank)]
“What the hell is this? Skills?”
He must have misjudged the distance, because the blue window was pressed right against the tip of his nose. Taking a step back, Jinwoo frowned. The skill window was glitching badly, flickering and covered in static. And she spent all that time on setup. Clearly, the server wasn’t stable yet. Jinwoo tapped the window with his finger and let out a groan.
She said I could just play autonomously, but seriously… why was she in such a rush to throw someone into an unfinished game? That damn temper of hers.
Thinking of Kim Euishin, who was probably watching him from somewhere, Jinwoo swallowed his complaints. The number ‘eight million won’ was too large to complain out loud.
He squinted, slowly reading the text. There were a total of seven skills listed in the window. As he clicked on them one by one, his expression grew increasingly blank.
I have no idea what any of this means.
To be honest, he couldn’t even grasp the meaning of the skills. Seo Jinwoo had never been much of a gamer. The only games he’d ever played were simple Flash games and TalesRunner. His knowledge of status windows was limited to what he’d seen a few times in fantasy webnovels that had been popular for a while.
And I’m supposed to be a kingmaker with this pristine brain of mine. I feel sorry for whatever prince is supposed to be my liege.
The ranks seemed to be sorted in descending order based on the official ranking system of the Joseon Dynasty[7]. Jinwoo noted that Matador and Key Supporter were the highest-ranked skills he had. Quickly losing interest, he started closing the stacked windows one by one, but then his hand paused.
Of course, not everything was boring. After all, the Seo Jinwoo here was different from the Seo Jinwoo in reality. In this place where everything was virtual, the status window, at least, conveyed a clear fact. And the one setting that caught his interest was, without a doubt…
“I’m twenty-one? I’ve gotten younger.”
His age. And by eight years at that. No wonder my body feels lighter and my stamina seems to have no end. Getting paid to get younger—Jinwoo let out a sly grin.
—Oh. So that’s how user abilities are assigned.
“Whoa, what the hell was that?!”
A voice cut in out of nowhere, feeling like a physical poke in his side. Jinwoo’s body shot up vertically. The wide smile on his face instantly crumbled. At his outburst, everyone in the crowded market turned to stare at him.
From the classical scholar[8] walking by with a book to the merchant passing with an ox-drawn cart, all eyes were on him. I’m getting a lot of attention today. As a nervous sweat broke out on his brow, the voice came again.
—Hey. Aren’t you supposed to be method acting? Hurry up and method act.
The voice was quieter this time, but it still prodded him on. Haha. Bound by his contract, Jinwoo forced a smile.
“These support pillars nowadays are so sturdy and of such fine quality. There must be a wholesaler nearby that supplies such excellent wood, no? My father is also quite interested in timber; he would be most pleased to hear of this.”
Patting the long crack in the pillar, Jinwoo gracefully spun around it. “Well then, I hope you all sell a great deal,” he announced to the air. Only then did he notice the colorful norigae[9] arranged neatly on the vendor stalls. Haha. So that’s what they’re selling. Jinwoo did his absolute best to pretend he hadn’t seen them.
Dozens of pairs of eyes, gentle as a cow’s, followed him as he moved from east to west. Casually breaking their line of sight, Jinwoo quickly made his way toward a side alley lined with low walls.
—Wow, as expected of you. Seo Jinwoo, you were born for fieldwork.
Clap. Clap.
A monotonous applause sounded in his head. Jinwoo ground his teeth as he hurried through the alley. His cheeks, warmed by the midday sun, felt hot. He’d never spouted such nonsense even in real life. Lifting an arm, he covered his mouth with his sleeve and whispered,
“Born for fieldwork my ass! What do you mean, just popping in like that? You scared me! I know it’s your job and I agreed to this, but I nearly had a heart attack. Give me a heads-up next time!”
—And how exactly am I supposed to give you a heads-up? You sure ask for a lot.
Her tone was even drier now, tinged with exhaustion. Like someone placating a sensitive pet, Euishin offered some meaningless reassurance. Right, right. I’ll escort you properly next time.
After walking for some time, he came to a wide, deserted road. It seemed to lead to a mountain in the back. At the entrance of the trail was a pavilion, a perfect spot for a person to rest. Glancing around, Jinwoo hurried up into it.
“My body is okay, right?”
Catching his breath, Jinwoo climbed into the pavilion on his knees. He had kicked off the silk shoes, which now lay haphazardly on the ground. His legs ached terribly, likely from running in the unfamiliar footwear. A groan escaped his lips.
—It’s right where you left it, sleeping soundly. Now try to maintain the dignity of a nobleman’s son.
“Oh, so I’m really the son of a noble house? No way. Are we rich?”
What do my parents do? I hope they’re someone with real clout in the royal court. Jinwoo untied the strings of his gat, took it off, and tossed it into a corner of the pavilion. As he straightened his crumpled clothes, he fired off a barrage of questions, to which a concise reply came back.
—Hmm, no. They’re not that influential. But I can modify the family settings if you need.
A moment later, the user information window popped up again. Along with his younger age, it now listed basic information about this version of Seo Jinwoo. A satisfied smile spread across his face as he enlarged the window.
His father was a Vice Minister of Rites (Junior 2nd Rank),[10] with no concubines. His mother was the precious only daughter of a prestigious local functionary family. They had a wonderfully raised son, Seo Jinwoo, and a daughter who appeared to be his younger sister. This simple diagram was the entirety of the Seo family tree.
“Well, this isn’t a bad starting position for a kingmaker.”
In a society with a rigid class system, this kind of balance was necessary. If he had been a commoner or a slave, he might as well have prayed for a dragon to rise from a ditch and touch the sky like the Lotte World Tower. My father will have a fair amount of political influence. It wasn’t a bad starting point at all. For a son who had a great task ahead of him, these were the perfect parents to give him the wings he needed. Leaning his back against a pillar of the pavilion, Jinwoo let out a long yawn.
“Noona, tell me about the game’s episodes now.”
Now that he’d confirmed his origins, the next step was to understand the game’s blueprint. The foundation of any endeavor begins with gathering information. Jinwoo had no intention of proceeding blindly. He stared straight up at the sky. This isn’t the modern era; it’s Joseon. What if I make a wrong move and end up tied to a rack and tortured?
“You can avoid spoiling any events that might directly affect my gameplay. But this is a simulation game, so there must be stages for each chapter. You can at least tell me that much, right?”
Jinwoo tried to present the most logical argument he could. It was all about minimizing potential losses and maximizing efficiency. He needed to be able to predict the events that would occur in this game to have any chance of avoiding the risks.
—There are none.
“What?”
—There are no stages or episodes. Nothing like that.
But the answer that came back was simple. The words that had been pouring from Jinwoo’s mouth came to a halt. At the same moment, a gentle breeze tickled his forehead. The sweat on the back of his neck, which had started to dry, sent a chill through him. Goosebumps erupted all over his skin. His mind, stunned by the unexpected reply, couldn’t process it.
There’s no detailed plot in a finished game? What kind of bullshit is this?
The sky was blue, the clouds were low. The crisp, fine-dust-free air cooled his lower lip, which had been warmed by his breath. With a blank expression, Jinwoo felt a leaf fall and brush against his back. It felt as if a well-honed blade, radiating killing intent, had just been pressed against his carotid artery.