“Sir Ian?”

The girl called out to Ian, gauging his reaction. His complexion wasn’t bad, but there was a peculiar sharpness to it. Although there had been talk that Ian seemed different from usual today, she hadn’t expected it to be to this extent.

“Ah, right.”

It was then that Ian understood Chel’s attitude as well.

From the beginning, they had been holding his mother’s life as collateral, so such vicious words had spilled out instantly. Ian smiled brightly and expressed his gratitude to the girl.

“It’s alright. I have nothing to convey.”

“Pardon? But…”

The girl’s eyes widened as if it were the first time.

Wasn’t Ian the one who would always entrust her with all sorts of trivial stories like a bundle whenever she went out? The servant, who also couldn’t write, would roughly scribble pictures to solidify her memory.

“The marquis has gone out.”

“The marquis?”

Today was a day with a special luncheon with Sir Mollin. It meant that the marquis’s schedule was also different from usual. The servant, who had been going out at regular intervals, seemed to have overlooked that.

“It would be troublesome if we were to encounter him by chance. Moreover, you’re on the younger side, aren’t you? Your legs must be tired.”

From what he heard, they kept mentioning the brothel, which was a dangerous place even in Ian’s era. But if it was a century ago, it would be even worse.

If unlucky, even a healthy man could collapse from aphrodisiacs and have his pockets picked. He couldn’t send a child to such a place.

“Will you be alright?”

“Hm? About what?”

“Don’t you cry late into the night every day…?”

She knows that Ian cries late? Is there someone who shares a room with him? If not, it meant that there were people outside Ian’s room in the middle of the night.

‘It seems there’s surveillance as well.’

Fortunately, he had discovered this before making a mistake. Ian smiled brightly and replied.

“It’s alright. I won’t cry anymore.”

“Then, what about the errand fee…?”

“Errand fee?”

It was the servant who looked like she was about to cry instead. She fidgeted with her fingertips, wearing a troubled expression. Ian instinctively fumbled through his pockets but found nothing.

“If I can’t bring food today, my younger siblings might starve. I’m really fine, so please give me an errand. This time, I’ll bring back the message without a single letter out of place.”

The errand fee wasn’t money, I see. Well, of course. In the past, he was a child born and raised in poverty, and now he was a child forcibly confined to the mansion. Even if he wanted to earn a single coin, he wouldn’t have any.

“Please, Sir Ian.”

Then, what was given to Ian in this mansion? It was none other than three abundant meals a day.

‘Right, no wonder he’s so thin despite being skinny.’

The Cheonrye tribe was a strong and sturdy barbarian tribe. They were so powerful that a single one could rival dozens, making it difficult to determine superiority. Thanks to that, they had established themselves as a headache for the Bariel Empire with just their tribal community.

The standard of robustness was already vastly different, so if they sent a child as scrawny as Ian, there would certainly be gossip.

As a result, at least in terms of meals, he was treated equally to the marquis family members without comparison. That was all that was given to Ian, and it was like a currency to communicate with the outside world.

“I have a total of five younger siblings. If I can’t bring back the errand fee, they’ll have to fill their stomachs with grass porridge.”

The servant pleaded earnestly, even clasping her hands together. He could guess that the territory’s situation was dire, but he hadn’t expected it to be to this extent.

However, in a situation where he couldn’t even guarantee his own well-being, he couldn’t simply accommodate the child’s circumstances. Ian pondered for a moment and nodded.

“Alright. But there’s a condition. This time, it’s a loan. I’ll give you the errand fee in advance, and later, when I want something, you can do the work for me then.”

“Ah!”

The child bowed repeatedly as if it was a truly welcome proposal.

Still, there was someone here who was helping Ian. Although they were tied together in a transactional relationship, it was better than nothing. Having an collaborator in any form was better.

“And I’d like to address you more comfortably.”

Taking this opportunity, he subtly probed to learn the child’s name. It was a remark implying that he would have many favors to ask of her in the future.

Understanding his intention, the child smiled brightly and replied.

“Call me Hannah! Everyone in the mansion calls me that!”

Previously, Ian would call her things like “you there” or “hey.” As if she had been waiting, Hannah introduced her name clearly.

***

Ian’s room was at the end of the third-floor corridor.

The moment he opened the door, a musty smell wafted up. The small window seemed woefully inadequate for ventilation. It was evident that it wasn’t a guest room but a servant’s quarters.

Creak.

The old chair creaked, but it didn’t disturb Ian’s concentration. Fortunately, there was cheap paper and a pen holder in the corner. There were clear traces of the child practicing writing. The handwriting was more fitting to call drawing than writing.

‘Imperial Year 1100.’

Ian was able to learn the exact date from Hannah.

Since he had been in the year 1198, he had gone back nearly a century into the past. His rough estimate of 100 years was correct. Ian let out a weary sigh and brushed back his golden hair.

‘Where and how do I even start with this…?’

It was clear that he had been caught in someone’s space-time magic, whether it was Naum’s or not. If not, it could be his own delusion as he was dying.

‘For now, all I know is that the person I’ve possessed and I share the same name.’

However, it was difficult to attach great significance to this. The name Ian itself was not rare or special.

Swish, swish.

To clear his mind, Ian swiftly wrote down major events on the paper. If this were a delusion or a different world, things would happen differently from his expectations.

“Hmm.”

Ian wrote down the chronicle of Bariel’s future history without much difficulty. There were gaps here and there, but it didn’t matter. The absence of memorable events meant that it had been peaceful.

“By the way, there’s so little paper on a desk of a child who’s supposed to be studying.”

The once clean paper quickly filled up with dense writing. The remaining papers were filled with scribbles that might or might not be the illegitimate child Ian’s crooked handwriting. Ian sighed and struggled to decipher what they were. It was utterly incomprehensible.

‘These are letters, right? Judging by the visible patterns, something was written… Is it not the Barielian language?’

Knock, knock.

It was at that moment. Hearing a presence outside, Ian quietly slipped the paper into the drawer and turned around. If the person could read, regardless of who they were, it could become troublesome.

“Come in.”

“I’ll leave your dinner here, Sir Ian.”

Ah, it’s Hannah.

He gazed out the window, fiddling with the crumpled paper in the drawer. The sun was setting before he knew it. The evening sky was deeply tinged with traces of winter, as it was early spring. The luminous stones on the ceiling began to emit light.

“Hannah.”

“Yes?”

Luminous stones were a much cheaper lighting source than candles. They only glowed faintly in the darkness, just enough to make out shapes.

“Could I trouble you for a candlestick?”

“Ah, about that… Anything that goes into your room requires the permission of the Marchioness.”

The child’s troubled response came from beyond the door. Judging by the modest, even shabby state of the room, it was unlikely to be provided. Wasn’t he the very embodiment of the “mistake” his husband had made outside? He could imagine how much of an eyesore he must be to a certain extent.

‘Should I be grateful that they’re not starving me?’

“…Shall I go and ask?”

The probability of receiving the leftover candle wax versus the probability of being scolded and questioned about why he needed it.

Which one would be higher? Especially on the day when their proud son Chel had made a mistake in the reception room.

“No, it’s alright. You may go now.”

“Then I’ll take my leave.”

The sound of Hannah’s footsteps fading away could be heard.

Ian picked up the pen again. He tried to write more several times, but it was so dark that he couldn’t even see the ink well anymore. He leaned back in his chair and looked towards the door.

Creak.

A small tray was placed in front of the door. Two chunks of rye bread, a slice of cheap ham, and water.

“Well, well?”

It was a meal that Hannah had set aside as her errand fee and left the bare minimum for him. No wonder he had no strength if this was what he had been eating. Ian clicked his tongue and brought the tray inside.

It wasn’t satisfying, but could he afford to be picky with a starving stomach?

He soaked the bread in water and chomped on it. Come to think of it, even the orphans on the battlefield didn’t eat like this. Back then, there was at least Gulla soup…

“Ah!”

It felt like a gust of wind blowing through his mind, which had been clouded like fog. Everything became clear, scratching the itchy spot.

Right, he had thought something was strange when he saw the kitchen.

Despite the abundant luncheon, something had felt lacking.

‘There was no Gulla.’

Goola was a vegetable rich in nutrients and often eaten as a meal substitute. Its taste was second to none, and it could be used in various dishes, making it an essential ingredient that every Barielian citizen kept on hand.

The “discovery” of Gulla could be considered a turning point for the empire, that’s how important it was.

It had reduced the number of annual deaths from starvation by nearly 85%, so economically and in terms of living standards, Bariel would be divided into before and after the discovery of Gulla.

‘Originally, Gulla would be discovered about 50 years from now.’

Discovery, not invention.

Not creating something that didn’t exist, but finding out about something that did. Goola, which came from the East, was toxic in all parts except for the seeds, so it had not been recognized as edible until now. It had been discarded in the mountains and fields, naturally becoming native.

‘No one knew how to eat the unfamiliar food from the East. For a whole 50 years.’

But Ian knew how to consume Gulla. In other words, if he could just “discover” Gulla, he could erase the Great Famine from Bariel’s history.

“Goodness.”

Ian suddenly wished that all of this was real.

Not an illusion of magic, but that he had truly come to the Bariel of the past. And that he could change history.

‘Sir Ian. It’s alright. There are always, always opportunities. The divine does not give us problems without answers.’

Naum’s last words echoed in his ears. He didn’t know the details yet, but he had a strange feeling that he could find the answer. Whatever that might be.

‘For now, let’s try to survive somehow.’

And then, head to the palace to find traces of Naum.

That was the first answer Ian had arrived at.