Chapter 5
Chapter 5
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: crow
Chapter Title: EP.2 – Knight Lee Han Here
-----------------------------------------------------------------
He finished his morning training and meticulously washed his body.
He didn't want to hear anyone around him complaining about his sweat.
After that, he ate again.
Because taking in plenty of nutrients was just as important as the workout itself.
Stew.
Meat, vegetables, tomato sauce, and more, all packed in and simmered thoroughly overnight.
Surprisingly, stew was one of the best dishes for absorbing nutrients from the ingredients.
Even with cheap ingredients, slow-cooking them made everything tender and easy to digest. Plus, readily available herbs like tomato sauce and basil brought out rich flavors, making it taste great.
For a poor commoner knight, it was more than satisfying.
“Phew, that hit the spot.”
After eating, it was time for rest.
Lee Han was the type to be just as meticulous about rest as he was about meals.
A short 30-minute power nap.
Not as restorative as deep sleep, but the benefits of a power nap were endless.
Short but potent effects that helped recover both physical stamina and mental fatigue.
After his brief power nap, Lee Han got up and stretched.
‘Today’s morning routine is about wrapped up, huh?’
Seven hours of sleep, then stretching right away followed by full-power training and nutrient intake.
Sword practice, then a wash-up and more nutrient intake.
Power nap and stretching.
This was the routine that launched Lee Han’s day.
He’d stuck to it religiously for the past three years, not skipping a single day.
Even the day after getting pummeled black and blue by the Knight Commander—his archenemy.
‘Actually, recovering after a beating makes my body feel even better the next day. Doesn’t even piss me off.’
If anyone asked why he kept up this insane training regimen, Lee Han would say it was because it worked.
Train until your body breaks, recover with troll-like regeneration, and your body levels up.
It was snail-slow progress, but the key was progress itself.
Even a 0.01 boost in strength or stamina adds up to 1 after over a hundred days.
A thousand days? That’s 10.
Once he’d confirmed it firsthand, Lee Han trained consistently.
…Sure, 0.01 might feel like despair to some. But for a guy who wasn’t a noble, had no proper master, and his only asset was a healthy body? Even this subtle growth was a beacon of hope.
Sometimes it jumped to 0.05, or even 0.1.
The rush from that growth was beyond compare. Lee Han saw it as steadily marching toward self-perfection.
“…Sigh. But when the hell am I gonna beat him?”
Humans aren’t machines, though. Gloomy moods hit out of nowhere sometimes.
Today was one of those days.
…This commute was gonna suck.
As he left the outskirts—known for housing farmers and serfs—and kept walking, the bustling city came into view.
The overwhelming grandeur befitting Pendragon Kingdom’s capital.
The closer to the royal castle, the denser the commercial districts. Massive buildings rivaling modern ones and sculptures like artworks weren’t uncommon.
Originally, it hadn’t been this grand. But after the war transformed the kingdom into a great power, they’d developed the capital to match.
Show the old scenery to anyone who remembered it, and they’d probably refuse to believe their eyes, plunged into confusion.
Before long, he entered the noble district, where the majestic royal castle loomed into sight.
A castle that drew admiring gazes from some.
Lee Han agreed it was impressive.
“…But man, I really hate going there.”
His face was twisted in the most reluctant scowl imaginable.
He stood frozen for minutes, waging a silent internal war.
Finally, with a resigned sigh, he trudged to the gate.
That’s when it happened.
“Loyalty! We greet Sir Ri Han!”
“Good morning, Sir Ri Han.”
“Yeah, you all work hard. …More importantly, my name’s Lee Han, not Ri Han.”
“
…Isn’t it basically the same?”
“…….”
Ah, Grandpa.
The honorable Deoksu Lee clan is getting dissed in this medieval world.
Should I beat these clowns up?
[Cut the nonsense and get to work, punk.]
‘…Yes, sir.’
Somehow, it felt like something his (past-life) grandpa would say. Lee Han nodded vigorously and handed over his badge.
A necklace that looked like a dog tag.
The soldier scanned it with a magic item, and it glowed blue.
Like fingerprint or iris recognition tech.
Magic was pretty damn cool.
“All clear. Have a good one today, Sir Ri Han.”
“…Don’t wanna work hard.”
“Haha, good one, sir.”
“…….”
What’s so damn funny?
Lee Han felt a surge of annoyance—everyone seemed blissfully happy except him—as he stepped inside the castle.
Others might be fine, but his stress levels were climbing. Prod him now, and he might just blow.
Just one guy. Give me one.
Hoping for that, Lee Han hurried to the knight order’s outpost on the outskirts.
“Ri Han’s here.”
“He showed.”
“Wonder what goes down today.”
“Commander around?”
A group in white silver armor emblazoned with a white lion—the same as Lee Han’s—greeted (sort of) him.
While sneakily avoiding his eyes, of course.
‘Gutless punks, every one of ‘em.’
When a commoner rolls up, shouldn’t they glare daggers, spit curses, pick a fight?
Charge in like they’re out for blood, set traps, send assassins.
Why’d they all lack even that much spine?
‘The old guard had spine.’
Those noble knights who’d swing at him outright and send killers.
Fun times with them.
Every time stress piled up, they handed him perfect excuses to throw down legitimately.
But things had changed.
After thrashing so many, suddenly no one dared pick fights anymore.
Generational shift, huh?
Time flies.
‘Should’ve spared a few.’
Left some yapping chihuahuas who’d snarl now so he could smack ‘em down later.
As a twinge of regret furrowed his brow...
“Lee Han, who’re you plotting to kill with that mug today?”
“…How about you pick a fight with me?”
“Pass. What lunatic picks a fight with a monster like you?”
“Drama queen.”
“
…Not drama, dude.”
Jake—a rare noble who didn’t treat Lee Han like dirt for being a commoner. One of his scant few friends in the order.
Actually called him by his real name, too. Top-tier skills in the group, solid sparring partner for venting frustration—no, practice.
“Quit staring like that. Sparring with you just thinking about it makes my bones hurt.”
Jake shut it down preemptively, leaving no room to maneuver.
Sharp as ever.
“A noble oughta have the fire to charge a cheeky commoner, howling about killing him. Tsk tsk!”
“
…Whatever else, your idea of nobles is ridiculously narrow-minded.”
Jake had joined the knight order at the same time as Lee Han.
So he knew all about the early clashes with the noble crowd.
…And exactly what became of those nobles.
‘Ugh, still creeps me out.’
The memory lingered vividly.
They’d bullied Lee Han hard—too hard—until one crossed the line. Then Lee Han snapped into full-on demon mode, thrashing them like beasts.
Others jumped in to stop him, only to get wrecked themselves, laid up for weeks.
Intervening had backfired spectacularly.
If the Commander hadn’t stepped in, at least three there would’ve been goners...
Talk of expelling or punishing Lee Han buzzed afterward, but the Knight Commander shot it all down.
Seemed like protection, but the sharp ones—like Jake—knew better.
Lee Han had been itching for payback. He’d have welcomed expulsion.
Commander or not, he’d have been booted a hundred times over by then.
So the Commander had basically played shield to screw with him longer. Jake thought it harsh, but got the reasoning.
Because...
‘He’s seriously strong.’
Way too talented to cut loose.
Jake’s refusal? Straight from the heart.
Honestly, the knight order’s training was nothing special.
Not brutal, not even particularly tough.
Pretty autonomous, even.
‘You’d think it was some minor league.’
From his past life: major league training was mostly on the individual.
Self-fund it, slice personal time into minutes, grind skills to survive cutthroat competition and keep that major leaguer label.
Knights clinging to their title? Mostly disciples of famed knights or nobles bankrolled by family.
Hence, private training to boost personal power. They never flaunted techniques publicly.
Techniques were secret arts—their very fortune.
‘Definitely all got something to ‘em.’
Like century-old family recipes, knights were treasure-goblin types.
Spar occasionally, and they’d stun you with wild, unforeseen moves.
Like right now.
Whoosh!
Clang!
Two knights clashed with blunt training swords.
Sparks flew on every strike—flashy. But the high-end swordplay outshone even those sparks, more mesmerizing than a circus act.
Pa!
One knight’s blade whipped like a lash, pressuring his foe.
The pressured opponent dismantled it effortlessly, riposting with three swings in a blink.
“Flashy stuff.”
Swordplay worlds apart from his own—a visual feast, pure vicarious thrill.
…Watching swordplay didn’t mean you could mimic it, of course.
‘In novels, reincarnators are all genius copiers. Why not me?’
He’d tried stealing techniques during spars once. Failed hard, left only with more questions.
Why move like that? How’d that stance pack such punch?
Word was, lineages with history had Fighting Techniques—secret arts granting the power of ten grown men.
Desperate bid for Aura, they called it. Desperate or not, impressive as hell.
Like sword arts from those wuxia novels he’d binged as a hobby.
……Jealous.
“You guys got talent.”
“Pot calling the kettle?”
“Huh?”
“Sigh.”
Why’s this punk starting something outta nowhere?
Might be a sign he wants to spar—
“Oh, and for the record: no sparring with you. Ever.”
“…Hmm.”
Lee Han sighed in disappointment.
Not just Jake—everyone dodged spars. No outlet for his stress.
‘These damn kids these days—’
“—Senior Ri Han!”
“
…Yeah?”
“I challenge you to a duel!”
“……Oh.”
Well now.
‘Look at this, a useful one.’
Lee Han’s face split into a wide grin.