Reincarnation

"Put your hand down. I'm not finished talking. Jinseong, if you interrupt me again, I'll seal your mouth shut just like before."

"I—I'm sorry."

"Haaah… All right, I'll continue. In exchange, none of you are to tell the locals that you're reincarnators, or share knowledge from your previous lives. Talking among yourselves is fine, of course, and using that knowledge for personal gain is allowed."

With that, the god crossed his arms, as if to say he would wait while they thought it over.

Hmm.

Hanjun considered it carefully — whether the knowledge he possessed would even be useful over there, and whether it was something he could safely share with the people of that world.

In the end, he decided to accept the god's proposal.

The sum total of what he knew amounted to Korean, English, Korean history, social studies, and administrative law — none of it relevant to the other side. Dumping any of that on a medieval society would only sow chaos.

"How is it that every thought you have is one I like?"

The god regarded Hanjun with open satisfaction as he said it.

Hanjun's face stiffened for a moment at the realization that his thoughts had been read — then he accepted it. Of course a god could do that.

It left a faintly sour taste, but earning the god's goodwill in return was a net gain if nothing else.

Should I be thanking Jinseong for this?

The god's favorability was climbing this fast largely because of the spectacle that idiot kept putting on beside him.

The thought crossed Hanjun's mind and he glanced sideways — then immediately scrubbed it away. The guy was staring at him with bloodshot eyes. There was no room left for generous feelings.

Was he really that jealous over a single word of praise?

"I'll take it."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"Good choice. So — where should I place the Stigma? I'd recommend somewhere easy for others to see."

Hanjun held out the back of his left hand.

The god tapped it once with a fingertip, and a tattoo of crossed wings bloomed across the skin.

"Sorry, but I'll be using that Stigma to monitor whether you keep your promise. Don't take it too hard, though. As I said earlier, it has a built-in healing holy art, and it guarantees your social standing."

"Our standing?"

"That's right. As long as you bear that Stigma, you'll be treated as honorary priests under the Church's protection. Even if you're unlucky enough to be born a slave because you skipped the family option, the Church will free you immediately."

"Do we… have to take on a priest's duties?"

"No. But if you commit excessive evil — or keep doing it — I'll reclaim the Stigma and everything you bought with your points."

Hanjun's face brightened.

His status was secured with virtually no downside, and he could pour all three hundred points into supernatural abilities.

"Are you sure about that? You don't need a family?"

"…I already have a family. I can't see them anymore, but that doesn't mean I want a new one. If I ever make a new family, it'll only be…"

"Only be?"

"When I meet a lovely woman, marry her, and have a child with her."

Having said that, Hanjun fidgeted, gauging the god's reaction, before finally managing to force the words out.

"God… is there any way I could say a final goodbye to my family? I don't mind if it costs points."

"…I'm sorry."

"…Haha. It's fine. So please don't apologize."

Putting on as brave a face as he could, Hanjun lowered his head and stared down at the tablet resting on his knees.

Droplets began to fall, one by one, onto the screen.

"Fuck. Stop sniveling. It's disgusting."

At that single line from Jinseong, Hanjun's faintly trembling shoulders went still.

Jinseong had snapped the words out in a fit of temper and was already wearing a look of belated regret — until the chill rolling off Hanjun made him flinch and shrink back, warily watching him.

He had to be careful.

This guy usually laughed off insults and criticism so long as they stayed within bounds. But once the atmosphere shifted like this…

BAM!

…he was the type who swung fists before words.

Jinseong swallowed hard, staring at the fist that was straining toward him — flushed red, trembling, held back by something invisible.

Then he shifted his gaze to the fist's owner.

Hanjun's eyes were blazing blue with murderous intent.

A dull ache pulsed through Jinseong's whole body, dragging up the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠memory of the first time he'd seen those eyes.

Ever since that day, looking into them always did this to him.

Fuck.

Cursing inwardly, Jinseong forced his eyes wide and glared right back.

His pupils kept trying to slide away from Hanjun's stare, but he clenched his teeth and locked them in place by sheer will.

There's no way I'm scared. No way I'd be scared of a guy like him!

He repeated it to himself without pause.

Even so, the rage aimed at Hanjun steadily drained away, replaced by something he refused to name.

"Hanjun. I understand how you feel, but stop. I don't like noise."

At the god's intervention, Hanjun flicked a glance his way.

The god's face was utterly expressionless.

So Hanjun let the anger go.

No — he had no choice ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠but to let it go.

The image rose sharp and clear in his mind: that same face, stripped of every scrap of humanity, extinguishing him without the slightest feeling or hesitation.

"I apologize for the disturbance."

"Yes, yes — when you've done wrong, you apologize. Unlike some people, you've got real character."

Only when Hanjun rose from his seat and bowed did the god's blank mask crack into a pleasant smile.

But the eyes he turned on Jinseong as he added that last remark were cold enough to freeze bone.

"I—I'm sorry too—"

"Don't bother. I don't accept apologies that aren't sincere."

Jinseong's belated apology was rejected outright.

He still didn't believe he'd done anything wrong, after all.

"All right — start checking your options. If anything's unclear, or you have questions, don't hold back. Ask."

Hanjun nodded and began examining the choices with care.

But is dumping every point into abilities really the right call?

Now that the moment of decision was here, doubt crept in.

At the very least, he felt he ought to invest something in appearance. If he reincarnated as an ugly mess because he'd spent nothing… he would definitely regret this moment for the rest of his life.

"For reference — if you put no points into talent or appearance, you'll reincarnate at whatever level you were born with."

"Meaning our original selves carry over as-is?"

"Correct."

The god nodded, and only then did Hanjun relax and tap the abilities category.

Twenty-seven years of living had taught him that his looks and talent weren't exactly bottom-tier.

Psychokinesis. Aura. Magic. One after another, the supernatural powers he'd only ever imagined filled the list.

But no matter how hard he searched, he couldn't find the one ability he'd always wanted most — the one that crossed his mind every single time he left the house.

"Um… God."

"Wondering why there are no space-related abilities?"

"Yes."

"Th-there's nothing related to hypnosis either!"

The instant Hanjun nodded, Jinseong scrambled to add his own demand.

The god gave him a look of pure pity, heaved a deep sigh, and answered.

"I deliberately left hypnosis out. I have no interest in watching a world go to hell. My world doesn't permit hypnosis-type abilities at all. At most, a bare handful of people are allowed something like Charm."

"There's no Charm either."

"A reincarnator who came before you already took it. Powerful abilities have limited slots, and the monitoring on them is intense. Call it bad luck and give up. While you're at it, give up on the whole rape-fantasy thing too, if you can manage it."

"R-rape fantasy?! I don't know what you're talking about!"

At least try to make it sound believable.

Hanjun shot a look at the transparent liar, then sank into thought.

Luck, huh. Come to think of it, he said dying alongside this guy was bad luck too. Well — half of it was deliberate on his part.

The word luck kept circling through Hanjun's mind.

Meanwhile, having abandoned any hope of persuading Jinseong, the god answered Hanjun's question.

"Space-related abilities can only be obtained through other abilities. Like the Teleport spell under spatial magic, for example."

"Why is that?"

"Space is the closest thing to a god's power after time. So humans have a hard time handling it directly."

"I see. Then — sorry to trouble you, but could you recommend an ability specialized in movement, protection, and storage?"

There was no need to fixate on space itself.

As long as he could reach the future he pictured in his head, Hanjun didn't care what the ability was called.

"That's a surprisingly unexpected career choice. A merchant, of all things."

"Is it that unexpected?"

"Not exactly — but men your age usually pick combat-oriented jobs. Like that one over there."

The god flicked a glance at Jinseong.

Hanjun followed his gaze, and Jinseong — catching the look — hunched over his tablet the way ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a student hides a test paper.

What, is it that impressive?

Hanjun clicked his tongue as if he'd seen something unsightly, then explained his reasoning.

"You said there's already a Hero. So there's no real need for me to fight, is there? I want to live this life out to its natural end if I can. I'd like to travel a bit, too."

"And that's why you chose merchant."

Hanjun nodded.

Then he fixed the god with an impatient look that all but begged him to answer the actual question already.

He wanted to finish choosing and get out of this space as soon as possible.

That way, he wouldn't have to look at that guy anymore.

"Hmm. Movement, protection, and storage. Spatial magic, as I mentioned, is ideal for that. I can guarantee nothing better exists. However."

"However?"

"You want those abilities so you can avoid danger, defend against attacks, and store goods. That means you'd need to use spatial magic with real fluency — and that takes a lot of points. No — ideally, you'd spend all of them."

"A-all of them?"

"Yes. Spatial magic is that difficult a field. Even the finest mages in my world rarely use it well."

So saying, the god snapped his fingers.

Fresh lines of text etched themselves onto Hanjun's tablet like characters being typed.

"…This is…"

"The conditions required to wield spatial magic at the level you want."

"…Haaah…"

A deep sigh slipped from Hanjun's lips unbidden.

The safe, comfortable path of a merchant was far more expensive than he had imagined.