Nothing in the World Comes Free
Unlike the days when I collapsed into bed every night utterly exhausted from grueling work, the cause might have been falling asleep in a state with minimal physical labor. For the first time since arriving in this world, I had a dream.
In the dream, events from just before I fell into the world of Triam Academy flashed by like a montage.
"Endlessly playing just the card game in a story-driven game... You're the first person to enjoy a 'world' like this."
"How about a card game with me, then? With the condition that the winner's wish is granted."
It started... yeah, with me shoving the story of Triam Academy to the back burner and endlessly indulging in the minigame card battles until I dozed off.
The owner of the voice—impossible to tell if it was a woman or man, but calling itself a god—found my behavior intriguing and suddenly proposed a card game wager with a wish on the line.
At that one phrase about granting a wish, thinking it was just a dream, I accepted the bet without a shred of doubt.
"There, you've lost. To lose to someone who's never played a card game before—you're remarkably unlucky."
"My wish is for you to witness the end of this world you never saw—with your own hands."
And so, a person who'd never played a card game even once. No, I was utterly crushed by a god.
The demand the god made of the defeated me was to finish the Triam Academy story I'd neglected—with my own hands.
"This is my wish, but it'll be a good opportunity for you too."
"If you can see this world's end, granting your wish won't be an issue."
But perhaps to ensure it wouldn't feel like punishment or ordeal, the god tacked on a reward to its wish: it would grant the wish I'd intended to make if I won the card game.
The god staked its very existence on that promise with me. I had no idea what it sought to gain through me, going to such lengths.
"Please, escape this world's twisted conclusion. Meet the proper end."
That final word carried a deep, bitter solitude, sorrow, and regret that no mere blanket over the night sky could hide.
It couldn't just be my imagination.
Sparkle.
"Mm..."
The dream ended at the same moment my life as Han Sung-hwi, pillar of the Republic of Korea, came to a close.
Awakening from what could be called a cycle of memories—or perhaps just a dream—not as Han Sung-hwi, but as Lerven.
I'd woken, but leaving my stubbornly stuck eyelids be, I savored the languid haze unique to right after rising, for as long as I could.
I didn't want to waste this rare rest from harsh labor just because it was morning.
Sparkle.
But lamentably, oh so lamentably, that sweet laziness couldn't last long.
Even with eyes closed, an unidentified light kept piercing my eyelids relentlessly.
"Urghhh..."
Repeated, insistent irritation drives anyone mad—especially someone who'd just woken up!
I bolted upright, resolve firm to smash whatever was disturbing my sleep and flop right back into bed.
My eyelids, which had seemed they'd never open, finally cracked ajar—and there—
"...What the hell is this."
Sparkle.
A 'card' hovered in midair, emitting a soft azure glow.
Card. A familiar object to me: thick, stiff paper cut into a small rectangle, illustrated for its purpose, hard to tear.
...But why was it floating in front of me now, glowing unnaturally for anyone to see?
"Mm... card... card, huh..."
Facing this bizarre phenomenon, I sank into deep thought.
I wasn't dumb or thoughtless enough to poke at a sudden anomaly without warning.
Touching this card should wait until I had at least some basis for action.
"...But this looks kinda familiar?"
The moment that thought hit, I realized the card's design rang a bell.
To be precise, the front—presumably, with a figure in jester clothes—was utterly unfamiliar, but the back, covered in uniform patterns, I'd seen before.
Swish.
As hazy memories resurfaced, I warily slipped out of bed and rummaged through my luggage tossed in the corner.
Digging past spare clothes and sundries, I pulled out an item I'd left to gather dust in my memory's corner.
Something I'd brought thinking it might prove useful somewhere.
I'd said I possessed this body without any perks, but actually, I hadn't arrived entirely empty-handed.
"I hope this gift aids your journey, even a little."
Handed to me by the god right after Han Sung-hwi's life ended and Lerven's began.
A transparent case packed with unidentified cards.
But flipped over, impossible to guess the type, and for some reason, the lid wouldn't budge—so I'd treated it as dead weight, shoved in a corner...
Now I saw: the only visible backs of those cards matched exactly the one glowing and floating there.
Twinkling as if demanding I pick it up.
"......"
My card deck with the identical back, and this card whose position in space was inexplicably fixed.
Just like that, grounds for action appeared in an instant.
If connected to the deck from the god, the odds of major trouble were low.
I extended a tense hand, slowly bringing fingertips to the floating card.
"Ah, screw it."
Snatch.
Grabbing it quick, like ripping off a band-aid.
Thankfully, no explosion or summoning upon grasp—just the card losing its brilliant glow, meekly held in my hand.
"...Phew. At least it just glows and—"
And then the anomaly struck, right after.
0 – The Fool
Card Orientation: Upright
Card Meaning: Adventure, Innocence
The mystical power dwelling in the card blesses your journey.
Light of the same hue as around the card coalesced in midair, forming a rectangular semi-transparent window.
The text was unmistakably info on the card I'd grabbed—in unambiguous Korean.
"......"
Stunned by the sudden event, I forgot to breathe, mouth agape, alternating stares between the card and window.
Still half-asleep, I thought it a hallucination, but no—real, even after blinks.
Fade.
Definitely real, but after a moment, the card and its info window dissolved into motes of light.
The particles didn't scatter randomly but flowed along a path, absorbed into the card deck.
Thud.
The deck screaming it was the culprit.
I reached out and picked it up, where the light had vanished into.
"No change in appearance..."
Turning it over in hand, confirming: exterior unchanged.
Still sealed shut as when first held.
If something changed here, only one possibility.
Click.
The case's openability.
"...It opened."
That hunch hit; I gripped the lid—it parted effortlessly, mocking its prior stubbornness.
With the final barrier breached, I could finally see the cards' true faces.
"......"
I flipped the case, spilling cards out, flipping each deliberately to investigate.
The brief check revealed one fact first: this deck was none other than 'Tarot cards'.
The 22 uniquely illustrated cards used for fortune-telling.
That was the god's sole gift to me.
"...But why tarot cards of all things...?"
I'd suspected since the single card floated, but confirmation swelled the questions inside.
Countless card types exist: these tarots, famous poker decks, hwatu, even my game's cards—all cards.
Out of them, the god gave me tarots, utterly unrelated to me.
"The type doesn't really matter, though..."
Related or not, it wasn't crucial.
A gift from a god—what meaning could a mere mortal glean?
Pondering endlessly might yield fragments, but Bill Gates-level time-wasting wasn't for me.
Academy entrance exams loomed.
"For now, be grateful something appeared from nothing—"
Sparkle.
"Huh...?"
Tucking card musings aside, pondering uses—suddenly, the deck glowed.
Same light as the first card enveloped it entirely; now the whole deck floated.
"Now what...?"
Good lord, one card before—now the entire deck airborne?
But the last one just hovered still, right?
Why's this zipping around?
Eh, coming this way...?
Thwack!
"Urk."
The deck zipped erratically around the room.
As I gawked in confusion, it veered sharply, accelerating straight into my solar plexus.
■■-Grade Item '■■'s Guidance' used.
Conditions met; unique skill acquired.
Unique Skill: Arcana
Like hush money, gifting a skill in return.