The World Isn't Fair

The moment I opened my eyes, everything felt wrong.

My body was heavy. No, that wasn't quite right. It ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was more like my soul had been shoved into a completely different container. The sensation of my limbs, the weight of my torso, even the way my lungs expanded with each breath—everything was off. Like wearing someone else's skin that was two sizes too big.

What the hell is this?

I tried to sit up, but my arms gave out immediately. A dull pain throbbed through my temples. The ceiling above me was wooden, old and cracked in places. This wasn't my room. This wasn't even my apartment in Seoul. The air smelled of incense, old paper, and something faintly metallic.

Memories that weren't mine flooded in like a broken dam. A name. A life. A face that wasn't mine staring back at me from a hazy reflection in a nearby brass bowl.

Han Young-hoo. That was the name attached to this body. A third-rate scholar from a declining noble family in the kingdom of Cheonje. Lazy, lecherous, and apparently on the verge of being kicked out of the family for his endless debauchery.

And now I was him.

"This has to be a dream," I muttered, my voice coming out deeper and more refined than my original one. Even the accent was different—polished, aristocratic, with that archaic lilt from a thousand years ago.

But it wasn't a dream. The pain in my head was too real. The cold floor beneath my bare feet was too real. The faint scent of women's perfume clinging to my robes—definitely not mine—was way too real.

I'd become a character in some alternate-history martial arts novel. Not even the protagonist. Just some worthless side character who was supposed to die pathetically in the first few chapters after getting his ass handed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to him by a rival family.

"Fuck my life."

The words slipped out naturally. Even in this ancient body, modern cursing felt strangely comforting.

I forced myself to stand, wobbling like a newborn deer. The room was luxurious in a faded, dusty way. Silk screens with faded paintings, scrolls stacked haphazardly, and a low table covered in half-empty wine jars. Classic signs of a rich but useless young master.

That's when the first message appeared.

I stared at the glowing text hovering in my vision. My hands started shaking.

"This is some bullshit isekai trope..."

But the system wasn't done. Another window popped up right after.

"Mild poisoning? Are you kidding me?"

I stumbled toward the mirror—well, the polished bronze plate that served as one. The face staring back was... surprisingly handsome. Sharp jawline, long black hair cascading down, elegant features that screamed "noble young master." But the dark circles under the eyes and the sickly pallor ruined the whole effect.

This body had been completely wasted. Years of drinking, whoring, and avoiding any kind of training had turned what could have been a cultivation prodigy into a walking ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠corpse.

And according to the memories flooding my mind, the family elders had finally had enough. In three days, they were going to strip him of his position and throw him to the wolves—literally. The rival Baek family had already bribed assassins to make sure he never made it out of the capital alive.

"I didn't ask for this!" I shouted at the empty room. My voice cracked pathetically.

But the system didn't care about my complaints. Another notification appeared, this one pulsing with crimson light.

Zero point three percent. The system wasn't even trying to be nice.

I collapsed back onto the bed, staring at the wooden beams above me. My original life had been nothing special—just a shut-in web novel addict who spent his days reading about protagonists who got overpowered abilities and beautiful women throwing themselves at them.

Now I was living it. Except I wasn't the protagonist. I was the trash young master who usually got killed off early to show how ruthless the world was.

"Fine," I whispered, clenching my fists. "If the world isn't fair, then I'll just have to cheat harder than everyone else."

A new status window appeared, this one golden and shimmering.

A slow grin spread across my face despite the pounding headache.

Maybe this wasn't such a bad hand after all.

I was still the same lazy bastard from modern times. But now I had a cheat skill tailor-made for someone like me.

"Time to stop being a worthless young master," I said to my reflection. "From now on, I'm going to be the laziest damn powerhouse this world has ever seen."

The system responded with what I could have sworn was a hint of amusement.

I groaned, rubbing my temples.

"Yandere admirers? What kind of messed up system is this?"

But deep down, a small part of me—the part that had read way too many web novels—was already getting excited.

This was going to be one hell of a ride.