The Accidental Return of the Unpaid Janitor

The Demon Realm. A barren, desolate wasteland. A cursed land shunned by the self-proclaimed "orderly races"—humans, elves, dwarves, and the like. The homeland of a cursed breed, where priests wailed day in and day out, screaming, "We shall surely judge you in the name of God!"

And it also happened to be my home.

Derek, the half-demon. That was my name.

"Yaaawn..."

I let out a long, lazy yawn, pushing myself up from my scratchy straw bed to start the day. Not that starting the day amounted to much of anything here.

Out of sheer habit, I logged into the forum.

"Now we're talking."

The Cheerful Demon Realm Village Gallery. Or Sing-ma-gall for short. It was a mystical online community that any resident of the Demon Realm could ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠access.

"Ah, crap."

No, let me correct myself. You didn't actually have to be a resident of the Demon Realm to access it.

"Fucking bastards. Why don't they stay on their own forum instead of coming here to troll every single day?"

The answer appeared almost instantly in the replies.

Because they absolutely couldn't resist feeding the trolls. The great war between the self-proclaimed forces of order and the demons had been raging for hundreds of years. Generations of conflict had piled up bitter resentment on both sides, and as a result, the war had spilled over onto the internet. In the most petty, disgusting way possible.

"Just how many bait posts are there?"

This one was just simple bait, but the post right below it was a straight-up disgusting image. Unfortunately, there was no Head Mod or Sub-mod in the gallery to stop their trolling. I didn't know the full story, but apparently, the previous mods had clashed with the Operator. In a fit of rage, the Operator had stripped all the mods of their titles and abandoned the gallery. Thanks to that, ninety percent of the current concept posts were bait.

GIFs of human knights dancing on top of demon corpses to gloat. Elves making smug, punchable faces. Softcore pics of hairy female dwarves that they posted with "oh baby" tags but were basically gore to my eyes. The Sing-ma-gall was drowning in a massive flood of trolls.

As I scrolled through the concept posts, trying to filter out the bait—

Growl.

My stomach let out a thunderous roar.

"Gotta eat first."

I closed the forum and rummaged through the cupboards.

"Food is... ah, completely empty."

It looked like it was about time to make a trip down to the village.

"I really don't want to go."

A half-demon. I was a mixed-blood, born because my demon father had fallen in love with my human mage mother. It might have been a beautiful romance for them, but...

"You could've at least spared a thought for the kid who'd have to live with it."

Because of my mixed blood, I didn't even have proper horns. The only proof of my demonic heritage was my blood-red eyes. Otherwise, I looked completely human. And that, of course, caused problems.

"Hey, look! The half-breed freak is back!"

"Take this, you little shit, Derek!"

Looking different was more than enough reason to become a target for bullying. Whenever I was spotted passing through, the village brats would pelt me with insults and rocks.

"Pah! What a curse on my eyes."

Zorus, the general store owner whose only son had been conscripted into the Demon King's army and died, would openly curse and spit on the ground whenever he saw me. I mean, I understood his grief. He lost his only child.

But what does that have to do with me?

It wasn't like I killed him, so why the hell was he taking it out on me? It was unfair, but picking a fight with the heavily muscled Zorus would only result in my bones being ground into fine dust. I quietly pulled my hood low and hurried past the general store.

But that was a terribly foolish decision. Who in their right mind walked around like that in the dead of summer? Dressing like that was practically screaming, "Hey everyone, I'm Derek!" to the entire neighborhood. Along with the usual whispers, rocks and rotten fruit came flying my way.

Just bear it. Just bear it.

I finally managed to reach the grocery store I always frequented. Max, the store owner, showed a quiet, passive kindness, speaking with a flat expression.

"Don't take it to heart. The kids just don't know any better."

"Yeah, sure."

I appreciated the sentiment, but it didn't really comfort me. Part of it was my own lack of social skills, and part of it was that getting cursed out for being a half-breed was just another Tuesday for me.

I quickly packed up my groceries and made my way back home. I was almost there when—

"Hey! Derek!"

"Huh?"

I turned around at the sound of my name.

Crack!

"Agh! You motherf—..."

"Bwahaha! He couldn't even dodge that! What a useless half-breed!"

Throwing a rock out of nowhere to crack my skull open, and then what?

"You little piece of shit—"

I dropped my groceries right then and there. I was going to grab that arrogant brat and beat his ass black and blue. My ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠house was deep in the mountains. The fact that he had followed me all the way up here meant there were no witnesses around. But then...

"Huh?"

My vision spun, and I collapsed right on the spot.

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

When I opened my eyes again, everything was pitch black. And then...

"Ugh, fuck... wait, what? Hold on."

I had regained the memories of my past life. My name was Yoo Sang-hyun. A 27-year-old South Korean male, completed his military service, currently unemployed and job hunting. I used to frequent the municipal library to study for certification exams. Special note: Died of a fractured skull after slipping on the library stairs while browsing online forums on my phone on the way home.

"Are you kidding me?!"

Dying from a skull fracture because I was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠browsing a forum while walking? If anyone else heard that, they'd laugh for three days straight. Even though I was the only one who knew, I felt like dying of embarrassment all over again.

After about five minutes, my mind finally calmed down. It seemed the rock hitting my head had triggered the memory of my cause of death.

"So, I died from a cracked skull in my past life, and then I got reincarnated in a place like this?"

The Demon Realm of a fantasy world, where the standard of living was primitive compared to modern South Korea. On top of that, it was a turbulent era of war against humans, elves, and dwarves. But more importantly...

"Oh, come on!"

The groceries I bought today. Those arrogant brats who knocked me out had run off with all of it. The only thing left was a single, dirt-covered fruit.

"Sigh."

I picked it up and headed back to my cabin. What a rotten day.

"Hmm."

A dark, mystical space. The surroundings were dotted with starlight, mimicking the night sky. A mysterious, divine woman sat in a chair, gazing into a semi-transparent window. The subject of her observation was a certain demon youth.

"How strange. Why wasn't he detected until now?"

The entity who had provided the concept of the 'Gallery' to this world. The so-called Operator. She remembered. Two hundred and fourteen years ago, a certain Demon King had selfishly seized and controlled the Cheerful Demon Realm Village Gallery, which was meant to be a space for free communication. So, she had punished the Demon King—the Head Mod—and his Sub-mod subordinates.

Since then, she had decided not to appoint a new Head Mod for Sing-ma-gall until a suitable candidate appeared. Such an incident must never happen again.

The problem was that with the Head Mod gone, all the auxiliary functions of the gallery were locked, and there was no one to delete the trolls and disgusting images. The users' resentment and anger pierced the heavens, but she had merely watched.

"There simply wasn't anyone suitable to appoint."

But the demon youth she had just discovered... The woman fell head over heels for his spectacular resume.

"He's been the Head Mod of twelve different galleries for over six months each, a Sub-mod nineteen times... and oh my goodness, a channel Head Mod four times and Sub-mod ten times?!"

He was, without a doubt, the ultimate candidate for Head Mod. She immediately sent a message to the youth.

I brushed off the dirt and applied medicine to my wound. They said demons had incredible regenerative abilities, but as a half-breed, that didn't apply to me. Talk about getting dealt a bad hand in life.

"Sigh, I'll have to go back down tomorrow."

It was a hassle and a pain, but I had no choice. If I didn't eat, I'd starve to death. As shitty as it was, I didn't want to end my life—or rather, my demon life—here. So, I planned to just make do with the tasteless fruit today and go to sleep.

But then...

Ding!

The gallery window flashed.

"Huh?"

Did the gallery even have a notification function? As if possessed, I tapped the notification window. Then:

"What is this?"

Food?

"That fruit from earlier was just sour and tasted awful."

I wanted to eat some real food. Combining my current situation with the memories of my past life, one delicious food immediately came to mind.

"Could it... actually do fried chicken?"

"Whoa, it has voice recognition too?"

If they had this kind of technology, they could've at least advanced the civilization level of this world. Grumbling to myself, I typed in "Fried Chicken," thinking I had nothing to lose.

Whoosh!

"Oh my god."

A piping hot plate of fried chicken, steam rising from it, was actually delivered right in front of me. Taking a big bite, the crispy batter shattered, and the savory, salty juices of the chicken leg burst into my mouth. This wasn't just any ordinary chicken. It had the delicate, perfected flavor of a top-tier brand.

"Wow, this is insane!"

I remembered the forum users from my past life who would post pictures of chicken and chant "Sex! Sex!" like a bunch of cultists. Back then, I used to leave cynical comments like, "Why are you guys making such a big deal over a piece of chicken?" or "If food is sex, were you guys born because your parents had a nice dinner?" But now...

*Chomp, munch!*

I finally understood. Chicken really *was* sex! The moment I reunited with the taste of fried chicken, which had only lingered as a faint memory, tears poured from my eyes like a waterfall. And then:

I nodded vigorously. "T-thank you. I don't know who you are, but thank you so much. I don't know how I can ever repay this kindness..."

"Do my best at... what?"

No more messages came after that. Instead:

Unlike the gallery users who were ecstatic over the notification of a new Head Mod, I was left in a state of utter despondency.

"What... why are you doing this to me?"

In exchange for a single plate of fried chicken, I had just become an unpaid, disgusting-image-erasing janitor.