The Meeting
My name is Han Raon.
When I was twenty-one, I stayed up every single night playing a game called The Witch’s Cataclysm—a fantasy story about becoming a Hero and defeating the Witch. The moment I finally saw the ending…
I died right there, face planted on the computer desk.
What kind of twenty-one-year-old drops dead while playing a game, you ask?
There were reasons.
Right after I graduated high school, both of my parents died in an accident. Then, while I was in the military, I lost my right leg and became someone who would never walk properly again.
For months afterward I never left the house. I turned into a complete shut-in and did nothing but play games.
I couldn’t accept the despair that was my reality, so I sat in front of the computer and gamed nonstop just to escape. I barely ate. I stopped taking the antidepressants the hospital had given me. I stayed in that pitch-black room staring at the monitor until my body completely fell apart.
Then I caught something like the flu. My fever spiked to forty degrees Celsius, and still I refused to go to the hospital. I just left myself to rot.
The ending of The Witch’s Cataclysm was so close…
I might as well die like this. I’d rather die. That was the thought running through my head as I forced myself through the fever and the coughing fits, still playing.
At last I reached the ending.
[You have slain the Witch.]
[You are the first in the world to clear The Witch’s Cataclysm!]
Those words were the last thing I saw.
Somewhere along the way the illness had turned into pneumonia. Respiratory failure set in, and I died.
When I opened my eyes again, I had been transported into the world of The Witch’s Cataclysm—one thousand years after the ending.
My leg was whole. My health was perfect. It was still my own body.
“P-please… help me!!”
At first no one could understand a word I said, so no one helped me. While everyone else avoided me, I clung to the faintest hope and stepped into a small restaurant tucked away on a quiet street, begging for help.
The old man who ran the place alone took me in with a kind smile. Under his care I studied the language and knowledge of this world while working hard at the restaurant.
Two years passed.
Grandfather died a year ago. Now I run the restaurant by myself.
“Hwaaah… I’m so tired…”
Lunch rush was over. I was clearing the tables the customers had left behind—wiping up spilled beer stains and bread crumbs, sweeping the dirty floor with a broom.
“Looks like I need to buy more onions…”
We were almost out. I was just thinking of closing the shop for a bit and heading to the market when—
“Ah… Mister…”
A small child covered in bruises from head to toe slipped into the restaurant, watching me carefully.
Long brown hair… and eyes the color of blood.
Her gaze darted around, restless and uneasy.
“M-Mom and Dad… told me to go earn money…”
I understood at a glance why she was covered in bruises.
A thousand years ago, a Witch had nearly destroyed this world.
That Witch had red eyes.
After the Hero finally slew her, the people of this world began killing or shunning every red-eyed baby the moment it was born, calling them descendants of the Witch who would bring catastrophe.
But that wasn’t true at all.
Red eyes were just one ordinary eye color among many. The Witch who once pushed the world to the brink of ruin had simply happened to have them.
How did I know?
Two years earlier, when I first played the game back in my original world, the developers must have been lazy. Character customization only let you choose male or female. Eye color and hair color were assigned randomly based on probability when you created a character.
Black eyes — 20%
Brown eyes — 20%
Green eyes — 5%
Blue eyes — 5%
Gray eyes — 5%
…
Red eyes — 0.001%
Golden eyes — 0.0005%
Purple eyes — 0.0005%
The probability table that had been written right there in the character customization screen.
Eye color meant nothing. It was pure random chance.
Red eyes were simply a rare genetic trait. There were even rarer colors than red.
I still clearly remembered remaking my character over a hundred times just to get gray eyes and white hair.
Yet even a thousand years after the Witch’s death, people still killed or ostracized anyone born with red eyes.
And the child standing in front of me now was one of those rare, discriminated few.
“Mom and Dad said… if I don’t bring money back… th-they’ll kill me… So I kept looking for work… but everyone threw things at me… called me cursed and told me to get out… so…”
She looked about eight years old. What vile parents.
And this child… she looked just like the me of the past.
Grandfather… please help me…
When I first fell into this world… when no one would help me… when I had nowhere left to turn and came to this restaurant with desperate hope, begging Grandfather for help…
It was exactly the same.
“Mister… p-please… just don’t hit me… It hurts so much when people hit me… If you hate me… I’ll disappear right in front of you, so…”
When I simply looked at her without speaking, the child flinched and shrank back as if terrified.
I couldn’t possibly leave this child who overlapped so completely with my past self unaided.
“Huh? No, no, no…! Mister will give you work! And when you’re done, I’ll give you lots of money, so go show your mom and dad, okay?”
“R-really…? Th-th-thank you, Mister…”
To beat such a cute, fragile child until she was covered in bruises…
My teeth ground together.
“Want to come with Mister to the kitchen?”
“Yes…”
Once we reached the kitchen, I pointed to a wooden basin of water sitting on the counter.
“Alright. You’re going to do the dishes.”
“D-dishes?!”
The child spoke up brightly, a faint smile appearing.
“I-I’m not very good at cooking… but dishes… I’m good at those… Mom and Dad always made me do the dishes… I’ve done so many…”
Then, on her short little legs, she rose onto her tiptoes, rolled up her sleeves, and began washing the dirty dishes in the wooden basin with practiced skill, her small hands working carefully.
She scrubbed away the stubborn bread crumbs and greasy residue with a straw brush. The bruise marks on the backs of her hands grew even more vivid once they got wet.
“W-wait a second…”
I hadn’t expected her to be this good.
I’d planned to do almost everything myself and just give her the money…
Making a bruised little kid wash dishes felt too much for my conscience.
“That’s enough. Mister will do the rest.”
I stopped her after she’d cleaned about three plates.
“H-huh? But… if I only work a little… I’ll only get a little money…”
“No, no. Mister will give you plenty. Here.”
I handed her a single silver coin.
“Eh…?”
The child took the coin, cupped it tightly in both palms, and her eyes went wide with disbelief.
One silver coin was roughly… about a hundred thousand won in my old world’s money.
“Th-this… is too much, Mister… I… only worked a little…”
“It’s fine. Mister’s giving it to you. Go show your mom and dad—they’ll be happy.”
The child stared at me with round, disbelieving eyes…
Then…
“Uh… uuh… ah… Mister… hhk… hhk… hhk…”
Her voice began to tremble, and at last sobs slipped out between her tightly pressed lips.
W-wait…? Why is she crying?
“Hhk… hhk… I… I can’t… If I cry… people say they don’t want to look at me… and they hit me…”
“N-no. Mister won’t hit you. Don’t worry.”
“Th-hhk… thank you… Mister… hhk…! hhk…”
Her face was already a mess of tears.
“Th-thank you… thank you… hhk… Mister…”
I pulled her into a tight hug and held her until the crying stopped.
“M-Mister… I should go now…”
Standing in the restaurant doorway, the child bowed to me with a noticeably brighter expression than before.
“Take care. Make sure you brag to your mom and dad that you worked hard and earned money, okay?”
“Yes…!”
She turned to leave, then hesitated and spoke carefully.
“Mister… um… maybe…”
“Hm?”
“C-could you… tell me your name…?”
“Huh?”
“I’m curious about Mister’s name… You seem like a good person…”
“Ah, Mister’s name? It’s Raon Han. Call me Mister Raon.”
“Raon Han… That’s a unique and cool name… Mister Raon. Hehe.”
The child smiled shyly.
“What’s your name?”
“Ah, my name is… Seria Luciel…”
“Seria! That’s a pretty name. Can I call you Ria?”
“R-Ria…?”
“Yeah, it’s a nickname. How’s that sound?”
“I… I like it… Ria… Heh…”
Ria smiled as if she were truly happy.
“Mister… is it okay if I come again…?”
“Of course! Come anytime. Oh, right!”
I dashed back into the kitchen, grabbed a meat bun, and held it out to Ria.
“Mister will give you this. Eat it on the way.”
It was supposed to be my own lunch, but I couldn’t just watch such a small, frail child struggle.
“R-really… really…?”
“Yeah. It’s a present from Mister.”
“Ah… ah… y-you didn’t have to… hhk… h-hhk… hhk…”
Oh no. I made her cry again.
“Ria, c-calm down…! Don’t cry. There, there.”
“Hhk… th-thank you… Misterrr… hhk… hhk…”
After soothing her one more time,
“I… I’m really going now… I’ll come again next time, Mister…”
“Yeah. Take care, Ria. Whenever you’re hungry, just come to Mister’s restaurant. I’ll cook for you.”
“Th-thank you…”
Ria seemed reluctant to leave.
Still, she had to go home to her parents.
With one silver coin… at least they wouldn’t scold her for failing to bring money back…
“Ria, take care.”
“Yes… Thank you so much… Mister…”
With those words she turned and walked away.
The back of the child heading home looked almost cheerful, as if she were humming.
“Heh… Han Raon, you’re a pretty cool guy, aren’t you?”
Doing a good deed left me feeling proud.
And one hour later, the child came back to me covered in blood.