Chapter 1
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 1
Chapter Title: Savagery
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Sizzle—
A red-hot iron glides over the damp linen shirt.
A faint scent of lavender from dried leaves steeped in water rises with the white steam.
I hold my breath, adjusting the cuff at my wrist.
The crisp pleats of the sleeve, sharp as a blade. A perfect straight line, within 0.1mm error margin.
"...Perfect."
I flash a satisfied smile and lift the shirt.
I'd stake my name on it—even the Empire's Chief Butler couldn't find fault with this ironing.
A dust-free black tailcoat.
Impeccably slicked-back hair, not a strand out of place.
Even the corners of my eyes curved in polite deference, as if ready to lick a noble's toes.
Who could look at me now and imagine the slum orphan guzzling gutter water ten years ago?
I've finally done it.
Ten years since I fell into this world—a cunning blend of medieval and modern—clinging to my memories from South Korea.
I don't know why I'm here, but I've survived as Edel, my second name, in this brutal place.
No special powers, no cheats, not even a status window despite the isekai drop.
But survival is human instinct, isn't it?
So I rolled with it, just to stay alive.
I picked up discarded noble newspapers to learn to read, memorized their manners lurking in the alleys behind fancy restaurants.
All for one reason.
To infiltrate the 'safest, most comfortable spot' in this uncivilized, filthy, savage fantasy world.
—Lovensia Ducal House.
The continent's most illustrious noble family, a butler's dream job, with its gleaming name.
Five-day workweek, guaranteed vacations, even a pension after retirement.
And I've just received my final acceptance as an apprentice butler there.
With my modern-world savvy, this should be a breeze.
Pat, pat.
I brush off the last speck of dust from my clothes and open the window.
Even the alley's musty stink feels pleasant tonight.
"No more suffering. Happiness starts now."
Hot running water in the bath.
Soft goose-down duvet.
Elegant conversations with cultured people.
One should live with refinement, after all.
A life fretting over whose gut to stab tomorrow? Not for me.
"First day on the job tomorrow, at last."
I carefully hang the ironed clothes on hangers and lie down on the bed.
Moonlight filtering through the window seems to bless my future.
Exhausted from all the prep today, sleep crashes over me.
This stiff pillow and holey blanket? Last night for them.
With visions of a bright future and a smile tugging at my lips, I drift off.
Imagining tomorrow night's fluffy bedding.
How long did I sleep?
"...".
My back aches.
Ugh, damn. Gonna catch a cold.
Even on this roughly hewn wooden bed, it never hurt this bad.
And it's freezing. No fire, sure, but not this drafty?
Tch, one more night here and I'm out.
Just tough it out.
That was my plan as I tried to sleep again.
Crackle, pop.
'What? Fire?'
A burning smell jolts me awake.
Instead of the familiar ceiling, a pitch-black night sky sparkles with stars.
And the acrid scent of charred wood stings my nose.
I blankly turn my head.
Across the roaring bonfire.
A bearded man in a black robe gazes down at me.
His eyes flicker like the night sky I just saw, deep and serene.
"Awake?"
A low baritone rumbles.
I stare blankly at him for three seconds, then close my eyes and flop back down.
"...Ah, what a shitty dream."
Must've been too nervous about starting work tomorrow.
Dreaming all sorts of nonsense.
The details are annoyingly vivid.
Even smells like firewood. Full 4D experience.
I curl up, mumbling.
"Gotta sleep well and head to work... Can't be late from tossing."
As I roll over for more sleep, a dry voice comes from behind.
"Done escaping reality? Then get up. Long road ahead."
"...".
I snap my eyes open again.
And slowly sit up.
Overwhelming realism crashes over me.
Cold mountain wind.
Hard rocky ground.
And the man before me, exuding presence no dream character could.
He's silently wiping down a massive greatsword with a cloth.
'That sword...?'
Crude engravings on the blade: a serpent with four wings.
I blurt it out unconsciously.
"Four-Winged Serpent...?"
A small sound of admiration escapes the man.
"Hoh... More worldly than you look."
That symbol means one thing.
The mark of the 'Quest Master,' continent's infamous mystery—slips into an emperor's bedroom if the pay's right.
So this guy...?
My brain finally clocks reality.
"...Um, Quest Master sir?"
He doesn't deny the title.
"Speak."
"Why am I here?"
He sheathes the sword, replying indifferently.
"Obvious question. I'm on a job."
"...May I ask what kind?"
"Delivering you to the client."
Me? Who? Why? How?
A million questions, but I pick the top one.
"Where to?"
Destination matters.
Even now, I'm thinking survival.
In this shithole medieval fantasy, location is half the battle.
I scraped by because I landed in the Empire capital's slums.
The man slowly points south.
Then drops a word of despair.
"The South. Land of savage warriors."
"...Pardon?"
Before I can finish, his rough hand snags my nape.
Like baggage.
"Too late. Let's go."
"W-wait! Hold on! Why the South? I've lived in the capital alleys my whole life! Never been south... Gahk!"
"Bite your tongue. Shut up."
And I'm slung over the horse like luggage.
Clop-clop-clop—
The horse picks up speed; surroundings blur past.
'Jump off?'
No, I'd break something.
Escape this guy?
Me, whose greatest feat is apprenticing at the ducal house?
From the Quest Master who stole and survived with a dragon egg?
I grip the ropes tight, clinging on.
Then his dry voice.
"Smart for a slum rat. Good questions, quick to size up your place."
Our last exchange.
It was hellish.
Horseback sometimes, carriage others, or carried like baggage over plains, rivers, mountains by this monster of a man.
My favorite sleep shirt? Torn to rags by dirt and branches.
My neat hair? Wild tangle worse than a street bum.
Why's he pristine?
Days later?
"We're here."
With that flat voice, I'm dumped on the ground.
"Kehk!"
Face in the dirt, I groan and look up.
Scorching sandwind whips my cheek.
The sight before me stops my breath.
A fortress of haphazardly piled beast bones and black rocks.
Dried bloodstains everywhere, bones clattering eerily in the wind.
'Insane...'
First thought: slaughterhouse.
Creak—
Thud—!
Rusty chains unwind; massive gates swing open.
I instinctively backpedal.
Quest Master nudges my back.
"Go in."
I muster courage.
"N-no way. I'll die in there."
"You won't die."
That scares me more.
Lab rat? Vivisected? Drained bit by bit?
This savage medieval world makes nightmares real.
Then.
Thud—
Thud—
Earth-shaking steps from behind.
I turn and freeze in terror.
"Gasp!?"
I know them instantly.
Over two meters tall.
Muscles bulging to burst.
Axe on shoulder my size.
Bodies smeared in fresh red blood.
Like they just bathed in it.
Thud, roll—
The lead giant casually tosses something at my feet.
A monster head, eyes bulging.
Steaming fresh, mangled neck—a Desert Orc from the south.
"Long time! Black one!"
The giant crushes the head underfoot, bellowing at the Quest Master.
Sickening crunch pierces my ears.
Quest Master's face unchanged.
"Yeah, you've grown."
"Hmph! Karack always big!"
"Means you've gotten stronger."
Bloody eyes gleam as he eyes me.
Like appraising fresh meat at the slaughterhouse.
"For sure?"
"Check and see."
The savage looms, staring me down.
I squeeze my eyes shut, turn away.
'Why this trial on me!'
Fishy blood reek from his breath churns my gut.
And a strange sensation.
I recognize it: killing intent.
Not the raw alley scraps.
Primal, overwhelming violence crushes me—never felt before.
I realize.
All I clung to—
Etiquette? Culture? Knowledge? Dignity?
Useless here.
Land untouched by civilization.
Where might is law, weakness is death. Savage world.
He grabs my nape with bloody hand.
I'm hoisted like a paper doll.
"This is it?"
Then.
"Don't touch the goods."
Chilling voice from behind.
Quest Master, hand on greatsword hilt.
"Mine till payment. Put him down."
"Hmph!"
The giant snorts, tosses me to the dirt.
"Follow. To the shaman!"
Ah, shaman... Worst.
The hulking brute named Karack leads.
Quest Master nods me forward.
Like a lamb to slaughter, trembling legs carry me after them.
Fortress depths.
Unlike others, a tent draped in black hides and bizarre talismans.
Hiss—
Inside, pungent incense assaults; a tiny crone hunches in shadows.
Wrinkle city skin, milky eyes like cataracts.
Tribe shaman, probably.
Frail shell, but dangerous aura.
"Here."
Her voice scrapes like metal.
Without looking, she draws a bone dagger.
"Come."
Irresistible command.
Am I dying?
Want to bolt, but frozen.
Sharp blade nears my wrist.
'Ngh!'
Prick—
Unlike feared, just a nick on fingertip.
One drop beads.
She catches it, drips into clear water in a skull bowl.
Drip—
Silence follows.
Tension chokes; all eyes on the bowl.
'What now?'
As I wonder.
Sizzle—
My blood hits water like boiling oil, turning the bowl pitch black.
Darkness writhes like living snakes, overflowing.
"Oh... Ooooh... OOOH! Kel Bark!"
"...!!"
The glaring brute inhales sharply.
Even the fixer's brow twitches.
Crone turns slowly.
Her white eyes pierce me.
"No doubt."
She thumps staff on ground.
"Blood of the noblest wolf, returned from the lowliest depths."
That instant.
Karak kneels.
Thud—!
"Kel Bark! Tahu!"
Earth shakes.
All stare at me.
Like I should say something.
I muster one word.
"So... what is this...?"
Shaman steps up.
"I'll explain, Kel Bark."
She called me Kel Bark.
My third name.