Elpanso Returns
Korea University Library, Reading Room 3. In the hushed silence, he wrestled once more with the towering stacks of engineering textbooks. Mechanics of machinery, fluid mechanics, materials mechanics. The once-alien equations and symbols now lined up in his mind as neatly as entries in a ledger.
"Woojin oppa."
As he labored over differential equations, a sweet perfume wafted in, and someone plopped down right next to him, pressing close. He turned to see a pretty girl with long wavy hair, chin propped on her hand, gazing up at him.
"Oppa, you live in the library these days, huh? It's so hard to even see your face."
Her voice dripped with coquettish charm. He looked down at her stiffly, pencil still in hand. Rifling through the hazy remnants of Kang Woojin's memories, he realized she was just one of the countless women who'd passed through the life of a guy who'd drowned himself in booze. Nothing more specific came to mind.
"Yeah. Busy."
His reply was flat and dry. He turned back to his book. But she didn't budge, brushing his arm lightly and whispering.
"Come on, oppa, why are you being like this all of a sudden? Just last month, we were drinking and partying every night. Wanna grab dinner with me today? Or... somewhere else."
Her eyes gleamed with a strange flicker. Hm? Somewhere else? He paused, sinking into thought. Why would this sharp-looking girl carve out time from her schedule just to approach him? What she really wanted was plain as day to him.
No way.
Exams were looming. And word had spread that he was the most hardcore stud ier in the mechanical engineering department lately. The answer was obvious.
"Ah, that's why you're here."
He nodded, rummaging in his bag. He pulled out the mechanics summary notes he'd perfected over sleepless nights last week and thrust them into her arms.
"Take it. I've got predicted midterms problems all sorted too. Better than any cheat sheet."
"...Huh?"
Her face froze the instant she took the notes. The pretty features twisted in disbelief, then puffed into a pout.
"Oppa, are you kidding? You think I came all the way here just to borrow notes? And I'm not even in your department—why would I need this? You're really not gonna eat with me?"
"..."
The moment he saw that face full of complaint, everything clicked perfectly. Ah, Kang Woojin. Piecing together the memory fragments, the original owner of this body had a romantic history as flashy as Elpanso Carnoble's own past. He'd burned through women like tissues, guzzling booze and wasting his days away.
Ha, a wastrel soul swapped into another wastrel's body.
But he swallowed his scoff, fixing her with cold, hardened eyes. The wastrel Elpanso Carnoble of old was dead. Now inhabiting Kang Woojin's body, he had zero intention of squandering this life on such idiocy.
"Yeah. Not eating."
"W-what?"
"Sorry, but I'm not the old Kang Woojin you knew. I've got studying to do, so don't waste my time like this anymore. Don't even talk to me."
At his blunt dismissal, her face flushed crimson. She huffed, shot up from her seat, and stormed out of the library. With a lighter heart, he buried his nose back in his books. Dating? Partying? He had no use for such luxuries now. Knowledge alone could save him.
His ferocious library grind soon spilled into practice. Itching to prove the engineering knowledge crammed in his head, he holed up in the department's student workshop and started his hobby project. There was only one thing he aimed to build: the Carnoble family heirloom that had dragged him to this other world. The pendant.
"The shape's crystal clear in my memory. Dozens of gears meshed in perfect golden ratio."
Using CAD software, he sketched the pendant from memory. For some reason, he could draw its exterior with his eyes closed. But its innards? No clue.
Whatever, I can fill the inside however I want.
He unleashed every ounce of mechanical engineering knowledge from this world. Compact spring mechanisms, escapements, precise gear ratios for power transmission—all calculated to perfection and plugged into the blueprint.
Days later, assembling parts machined with a 3D printer and ultra-precise CNC lathe. He slotted the final micro-gear with tweezers and snapped the cover shut. Click. A satisfying snap, and the pendant was complete.
"Perfect."
He couldn't stop admiring it in his palm. Identical to the heirloom. No—his version's gear meshing and finishing were far more exquisite and refined.
Just a hobby build, and I'm this proud.
A pleased smile tugged at his lips as he gave the spring a light wind. Whirr... A faint unwinding hum, and the surface gears began to turn.
Then, that instant.
"Huh...?"
Conditions fulfilled. Returning.
From the spinning gears' core, a familiar, intense blue light seeped out. The exact light from the mansion!
"Wait—this, why here—?!"
The blue glow from the pendant swallowed the entire workshop in an instant. His vision burned white once more in a colossal flash.
Cough, cough! Acrid dust flooded his mouth. He hacked violently, eyes snapping open. Moldy stench assaulting his nose. An empty void. Chilled marble floor beneath him. Not the pristine Korea University workshop.
This was the secret chamber in Carnoble Mansion in Peluah, where he'd collapsed after creditors stripped him bare!
He frantically looked down at his hands. Not Kang Woojin's oil-stained, stubby fingers.
"What...?"
A dazed mutter escaped his lips. A hallucination? A starving delirium dream? But.
All this knowledge in my head—fake?
Newton's laws of motion, the first and second laws of thermodynamics, metal smelting and alloy ratios, steam engine structures, precision mechanical blueprints. Every scrap of mechanical engineering he'd devoured as Kang Woojin in the Republic of Korea was etched flawlessly in his brain, without a single error.
No dream!
"Haha... hahahahaha!"
He laughed maniacally, shaking the empty mansion. Elpanso Carnoble had returned. Armed with overwhelming science to upend this fantasy world that revered only magic!
*
"Hmm..."
He rolled the pendant between his fingers. A miraculous artifact. But now, dead silent. He flicked the gears, wound the spring—no reaction. The brilliant blue light had vanished.
Need different conditions to go back?
Chin in hand, he pondered. The pendant he'd designed studying as Woojin, resonating with the Carnoble heirloom passed down generations. Clearly, their union had bridged dimensions. Maybe a cooldown—time-based. Or some specific trigger he hadn't grasped yet.
"Whatever, can't figure it out right now."
He tucked the pendant back into its wooden case without regret. Dimensional travel mysteries could wait. Far more pressing: brutal poverty with not even a scrap of bread for tomorrow. And resurrecting the Carnoble Guild from the dirt.
Turn this head full of knowledge into money. Massive, overwhelming wealth.
He scratched words into the dusty floor with a stick. In Woojin's Earth memories, science outshone magic in Korea—no, the world. And one pivotal spark had exploded civilization's progress: the Industrial Revolution.
"First business... textiles."
His eyes flashed at the scribbles. The Industrial Revolution's ignition, civilization's blooming flower. Britain's tiny island conquering the globe as the sun-never-sets empire? Cotton industry was the core.
Peluah in this fantasy world mirrored old Europe. Fabric meant weavers spinning thread by hand on spindles, slaving days at looms for one bolt. Prices sky-high; commoners patched rough hemp rags their whole lives.
Introduce steam-powered Spinning Jenny and Power Loom here?
Spinning Jenny: thread-spinning machine. Power Loom: automated weaving.
A few machines would churn out what hundreds of weavers slaved a month for—in one day. Costs plummet to fractions. Carnoble Guild monopolizes Peluah's—no, the continent's—clothing market.
A perfect plan that set his blood boiling. One fatal flaw, though.
"...No money, that's the problem."
He clutched his aching gut. Blueprints for perfect machines filled his head. But smelting iron, machining parts, prototyping? Rent workshops, hire master smiths. Bulk cotton too. Massive seed capital needed.
No bank or guild would lend to Peluah's top deadbeat, credit blacklisted.
"Well, one person might..."
A face flashed in his mind. Tied to him bitterly since his father's days. He brushed off his seat and stood.
No time to be picky about cold or hot rice.