Chapter 1: I Became a Baby in the Martial World
Chapter 1: I Became a Baby in the Martial World
I got into a decent four-year university in Seoul like everyone else (even if I was a liberal arts major).
I earned scholarships like everyone else—even if they weren't full rides, I received them consistently.
I worked part-time jobs like everyone else to cover my own tuition and living expenses.
I was dragged off to the military like everyone else, served a perfectly ordinary term, and was discharged.
I didn't even take a single semester off and managed to get my diploma right on schedule like everyone else, but...
"So why the hell can't I find a job?!"
Since it had only been six months since graduation, I still had some room for excuses. However, my family's situation wasn't well-off enough for me to just sit around and eat for a year or two like some people. I needed to go somewhere.
But shouldn't I at least find a job that pays more than working full-time at a BBQ restaurant? Was even that asking for too much?
"I need to escape this Hell-fire Peninsula or something."
I vaguely remember muttering that to myself before drifting off into a drunken stupor.
One thing was for certain: before I fell asleep, I was definitely on the bed of my studio apartment in the middle of Seoul.
"Waaah (F*ck)!"
"Oh my! It looks like my baby recognizes me!"
"Waaah (I didn't mean drop me in China, though)..."
"Mama, look at him! Mama!"
I couldn't manage to get a job like everyone else, but it seems I've managed to get transmigrated like everyone else.
Right in the middle of people chattering away incessantly in Chinese.
"Awooo (Does anyone here speak Korean?)...?"
Inside a suspiciously high-class room, wrapped in layers of silk.
I see tiny, pale hands like little fern sprouts.
“Ue-ppyaaa (Someone put on Catch! Teenieping for me, please)...”
A voice that’s pleasant just to hear drifts into my ears.
If this weren't my own body, I might have thought it was the most adorable thing ever. But as they say, while reincarnating into a childhood might be a comedy from a distance, up close, it’s a tragedy.
"Eb-pueee (I’m bored out of my mind)."
A baby’s day is long. Even though I spend most of it sleeping, it’s still long. There’s a reason people say parenting difficulty is set to 'Hell Mode' without YouTube.
Even inexperienced parents have an inkling that YouTube might be bad for a child.
However, in a young child’s perception of time, boredom is a serious, agonizing pain.
If a baby isn't exposed to some form of visual media for even a moment during this long day, they have no choice but to become a little tyrant...
“少爷, 该吃午饭了! (Young Master, it is time for lunch!)”
It’s been a week since I possessed this body. No matter how much of a layman I am—having only heard Chinese through social media shorts my entire life—I can pretty much guess what’s going on by now.
That voice belongs to the woman who sticks to my side during the day; judging by the circumstances, she seems to be a maid of this household, and those familiar words likely mean she’s giving me something to eat.
"Buep..."
I squeezed my eyes shut and opened my mouth. My conscience as a healthy adult male trapped in a baby’s body was aching far too much.
Presumably my wet nurse, this woman was—quite literally—dead serious about her duties as a yumo.
With my eyes closed, I tried my best to distract my mind from the sensation of skin touching my lips.
‘First of all, this has to be China.’
I haven't seen the Five-Starred Red Flag, and I’m not fluent enough in Chinese to distinguish regional dialects just by hearing the tones, so I can’t be certain.
Still, if I’m surrounded by Chinese speakers and everyone is being extremely kind to me, there’s only one conclusion.
‘At the very least, I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth.’
The room I usually lie in is bigger than my old studio apartment.
It’s even furnished with pieces far too high-end to be given to a mere infant.
The ceramics and folding screens I can see right now look more expensive than my entire apartment deposit back home.
They’ve even wrapped me—a baby who poops multiple times a day—in fine silk to keep my skin from chafing.
In the week since I opened my eyes, I’ve had my clothes changed at least three times a day, yet I’ve never worn the same outfit twice.
This family is incredibly wealthy. It’s a good start.
‘It’s... the medieval era, right?’
I smacked my lips as I felt the skin pull away. A sweet liquid pooled at the corner of my mouth and trickled down.
A gentle hand tapped my mouth clean. I looked at the wet nurse wiping my face and thought:
‘I haven't seen a single electronic device. Even if they were being considerate of a baby’s environment, there isn't even an air conditioner or a heater in the room?’
At first, I wondered if I’d been reincarnated as a child actor on a drama set. I dismissed that, though, because no matter how harsh China can be, surely there isn't a drama cruel enough to film an infant 24 hours a day (though, being China, maybe there is).
If that’s the case, then at the very least, this isn't modern civilization. I’m not entirely sure this is Earth, but let’s not start with unprovable assumptions.
Excluding the modern era, the Chinese rarely expanded outside the mainland.
Since they already possessed a massive landmass, they were busy enough just defending it, and fundamentally, those guys viewed foreigners as barbarians.
They weren't a people with a strong will to expand. They were more about receiving tribute.
In other words, by medieval standards, for a Chinese speaker to enjoy this much power and wealth, I can deduce that I must be in mainland China.
“少爷, 吃得好吗? 现在该睡觉了, 快去呼呼大睡吧 (Young Master, did you eat well? It is time to sleep now, so go to sleep quickly.)”
The wet nurse picked me up and began to pat my back.
The warm, gentle touch slowly relaxed my mind. My thoughts began to melt and scatter like chocolate.
"Eub-ae-eu (Wait a minute)!!"
Wait, wait. Don't pat me like that.
My eyelids are so heavy. An infant’s palm-sized brain was refusing any further high-level cognition.
The supreme survival instinct—that one must sleep when full and warm—began to weigh down my entire body.
“少爷, 摇啊摇, 睡得香. (Young Master, rock-a-bye, sleep soundly.)”
A quiet voice seeped into my ears.
The strength in the tiny fingers gripping the wet nurse’s sleeve gradually faded.
‘Wait... let me summarize one last thing...!
If this is a possession in a medieval Chinese setting... let’s assume it’s either an alternate history or a wuxia novel...
If it’s alternate history, I need to figure out the dynasty...’
“Beeeee (It’s so warm)...”
So warm...
*
Depending on the genre, there are things you absolutely must do when you’re reincarnated.
If you’re in the early 21st century, you have to buy crypto; if you wake up in the late 20th century, you have to go all-in on Google stocks; and if you’ve become a "trash" noble, you have to start by being kind to the servants.
And if you’ve been reincarnated into a baby’s body, you have to be called a genius!
“Mammeu—!”
It doesn't matter that I don't know Chinese at all.
After all, nobody masters a language from the moment they’re born, right?
That means I’m starting from the same line as every other baby.
Just as I’m learning Chinese for the first time, every other baby my age is also unfamiliar with it.
In fact, since I’m actually an adult, my circumstances are much better.
Therefore, it’s beneficial to build up a "My child must be a genius!" tech tree by learning the language as quickly as possible.
This is medieval China, an age of barbarism and savagery.
If I’m not the eldest son, I’ll inevitably have to compete for the succession with my siblings.
It’s a process any child of a powerful family must endure.
I haven't seen any siblings yet, but that doesn't change anything.
Medieval China was just as much of a cutthroat competitive society as medieval Europe.
With a mother as young and beautiful as mine, there’s no telling when a competitor named "younger brother" might appear.
In such a situation, appearing as a genius in childhood has, statistically, as much destructive power for parents as a "reformed scoundrel."
“Mammeu—!”
“妈妈? 你刚刚叫我妈妈了吗? (Mama? Did you just call me Mama?)”
I babbled repeatedly at the woman who, based on the context, appeared to be my mother.
She wore clothes far more extravagant than anyone else here and spent several hours every day by my side, telling me all sorts of stories.
She was even someone who arrived with a swarm of attendants and received a 90-degree bow from my wet nurse every time she came and went.
Given those warm eyes overflowing with maternal love, she had to be this body’s mother.
And in China, they call mom and dad "Mama" and "Baba." I’m glad I at least knew that much.
“我家孩子好像是个天才! (My child seems to be a genius!)”
"Mammeu—! Eb-he (This is freaking exhausting)..."
I lamented while beaming brightly. As I hoped, the woman picked me up, rocked me, and rejoiced.
I acted cute and giggled a bit just to be polite.
However, I couldn't help but feel a little uneasy at the same time.
‘Why isn't the language clicking?’
I’m in an environment where extremely friendly native speakers, who provide 24-hour care, speak to me slowly and clearly in simple language tailored to a child’s level.
On top of that, the listener has the intelligence of an adult and the flexible brain of a child.
And yet, whenever I try to use my head even a little, sleepiness washes over me, and I can only guess the situation through roughly heard words; I don't feel the language "opening up" to me at all.
Could it be... me... No, this body. This physical form...
‘Is it... stupid?’
I fell into a daze, contemplating this shocking possibility.
If the woman before me is this body’s biological mother, then good looks are practically guaranteed.
I haven't seen the father’s side yet, but if half the bloodline is that beautiful, I won't grow up to be ugly.
With a good family and a good face, I’ve already hit the jackpot.
But if my intelligence is low, how am I supposed to survive in this savage, barbaric society of medieval China?
‘But my memories haven't completely vanished.’
The only consolation was that my memories from my previous life remained almost entirely intact.
Unlike modern China, which has used Simplified characters since the late 20th century, medieval Chinese Hanja took a form quite familiar to someone from the Hanja cultural sphere.
I could manage to stumble through reading and writing Hanja between levels 7 and 9.
Since Hanja has many creators, the existing characters are ideograms that don't change much over time. Although the difficulty of reading them changes drastically depending on the calligraphic style, the basic words used in daily life have remained the same since the Oracle Bone Script.
Let’s not be hasty. It’s only been ten days.
With friendly native speakers constantly providing level-appropriate language lessons, this is a better environment than most study-abroad programs. It shouldn't take more than three months for the language to click.
“Ehehehe, Mammeu!!”
I gave the woman a wide, giggling smile, and at that moment, everyone in the room started squealing.
I felt like a superstar.
*
However, it took six months before I could even roughly understand what the wet nurse was saying.
And it was at that point that I met my biological father for the first time.
“爸爸, 试试看吧, 爸爸! (Baba, try saying it, Baba!)”
"U-kyah~!!"
A burly, muscular mountain bandit of a man began to ruthlessly ravage my cheeks with his black beard while shouting.
"Baba!!"
A baby’s tear ducts were difficult to control, even with an adult’s reason and intellect.
I shed a tiny tear from the terrible pain and gave this man the sound he wanted.
“哈哈哈, 虽然是我的儿子, 真是令人惊讶! (Hahaha! As expected of my son, truly surprising!)”
“Baba, Baba!! Ug-ek!!”
This man burst into laughter and shouted, completely disregarding a baby’s fragile eardrums.
In the garden beyond the wide-open doors, men armed with weapons stood in a crowd, waiting.
As I was hoisted high in my father’s hands like I was on a roller coaster, I thought:
‘If it’s alternate history, he’s a high-ranking military official. If it’s wuxia, it’s a Great Clan.’
If it’s alternate history, he’s at least a general-level officer, high-ranking enough to bring private soldiers to his residence.
If it’s wuxia, it’s a Great Clan. A clan prestigious enough to form a private army and allocate such a vast estate within the manor for a single child... and a direct lineage of the Family Head at that. If I’m lucky, a powerful local clan or one of the Five Great Clans.
This is the jackpot.
"Baba!"
I poured my heart into acting cute for my father and burst into laughter.
It was the picture of a world where everyone was happy.
In fact, right up until my first birthday party, my mood was on a steady upward trajectory, from winning the lotto to hitting the Powerball.
* * *
The market correction to my life’s stock price, which had been rising without a hitch, came surprisingly in the tenth month of my possession.
It was at my first birthday party.
[The Lord of the Sima Alliance arrives!!]
What the f*ck.
Why is he arriving?