The World Is Not Equal
In life, things are truly unfair.
If I were to compare it to baseball, some people start from first base while others begin on third. The ones starting from first have to cross multiple mountains—first, second, and third base—just to score. Meanwhile, those who begin on third can stroll straight to home plate without clearing a single obstacle.
Yeah! Well! Isn’t life supposed to be like that anyway?
Even if it feels twisted, you can live with it by thinking, Guess I’m just unlucky this time around. That much is understandable.
But what really grinds my gears is how the people who started on third always talk like they earned their success through pure effort. As if they didn’t get everything handed to them just by breathing.
They call that talent? I get it. I know, and yet it still pisses me off.
Sigh… Even as this dogshit world marches toward its end, this goddamn unfairness refuses to change.
So here I am, staring death in the face, hoping my next life will be one where I get to start on third base and live comfortably.
“Huff… huff……”
…Breathing is getting hard.
This is bad…
The whistling sound every time I inhale suggests the boss monster’s horn went straight through my lung.
At least the pain isn’t too bad. Why? Because they can’t heal me—they can only suppress the agony.
“Ugh… Why the hell do I have to be here? I should be looking at the King of the Underworld’s face by now… Why waste time on someone who’s about to die…”
“I’m… still… alive… you know.”
“……”
I felt pathetic for not being able to curse out the woman who was asking a dying man when he planned to kick the bucket.
“Am I… going to die?”
“Yes.”
…Even so, couldn’t she at least pretend and say something like You might still make it?
Is her MBTI a total T or what?
Fine. Since I’m dying anyway, I might as well live out my final moments however I want.
If I’m getting treated like this even on my deathbed, I don’t know why I spent my whole life tiptoeing around other people’s opinions.
“Your teeth look weird and your makeup is trash. Also, your eyeliner is crooked as hell.”
Was that too harsh?
Whatever. Some things just need to be said.
“What?”
“You’ll… never… get a boyfriend in your life. And if you do, it’ll be some fat slob who just rubs his hands together like a fly next to the King of the Underworld.”
“What did you just say?”
It felt satisfying to land a solid hit, but I didn’t expect her to actually stop healing me.
Still feels good though.
I guess people really can change once they decide they’re ready to die.
“Hehehe……”
Maybe it was because air was leaking into my punctured lung, but I felt strangely refreshed.
Death must have made my brain go a little haywire.
I did all the hard work, but that bastard gets all the spotlight.
The King of the Underworld. An S-rank hunter. A flame mage.
While close-range dealers like me and the tanks charge in and eat shit up front, he just lazily tosses a few fireballs from the back and steals every ounce of glory. Classic long-range dealer.
If that guy hadn’t been so busy staring at the Saintess, my lung would still be intact.
I hunt monsters just like everyone else, but because I’m a close-range dealer, I get looked down on every single day.
Whenever I looked for parties or raids, the first thing I heard the moment I said I was a close-range dealer was, “We need a tank!”
Among all awakened, close-range dealers were the most common—and therefore the most despised.
And here’s the kicker: close-range dealers get treated even worse than the long-range dealers they share the dealer role with.
Of course the top-tier close-range dealers get welcomed with open arms, but trash like me? We’re basically disposable parts for the long-range dealers. Easily replaced whenever they feel like it.
I tried so hard…
Even among the common close-range dealers, I studied various tactics, tried leading raids and parties, slept only three hours a day while training, and even raised my rank.
I learned all kinds of survival skills and grappling techniques, thinking they might help someday.
I built myself into a close-range dealer with actual selling points, but how many others like me were out there?
In the end, I couldn’t overcome the limits of my starting point.
In the face of overwhelming firepower, tactics and strategy meant nothing.
No matter how desperately a dirt spoon tries, can they ever become anything more than a bronze spoon?
No matter how hard you work, there’s still a wall.
I ruined my life trying to build a career.
Even though I had decent selling points, my career was pathetic. So I applied to the King of the Underworld’s raid team to fill in the gaps.
And the result? Well, you’re looking at it.
They say high risk, high return. I guess I was high risk, low return.
Did joining the King of the Underworld’s raid suddenly make my life as a close-range dealer any better? All it did was add one more line to my resume for future party or raid applications.
And if I had known the core strategy for this subjugation was “sacrifice the close-range dealers,” I never would have applied.
Thinking about it calmly now, I realize I had been too impatient.
No wonder they accepted every close-range dealer who applied.
The King of the Underworld needed time to prepare his powerful attacks. Since there weren’t enough tanks, they used close-range dealers as substitutes. In the end, the operation succeeded.
Everyone else was cheering. I was the only one who couldn’t.
Mister Kim, Soo-yeon… Cheol-jung…
The close-range dealer friends I’d grown close to while job-hunting together were lying cold as corpses right beside me.
I’ll be joining them soon.
Breathing was getting harder. My vision was turning black.
“Sob… sob……”
The woman who had been trying to ease my pain was now sniffling after getting cursed out by me.
Did she not think about what she said first? Whatever. It’s fine…
Since I’m dying anyway, I want to leave a good final impression.
“Miss… there’s chili powder stuck in your teeth……”
“…What?”
You can’t have chili powder in your teeth when you’re trying to seduce the King of the Underworld, right? I squeezed out the last of my strength to tell her out of consideration, but her expression wasn’t exactly grateful.
She looks offended? Then shouldn’t I make her feel refreshed instead? Hehehe… Cough!
“In my next life… I want to be a long-range dealer……”
Wait, maybe a healer would be better? Or a poisoner who just applies venom from the back and leeches off everyone? Ah, who cares.
No matter what life I get, I just want to live easy, eating for free.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
…Why does it hurt so much? Is someone hitting me?
Did I go too far with my last words? Are they trying to turn me into a half-corpse? But something about the feeling is… off.
“Gack!”
Boom!
The moment something slammed into my head, the world in front of me brightened in an instant.
Waaaaah!
Cheers slammed into my ears. Pain coursed through my entire body.
Instead of the gloomy sky that had always hung over the brink of destruction, I saw a sky clearer and more refreshing than anything I had ever seen.
“What the…?”
“Will you surrender now?”
A middle-aged man wearing clothes straight out of a historical drama—no, more like something from an old wuxia movie—kept saying something to me.
“One! Two!”
I heard an unfamiliar language, but before long its meaning became perfectly clear.
“Will you surrender?”
At the man’s voice, I slowly rose to my feet.
“Huff… huff……”
The pain I had felt with every breath was gone.
…Huh?
Was the world always this tall?
The man carefully examined his own condition.
“This is… what the… ugh!”
A headache hit him late. Countless scenes flashed before his eyes like a panorama.
And then the middle-aged man’s voice struck his ears once more.
“Tang Sanlong!”
The man—no, the now seventeen-year-old boy, Tang Sanlong—nodded as if his mind had finally returned.
“Yes! Yes, Instructor!”
“Did you hit your head too hard? How many fingers am I holding up?”
The middle-aged man, Tang Cheonwoo, held up his fingers to check on Tang Sanlong’s condition.
“T-two…”
“If you wish to surrender—”
Tang Cheonwoo was about to recommend surrender, but the sharp gaze of a woman behind him made him shut his mouth.
“Instructor, can we continue?”
A boy with strikingly handsome features glared fiercely at Tang Sanlong.
He was the same age as Sanlong, but his build was a full head taller than most of his peers.
What the hell… is going on?
Tang Sanlong barely managed to steady his dizzy vision and assess the current situation.
And instinctively, he realized.
“Memories from my previous life?”
The memories of Kim Samyong—the twenty-eight-year-old forever-single C-rank hunter from Korea—came flooding back in perfect detail.
I don’t understand what’s happening…
It was hard to grasp the full picture, but one thing was certain.
The boy in front of him—Tang Gihyo—was not looking at Sanlong with any goodwill whatsoever.
Tang Gihyo…
It was a name that didn’t exist in Kim Samyong’s memories, but to Tang Sanlong it was all too familiar.
What a vicious bastard.
If someone were to combine every rotten school bully into a single being, it would probably look exactly like the guy standing in front of me.
Today is… right. It’s the day of the Irong-jeon…
Until they performed their adulthood ceremony, both direct and branch descendants of the Tang Clan trained together at the place known as Tanggidae.
The name meant “the foundation of the Tang Clan.”
Every quarter, Tanggidae held an evaluation tournament to test the students’ progress. That event was called the Irong-jeon.
In the five years since entering Tanggidae, Tang Sanlong had never once beaten Tang Gihyo in the Irong-jeon.
It wasn’t just a matter of skill. The long years of abuse had left deep scars.
“Hngh!”
When he cleared his stinging nose, a clump of clotted blood fell to the ground.
I don’t know what’s going on, but I’d rather die than end things like this.
Was it because of the resentment from his unjust death in his previous life? Or was it pure rage toward Tang Gihyo?
Either way, Tang Sanlong did not want to end it here.
“Tang Sanlong of Group 7, will you continue?”
“Yes.”
“Very well. Resume!”
Instructor Tang Cheonwoo shouted for them to begin again.
“You should’ve just stayed unconscious. Guess your head isn’t completely smashed yet?”
Tang Gihyo arrogantly took his stance.
A concise posture.
It was the most basic martial art of the Tang Clan—Tangga-gwon.
The name sounded a bit grandiose, but Tangga-gwon was the most fundamental fist and foot technique taught at Tanggidae.
Tangga-gwon.
The foundation of all Tang Clan martial arts.
It was the technique they continued to train even while learning other introductory skills during their time in Tanggidae.
“Heh heh heh.”
Tangga-gwon was also the martial art that the embodiment of every school bully—Tang Gihyo—frequently used to torment Tang Sanlong.
It was as if he was saying, This basic technique is more than enough for the likes of you, while also enjoying how satisfying it felt to hit him.
What is this, a thug movie…? He just keeps coming at me… Hngh!
Tang Sanlong, who had always been beaten, knew today would be different.
I won’t just stand here and take it anymore.
Internal energy could only be used in the year-end Irong-jeon.
This was the first Irong-jeon of the first quarter after the new year.
If internal energy was forbidden, there was no reason he couldn’t handle the current Tang Gihyo.
“Hoo.”
He shook out his limbs, lightly hopped in place, and took his stance.
“What the hell is that stupid posture?”
“Did he hit his head on the ground and lose his mind?”
“Hahaha!”
“Even a dance wouldn’t look that ridiculous! Hahaha!”
Even as jeers flew in from all directions, Sanlong continued warming up his body.
It was the most common stance in modern martial arts, but to everyone watching the Irong-jeon, it was completely unfamiliar.
“Goodness, how can a direct descendant display such vulgar roots…”
A middle-aged woman seated at the highest position clicked her tongue. Her extravagant clothes and ornate feather fan half-covered her face.
“Even among the mediocre, he’s one of the better ones, isn’t he?”
“Besides, he’s a good-for-nothing. He probably half-assed his training too.”
“And honestly, calling him a direct descendant is a bit…”
The old man swallowed the rest of his words, aware it was a sensitive topic.
To the seventeen-year-old Tang Sanlong in the midst of delicate puberty, their words would have been devastating. But to Kim Samyong, who had been through every hardship imaginable, it was nothing.
In my previous life, I heard far worse.
That was simply what life as a close-range dealer was like.
Still, no matter how many worse insults you’ve endured, ordinary ones still sting.
Tang Sanlong felt his blood slowly begin to boil.
“In the past he at least tried to do something. Now he’s completely given up.”
Tang Gihyo’s sneer used to fill Sanlong with shame, embarrassment, and helplessness. But not anymore.
“What are you even saying?”
Tang Sanlong dug at his ear with his pinky in open provocation.
Tang Gihyo’s face twisted in an instant.
“Looks like smashing your head on the ground really made you lose it.”
“I didn’t lose it. I finally came back to my senses.”
“What?”
“Enough talk. Come at me, kid.”
Tang Sanlong lightly hopped in place while continuing to taunt him.
Tang Gihyo’s face flushed red like a carrot.
“I’ll break one of your arms, just like last time!”
Whoosh! Bam!
Although it contained no internal energy, Tangga-gwon—which they trained every single day at Tanggidae—easily tore through the air.
His natural physical ability doubled the destructive power.
But I can see it so clearly.
Maybe it was because he had been beaten so many times. Sanlong’s dynamic vision was better than he expected.
His movements are so simple.
Had he been mentally suppressed by the existence known as Tang Gihyo all this time? Even for Sanlong, the attack was slow enough to dodge with room to spare.
Swish!
Sanlong quickly stepped backward to create distance, then lashed out with his leg.
Thwack!
The whip-like sound echoed as the back of Tang Gihyo’s thigh was struck. For a moment, his leg went completely numb.
Hidden weapons, poison, and internal energy are all banned…!
Otherwise, this situation made no sense.
…Or does it?
When feeling returned to his leg, Tang Gihyo was startled for only a second before charging forward again like a wild boar, acting as if nothing had happened.
“I’ll break both arms, not just one!”
Even at Tang Gihyo’s ferocious shout, Sanlong calmly maintained his stance.
Take it slow!
This was the moment when the mixed martial arts he had trained for survival—when weapons were broken or unavailable—truly shined.
Tap. Whoosh!
Sanlong threw a light jab. Tang Gihyo, determined to keep his word, used a joint-locking technique to try and snap it.
I’ll break it for sure!
“Too bad! Fooled you!”
Sanlong slyly pulled his arm back and slammed another kick into the back of Tang Gihyo’s thigh muscle.
“Aaaargh!”
Crack!
The sound of a whip cracking rang out as a scream burst involuntarily from Tang Gihyo’s mouth.
What a shame.
If this had been during his time as Kim Samyong, he would have already planted Tang Gihyo face-first into the ground.
Unfortunately, the current Tang Sanlong—who had neglected his training—couldn’t pull that off.
Well, if I keep hitting him, he’ll collapse eventually.
From that point on, Tang Sanlong began toying with Tang Gihyo.
Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!
The arena was filled with the sound of whipping strikes. The expressions of those who had been mocking Tang Sanlong gradually hardened like stone.
Especially noticeable was the middle-aged woman seated at the highest position—the one holding the ornate fan and calling Sanlong vulgar. Her face was the most visibly distorted.
“You… you… aaagh!”
Tang Gihyo, who had stood as firm as an iron fortress, finally collapsed while clutching one leg.
“You coward… ugh!”
“Hyah!”
Before Tang Gihyo could speak, Sanlong delivered a kick straight to his face.
“Guh!”
Tang Gihyo’s head snapped back from the impact.
But Sanlong had no intention of stopping there.
“I’ll return the grudge tenfold!”
Was this the accumulated resentment from before he regained his previous life’s memories? Sanlong, who had been shouting about a fair match, brought his heel down mercilessly onto Tang Gihyo’s face.
Crack!
With the sound of something shattering, Tang Gihyo clutched his bleeding eye and screamed.
“Aaaah! My eye! My eye!”
“Die!”
“Tang Sanlong! Stop this at once!”
“Ugh!”
Tang Cheonwoo’s palm strike landed squarely on Sanlong’s abdomen.
Even though it contained little internal energy, the impact that shook his entire body caused Sanlong’s consciousness to rapidly fade.
“That feels so much better.”
Even as he lost consciousness, Tang Sanlong still managed to get the last word in.