Chapter 2
Chapter 2
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 2
Chapter Title: 1. I Didn't Know It Back Then. (1)
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I had no idea back then.
In your typical popular novel where the protagonist gets isekai'd or reincarnates into a fantasy world.
They'd meet a god after dying and get a bonus weapon or special skill. Or some guy even takes the goddess herself (though she doesn't seem all that useful).
Or maybe they already knew modern magic, and since fantasy world's magic was inferior, they get treated like an archmage.
Heck, even reincarnating as a weak monster like a slime or goblin and going on a rampage was a thing.
But here's the thing, folks. Fiction is fiction. It's not reality!
You can tell just from watching dramas in your past life! Those chaebol heirs you bump into on the street? Yeah, we all know that's not real.
The ones whining about being cold while eating fish cakes at a street stall, or going to a famous yukgaejang restaurant during a franchise project at their company, scarfing down a bowl, and going,
"Perfect! This is the taste I've been looking for! This is what we'll sell!"
Then working at the company with the humble girl who works there—the one with a hidden royal birth secret? Yeah, never seen that.
Reality? They're probably slicing steaks at some ridiculously expensive restaurant where you wonder about ingredient costs, not wandering market alleys like commoners.
Oh, and the most realistic part: no such thing as the legendary pretty orphan girl living selflessly for others despite hardship.
Anyway, let me tell you the real deal about reincarnators who come into this world with zero abilities!
First off, understanding every language upon reincarnation? Total nonsense.
Languages change across countries or continents, let alone dimensions. No way they're using something like Korean.
No similar hanja either. Because of that familiar Korean vibe, it took me five years to learn the continental common tongue.
For reference, other kids start talking at three and reading/writing basics by five.
Thanks to that, I could only read and write decently by age ten.
My parents nearly saw me as hopelessly slow or an idiot. I barely covered for it with math.
But even that math? In a world where basic arithmetic impresses common farmers. Doing multiplication and division had them thinking, "Maybe he's a math genius despite being slow with letters?"
Mom fought Dad for a while about sending me to a famous imperial academy. Side note.
Second, the classic cheat knowledge: getting rich with modern know-how!
So yeah, I racked my brain for modern knowledge.
Nope. Useless. All that computer otaku stuff from my hobby? No way in a medieval fantasy world. Straight to the trash.
But I still had half my life in school! Think: elementary, middle, high school! College prep studies!
Yeah. Useless. Only addition and subtraction here. Hel Joseon's worthless education strikes again! Total despair.
Okay, modern knowledge that's useful. Gunpowder and guns could change this world's paradigm.
But does anyone know how to make it? Seeing a chair and making one are worlds apart.
Even a simple chair is hard if you've never built one. Tech stuff? Impossible.
Knowing gun shapes and parts doesn't help if you can't fabricate them.
No tech means it's just ideas or delusions. Even knowing existing things gets dismissed as imagination.
So I gave up everything and planned to inherit my parents' farm.
College tech was useless, but military skills worked!
Our mighty ROK Army! And its pinnacle, the modern ultimate weapon: the entrenching tool!
Dad said I was born to shovel! My fantastical shoveling made him say that. Perfect for farming!
I'll be the king of farmers here! I vowed.
Well, something like that... maybe?
I was just thirteen when my parents died.
Not some evil black mage! Not a tyrannical noble! Not demon stirrings heralding the magic season!
Cause of death: electrocution.
More precisely: A hero chasing a fleeing villain fired lightning magic. The villain desperately blocked it, ricocheting it right at my parents selling goods in the market. It hit them dead-on, leaving no trace.
Modern terms: Like civilians caught in a car chase action flick. Dodging bullets or a wrong-way hero car, crashing into an exploding vehicle.
Haha, talk about bad luck!
Orphaned boy wondering how to survive, but somehow...
Conclusion: Farm and live on. The state even paid insurance!
I still had fertile land, crops, and my shocking shoveling from this life!
I had such high hopes.
"Hahaha."
Watching my fields burn, I could only laugh hollowly.
One year after my parents died.
In just one year, our incompetent but harmless lord went overboard once and served up a massive humiliation... to the nation.
A gold mine discovered in a vague border spot between our country and the neighbors. Close to our territory.
Gullible lord sent troops on advisors' word. But enemy lord of similar standing had troops waiting!
Our usually spineless lord decided then to attack, drive them out, and claim it.
Fine. Happy ending so far. But drunk on seizing a huge gold mine plus his first "victory" (total mismatch in forces), he chased fleeing enemies across the border!
And that neighbor? One of the continent's strongest: the Karan Empire. Cocky after one win, thinking himself heaven-sent general, he crossed and got soul-crushed by the border count same day.
Empire saw it as a declaration of war, invaded next day, took the capital in a month.
Oh, and this inferno? Retribution on the invading territory. Included my inherited land.
Yes. Farming? Ruined! Totally! Ashes won't grow crops, even if harvest's far off!
"Argh!"
So yeah. My backstabbing job? Blame the world!
I wanted peace! World wouldn't let me!
Note: Backstabbing isn't scamming. It's professional beatdowns, in old world's terms.
Misfortune or fortune, soon my kingdom wasn't halved—it was divided seven ways.
Empire took half at first, then king keeled over. Princes fought for throne, sole intact duke declared himself king!
Chaos: half turned bandits, half robbers.
Me? Decent with a blade, saving good money.
Gonna cross to Empire, fulfill my farming dream.
One, two, three guys. Sometimes team with info-sharing bandits, raid villages. Ally with mountain bandits, rob nobles.
Saved enough, seeking broker to Empire. Another broker found me.
"How about it?"
Scouting.
Haha, back then I risked life daily, nearly died for real, never scouted despite skills.
Hard work in crime pays off. They see promising talent early.
From the Empire's largest Evil Organization.
"Nice salary."
"Incentives too."
"Risky, huh."
"Like what you're doing."
"Die if ordered?"
"Yup. So be careful."
Real life-risking work. Unlike Hel Joseon, pay matches risk. Big pay. Life-risking big.
"Deal."
At fifteen, joined Evil Organization as promising talent. Worked hard, now forty.
25 years loyal, safe rear job: training instructor. Senior instructor now, rearing disciples.
Great. Low death risk. Good money. Skills grow, big incentives.
Folks! Evil Organizations rule!
***
"Same as last time. One to fifty. Then 951 to 1000."
Other instructors shut up at my words.
"Top ranks sweep again?"
"Plus bottom ranks... Can't you just train middles?"
Grumbling disappointment. But I was firm.
"One to fifty. 951 to 1000."
Most Evil Org members: orphans or slaves.
Org trains them two years average for usefulness. Feed well, beat into shape, rank them. We senior instructors handle thousand per batch.
My fave combo: front and back.
Front kids: top of thousand, at least mid. Sometimes geniuses. Low incentives downside.
Cover with back fifty—mostly trash, but hits jackpot when one rises: massive incentives.
Last time, No. 1000 hit No. 1. I promoted to senior, extra zero on incentives!
So always pick front/back hundred. Survivors survive.
My method: just endure. Easy.
Others lose dozens. Me? Zero casualties, model instructor. That's why senior!
"This batch strong, huh... Five survive?"
"Nah, top batch, at least ten?"
"Last 'strongest' only seven."
"Naruan Instructor's infamous."
"But basic trainers have pride. Single digits again? Salary thieves. Even Evil Org limited manpower—no pay for dead weight. Meritocracy. Thieves die. Ten survivors: 30k gold."
"Haha, bold. Five: 40k."
"Seven: 20k."
"Me, five: 30k."
"Now's for big shots. Wipeout: 30k."
But others doubt. Betting on my trainees' survival...
"Senior, how many this time?"
Spotlight on me. How many?
"With grit, all survive."
"...Grit?"
I don't push to death.
Can't endure? Their problem.
Yes. Not me weird. Weaklings weird!
"Yeah. Grit makes anyone strong."
Of course. Fantasy world of magic, spirits, elves, orcs. I'm the mana-less one thriving?
Mana users failing? Absurd.
Past life 30 years rough. This 40. 70 years pure grit.
Past life saying: Youth's hardships sought.
If not grind here in Evil Org, where?