The Two-Week Adaptation
Two weeks after the Global Aurora Phenomenon (GAP). The moment the interplanetary weather anomaly was named and teams were assembled, every country moved with lightning speed. In contrast, in South Korea, it was dubbed the "Aurora Shock," and after the initial buzz, things had quieted down. No, that wasn't quite right. It was just a topic for occasional jokes about the world ending, or something mentioned in passing while people were busy grinding through their daily lives. That was the extent of it offline.
But online, in internet communities, it remained a hot potato, with new theories being rolled out constantly. Comparing the phenomenon to movies where the Earth's magnetic field stops during "The Night," some claimed the U.S. had botched a weapon test. Others insisted aliens were conducting experiments. Then there were the threads like this:
In reality, it wasn't even a serious discussion; it was just people playing with a topic they stumbled upon while bored. Occasionally, someone would get close to the truth, but people would just laugh it off, saying, "As if that makes any sense."
"Ugh, my chest feels tight. What's wrong with me?"
"Haha. That's just stress, man. Isn't it because you got on the Section Chief's bad side and got stuck with overtime?"
"Damn it. Then there's no cure for that, is there?"
"They say taking some Woohwangcheongsimwon helps. Or why don't you go to the hospital?"
"Should I?"
Office workers smoked, exchanging trivial talk.
"Yeah~ I'll be there for the delivery soon. Yes, yes, you're at home, right? Okay. Whew. Is it because it's hot? My chest feels stifled."
A delivery driver, flapping his shirt with his hand, cranked the air conditioning higher.
"Did you get indigestion? Lately, everything I eat makes my stomach feel heavy~."
"Hey, I'm the same these days. Just take some digestive medicine~ you'll be fine soon. Or just get some good sleep?"
"Sigh, I should just rest this weekend without doing anything. Oh, did you hear the news? You know Young-mi..."
Women finished their meal, chatting and drinking coffee. Two weeks after the returnees arrived, a single symptom was slowly spreading across the world.
Two weeks since returning to the modern era. They say humans are animals of adaptation, right? Or not? Anyway, "Am I already getting used to the conveniences of modern civilization?"
They said even a person from the Middle Ages would adapt quickly if dropped into this world. Thinking such foolish thoughts, I took a sip of the sweet instant coffee on my desk and stared at the monitor. *Return from another world, returned from another world. Sharing my story after returning from another world.* I frowned at the search bar, having searched in various languages.
"Not a single person. No, mostly it's just web novels and garbage posts."
It was a predictable result, but since the internet was the fastest place to acquire information, I kept searching just in case. *Rafdonea Continent. Brent Kingdom. Silverin Duchy, Demi-human Alliance...* Even searching for those yielded nothing. I sighed at the results, which were mostly just web novel tropes.
"Yeah, I shouldn't have expected to find real information here."
I slumped back in my chair and sighed. I had wondered if I was the only one who returned, but thinking back to the pillar of light in my memory, that was impossible. I had definitely returned.
"Yeah, I'm not an idiot, and there's no way some moron would be spilling the truth here."
With that, I used my now-familiar hands to open a delivery app and ordered lunch. Despite a 12-year gap, I had lived in the modern world for over 30 years, so I quickly got used to the lifestyle. Was it a side effect, or was I just becoming lazy?
"Wow~ food is made and delivered with the touch of a finger. Even if I have to pay for it."
This sweet convenience, where food that I would have had to cook myself or go to a restaurant to eat was delivered to my door, was more addictive than drugs. Of course, there was delivery in the other world, but it was worlds apart from having to order directly from a cookhouse.
I devoured the three hamburger sets that arrived and, to burn off the calories, got up to head to the gym for some "iron pumping."
*Boom! Boom! Boom!* The sound from the amp hammered my ears. I scanned the place—a sweaty spot that seemed filled only with "mostly" muscular men who were truly obsessed with lifting—and headed to the counter.
"Ah~ you're here for lunch again? Don't do that, just get a membership~ okay?"
I smirked at the woman with short hair who radiated health, her actions provocatively highlighting her tight-fitting physique.
"No thanks. I'm just here to loosen up. I'll look around a bit more before deciding."
"Aww~ that's a shame. Here's your key."
I finished the brief chat with her—the receptionist and "gym girl" who was the reason this place was a sausage fest—and went into the locker room. After changing into comfortable clothes, I came out and started my workout. First, the large muscles. I steeled my resolve and began.
And, just like in the morning, irritation began to bubble up not long after I started. My 3-lift total (bench, dead, squat) was a mere 530kg. I ground my teeth at the state of my body, which was gasping for air after just 3 sets of 12 reps. I used to push or lift boulders the size of a front-loader. While doing a 150kg barbell press, I felt a sharp ache in my wrists and elbows, and the heat in my muscles only fueled my irritation. My heart was pounding like crazy, and my back was drenched in sweat. I finished the set and wiped my face and the bench with a towel.
"Tsk. So annoying."
I turned my head to get some cold water. I saw the burly, sweaty guys staring with wide, sparkling eyes, restless like dogs that needed to poop. I let out a dry laugh at their behavior and headed to the water cooler.
*Is he an athlete? Look at his body, even with that loose shirt, look at the frame. His muscles and bulk aren't as big as I thought? That's what they call 'functional muscle.' I saw him doing other exercises...*
Awe. Ignoring those gazes and whispers—which I had felt countless times before, albeit in different situations—I felt the cool water slide down my throat and thought: *It's better than the diagnosis I got when I first returned, but at this rate, I'd barely be able to handle three orcs.*
I swallowed a sigh, frustrated that my mana was so low I couldn't even trigger the weight-reduction enchantment carved into my mithril greatsword, making it impossible to lift even with all my strength. No matter how high the weight was because it was made of high-purity mithril, *'No, what's the point of regretting not being able to lift it?'*
I smacked my lips and was just thinking about what to do next when I felt someone grabbing and kneading my forearm. I frowned and turned my head.
"Wow~ look at those muscles."
"...What are you doing?"
"Ah. Ahaha~ sorry. But it's my first time seeing someone do 3-lift 530kg, and not even 1RM, but 3 sets of 12 reps. Just a little? Wow."
I gave a sour look at the gym girl's playful, brazen behavior. Only then did she withdraw her hand, stick out her tongue, and back away. I watched her swaying hips as she walked off and swallowed a sigh internally.
*Have I gone soft? Or has my body become that weak?*
I had been lost in thought, and even though I was distracted by my workout, I reflected on the fact that I hadn't even reacted until someone grabbed my forearm. On the first day, seeing people unable to even meet my eyes due to my sharp aura, I had intentionally let my guard down as if I were in a "safe place." Had I fallen into the comfort of the modern world in just two weeks, and was that becoming poison?
*Or not? There's 'no way' something like that could be here, am I overreacting?*
I pondered this unexpected blind spot, then shook my head. *No, I'll think about this when I get home. For now—*
I moved my body again, picked up the 45kg dumbbells in both hands, and resumed my workout.
After finishing my workout, I picked up my cross-bag and started walking. Today, I wasn't heading straight home. I was walking toward a place I'd found on the internet. I arrived by taxi.
It was June—no, it was July now—and I looked at the shop that made the already unbearable heat even hotter. *Clang! Clang! Thud! Thud!* The sound was similar to a hammer, but heavier. I looked at the forge, which echoed with that sound, and kept walking.
Heat and flames were pouring out, but it was a peaceful forge without a hint of a sharp atmosphere. I thought again about what I'd dismissed earlier. Is it because of little things like this that I'm letting my guard down? In the other world, the atmosphere around the forge... no, the atmosphere of the village, the atmosphere of the city—everything was on edge. A false comfort that could shatter at any moment. Perhaps the difference between that and the "true comfort" here was why I kept letting my guard down.
After convincing myself, I looked around the shop. *Not swords or weapons. Sickles, crowbars, hammer heads.* A familiar smell of iron, but without the fishy scent of blood. I stared blankly for a moment at the forge's atmosphere, which was distinctly different from the other side, when an old man came out wiping his face with a towel around his neck, spotted me, and asked.
"Who are you?"
"Ah, hello. I was just passing by and took a look."
"Hm? You gonna tend a field or something? A young person like you?"
"Haha. No, I was just curious because it's a forge."
"Hmm..."
The old man, looking at me with a grumpy—no, a blunt—gaze, said bluntly:
"We don't sell blades here, except for kitchen knives. If you want to see that kind of stuff, go somewhere else."
*Hmm?* Honestly, it would be a lie to say I didn't have any expectation that a famous forge might have something, even if it wasn't a blade. It was a place that did supply orders, and it even had a plaque calling it a "Future Heritage," so I came just in case, but I was inwardly disappointed because it was different from what I'd expected.
*I did find the right place, though.*
"Oh, don't say such scary things. What blades? In this day and age."
I hid my true intentions. Seeing him narrow his eyes and look at me like he was filleting a fish, I smirked, not knowing why that grumpy, short old man popped into my head, and opened my mouth.
"I just came to buy a few durable hand axes, a sturdy demolition crowbar, and one long axe."
"Hm. That's not it... Tsk, whatever. Looking at you, you just need it to be sturdy, right?"
The old man, who had been rubbing his chin, looked at me for a moment, and when I nodded at the result that perfectly grasped my needs, he went inside and came back out, showing me the axes and the crowbar.
"Heh? This is good iron."
"Compliments? A young person like you knows what to look for?"
"Well, I have a bit of an eye for it."
I watched the weapons—no, the "tools"—with sparkling eyes. *It's not iron.* I smirked at the old man's reaction as he snorted at my words, and looked at what he'd brought out. It was a large crowbar of about 1.2m, a large axe similar to what's commonly called a fire axe, and a hand axe. I reached out and grabbed the grip of the axe. It felt like it fit perfectly in my hand. Unlike the wood or other materials from the other side, it was a material I was feeling for the first time. *Is it rubber?* When I bent the handle part slightly, it felt firm yet soft, and the durability seemed good.
"As expected... it feels like I'm looking at weapons, not tools."
*How did he know?* Do blacksmiths have something special? Do they train their eyes instead of forging iron?
"No way. It looks sturdy. How much for all of this?"
"All of it? 300,000 won. If that's enough, take it."
"Yes, I'll pay. Oh, what was the name of that thing over there?"
"What? Why do you want a jackhammer bit?"
"Ah, give me 10 of those, and 10 kitchen knives as well."
"Hm... then give me 800,000."
After finishing the payment with my card from my wallet, I put them in the duffel bag I'd brought and set off. The heaviness I felt in the bag. It wasn't because of the weight. Was it because I'd finally put something "weapon-like" in it?
*They're 'tools' and 'implements,' but I've finally obtained something like a weapon.*
I thought about how I wished for more, then shook my head. I blew away the regret, smiled at the sense of security the items in the bag gave me, arrived home, and put the weapons into my inventory. I felt the cramped capacity.
"I've become a supply box, not a walking supply base."
It was roughly 4.3m x 4.3m x 2.5m. Honestly, it wasn't a small size if it were just me.
"Haa-. It's a shame. Even if it were half, no, 1/10th of the original size... tsk. No."
What's done is done, nothing I can do about it. I thought and checked the time.
"Ah. It's about time now. I should get ready."
For the first time in 12 years. It's been a really long time since I've stepped on my homeland's soil. I smiled slightly and changed my clothes.