Huh?
I came to my senses, and a bizarre landscape filled my vision. Something felt off.
"What the...?"
A street straight out of some ancient painting stretched out before me. Where the hell was this? Joseon Dynasty? Nah. This wasn't the Joseon I knew. If I had to pin it down, it screamed Chinese vibes.
"..."
Looking around, people in genuine old-school clothes were milling about. The buildings had that antique feel too. No way—was this a historical drama set? The thought hit me, but that couldn't be right. I'd stormed out and headed straight home... Unless the whole thing was a dream? Did I have some sleepwalking bullshit? No sense. That psycho director felt way too real and asshole-ish for a dream phantom. No way he was some beautiful dream figment. Plus, if I'd had sleepwalking issues, my aunt would've flipped out first.
"What the fuck?"
It was all so sudden, zero sense of reality. That realization bubbled up, but then—
"Grab him!"
"Monster thief!"
"Today's the day I catch and thrash you!"
Whoosh!
Suddenly, these guys bolted like pro runners, vaulting over walls like it was nothing! They kept hopping fences, scaling buildings, pulling off acrobatics mid-chase.
"Whoa!"
What the hell? These bastards were parkour gods! Looked like they were after a thief, and it was goddamn impressive. Both the runner and the chasers moved like parkour was their full-time gig after meals. Pro-level shit that left me in awe. Back in middle school, I'd tried parkour after watching District B13 and cracked my shinbone. No one pulls off moves like that casually.
"Damn."
Did those uncles have similar stories? Sharing that kinda nostalgia warmed my chest, made me feel all fuzzy... Yeah, skip that. Something even crazier caught my eye.
The chasing uncle was wielding what looked like a sword!
"Dando-ri Cham!"
And get this—he yelled some martial arts technique name while swinging it! A blade of light even burst from the sword!
"Holy shit!"
What the actual fuck?! My jaw dropped; I clawed my hair and collapsed right there! Over-the-top reaction? Sure, but—
A chill ran down my spine.
"Murim?"
Pieces clicked in my head. Chinese-style backdrop. Guys zipping around with Lightness Skill, then whipping out swords and unleashing Sword Aura. This was bullshit—unreal—but I'd seen it with my own eyes. No rubbing them changed a thing. It was real.
Which meant...
This was straight-up Murim?
"Fuck...!"
Reality sank in, terror crashing over me. I'd landed in Murim? For real? Suddenly, I was scared shitless. Legs shaking like jelly...
"Tch! He got away?"
"You lot, pursue the monster thief! We must catch him!"
No cap—my spine was burning, cold sweat pouring from my forehead. My head spun too... Murim! Murim! A world where martial artists flew around slinging sword techniques! I'd read a few wuxia novels and fantasies, so I knew the gist. Those "transported to another world" stories? Fun as fiction. Reality? Nightmare fuel!
And now I was here!
"No fucking way...!"
A modern guy like me surviving Murim? Impossible! That's entertainment, not survival—total game over!
Whoosh!
Terror hit; I just bolted. Full panic mode. Couldn't stand still—had to run like an ostrich shoving its head in a hole.
"...Status!"
Right! Status window!
"Status wiiindow!"
Yelled on reflex. Nothing. No window.
"No!"
No status screen? What the hell?! This ain't trendy "no-system" bullshit! Transported to isekai? Gimme the damn status!
Wait—no, these days no-status is the trend! Unbelievable! Me in Murim? Never saw that coming!
"Hah... hah!"
Heart pounding like it'd burst. Gripped my chest, deep breaths. Shockingly, still in Murim. Thought I'd wake up home. Nope—full otherworld transfer. No warning.
"Fuck...!"
Get it together. Hard to believe, but this was real. No dream, no fake. Gotta find a way to live. Murim or not, people starve without food. No aunt cooking here.
But how? Knew it was Murim, but zilch else. If it was a novel I'd read, maybe. Zero knowledge. Tough to survive blind.
Die here? Nah—brain flashed.
"No...!"
Can't think weak! My motto: adult up, survive anywhere. That's why I left auntie's cozy nest—became responsible, cool salaryman. Mind straight? Society or Murim, same deal.
Wipe.
Mopped my face with my sleeve. Language worked—Korean me chatting in Murim? Mystery, but huge win. Survival odds skyrocketed.
Good. Move. No money, no food. Find work while stamina holds. Sitting saves nothing—couple days, done. Starving? Useless. Scout before hunger hits.
"Alright."
Job hunt for survival. Familiar grind. Shit already hit—believe in myself, move.
Whoever dumped me here? Dead meat later. Anyway, go.
Bustle bustle.
Hit a market street.
"How much for this?"
"Fifty mun."
"Needs some haggling."
"No, sir. This is a steal."
Folks bargaining over goods. Sparked an idea. Right—learn speech, prices. Blend in first.
Extreme situation sharpened my brain, plotting survival. Kim Geun-hyeop's ironclad happy circuit at work.
South American tribes have "stomach stones." Too much stress? Shatters with a crack, kills ya. Intact? Conquer anything. Felt mine solid.
Recalled that, eyed shops like a spy gathering intel—observed merchants, customers.
"Haha! Good face, sir—one silver tael!"
"One tael? Half's plenty."
"No, sir."
Cheap stuff: dozens of copper coins. Pricey: silver. Knew from novels—small silver chunks, snipped with shears. But coppers common too, especially for plebs. Silvers rare.
Scouting prices, a delicious smell wafted... Damn, mouth watering. Wanted aunt's ramen, but no dice.
Can't ignore. Check it.
Daejag Banjeom
A restaurant named Daejag Banjeom. Smell from there. Reading the sign? Lifesaver. No language? Corpse city.
"Waiter! Dumplings, one serving!"
"Yes! Ten mun copper!"
Dumplings a meal? Side? Ten coppers cheap. Survival data stacking.
Checked my look.
"Kinda grimy."
Lucky—wore historical extra costume. Blended perfect. Dirty? Matched locals. No suspicion.
Entered cloth shop ahead.
"Welcome, sir!"
"Hm."
Grunted greeting, eyed clothes. Basic peasant wear. Like mine.
"Looking for something specific?"
"Need to browse."
"Of course, sir."
Tested observed speech. No weird looks. Acting talent? Homeward, pivot to actor. Spoil aunt. Banish that director forever, force public apology. Then hire as sparring dummy—daily beatdowns. My grudges ain't cheap... Alive? Pay up someday.
Anyway.
"Boss. Best spot in town for work?"
Pretended shopping, slipped question. Spill?
"Ah, outsider?"
"Yep."
"First time in Anhui Province?"
Anhui! Knew it! Murim knowledge check—right side of continent. If real, Namgung Family nearby.
"From Henan."
"Henan, huh. For work—not Murim folk? Try Dahoebang."
"Dahoebang?"
"Job brokers. They'll hook you up."
Saint! Spilled all! Nicest ever!
"Heh, thanks, boss. You're a gem."
"No biggie."
Intel secured. Ninety-degree bow, bolted. Info grab, no buy? Dick move. Guilt hit.
Should've bought something. But broke... Promise: money flows, shop here.
Recapped.
"Dahoebang."
Like a labor agency. Head there next.