I Don't Want to Do Anything
My consciousness was barely there at all.
When I was a baby, I existed in that hazy, half-awake state babies do. As I grew older, my mind slowly sharpened along with me.
Even that half-measure was apparently enough to make me stand out ridiculously among the other kids.
By the time I turned five and fully remembered who I had been in my previous life, I had already been taken from my parents. I was now stuck in a space crammed floor-to-ceiling with books, enduring brutal lessons every single day alongside children who looked the same age as me.
It was a genius factory of sorts—a place designed to cultivate the next generation of extraordinary talents.
Royal Drike Academy
The Dmitry Kingdom had no shortage of powerful knights, but mages were another story. This place was their ambitious masterpiece, built to fill that glaring hole in their forces.
I was considered a promising prospect. I had an exceptional talent for sensing mana and a mind sharp enough to keep up with the relentless pace.
I’ll admit it—magic was genuinely fascinating.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from its dazzling brilliance.
They told us that becoming a mage meant the entire world would bend to your will. You’d grasp every truth in existence and shatter the limits of what it meant to be human. It sounded incredibly tempting.
After all, none of this had existed in the world I came from.
The academy didn’t stop at magic. They crammed us with everything else too—alchemy, administrative studies, economics, and a dozen other subjects. It was clear they were laying down solid groundwork to forge a proper intellectual class.
Every student learned the same things. No exceptions.
Most of it was far too heavy for children to properly digest, but honestly? It was still a hell of a lot easier than the soul-crushing exam prep I’d survived in my previous life.
Before we turned ten, we were expected to discover our aptitude and specialize in one field.
Our ultimate purpose was to bury ourselves in study and swear absolute loyalty to the king. That was the mission they had drilled into us.
It was practically brainwashing, and it was obvious their goal was exactly that.
But I had zero hesitation about letting all that indoctrination slide right through me—one ear in, one ear out.
After all, the soul tucked inside this adorable little girl’s body wasn’t some pure, innocent thing. It was a jaded Korean teenager already thoroughly twisted by the cutthroat education system back home.
Naturally, the harder they pushed their brainwashing, the harder I pushed back.
I couldn’t have cared less about my so-called natural talent.
Any spark of curiosity about these wondrous things was completely crushed under the weight of pure annoyance.
In a life where you could drop dead at any moment, I wanted to live exactly as I pleased.
If I was going to do this again, I was going to live comfortably and die of old age, thank you very much.
I had absolutely no intention of dropping dead from overstudying one random day. Never. Not in a million years.