The Immigrant
His wife's name was Arize. She had been the very first person Yeonil met in this world.
When a goddess cast him into another realm, Yeonil had been completely disoriented. Perhaps because of the ordeal of dying and returning to life, his memories were fragmented and hazy. Worse still, for reasons he could not begin to fathom, he had been summoned stark naked, without a stitch of clothing to his name—and in the depths of a deserted, trackless forest, no less.
He had wandered through the woods for hours, with no idea where he was, before good fortune finally smiled upon him: he stumbled upon Arize bathing in a secluded mountain stream.
Naturally, Arize had been intensely wary of him at first. And who could blame her? Any woman would be startled out of her wits if an unfamiliar, heavily muscled man suddenly materialized in the buff, especially while she was in the middle of a bath.
Yet, possessing a boundless well of kindness, Arize took Yeonil back to her village tucked deep in the mountains. Despite her own impoverished circumstances, she was blessed with a nature so benevolent that she could never turn her back on someone in need. And alongside that gentle heart, she bore a beauty so breathtaking it could topple nations. This was no fond exaggeration from a doting husband—it was simply an objective, undeniable fact.
To a woman who had nothing to her name, however, such beauty was nothing short of a curse. The men of the village directed their blatant lust toward the defenseless Arize, while the women cast spiteful, envious glares her way. Before long, she found herself completely alienated, an outcast in her own home.
Yeonil was not the sort of man who could stand idly by and watch the person who had saved him suffer. That was simply his nature. He had a chronic habit of meddling in other people's affairs, and his utter lack of tact often made awkward situations worse, but he nonetheless did everything within his power to help Arize.
At first, he had merely wanted to protect her out of sympathy. But that urge had deepened into tenderness, and tenderness had blossomed into love. Before he knew it, he was envisioning a future with her by his side. In this way, the two of them became each other's first.
Looking down at the crimson flower blooming across the pristine white linen, Yeonil had felt the heavy weight of responsibility settle over him. Men were, after all, creatures who attached immense significance to their first love and their first time.
Under ordinary circumstances, such a sense of duty often went unrewarded, yet their compatibility surpassed anything either of them could have dreamed. Setting aside their appearances and personalities, they clicked on every level: from everyday matters like shared hobbies, tastes in food, and endless conversations, all the way to their chemistry beneath the sheets.
Before long, neither could imagine a life without the other. In a world fraught with such perils, crises were inevitable, but because they faced them as husband and wife, they weathered every storm together.
Building a family meant shouldering ever-greater responsibilities, but bearing burdens was second nature to Yeonil, so he felt no fear. Returning from work to the joyous welcome of his wife and children, creating cherished memories whenever he could spare a moment—some might dismiss such a life as ordinary and mundane, but to Yeonil, it was more precious than anything in the world. It was the ideal he had longed for since time immemorial, and one he hoped would last forever.
“It must be because I'm so lacking that you ended up like this.”
For reasons beyond his understanding, Arize had fallen into a deep, unending slumber. In truth, to call it sleep was generous; she neither drew breath nor stirred, looking far closer to death. Yet her body showed no trace of decay, and her skin and hair retained their vivid, lifelike luster, which was why she was being cared for here in the sanctuary of the temple. The flow of time had completely halted for her flesh. Because of that, Yeonil could never let go of hope. It was not over until it was truly over.
Day after day, Yeonil visited the temple, praying for the moment she would open her eyes.
“Luka made sandwiches today,” he murmured, gently taking Arize's pale hand in his. Unlike his own calloused hands, her delicate fingers were so frail he felt they might break if he held them with even the slightest force. “They tasted just like the ones you used to make.”
“I don't know if I'm doing a proper job as a father, but the boys are strong and growing well. You'll probably be amazed when you wake up.”
“Though, to be honest, I'm not really sure if I'm raising them right. I really wish you were by my side at times like this...”
“Come to think of it, the maple leaves have turned a brilliant red all along the streets. It made me realize autumn is already here.”
He spoke of anything and everything, sharing every little trivial thought. For a fleeting moment, a vision of his wife seemed to materialize before his eyes.
Didn't I tell you not to be so hard on yourself?
Don't worry so much, dear. You're doing wonderfully. Hehe.
My, is that so? I'd love to see the autumn leaves with you.
In his mind's eye, his wife chimed in with cheerful warmth, drawing a faint, bittersweet smile to Yeonil's usually stoic face. But none of it had actually happened. Arize remained asleep, unmoving, without even the faintest breath. Whenever the gulf between his dreams and reality set in, a heavy gloom sank deep into his chest.
“I'll come again tomorrow.”
Yeonil pressed his lips gently to hers and quietly left the temple. Without stopping anywhere else, he headed straight home. By the time he arrived, most of the children were already fast asleep.
“All the children have gone to bed, Master, with the exception of the young masters Luka and Isaac.”
“Understood. Thank you for your hard work.”
Nodding at the servants' familiar report, Yeonil walked out toward the courtyard. He had never been especially fond of grand manors, but having so many sons had left him little choice. Since they were by no means short on coin, he saw no reason to squeeze everyone into cramped quarters and make life harder than it needed to be.
“Haaah!”
“Kh!”
Out in the courtyard, the eldest, Luka, and the second son, Isaac, were locked in the midst of a fierce exchange, clashing wooden staff against wooden sword. They were not bickering, nor were they merely playing around. It was a serious sparring match.
By Earth's standards, they were barely middle school age, yet their martial prowess easily surpassed that of ordinary knights. In a world like this, training with the expectation of facing real enemies in mortal combat was the only way to ensure survival.
“I won again, Brother.”
Before long, the contest was decided. Isaac stood over Luka, holding the tip of his wooden sword against his older brother's throat. Though a year younger, Isaac had long since surpassed his elder brother in martial talent.
“Yeah. You really are strong,” Luka conceded readily, acknowledging his defeat. It was hardly his first loss, after all. Not that he had any intention of giving up.
“Your skills have improved considerably.”
“You're back, Father?”
Both boys greeted Yeonil with bright expressions. Isaac, in particular, was practically buzzing with excitement.
“Did you see that? I beat Brother!”
Perhaps because he was still young, Isaac showed little tact or consideration for the older brother standing right beside him.
“Does this mean I'm your official heir now, Father?”
What on earth had gotten into him? He was bringing up talk of succession out of the blue, even though Yeonil had never once uttered a word about choosing an heir.
“I have no particular heir. And even if I did, it wouldn't be any single one of you, but all of you together.”
“Eh...?”
“I know your skills are improving by leaps and bounds each day. On that front, I am truly proud of you.”
“Heheh...”
“However, you must not gloat so openly in front of the person you defeated,” Yeonil scolded softly, sending the words directly into Isaac's mind through a sound transmission so that only he could hear. “It lacks basic courtesy. And do not let a few victories make you conceited. The tides of battle can turn at any time. You may be stronger right now, but there is no telling what the future holds.”
He had kept the admonishment private because rebuking Isaac openly would only make Luka feel even worse. Yeonil was notoriously dense when it came to reading the room, but in his desire to be a good father to his children, he was making a conscious effort to pay attention to things he would have otherwise missed.
“Yes, Father...”
Seeing his second son's shoulders slump after the mild reprimand, Yeonil reached out and gently ruffled Isaac's hair.
“Luka, don't be too discouraged by your loss either. I see how diligently you train every single day. If you keep moving forward with that steady determination, your efforts will surely bear fruit in time.”
“Yes, Father,” Luka replied with a calm, dependable nod.
Though he lacked raw martial genius, Luka possessed the maturity and steadfast reliability befitting an eldest son. He was deeply considerate of others and unfailingly diligent. If—heaven forbid—anything were ever to happen to Yeonil, Luka was the only person to whom he could confidently entrust the family.
'Come to think of it, I need to send these boys to school soon...'
Once, there had been an educational institution nearby known as the Academy. In fact, the original game had begun at that very Academy.
Yet this timeline had diverged drastically from the canon story—and Yeonil was the cause.
He had been dropped into this world long before the events of the original game, and the ripples of his actions had thoroughly derailed history. As a consequence, the Royal Capital—which should have served as the main stage for the early story, Academy included—had been reduced to total ash. Because of that disaster, a vast portion of the game knowledge Yeonil possessed had been rendered completely useless.
'If it had been anyone else... If it had been the original protagonist, things wouldn't have turned out like this.'
Whenever he remembered that catastrophe, he felt a crushing sense of his own helplessness. If only the true protagonist had been here. If only it hadn't been him. If only he had shared what he knew with more people...
Perhaps the world would be in far better shape than it was now.
'No, stop thinking like that. I promised.'
Excessive self-blame had been one of Yeonil's worst habits for as long as he could remember. And the more responsibilities he accumulated, the more severe it became. His wife, well aware of that tendency, used to scold him for it constantly.
'...I should spend tomorrow with the kids.'
Instead of drowning in regret over the past, he needed to focus on the days ahead. Exactly as Arize had told him.
Even amidst the chaos of his duties, Yeonil was a devoted family man who always put his household first. But the world had no intention of granting him peaceful days.
“Guardian! It's an emergency! A dimensional gate leading to the Demon World has opened in the Northern Demon Territory!”
A frantic voice crackled through the Communication Stone.
It was the herald of entirely unscheduled overtime.