Chapter 0
A Strange Snowy Field, Lehu
A tiger leaves its fur when it dies.
A person leaves their name when they die.
But why did I, upon dying, only leave behind an unapproved master’s thesis?
No, wait. I also left behind the name, “The idiot who put kindling in his history master’s thesis,” for posterity.
Congratulations, Kim Pyeong-ju. Labor laws didn’t define you as a person, but through your inhuman act, you left your name for posterity and proved yourself to be human.
Actually, I don’t even know if I’m dead. My last memory is my heart aching like crazy and my eyes closing.
Was it because I was writing my thesis while drinking, and in my drunken stupor, I added a “little prank” to the references three days before submission, then stayed up all night revising it until the deadline without any sleep?
Or was it because right before leaving the graduate school building after submission, I realized that the thesis I submitted was the original, not the revised version, and my head suddenly spun and I collapsed?
I don’t know. Damn it, I just learned that the expression “everything went black” isn’t just something you read in novels.
Anyway, how much time has passed since I’ve been lying face down like a loner during break time, surrounded by darkness but still conscious?
My vision returned. But reality wasn’t bright.
“Ack! Cheol-ju-hyung, not that one, a different one!”
Because when I opened my eyes, it was a vast snowy field.
“Huh?”
Not the graduate school.
***
The snowy field was, naturally, freezing cold. Did such a place even exist in Korea?
It was hard to breathe through my nose, and if I opened my mouth, my lungs ached so badly it felt like they were burning. A laugh-like cough, “Hak, Hak,” escaped involuntarily.
My face felt like it was tearing apart, so I hurriedly covered my mouth with my hands, both the backs and palms red from the cold, and exhaled.
Just as the area around my mouth and my reddened palms felt a little better, the tip of my nose would start to ache as if I had spread ice on it, followed by late dew forming on my eyebrows.
And I would painstakingly brush it away with my trembling hands, cover my mouth again, and exhale. Repeating this over and over again.
It was a desperate card game of warmth to endure the cold.
It was a good thing I wore slightly thicker clothes because it was October when I left for school. If I had been wearing short sleeves, I would have frozen to death before even getting a chance to wander around like this, let alone having dew form on my nose.
After staggering for a while, I saw something in front of me.
“…Huh?”
Did I mistake a dead tree for something else again? If I fall forward again, I don’t think I’ll be able to get up.
But even after carefully removing the ice droplets from my eyebrows with my frozen, red hands and looking again, what I saw in front of me didn’t change.
It was a carriage.
A huge carriage, effortlessly creating white waves as it traveled through the snow.
“Hak. Ha.”
It was so absurd that I let out a hollow laugh. No, considering the burning sensation in my lungs, maybe it was a cough caused by my alveoli freezing.
Come on, a carriage running through a snowy field with snow piled up to my knees?
That’s something a graduate student who collapsed in an unknown place after submitting his thesis would say.
Oh wait, that’s me.
“Wait!!! There’s someone here!!!”
I shouted at the top of my lungs and ran towards the carriage like hell. If I don’t catch that, I’ll become frozen blood soup today, for real.
“Whoa there. …What’s that?”
The coachman, who had been looking around after hearing my shout, stopped the carriage when he saw me running.
I arrived in front of the carriage, dragging my trembling body, and caught my breath. The coachman didn’t say anything.
“Huff. Huff. Huff.”
The horses snorted with displeasure, but I didn’t care. I had to survive.
“Hellooo, nice to meet youuu.”
When I raised my head, the coachman, who greeted me in a not-so-welcoming way, said he was transporting cargo.
The back of the carriage, the size of a six-ton truck, was covered with a black cloth, so I couldn’t see what was inside, but I didn’t care as long as I could survive.
I rubbed my numb hands frantically and thanked him first. I couldn’t risk making a bad impression and having the carriage leave.
“Tha, thank you.”
“Don’t mention it. But, you don’t seem to be from around here?”
“Excuse me?”
“Never mind.”
His face was obscured by the shadow of the awning, but I could clearly see he was wearing a white hat, red leather gloves, and a silver apron.
A coachman dressed like a lunch lady in the middle of a snowy field.
It was incredibly suspicious, but I couldn’t be picky. I was about to freeze to death.
But it seemed I wasn’t the only one who found his attire incredibly suspicious.
“Oh my, now that I see it, you survived wandering through this snowy field in those clothes? What a crazy child.”
But sir, your way of speaking is a bit strange.
“As you can see, I’m on the verge of freezing to death, so could you please give me a ride to the nearest village?”
“Hmm, go in there. It’ll be warm inside.”
The coachman, whose tongue seemed to be coated in butter, got down with the key and went around the back.
A moment later, I heard the rattling sound of the door opening, and I headed towards the back of the carriage.
Seeing the dark interior of the carriage, overflowing with warmth, a sense of relief washed over me.
The moment I felt like I had survived, selfishly, my thesis came to mind.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.”
The coachman muttered something from behind.
For a moment, I found it slightly odd that it was a carriage and not a van in the 21st century, and that there was a padlock on the back, but I ignored it. I wasn’t in a position to be picky when I was about to freeze to death.
But when I went inside, people in rags were staring at me.
But their hair colors are quite diverse. Is the cargo maybe hair models for a hair salon?
And from the mouths of those people, who were looking at me like I was an idiot, a torrent of colorful Korean flowed out.
“Wow, you should have run when you saw him unlock the door with a key. And you actually came in.”
“He’s wandering around this snowy field in those clothes? Is it some kind of mystical Eastern secret art?”
“No, would someone with that kind of ability put themselves in a slave carriage?”
Slave carriage? What kind of Lincoln rising from the grave nonsense is this?
I was dumbfounded after hearing keywords I wouldn’t expect to hear in the 21st century.
“Excuse me? What?”
“What do you mean, you idiot? Run!”
And I realized what that meant just three seconds later.
―Click!
The door locked behind me, and the people in rags rubbed their faces in frustration.
“…Huh?”
“Another one to be sold as a slave.”
The lunch lady, or rather the human trafficker, whose face was still hidden, chuckled and disappeared.
One conclusion came to mind from my brain, which started working again thanks to the human warmth.
Right now, I’ve become a guinea pig caught by a gourmet ajumma who’s in the business of selling people.
Rumble.
“Ugh!”
And the carriage started moving again. As I stood there trying to maintain my balance in the swaying carriage like I was on a subway, one of the people in rags chided me.
“Hey, hey. Don’t just stand there and hit your head. Sit down somewhere.”
“Yes.”
I readily followed the advice and quietly squeezed myself into a space between the people and sat down.
The sweat and heat reminded me of boot camp, adding a generous amount of frustration to my confused mind.
I swear on my damn unedited thesis, this was luck.
“Oh my god, I escaped slavery only to become a slave again.”
It was misfortune to become a slave, but at the same time, it was fortunate.
At least, I wouldn’t freeze to death, right?
***
A while later.
I became a human mannequin in a slave auction house somewhere in the northern part of Briton, medieval Europe – the lisping slave who told me this called it “Brittan” –.
“This slave is a big one! He’s from the Far East, and as you can see from his physique, he’s good for mercenary work, and he seems to have something in his head!”
Following the auctioneer’s introduction, I bowed as politely as possible and started to strike a pose while still in handcuffs.
People’s eyes began to focus on me as if they were looking at a strange animal.
Turn sideways, bend your right knee forward, and raise your heel. At the same time, shift your weight to your back foot and highlight your left leg hidden behind your right leg.
Simultaneously, rotate your upper body forward and bring your handcuffed arms together as roundly as possible to make yourself look bigger.
“Hup!”
And thus, I strike the side chest pose, a bodybuilding pose I’ve only seen on TV.
Kim Pyeong-ju, the manly man. Age 28. Although an Easterner, his height of 186cm wasn’t shabby in Korea or here.
Therefore, I showed off my muscles. Since I was going to be sold anyway, I wanted to go to a slightly better place.
According to what I overheard from other slaves I wasn’t quite close to, the best-selling case in this damn slave market was being a servant in a noble household.
Of course, everything else is a landmine.
Slave soldiers in the north, where you can’t survive for more than two years once you’re sold.
Shielders, whose purpose is to march in a line with a single shield and deplete the enemy’s arrows.
From gladiators in the south, who are snacks for the Colosseum beasts, to subjects of live experiments.
The worse your health, the worse the place you’re dragged to, so I desperately tried to show that I was healthy. At least the nobles wouldn’t take someone who looked weak, right?
…Well, I tried to show off.
But think about it.
Does a history graduate student, who spent more time sitting than standing, have muscles to boast about?
Isn’t that more of an urban fantasy than the story of a silver-haired priest who has to prove his purity with tears while slicing vampires with guns and swords?
It seemed others thought the same, and after seeing the last side chest pose of Kim Pyeong-ju, the black-haired diaspora, in his free life, the auctioneer’s face hardened for a moment.
“Now! A special discount price for those of you here! Starting at 4 silver. 4 silver.”
The auctioneer immediately recovered his expression with the swiftness of a salesman who finally sold a dusty, long-forgotten item and made his declaration.
“Wait a minute, Mr. Auctioneer.”
The skinny guy who was sold just a moment ago went for 3 silver coins. The big guy before him was sold for 6.
But what would you think if a guy with a decent physique was offered at a price that wouldn’t even be considered a bargain?
‘Is the owner crazy?’ No.
‘That guy must be sick.’ That’s what they’d think.
Perhaps everyone else thought the same, because no one bid on me.
As a result, I was the only one left on the display stand, where even the lisping hunchback slave who kept calling me “Brittan Brittan” had already been sold.
I started to regret it. I should have just acted smart.
“3 silver! Anyone for 3 silver!”
The auctioneer’s increasingly desperate voice echoed through the auction house again, and I became more and more nervous.
The cheaper my life became, the more likely I was to be sent to a shitty place.
And such a place wouldn’t care if a slave had syphilis or was missing an arm.
For example, as a test subject, or as an arrow sponge, as mentioned earlier.
Perhaps, even though I didn’t know for sure, being a slave soldier would be a more merciful option.
I closed my eyes tightly. I didn’t want to see the future that might be in store for me.
It was then that a lifeline descended into the abyss of imagination I might face after being sold.
“Hey, auctioneer. I’ll buy him.”
A deep, soothing voice that sounded like a middle-aged man reached my ears.
The auctioneer spoke in a tone like a salesman who finally got rid of a piece of dead stock that had been gathering dust in a corner for three months and ten days.
“Oh? It’s been a while. As you know, there are no refunds. I’m selling this one quite cheap.”
Ignoring his words, the man continued.
“A man doesn’t go back on his word. Because that’s what a man does.”
This voice and manly tone. It seemed like I had at least escaped being sold to a dark wizard.
“But why is this guy closing his eyes? It’s a bit concerning if he’s blind.”
“Hey, when have I ever sold a defective one? Hey. Eastern guy. Open your eyes.”
As the auctioneer nudged me, I heard the man stop him.
“Don’t hit him too hard. He might get hurt.”
‘Oh, how sweet. This heavy feeling! He must be a butler from a noble family! Here we go, noble lady story!!!’
Before opening my eyes, I imagined the appearance of a butler from countless romance fantasy novels.
‘Nice to meet you. I’m the butler who will be taking you from now on. Zengart Reich.’
He would have short, brown hair with a touch of gray, a neat and polite suit, a pocket watch at his waist, a cane in his hand, and a mustache adorning one side of his face.
What a gentle-looking man!
I opened my eyes, filled with hope, but inside the Pandora’s Box I opened, only despair remained.
“Nice to meet you! I’m your new master, Hwaruan Gruncian!”
He had short, brown hair with a touch of gray, cool and sturdy-looking armor, a dagger at his waist, a longsword in his hand, and a scar adorning one side of his face.
What a spirited man!
‘Damn it. He looks like a mercenary captain.’
Of course, why would I be with a butler? I couldn’t even buy my own house in Korea.
But I had no right to refuse, so I quietly boarded the carriage Hwaruan Gruncian had arrived in and headed towards the mercenary group.
I was the only slave he brought that day.
Bro got 1 luck