Chapter 1:

Chapter 1:

TL/Editor: Raei

Schedule: None.

Illustrations: None.

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"Status Window."

[Ian Raven]

[You are nothing.]

The status window blatantly mocked Ian.

Ian is nothing.

Poor Ian, who is nothing.

If one were to formally address Ian, it would be 'Ian, son of Farmer Ian.'

In this medieval fantasy world, a farmer's son is simply nothing.

The status window wasn't wrong.

It belonged to the category of 'never lying.'

Ian, the farmer's son, was the only child in the village with black hair.

Ian's mother had bright yellow hair.

His father had fiery red hair, yet Ian's hair was as black as ink.

In his childhood, Ian's parents endlessly quarreled over this issue.

"Tell me the truth! Whose child is this?"

"It's your child, who else!"

"Stop your nonsense! You loose woman!"

"Is that how you speak to your wife!"

So on and so forth.

Ian Raven's name was significantly influenced by his black hair.

The method of naming in this village is very simple.

The first name.

Parents just pick whatever they like.

If they name a child Dog-poop, it becomes Dog-poop, and if it's Cow-poop, it becomes Cow-poop.

The simple name Ian was also arbitrarily given by his parents.

Then, they add the father's name to it.

It's a concept similar to the 'patronymic*' often used in Russia.

Ian's father's name was Ian.

So, Ian, the son of Ian, with the added patronymic, would be Ian Ian.

Fully expressed, it would be 'Ian, son of Ian.'

By the way, Ian's grandfather's name was also Ian.

Some families cram the grandfather's name into the patronymic too, so his full name could well be Ian Ian Ian Ian.

But no one would call out such a mentally exhausting name.

People naturally want to omit repetitive words.

So, Ian's full name is just Ian.

Technically, he might be Ian the Third.

The villagers call them Big Ian and Little Ian.

Grandfather Ian?

Let's not seek the dead.

Usually, that's where naming ends, but unique individuals get nicknames.

Ian, distinct from the villagers with his jet-black hair, earned the nickname Little Raven Ian.

"Ha ha! Look there! A little crow is passing by!"

"Ian washes his hair with ink every night~"

Watching the village children mock him, Ian clicked his tongue in disdain.

Rude brats.

Had they been his peers, Ian might have been angered, but he only found their malice amusing.

Ian was a reincarnated person.

Moreover, he was a man from the quiet land of the morning, Korea.

Discussing the afterlife is pointless.

To confirm the existence of an afterlife, one must first die.

And naturally, once dead, you cannot speak.

Even in the modern age where mystery has become meaningless, death remains an inviolable domain.

However, for Ian, a reincarnated soul, this did not apply.

The afterlife does exist.

While it's uncertain if it applies to everyone, at least for Ian, it did.

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Ian wrote his previous life's name in the sand before erasing it.

He knew that being reborn with the memories of a past life was rare.

After all, the concept of reincarnation or past lives is a foreign idea, so it's bound to feel strange.

Ian stroked his jet-black hair.

The same color as when he was Korean in his past life.

Perhaps along with his memories, his hair reincarnated too.

Then, is my true essence not my body, but my hair?

Ian sighed deeply, as if the ground would cave in.

If dying young was a sin, then that was his sin.

Looking at his younger sister smudging her mouth with soot while devouring a roasted fish, his heart grew heavier.

She was better off.

Without any worries.

"Oppa, aren't you going to eat this?"

"Don't touch it. I'll eat it."

His sister, who devoured her share of the fish as if possessed, eyed Ian's portion.

She acted no different from a beggar starved for days.

In truth, aside from having a house, their life was not much different from that of a beggar.

Ian chewed the fish, bones and all (it was smaller than his palm), and racked his brain for ideas.

"Status Window."

[Ian Raven]

[You are nothing.]

A translucent window appeared before his eyes.

It was the very status window he had seen in games and novels, proving that Ian had indeed reincarnated into another world as a modern person.

The existence of the status window, a clear mainstream element in stories, implied that Ian possessed some special ability.

A status window right before his eyes, yet no cheat abilities from another world?

That would be a clear violation of the rules.

Ian was confident in his latent abilities.

He must have some overpowered cheat ability gained through his reincarnation into another world.

It was a mental victory, but without such thoughts, he couldn't endure the fear of his miserable future.

The cheat ability exists.

The problem is, he has never seen it with his own eyes.

'If only I could awaken my power...!'

Ian's awakening! The Awakened Ian!

He would become a genius, shocking the lord and making knights bow their heads...!

Then, he would pile up food like a mountain and eat until he burst.

"If you're not going to eat that, oppa..."

"I told you, touch it and you're dead."

Lost in his adolescent fantasies, Ian finished his meal.

Two small fish caught from the stream comprised the siblings' lunch.

It was barely enough to stave off hunger, but they were grateful for even that.

"Oppa, let's go for dessert."

"Sure. Let's go."

Many overlook the fact that the quality of life of modern people is actually better than that of medieval nobility.

Tasty food, clean living, convenient tools, stable living environments, and so on.

Even the most expensive, high-quality silver mirrors of the nobility couldn't compare to a smartphone.

Ian, steeped in the everyday luxuries of a modern person, inadvertently passed on this luxurious notion of 'meals should be courses' to his innocent sister.

She naturally absorbed Ian's ideology.

If you've eaten a meal, of course, you should have dessert.

The siblings naturally went in search of a raspberry bush.

There, they encountered a strange traveler.

"Oh my."

Surprisingly, the traveler was a woman.

A woman traveling alone in the medieval era?

It would be astonishing even in modern times.

"Hello? Little one?"

The woman initiated a greeting to shake off the awkwardness.

Ian instinctively became wary.

In this harsh medieval fantasy world, a woman traveling alone couldn't be ordinary.

Ian maintained the most respectful demeanor possible.

But his younger sister was quicker.

"Who are you, auntie?"

"...Auntie?"

Ian was terrified.

Calling a woman 'auntie' was almost like a declaration of war...!

And sure enough, the woman struggled to maintain her composure.

Ian felt his world go dark!

---

*patronymic, a name derived from the name of a father or ancestor, typically by the addition of a prefix or suffix,

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