Chapter 1

The Medieval-Modern Man With A Gamer Mindset 1

1. Possession, Not a Dream

I had a dream. The setting was vaguely medieval Europe.

In the dream, I was a king.

Though a king of a ruined nation, with even my support base being feeble and precarious. The advice to cut down on gaming was right. It seems I’ve been gaming too much lately, even my dreams are about it.

Yet, in the dream, I became a king. For once, doing what a sovereign should, I tried to enjoy myself… Being a king. It’s not easy. Being a king was more demanding than my days as an unemployed shut-in.

Troubles were bursting at the seams.

“Your Majesty, this land has been the territory of our family since my great-great-grandfather’s time. Even if you are the king, it’s urgent that I came upon hearing the news of you bestowing land with rightful owners to just anyone.”

“Do you have a deed?”

“Ha, the fact that our family has been ruling is evidence enough.”

A scoundrel trying to deceive without even a forged land deed.

“Your Highness! I am concerned for your safety, so please ensure that the food is first tasted by your servant Kemi before you eat!”

“You want me to eat something someone else has already taken a bite of?”

“Your Majesty, you are the pivot in these perilous times. There are barbarians plotting to take your life and cause division nearby! It’s hard to count the heroes who have died from poison. Please heed this old servant’s worries!”

“Do you even brush your teeth?”

A leftover disposal for a glutton. Even Kemi, the servant, wouldn’t brush his teeth before coming to take a bite, so I tied him up and whipped him. Sёarᴄh the ηovёlFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

But isn’t there a saying about unexpected surprises? I experienced more than I could imagine.

“Your Majesty! Hearing of your toothache, I’ve brought a renowned torturer!”

“So, you finally reveal your treachery. Strike him!”

“Your Majesty! Please, hear my defense first. The torturer is an expert in extractions!”

“Are you spouting nonsense?”

This man is either a madman or an assassin. That was my conclusion, but surprisingly, there was a valid reason behind this madness.

“When physically torturing prisoners, the most effective methods are driving spikes under the nails and forcibly extracting teeth. The torturer has studied how to inflict pain with a careful touch to ensure the prisoner doesn’t get hurt!”

“…”

“An extraction is painful anyway! Who better to perform it quickly and without harming the surrounding gums than a torturer skilled in such matters?!”

“Discussing state affairs is also a headache. I shall live with this toothache as I bear the crown.”

At that moment, I understood the feelings of Cao Cao when he met Hua Tuo. If someone offered to cure a headache by slightly cracking open the skull with an axe, execution would be justified. Asking a torturer to perform an extraction without any tools or anesthesia was torture in itself.

But the most painful thing was yet to come.

“Your Majesty.”

“Let me guess. You lost again? Have you been completely wiped out this time?”

—

“Haah…! To see through the truth from this distant palace in a single breath, truly, you have the bearing of a sovereign!”

“By my count, it’s 32 battles, 32 defeats. With an unbroken streak of losses, what hope is there?”

I acknowledge the strength of the foreign hordes that pillage and invade. But if we cannot win, should we not flee to preserve our soldiers? It burns me up inside that the chivalry we never uphold is only paraded out at times like this.

“Do our knights not know the meaning of retreat?”

“Your Majesty! How can one who serves God and King retreat in the face of the enemy? A brave and faithful knight must charge honorably, even against an unbeatable foe!”

“So you’re saying not to retreat, but to counter-charge!”

“Indeed, indeed!”

It was a frustrated outburst, but a blunder nonetheless. Realizing it wasn’t a retreat but a counter-charge, the commanders began their bold assault. With the commanders like this, the soldiers couldn’t possibly be in their right minds.

The news brought by my sole loyal retainer forced me to let go of much.

“Your, Your Majesty.”

“What is it now. Have we been annihilated again?”

“The troops decided to pre-emptively counter-charge before setting out, and so they disbanded…”

“…”

With such behavior, the downfall of the country was inevitable. The foreign hordes rushed towards the capital as if on an open highway. By then, the powerless king forcibly installed by the group had long since scattered like rats.

Despite my efforts, I was left with no one but an aged loyal retainer. The rest, unable to flee, trembled and remained in the city.

Now, without a knight to fight in my stead, I tightened the straps of my helmet to the ceaseless tolling of bells. Girding the sword brought by the old retainer around my waist, I said,

“I have come to a realization.”

“Speak, Your Majesty.”

“It is fortunate that this is but a dream.”

“Excuse me?”

“Even in dreams, I shall never be king again.”

Thus, the destruction of the nation came to pass. Not due to a single grave mistake, but as a result of everyone’s indifference. Like thoughtlessly thrown trash piling up until it fills a room.

It was akin to a dog’s dream, yet there was a lesson to be learned. I resolved, smelling the stench of blood rising beyond the barred door,

“When I wake, I shall start with a meal of soybean paste stew.”

“And perhaps, I should cut down on my gaming time.”

***

When I awoke from the dream, I found myself in another dream.

The first clue was the ceiling; it was not as I remembered our house’s. The second was the state of the blanket. The sky-blue, spotted blanket was gone, replaced by one embroidered with elegant stitches covering me.

But above all, the reason I was certain it was a dream was the polite knocking and the voice that followed.

“Young master, it is time for the morning prayers.”

My parents burst through the door. They might say let’s go hiking at dawn, but they’ve never suggested praying. Naturally, their voices aren’t that young either.

At this point, another possibility began to surface. A possibility I hadn’t seriously considered because it was too abrupt.

Could it be… possession?

Have I received divine punishment for playing too many games? Certainly, as soon as I got off work, I remember vividly locking my door against my parents’ pleas to please put on some clothes, as I sat in my underwear with a beer can beside me, gaming away.

Could it be that the dream, no, the last possession where I was enthroned as a powerless king, was a punishment meted out to me, intoxicated with a sense of liberation?

As I was deep in such serious contemplation, an intruding voice broke in.

“Your Highness?”

“I’m awake. Don’t fuss and wait.”

For a moment, I thought about appealing to the people… but I stopped myself.

Even if this isn’t medieval Earth, it’s certainly similar. In such a place, claiming ‘Actually, I’m not the owner of this body, I’m so-and-so’ would only lead to predictable reactions. I can see a future where I’m thrown into boiling water under the guise of exorcism.

Of course, there was a way to deal with it. The important thing was not to miss any religious events.

There’s a huge difference between saying a person has changed due to demonic possession and saying they’ve had a religious epiphany.

With resolve, I flung open the door.

The maid who had called me since dawn had a bold yet cute demeanor. Her long black hair braided from behind her ears flowed down. Her neatly arranged bangs softly framed her face.

The maid, with eyes like beads, looked at me and then startled.

“…?! Yo, Your Highness!”

“Lead me to the chapel.”

“No, it’s not that…! Your, your clothes!”

“What about them?”

“Aren’t those pajamas!”

The braided-haired maid covered her face with her hands, stammering.

I couldn’t help but tilt my head. Though they called it pajamas, I was fully dressed in a baggy shirt and pants. Considering I used to lounge around in underwear and a tee, this was a significant improvement.

But it’s difficult to change people’s minds just because I feel confident. It was time to employ the peculiar medieval logic that allows even the most absurd arguments.

“What matters more than appearance is a sincere heart. I wish to see that humble servant after an epiphany last night, so don’t worry about it too much.”

“It’s not Your Highness I’m worried about…”

This was an opportunity. Whether this was a dream or possession, it was a chance to gather information.

“How old do you think I am to be so peculiar?”

“Th, there are rumors that could spread about awakening carnal desires at an age when you should be focusing on your studies…!”

Two clues emerged. An age to focus on studies. Awakening carnal desires. The age to focus on studies suggests a perception of not being ready to take the lead, and the carnal desires part implies I’m not yet of age to know a woman’s body.

Combining these clues with my knowledge, the answer becomes clear. In places where life is tough, the age of adulthood is recognized as lower. Mostly, it’s around 16 years old where the line is drawn between being an adult or not. This world probably isn’t much different.

—

To sum it up, this body seems to be that of a boy not yet hit by puberty, before the age of 16. Not that it’s incredibly small, roughly around 10 to 12 years old. Even if I use an old-fashioned tone, it’s likely I’ll seem like a precocious child imitating adults.

It’s not that my strange way of speaking immediately makes people suspect me of being an evil spirit, but rather they think, ‘Ah, a young child mimicking adults.’ There was even no suspicion of homos*xuality for not holding women.

Having organized all these elements, I spoke without hesitation.

“What I want to know is not carnal desires or women, but the enlightenment I gained last night. Stop the nonsense and lead me to the chapel.”

“….”

The maid, saying nothing, lowered her hand from covering her eyes. With her indifferent expression and tightly closed lips, she seemed colder than the ice on a mountaintop, except for the rosy flush that adorned her cheeks.

From that moment, the maid remained silent. She waited quietly until I emerged, then took the lead with a lantern, walking through the corridors of the castle. Though it was dawn, the darkness was similar to midnight.

The only difference was that the sky was gradually brightening, and occasionally, dim light squeezed through the windows. As I followed the maid down this dim corridor, it slowly began to sink in.

I’ve been thrown among savages again.

The Middle Ages may have rolled on its own rationality, but by the standards of the time. I, with my delicate nature, who lived among highly developed ethics, began to worry if I could do well among these barbarians.

***

As soon as I emerged from the dark corridor and arrived at the chapel, what greeted me was a voice startlingly surprised.

A man with black hair, gentle eyes, and a neatly trimmed beard was clutching the cross around his neck and shouting.

“Narba, what in the world is that attire? Have you been tainted by barbaric customs!”

Good heavens. Such a statement was shockingly offensive to a witness of advanced modern civilization. Who is calling whom a barbarian? It was the moment I was about to retort amidst shock and anger.

The man with the gentle eyes soon sighed deeply and lowered his voice.

“Is that a childish way to show your rebellion against an unwanted marriage?”

“…Marriage?”