Transmigration.
Cases like these weren't exactly rare when it came to novels with such tropes: either you became an overpowered prodigy or a completely useless extra. Such setups usually came with a system.
Unfortunately for Seojin, that didn't seem to be the case.
Ding!
Oh well, maybe there was one after all.
A faint, transparent window appeared before him, displaying only the most basic of the basic details. There were no stats or meters.
၊ Character: Seven Hart (Yoon Seojin)
၊ Age: 15
၊ Status: Seventh Son of the Seventh Archduke of the Seventh Continent (Seventh Reader of ??? for Seven Years)
'...?! Did it really have to display all these details…?'
丨Talent: None
That part made him flabbergasted.
Again, in these kinds of stories, the transmigrated MC was supposed to have some kind of cheat or something that made them special.
But here he was, talentless, extra-tier as cliche as ever.
A stepping stone of his sibling: the first daughter of House Hart, who was, unfortunately, the first companion of the novel's actual protagonist.
"Damn it…"
He remembered Iria's words and let out a laugh that sounded half-hysterical.
Nocturne was the last and seventh month of the year, and had fifty-three days. If today was the 4th of Nocturne, that meant he had been dropped into this world right as winter began.
And when winter ended, on the first day of the new year, the story's actual protagonist would finally make his debut.
But Seojin also had a far bigger problem at hand.
This world was filled with constant wars between territories and continents; warriors and mages acted like the vikings of medieval stories.
More than that…
'...This is bad. This piece of fudge called Seven ventured into the forest during the dawn of the 7th day, desperate to find the artifact he had read from the book— said to be owned by the founder of Hart.'
Technically, that alone wasn't surprising.
An untalented child of any renowned family had always been doomed to be exiled no matter the story, hence something like that was said to fall under the bottom of the expectancy pyramid.
What's surprising was, however…
'...This fudger's death! While venturing the forest, little did he know that an assassin was after his head. Sigh. To think I only have three days to enjoy this new life before this character dies? As if I could even enjoy it!'
In the original novel, Seven Hart's death was not well-planned or that complicated.
It was only the emotional trigger that developed the first daughter's character and the very reason she joined the protagonist's journey.
Despite cutting ties with the family and abandoning her position in the succession, she had stayed behind for military reasons.
Yet, for some unexplained reason, she had always been fiercely protective of her youngest brother, Seven Hart, so much so that his death drove her to seek vengeance even against the world itself.
'...Still, what an interesting character.'
Seojin entered the bathtub. Looking down at his hands, his face twisted into disbelief.
'Hmmmm… This body doesn't even have a callus in its palms. Forget calluses, there's not even a speck of Zi in his veins.'
Zi.
The equivalent of "aura" in other novels.
It was the foundation of life in this world: magicians condensed it into Zi Stars, while swordmen, archers, and other physically attributed individuals (warriors) channeled it into Zi Rings.
Their power was represented through tattoos:
Mages bore star-shaped marks on the back of their hands, and warriors carried ring-like tattoos around their wrists.
Either way, panicking wouldn't solve anything. Seojin only had three days left. If he didn't want to die like the prewritten death of a cliche side character, he needed to do the work.
But that would come later. For now, he needed to clear his mind, nothing a relaxing luxurious bath couldn't fix.
'Seven Hart…'
He whispered the name again, watching the steam rise from the water, deciding he should probably stop calling himself by his Korean name.
'Kinda sounds lame, but what choice do I have?'
Letting his body sink into the warmth, surrounded by a cloud of soap bubbles, he closed his eyes. Memories of his life as Yoon Seojin floated to the surface; he didn't have any regrets to look back to, like leaving the love of his life or any friends he made.
He simply lived because he had to.
Dying would've been a nuisance, and more than anything, it would've ruined his mother's reputation.
'I couldn't die…'
His gaze drifted blankly across the rippling water.
If someone had looked deeply into his eyes right then, they would've seen it clearly; he didn't live just because of his mother, but because he hated pain and death.
Because between death and humiliation, he would rather roll through the mud like a shameless pig.
Seven stood up.
'...Yeah. For now, let's just not go out. If I just keep my head down and stay out of the story's pacing, it shouldn't affect much. The first daughter will find some other reason to join the protagonist's journey, right?'
He glanced at his warped reflection in the bath mirror and let out a self-mocking smile.
'Live long and enjoy the small joys of life. It's not like I was summoned here to be a hero anyway.'
With a sigh of contentment, he wrapped a towel around his neck, still completely naked and stepped out of the washroom.
'Thankfully, I still remember the early chapters of the novel.'
Seven unconsciously did a smug grin as he walked out, steam still clinging to his skin. His brown hair glistened under the light as water dripped down his jawline.
Stopping before the mirror, he lifted his hand and brushed his hair back in one smooth motion. The movement was elegant, like a son of a model should've been used to do.
'Heh. I really am smart. Maybe this life isn't that ba—'
"E-Excuse me, Young Lord—!"
A startled voice rang out behind him.
"...Eh?"
He turned around, towel still draped casually around his neck and 'only' his neck.
At the doorway stood Iria, frozen mid-step, her face turning more red than a red tomato by the second. A folded set of clothes lay trembling in her hands as she struggled to find words.
"I-I brought your clothes, Young Lord! I thought you were— I mean, I didn't realize you were still—!"
She made a strangled sound, eyes darting everywhere except his body.
"I deeply apologize!"
Seven blinked.
"Ah."
The towel slipped another inch on his neck to his shoulder.
Iria's entire body jolted. She snapped her head away so fast her ponytail whipped the air.
"I-I'll leave them here, Young Lord! P-Please get dressed first!"