Have you ever heard about the life adults live?
When I was six, I didn't understand what "adult life" was supposed to mean.
My father used to smoke and drink while telling me I'd understand it someday—when I was older. My parents divorced when I had just turned four, and my father was the one who took custody of me.
He didn't work. He had piles of debt.
Debts that ended up falling on me, a child.
One day he disappeared without leaving a single note.
When I was about to enter elementary school, my mother called the house phone. She said she would send me money for school fees and allowance every month.
She also told me something else—something she emphasized very clearly.
"Just live normally. Never contact me first. If we meet outside, pretend you don't know me. If you still want the money, don't ever call me."
That's what she said.
So I saved up little by little to pay off the debt. For clothes, I only had a few T-shirts and shorts. If I included the school uniform and the jacket my dad had given me, I owned maybe eight pieces of clothing in total.
Life felt exhausting. By the time I entered middle school and high school, I secretly worked part-time jobs to survive.
Now, I sat in a café near my university—close to where I lived—sipping the coffee I'd ordered earlier while working on my assignment.
It was supposed to be a group project, but I was the only one working on it. The others said they were "busy." The task itself wasn't hard… but that didn't mean it should be done alone.
They dumped everything on me without caring about the contents. If something doesn't match their expectations later, I'll be the one they blame.
All they had to do was gather historical data. But analyzing everything by myself was tiring—especially since we had to document proof that we actually visited the museum. Museum entrance fees weren't cheap, either.
Of course, I paid for everyone.
Not that I expected them to lift a finger.
Whatever… holding grudges isn't healthy.
I packed my laptop and notes into my bag and left the café, finishing the last few sips of my coffee as I walked out.
Moving through a sea of people made me uneasy—almost nauseous. By the time I snapped out of it, I was standing in front of my apartment door.
Fragments of old memories flashed in my mind—my parents' divorce, my father leaving, the loneliness. I slapped my own cheek lightly to chase them away and went inside.
I hung my worn-out jacket, dropped my bag near the bed, and lay down.
The bed was the only place in the world that felt remotely comfortable.
TING!
My phone buzzed.
I grabbed it lazily.
Messages from E-TALK.
---
Messages:
– Sunao's the one doing our group project? What about the others?
– I have a family event, so I can't help. I'm also visiting my grandmother in the countryside.
– I'm sick today. I already saw a doctor. I'll help once I'm better.
– Sunao, are you okay? If it's too much, just say so.
If I say it's too much, they'll accuse me of being irresponsible.
They'll curse me out.
What should I even reply?
Forget it. I'll sleep first.
Another message came in.
– So you're just leaving us on read? Wow, such an arrogant. Just say we're all a burden to you!
I jolted upright. My head throbbed from getting up too fast.
It was already 19:20.
I'd slept six hours without realizing it. The room was still dark, the sudden light from the screen stabbing my eyes.
I scrolled through the messages again and sighed sharply.
"You never reply to my texts either…"
---
– So you're just leaving us on read? Wow, Such an arrogant . Just say we're all a burden to you!
– Stop it, Kim Yuseol. Don't start drama.
– But I'm right, aren't I!?
– This time… I'm siding with Yuseol.
Sorry, I fell asleep after checking my phone earlier.
I'll finish the whole project –
During the presentation, let's all do well–
– Thanks for replying, Sunao. We'll do our best.
That night felt colder than usual.
After replying, I forced myself to stretch. The project was almost done—just needed a few files organized and the presentation arranged. But my eyelids were heavy, my neck stiff, my thoughts drifting.
"I just… need a short nap," I muttered.
I set an alarm and ended up waking around 10 PM.
The exhaustion hadn't faded.
If anything, it had gotten worse.
But I still needed to go to the campus library to get a few more photos—without them, our documentation wouldn't be complete.
I grabbed my jacket and stepped outside.
The streets glimmered with reflections of headlights on wet asphalt. I didn't remember when it had rained, but droplets still clung to the leaves.
Clutching my heavy bag, I walked faster.
My vision swayed.
My steps wobbled.
Just a little more… just need to cross…
The street was dim—everyone said the lighting was bad here.
I blinked, trying to focus.
Then—
A blinding white light.
A sharp screech of brakes.
BRAAAK!
My body flew.
The world spun.
Sounds blurred into a distant echo.
My ears rang.
Pain burned through my ribs.
I reached out
for anything
but grasped only empty air.
When I opened my eyes again, the smell of antiseptic filled my lungs.
White ceiling.
Hospital curtains.
A faint beeping monitor.
"I… I'm in a hospital?"
A nurse rushed off to call the doctor. I turned my head slowly—my arm was bandaged, my right leg in a cast.
I was alive.
But it didn't feel like anything had changed.
The doctor came in, talking about injuries and rest, but their voice drifted—fading into a distant hum.
My eyelids felt heavy again.
Just let me sleep…
—--------------------
When I opened my eyes next, the antiseptic scent was gone.
Replaced by a musty, old smell.
The white ceiling was gone too—now it was dark wooden planks, cracked and uneven. I wasn't lying on a hospital bed, but on a creaky old mattress.
My heart pounded.
I shot upright.
"W-what…?"
I scanned the room, ignoring the throbbing pain in my skull.
It was a small room.
A dim, flickering oil lamp lit the corner atop a broken table.
A faint blue glow filtered in from outside—the moonlight.
Why is the moon so big… and blue?
I turned toward the table.
Books were scattered across it.
One of them was a diary.
I opened it.
The entries were unsettling.
---
– Bought a bunch of clothes today. Vaela earns a ton, haha.
– I thought I'd win today… but that bastard used a truck again.
– Money's running low. But I still have my little sister. She's pretty—she'll fetch a good price.
"…What kind of brother writes this?"
I shook my head and looked left—there was an old mirror on the wall.
"—!!"
The person staring back wasn't me.
That wasn't my face.
Did I… transmigrate?
Into the body of this disgusting man who planned to sell his own sister?
I fell back onto the bed, a fresh wave of dizziness crashing over me.
But where am I? Why am I here?
I tried to think clearly, but nothing came.
No memories of this body at all.
Suddenly, a rush of images flashed through my mind—blurred, confusing, painful. My head throbbed, but slowly the sensation faded.
Then—
A voice.
"Brother Noah… are you awake?"
Noah? So that's this body's name? And that voice… his little sister?
The blue moonlight faded as the sun rose. I turned off the oil lamp and opened the dusty window.
What I saw outside—
It wasn't anything like my world.
More like something straight out of a manhwa illustration.
A blend of medieval Europe and fantasy.Maybe even… an isekai.