>[Target: Princess Seraphina — Affection: 7% (Amused)]
>[Target: Marquis Volkov — Affection: -5% (Contemptuous)]
Julian Von Astrea's gaze drifted lazily across the ballroom, but his focus wasn't on the dancers or the glittering gowns.
It was on the translucent purple windows hovering above their heads.
Everywhere he looked—there was another one with a very low affection level.
He exhaled softly.
'This is bad.'
Too many of the people there felt important. They all had the kind of presence that screamed protagonist, love interest, hidden final boss. If this were a novel—and he knew with bitter certainty that it was—then the capital tonight was overflowing with people who could kill him without ever lifting a sword.
"No matter how I look at it," he thought grimly, "I can't tell which story this is."
That was the problem.
He came to the ball thinking he might find a clue to which novel world this was but there was nothing.
Julian Von Astrea, No— Kim Jowoon found himself in a very tricky and complex twist of life.
This body he had somehow come to possess belonged to a minor noble, a disposable extra at best. And he? He was a man who had lived and died in another world, only to wake up in a back alley with burning in his throat and a terrible headache.
He was a teacher, and a reader, one who couldn't remember the novel he'd fallen into.
When he was Kim Jowoon, he had been a simple teacher living a simple yet careful life—avoiding trouble and believing rules existed for a reason.
He died after hitting the back of his head on a desk while trying to stop a fight between his students.
Everything after that was... Blurred.
...
Kim Jowoon woke up in a back alley, his memory and composure fuzzy.
"Ugh, what... What's going on?"
He was so confused and then clenched his belly, the heavy urge to throw up came over him and he did. A bitter burning sensation stung his throat. He wiped his mouth with the back of his palm, but he just couldn't get it.
One moment, he was trying to break up a fight in his classroom, and the next, he's in an unfamiliar alley.
"Where is this?"
He always lived by the principles of not getting involved in fights so his life would never be put in danger, but he couldn't exactly stand aside while his students were fighting.
And now, he was having such in such a place. He was annoyed.
"If those stubborn kids are playing a prank on me, then they'll really get it from me this time," he said, but his heart was drumming a frantic rhythm.
Such a prank was way too heavy to look past.
His throat burned, like he had drunk quite a lot of liquor but the taste was unfamiliar, and then there was that strong stench of alcohol coming off him.
"Those kids dared...!?"
He stormed out of that alley, only to appear at where bright lights shine above the night light poles.
His eyes widened, trembled and his face contorted in disbelief.
"It... It can't be. Where is this?" He looked around, a strange sensation overwhelming him.
What he saw was a landscape that was by far different from that of the world he lived in.
The houses were old-fashioned, the people walking on the streets wore clothes one would only see in a medieval setting, and then beside him... A little girl wearing rags, having shanked cheeks and eyes that had nearly lost their color tugged at the hem of his coat.
"Mister," she called with a hoarse voice. "Please, give me some bread."
He was beyond confused, not knowing where he was or what was going on. If this were a prank, then he definitely wouldn't stand for it.
But... He broke out in cold sweat as the stench from the little girl overshadowed that of his alcohol... It was already clear that this was not a prank. This was way too real.
Then, was it a dream?
He gulped and then slowly dipped his trembling hand in his pocket, thinking, 'What will I find in these pockets?'
And then he felt round metals in them. He brought out a handful of them and saw it was coins.
There were gold coins in his pocket.
Just how...?
He couldn't think, his head was turning.
He looked around and saw a bread stall.
If his memory served him well, in medieval stories, it was dangerous to give a kid begging on the road a coin, much less gold coins.
If this was really what he was thinking then it would happen exactly how it did in the novels he read in the past.
He saw a bread stall, walked up to the stall, and handed a gold coin to the seller, buying bread worth a good coin.
There was a lot of it and the girl could not carry them all so he handed her one loaf first and said,
"Go call your friends."
She immediately scurried with her tiny legs, even stumbling as she feared he would disappear if she wasted time.