Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Prologue

“Ha, my fucking life.”

The world is filled with countless people.

And among those people, those who consider their lives happy and smooth are probably less than even 1 percent. When friends get together to drink, doesn’t a competition always start over who has the shittiest life?

And I won most of those <​shitty life battles>. The prize was alcohol bought by my friends.

The whole world... well, that was a bit of an exaggeration. Can’t really compare to the life of an African child soldier or a Haitian slum.

Still, who feels proud comparing themselves to people living on the other side of the world? Someone who thinks ‘I’m fine because I live happier than North Koreans’?

In that sense, I have the confidence to rank in the top 1% of shittiest lives in the Republic of Korea.

I was currently in London, the capital of England.

- Still, if you can come all the way from the eastern end of the world to England, doesn’t that mean you have quite a bit of money?

Ah, about that.

This isn’t anything else, it’s my insurance money.

- Insurance?

Yes. There’s a thing called cancer diagnosis money. In this world, there’s gambling on whether you’ll get cancer or not.

- Hey, I know what insurance is. Insurance existed in the old days too. It’s just the first time I’ve heard of taking out insurance on a person’s cancer instead of a ship.

I bought a one-way first-class ticket to London to celebrate winning pancreatic cancer.

- Heo.

What.

That’s how it went.

The final one-way trip in search of which riverbed is the warmest.

I came to London to check the temperature of the Thames, but since I’ve come all the way to London, I should at least do some sightseeing, right?

And perhaps because my death day is approaching soon.

From a Chinese dragon-patterned porcelain displayed somewhere in the British Museum, the world’s greatest stolen goods exhibition hall, a ghost’s voice was heard.

- It’s not a ghost, it’s the Dragon King, I tell you!

More precisely, a jar ghost who believes himself to be the Dragon King.

- Please believe me, really...

A Dragon King inside a jar.

Not even a piccolo inside a rice cooker, seriously.

***

Park In-ho, that is, my life can be summarized quite simply.

<​You studied hard, but oh, you were unlucky. In your next life, invest some points in luck stat besides intelligence.>

I graduated from a decent university, worked hard sending out resumes, and as a result, I got into some major conglomerate trading company.

I spent more than half of the year not in Korea but traveling around China or Japan in a hardcore life, and then, lured by the word that it would help with promotion, I even became a resident employee at the Chinese branch. It’s not like I was married, so it would be good to secure the resident position in advance.

But just once.

Really just once, I made a mistake.

‘Could you help me a little?’

‘I can’t...’

‘Please, I beg you. These people, if they’re caught, they’ll die.’

Because a pastor I had gotten acquainted with through work pleaded so earnestly, just once I yielded to the voice of my conscience.

It was really only a very short time.

Helping the North Korean defectors, the fact that my conscience’s guilt beat reality was only for a very short time.

But they say if you’re unlucky, even if you fall backward, you break your nose.

I was arrested by the public security.

If I had known it would turn out like this, I would never have shown such kindness.

I regretted it immensely.

I ruined my life just to get a bit of that meager sense of pride.

To my parents who had proudly sent their son to a decent conglomerate and were strutting their shoulders, it was truly shocking news, and they suffered enormously to save their son captured by Chinese guys who couldn’t even communicate.

These damned Chinese bastards didn’t even properly allow lawyer visits, and the diplomats of the Republic of Korea government, who devour taxes every year like crazy, didn’t provide any proper help either.

Just once.

After my parents’ desperate pleas, some consulate whatever or some bastard showed his nose briefly.

‘Mr. Park In-ho? I’m sorry, but there’s nothing we can help with.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘The charge against Mr. Park In-ho is currently espionage. As you know, the current situation is not good... once the situation improves a bit, we will step in again.’

‘Can’t you see how much I’m suffering here right now? I can’t even hire a lawyer, is this normal?’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘You people are there to help the citizens!’

‘No, why are you talking as if we ordered it? Did you leave something with us?’

If it weren’t for the iron bars, that guy would have died by my hands.

To cut to the conclusion, I was released from this terrible Chinese detention center just before filling one year. Because the Chinese government, upon hearing the news that both my devastated parents had passed away, took humanitarian measures or something and expelled me instead of putting me on trial.

When I returned to Korea, the funeral was already over, and I couldn’t even play the role of the chief mourner. The only things left for me were organizing the belongings and the legal procedures.

After finishing all those things, I collapsed.

At the hospital I was taken to, they diagnosed me with pancreatic cancer.

And the company that had taken away my good times with a meager salary sent a short notice saying ‘You’re now ineligible for overseas travel, right? Fired.’

The 5 stages of accepting death or whatever ended in an instant, and since I didn’t particularly want to live more, I settled all my assets and flew to Europe.

After traveling around Europe in a flex style spending money freely, I arrived in London.

Honestly, whether it’s relics or paintings, there’s no way I’d understand anything by looking at them, I just came to look around out of courtesy since I’d come to England.

But what do you know, there’s a porcelain that only my ears can hear the ghost cry from, so what am I supposed to do.

- Anyone who hears would think I told you to come.

Wasn’t it? Then just go.

- No, no no. I need you. Since I came to this museum, you’re the first person who can hear my words! Absolutely don’t go elsewhere! Just steal me! Quickly!

Seeing it now urging me to commit a crime, it really seems like a porcelain possessed by an evil spirit.

My daily routine was like this.

Wash, eat breakfast, come here and hang out with this jar of desires, when closing time comes, leave. End.

At the very end of the end, the one who says they need me is not a person but a demon-possessed porcelain, it’s a bit much, but still, people are originally drawn to those who need them.

But now the time for parting is approaching.

As I said above, my death is getting closer.

- Speaking of that... I have a proposal.

The ghost whispered to me.

What is it? Sell my soul and cure the cancer or something?

- What would I do buying your soul!

Ah, my ears hurt. You have a good voice too.

- From what I’ve overheard, these days the mountain god guys are randomly throwing people into the past. Crazy bastards. Try kidnapping and throwing people all day, does that change the world?

People? Into the past?

- That’s right. That thing you guys talk about... like a second life. How about it. Isn’t it okay? There’s no way this Dragon King who rules the sea can’t do something that even those miscellaneous mountain gods can do?

Going to the past, huh.

I’ve seen it a lot in novels. Originally, possessing a king who’s ruining the country and reviving the nation, or going to an ugauga era that’s no different from another world and being worshipped while saying ‘Ah, this is modern civilization’.

If it were my original self, I’d rather die than give up 21st century civilization, but now that my real death day is approaching, whether past or another world, I desperately want to live properly just once more.

Yes, if I can just live, what can’t I do?

- But looking at it, the conditions are a bit tricky. Hmm. Wait a moment. I’m skimming the manual once-

Suddenly I feel anxious. A manual?

Dragon King or whatever, is this the first time doing it and you’re just reading the manual and following? Even cooking, if you make it like that, the first product usually fails!

- Hold on. Anyway, you don’t want to die, right. Hmm hmm. Now I roughly understand the principle. These vicious guys. This wasn’t a technique to send to the past but something like a conditional curse. If you fail to achieve the goal, a miserable price awaits that soul, something like that-

Miserable price? Are you joking right now?

- It’s not that important so let’s move on. Even if it’s conditional, this is the same as resurrection, did you think it was free? It’s not something tremendously great, just promise to cause <​a great alteration of history> and go over. You have future knowledge and a second life, it’s nothing special, right?

No. It is special.

You’re short-selling my soul right now. Even short-selling in the stock market usually ruins a life, if you mortgage the soul and fail, what the hell happens?

- If you don’t want to, nothing I can do... I went through the trouble of looking it up...

Whether to go home quietly and give my body to the guys saying ‘Hello? I’m a cancer cell!’ and depart to the afterlife.

Or follow this miscellaneous ghost’s proposal and short-sell my soul.

Honestly.

The answer was decided.

Whatever, let’s try it.

That moment.

The world blurred.

“Keok- what is this? Suddenly chest pain. My chest is blocked.”

- Calm down. It’s going well. Let’s see. Next, next. Skip this. Skip this too. Prepare the contracted soul and cut the connection with the body. Caution. If the exact terms of the contract were not notified... Did I perhaps notify the terms?

You bastard, I didn’t hear anything!

- Huh? Huh huh? This isn’t it? Wait. Why am I the guarantor? Wait wait. Time. This isn’t what I was really trying to do, I was just doing a rehearsal, this is weird, kyaaaaaak!!

And an amazing thing happened.

That crazy dragon-patterned porcelain started bulging and undulating.

Flash.

Kwaaaaaang---

***

How long had I lost consciousness?

As soon as such a thought occurred, dazzling light penetrated through my eyelids.

It hurts.

It’s cold.

My throat stings.

I can’t breathe well.

I can’t see anything in front.

You damn ghost bastard, suddenly self-destructing there? When self-destructing, isn’t it courtesy to at least chant ‘that prayer’?

You confidently talked about second life or whatever, but the conclusion was an explosion. Crazy guy. It must be the unprecedented suicide... no, relic self-destruction terrorism in the history of the British Museum.

The reason my whole body is in pain is obvious. I was at the epicenter of the explosion, so if it didn’t hurt and I was fine, that would be more strange.

When I slightly inhaled, cool air like a blade dug into my lungs.

That moment.

I couldn’t hold it.

“Waaah--”

What?

Why am I crying on my own.

And in a very high-pitched high tone?

I desperately, really with all my strength, lifted my eyelids.

And.

“It’s a healthy baby boy! Listen to the crying!”

“He’s already trying to open his eyes. How impatient.”

Apparently.

Second life.

It seemed to have succeeded.

© 명원 #1jwz2

Author's note

Hello, I’m beginner author Myeongwon:D

Due to various circumstances, I returned a bit late! I missed you!

I will work hard so that it can be an enjoyable writing that can take responsibility for your 7 o’clock!