Reincarnated… But Where?
Episode 2 – What Should I Do to Survive?
A few days had passed since my reincarnation into the world of the Noble Hero.
During those days, I had to help the old man clean the church garden, and then visit Sister Eva to treat the wounds I got from the labor.
Dinner with the old man? Let's just say it was dry bread and soup I didn't like—soup made of who-knows-what.
As I lay beside the old man, trying to sleep, I thought:
No. This can't go on. I can't live like this.
If I keep going this way, I'll just end up being killed by the hero for the sake of his beloved.
I wondered why I was reincarnated at all.
No system to guide me.
No powers.
No mentor.
Just me—pathetic, once again.
I've died once before.
I don't want it to happen again.
I didn't even understand my first life.
So I need to explore every possible way to survive.
First option: continue gardening at the church.
But in this Renaissance-era world, the risk of catching a plague or some contagious disease is high.
Nope. Not viable.
Second option: become a church official, maybe a priest.
But I never liked that idea.
Third option: join the Royal Knights.
But as a mere peasant, I'd be sent straight to the Wall of Death—the border wall constantly attacked by mutated beasts.
A guaranteed death sentence.
No. That's not an option.
Unless…
Wait.
Why didn't I think of this earlier?
Why not make a living through my art?
Through painting…
—The next day—
But things didn't go as I imagined.
First, I had no painting tools.
Second, the old man wouldn't let me leave the church.
To be fair, he had a point.
In this world, nobles had the right to own slaves.
And I, being a nameless slave, could easily be captured.
After finishing the day's work, I collapsed to the ground from exhaustion.
"Look at this misery," I muttered.
Did I have such a bad life before?
Good family. Decent income.
I didn't need reincarnation.
Maybe it's my father's curse.
He always said I should find a job and start a family.
I didn't listen.
No way that curse is real…
But they say a father's curse lasts seven generations…
I stopped talking to myself when the old man scolded me for mumbling too much.
Ever since reincarnation, I've been losing my mind.
—The next morning—
While digging with the old man, I kept thinking:
Where can I find painting tools?
I looked around.
No pen. No paper.
Nothing near the old man.
What can I do?
What can I do?
Eventually…
The old man scolded me again for talking to myself instead of working.
That was the problem—I always thought out loud.
It got me into trouble in both my past and present lives.
By nightfall, I couldn't think anymore.
Until—
Yes! I found it!
Why not use charcoal from the fireplace as a substitute for a pen?
Thank goodness there was a fireplace here.
Bless the lack of resources—it sparked creativity.
But of course, my personality got me in trouble again.
This time, the old man gagged me with a cloth to stop me from talking.
—Morning—
I opened my eyes.
The old man had left the room.
I rushed to the fireplace to grab some charcoal.
The wood had burned nicely.
It was the perfect time to collect it.
I reached in—
"Ahhh! It's hot! It's burning!"
I shoved my fingers into my mouth to ease the pain.
Didn't help at all.
Thank goodness the old man wasn't there to see me suffer.
With my burnt hand, I grabbed a few cooled pieces of charcoal and placed them in a corner of the room.
I endured the pain until the work was done, then rushed to Sister Eva for treatment.
—Inside the convent—
I saw surprise on Sister Eva's face.
She must've wondered how digging could burn my hand.
Sister Eva: "Can I ask you something?"
Me: "Sure."
Sister Eva: "How did you end up like this?"
Her question reminded me of the time my dad found out I smoked.
He asked why.
I said, "If our voices can't reach the heavens, maybe our smoke can."
He punished me so hard, my screams reached Mars.
Yeah… I should forget that.
Me: "Well, I wanted something."
Sister Eva: "What did you want?"
Me: "I wanted charcoal from the fireplace… and I burned my hand."
She was surprised.
I don't know why, but I decided to tell her everything—about the painting, the charcoal, the dream.
She rested her chin on her hand and said:
"So that's your plan. I can help you with paper. I'll give you a few sheets.
But going outside depends on your grandfather's permission."
Eventually, she spoke to the old man.
He reluctantly agreed.
Then we went to the church priest.
He promised nothing bad would happen to me and gave me my identity papers.
Now… I can finally go outside.
End of Episode 2