-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 1
Chapter Title: Magic Genius with Korean Patch
-----------------------------------------------------------------
* * *
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
'How the hell did my life end up like this?'
Poke, poke.
Since he wasn't wearing proper shoes, the rough texture of the mountain path pressed directly against the soles of his feet.
He thought he'd gotten used to it by now, but the gritty sensation was starting to grate on his nerves again. Jeon decided to distract himself by thinking about something else entirely.
Like how exactly he'd ended up in this mess.
It hadn't started out as anything special.
He'd just finished work like any other day and met up with friends for drinks since it was Friday.
The conversations with his buddies hadn't been anything out of the ordinary either.
"How's work treating you?"
"Dude, 'work' and 'treating me well' don't even belong in the same sentence."
"Fair. I feel like quitting every time I think about that asshole manager."
Talk about the job, the boss, and so on.
"You've been with your girlfriend for two years now, right? When's the wedding?"
"Wedding? No clue. It's not like you can just decide to do it."
"Don't do it, man. It's rough. My kid just started kindergarten, and I had no idea it'd cost that much."
"Kindergarten already? Damn."
"Don't get me started. It's no joke."
Marriage talk, kids talk.
Pretty grounded stuff flowed freely with the booze.
But as the drinks kicked in, the conversation veered into sillier territory.
Guys just hitting their thirties—outwardly mature, but still kids at heart.
"Hey, if you suddenly got dropped into a fantasy world, what power would you want?"
Someone tossed out the evening's bullshit topic.
What ability would be best if you got isekai'd into a fantasy world? Total nonsense with zero realism, but that's what made it fun to bullshit about.
"Any power? Then obviously something invincible."
"Nah, that's no fun. Just grab an instakill and call it a day."
"Instakill? That's busted too. I'd take time-stop. Perfect."
Sure enough, his friends lit up and started firing off answers.
But they were all straight-up cheat keys, so a few guys jumped in to nitpick.
"Something more realistic, though?"
"Realistic? Uh... decent sword talent? Sword genius level?"
"I'd go magic genius. Fantasy's all about magic, right?"
The follow-ups were toned down from the god-tier cheats but still pretty OP.
Jeon, listening to all this, casually threw out his own thought without much consideration.
"Real talk, though—if you're dropping into a fantasy world, first thing you need is a Korean Patch to make the language work."
"Korean Patch?"
"What's the point of being invincible or a sword genius if you can't even communicate? You couldn't survive there."
"Well... you could learn the language after arriving...?"
"What was your English grade on the college entrance exam?"
"...Third?"
"You studied English for over ten years and still barely passed. You think a new language would be a breeze?"
Not 100% airtight logic, but plausible enough that his friends started nodding.
"Huh, that makes sense."
"Yeah, gotta talk first to do anything."
"Okay, what about this one?"
A few others chimed in with their own solid ideas.
"Anyway, who cares? Sounds like we're actually going."
"True."
"Drink up, drink."
Like these chats always do, it fizzled out as the alcohol took over, shifting to the next random topic.
The guys knocked back two more bottles each before calling it a night.
And not long after...
'Here I am, in this sorry state.'
An average Korean everyman, now barefoot on a mountain trail as a slave.
Not just that, which wouldn't be so bad.
'Waking up in a damn fantasy world...'
Until recently, he'd been in Korea. Now he was in a completely different world from Earth.
A medieval fantasy realm with swords, magic, and monsters.
'Should've asked for a busted power too if I'd known.'
He'd gotten hit by a car on the way home from drinks.
Blackout from the agony, then woke up here.
Living out the joke from that drinking session.
'At least my body's intact. Silver lining?'
Flying through the air after impact—that was his last Earth memory.
Should've been fatal or left him crippled, but he was fine.
'Is this even fine?'
Every step, golden blonde hair swayed in his vision. Sweat poured down pristine white skin. Body of a boy, younger than his original—more teen than young man.
He'd woken up in a totally different body.
'Possession? Reincarnation?'
Hard to pin down, but details didn't matter.
The problem: he was a slave.
Jeon wasn't even his original name from Earth.
Everyone here called him that from the moment he woke up, so he rolled with it.
Sure, better than dying in the crash. Second life at least.
But slave life in a fantasy world? No walk in the park.
A month since arriving.
Unwashed, sweat streaming. Starving, stomach growling constantly.
Barefoot on rocky trails. Peak slave misery.
Good news: he was adapting better than expected.
Otherwise, he'd have lost his mind or bashed his head in by now.
"Everyone, take a break here for food and rest."
Lost in thought as he walked, Jeon heard the order to rest.
Instead of sitting, he scanned for tasks.
Before he could start, a voice called from the side.
"Hey, Jeon! Come translate for these guys!"
"Yes, sir! Coming right now!"
He bolted over instantly.
A month in, he'd learned delaying meant getting smacked.
"You called, sir?"
"Quick on your feet."
A grizzled middle-aged man with a scruffy beard greeted him.
'Slave Overseer, Jimmy.'
The absolute boss over Jeon and the other slaves. Despised for his bullying and beatings.
"What'd you need...?"
Jeon plastered on a grin despite recalling Jimmy's role.
Jimmy shot an irritated glance at the men beside him.
"What else? These idiots who can't understand a word."
Five hulking men, each a head taller and bulkier than average, clustered together.
They blankly rolled their eyes, ignoring Jimmy's grumbling.
"Tell these damn Tuk Tribe morons to set up temporary tents over there. Big bodies, empty heads—can't get through to 'em no matter what."
Frustrated, Jimmy spat curses laced with racial slurs.
'Back on Earth, that'd get him canceled for hate speech.'
Modern outrage bait, but this world was far from that era.
Jeon shook off the thought and turned to the big guys.
"Ahem."
He cleared his throat, picking his words.
The five vacant stares locked onto him.
Fierce faces, but Jeon met them calmly and spoke.
"Okay, so... you six need to go set up temporary tents over there."
Words utterly different from what he'd used with Jimmy.
A completely alien tongue, yet Jeon switched seamlessly.
"Got it? If he'd just said it nicely instead of always bitching."
"How many?"
"I'll ask."
Jeon nodded, fully understanding, and turned back to Jimmy.
"They want to know how many."
His original language flowed naturally now.
"Five. The survey team's gotta rest."
"Five tents."
"Alright."
Jeon bridged the languages effortlessly. The five big men moved to pitch tents.
Jimmy grumbled watching them.
"Damn it, this is why you don't just enslave big strong guys willy-nilly... No use if beatings don't get through."
Most here, Jimmy included, were from the Empire—the continent's largest nation.
The five giants? Tuk Tribe, a minority from the borderlands.
Jimmy struggled controlling them without their Imperial Language.
"That's why it's a godsend you speak Tuk, Jeon."
"Haha, yeah."
"Scrawny little shit, but useful."
Jimmy eyed him coldly. Jeon shivered involuntarily.
"Keep an eye on 'em while working. Report anything suspicious right away."
"Yes, sir."
Jeon nodded and hurried after the Tuk men.
'...That glare's killer.'
Why he flinched: countless beatings from Jimmy over the month.
Even with decent adaptation, his boyish body—undernourished teen level—couldn't keep up.
Jimmy never cut slack, whipping him for any shortfall.
'Or just bad moods.'
Despite adapting, Jeon desperately wanted to escape.
But he couldn't act on it.
'Fleeing into unknown woods? Suicide.'
The group had wandered forests for a month. Endless woods.
Rough terrain, easy to get lost, beasts everywhere.
And unlike Earth, monsters lurked here.
Hellish as it was, he was stuck.
'Beatings have dropped off lately, though.'
Things improved once they learned he spoke Tuk.
His interpreter role smoothed Jimmy's handling of them, easing the abuse.
'Doesn't change my spot.'
Arriving here, he'd instantly understood the Imperial Language everyone spoke.
Chaos at first, plus isekai stories often had instant fluency, so he shrugged it off.
But Tuk—totally different—revealed his power.
'...Korean Patch.'
His offhand drinking game answer: language patch first.
That's what he got.
'Fuck, of all things.'
Friends' ideas flashed by: invincible, instakill, sword genius, magic genius.
If real, he wouldn't have said this aloud.
Of those, he got the lamest.
Objectively, not terrible. Easier adaptation, versatile.
"Jeon, getting slow lately? Legs not working?"
If only he weren't a slave.
"No, sir!"
Jimmy's yell snapped him from reverie. He bolted.
'Fuck.'
Curse bubbled up, but no choice.
Thoughts later. Pleasing Jimmy came first for a slave.
That was his world now.