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Translator: penny
Chapter: 1
Chapter Title: Return
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📜 Last Episode Summary 📜Amid fierce battles, I barely won the final fight and finally returned to the real world. It was the moment that put an end to my otherworld odyssey.◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
I'm happy.
So fucking happy.
Isn't this just profoundly moving?
I finally escaped that goddamn otherworld.
Everything felt so welcoming. The hazy air thick with exhaust and cigarette smoke, cars honking amid the tangled mess of roads, dusty neon signs, even the indifferent passersby.
"I'm back!!!"
Who could've guessed?
That I'd make it back to reality.
I could hardly believe it myself.
I'd longed for this day, but never dreamed it'd actually come.
Trembling with emotion, I briefly reflected on the past.
The day after my discharge, right after buying an airsoft gun, another world suddenly unfolded before my eyes. How much hell I'd endured there.
Yeah. Ten years.
A whole ten years.
I rolled around in that otherworld for a decade.
And as none other than the Hero.
A literal Hero—the one who cuts down the Demon King. And I actually pulled it off somehow.
Hero of the Moon, Kim Siyul. That was me.
"Hero, my ass, fuck."
Well, Hero in name only.
In truth, I was worse off than a slave.
A slave at least gets a roof and meals from their master after work, but for me, it was a miracle if I didn't get stabbed just for helping someone.
Proper support? Not a damn thing.
If I'd had a holy sword or something, maybe. But my main weapon was whatever junk others discarded or a branch I'd just snapped off. Hell, I often fought barehanded when even that wasn't available.
Later on, I barely scraped together something worthy of being called a weapon, but even that vanished completely in the final battle.
"Tch."
Honestly, it's a shame.
I wondered if there'd ever be another weapon like that.
Some might bring up a Hero party. The absurd bullshit Heroes usually face could at least be overcome with a party, right?
But no such luck.
What party? I was always solo.
"Wait, not quite."
Well, if we're splitting hairs, I wasn't entirely alone.
Day and night, people chased after me nonstop, so there were always at least two others with me.
The slight problem was that every single one of those bastards wanted my head.
What the fuck had those assholes eaten to think putting a bounty on the Hero's head was a good idea? This wasn't the age of great pirates; it was the age of great Heroes.
Even thinking back now, it's a clusterfuck of memories.
In a way, it's almost funny. Discharged from the military, and on what should have been my 'Hero' discharge day, I got dragged into another world to be a Hero in a whole different sense.
Anyway.
"Well, that's that."
But my current situation was a bit confusing. Honestly, I couldn't be sure I'd really returned from the otherworld.
My senses, sharpened by years of experience.
My unkempt, tangled hair, still uncombed.
That alone confirmed I was back from the otherworld. No way this mess could pass for right-after-discharge.
In other words, time had clearly passed.
But.
Checking my reflection more closely in a nearby display mirror, something was off.
"Is this right?"
I looked exactly as I did before being dragged to the otherworld.
Baggy training pants, powered-off airsoft gun.
All the scars and wounds wiped clean from my body.
A face free of the fatigue from right after discharge.
And not just that—my physical condition was pristine. No creaking in my overworked bones, no screams of pain with every movement; everything was quiet now.
Minus the Hero's power, it was incomparable to my otherworld state—practically perfect.
As if my otherworld experience had been a mere dream.
"What the hell?"
That only made it more disorienting.
My mind clearly held those otherworld memories, yet my body was in flawless shape.
In the end, I reached a conclusion.
"Fuck if I know."
Probably some otherworld return perk resetting everything. I'd just go with that.
Whatever. The real priority wasn't this crap anyway.
There were two crucial things right now.
First, figure out how much time passed in the real world during my ten years there.
What era it was now.
And what day it was today.
Last, where exactly I was.
Confirming all that was top priority.
Perfect timing—a woman just walked by.
Time to ask.
"Hey—"
"Don't talk to me!"
"You, uh, fucking bitch."
I bristled for a second but calmed down.
Think about it. In those ten years that changed the world, how many bitchy women had I met in the otherworld?
Some shot arrows at me the moment they saw my face, screaming I had to die. Others acted sweet to my face, then stabbed me in the back calling me a demon.
Compared to that, this woman just brushed me off. Didn't even curse.
How civilized.
Truly a modern person.
Her snapping right away when I spoke? Probably because I look like shit, like those otherworld bastards said. I let it slide.
Anyway, after a few tries, I finally got the info.
First, today was Sunday. Explained why so many people were out midday.
Next, somewhere in Seoul.
Not the exact spot.
I stopped caring after hearing Seoul.
Honestly, even if I'd pinpointed it, I wouldn't have believed it.
The sights were unbelievable.
Was that superconductor rumor actually real and commercialized? No flying cars, but it was straight out of a sci-fi future city—insanely advanced.
And the people around—specifically the women's hair colors were every shade imaginable.
Black wasn't gone entirely, but in highlights or two-tones. Pure black heads? Just me and the other guys.
If not for the Korean signs, I'd have freaked thinking I'd hit another otherworld.
But the real kicker was something else.
Time flowed at the same rate in the otherworld as here.
In short, exactly ten years passed here too.
That made sense. Ten years changes everything; this level of progress wasn't weird.
Hair colors? Just fashion trends. I'd chalk it up to that.
Whatever. What mattered was my situation.
High school grad, one year part-timing, two years military, ten in otherworld.
Total...
Around thirty-two or thirty-three now.
Probably thirty-three.
Not bad.
"Lucky me."
No, fucking great.
Someone might wonder: What's good about being a jobless high-school dropout at 33? Isn't your life ruined? Wouldn't getting isekai'd again be better?
I won't deny it. Spent my twenties in the otherworld with nothing to show—no power or weapons, just back in one piece.
But it's fine.
Of those two key things, I'd checked the timeline. The other one would decide my future.
Ruined life.
Or god-tier life.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
"Fuck yeah!!!"
A random roar made people stare like I was nuts. Some muttered curses, big and small.
Didn't give a shit.
People's glares meant nothing next to the text on my phone.
💰 Portfolio Status 💰Stock: Top□ Media Co., Ltd.+3,921%Stock: Meta□craft Co., Ltd.+28,507%
Ruined life?
Nah, god-tier.
"Kuhahaha!!!!!!"
They say when you return from an otherworld, your stocks that've been climbing greet you first.
I love that story.
"Heh."
Can't stop grinning no matter how many times I look.
Didn't I say I lost my Hero powers?
Who gives a fuck about that.
This is the real Hero power.
"Missed you, my precious stocks."
Of course, it wasn't gambling. I just saw the definite future a bit earlier than everyone else.
Hell, I knew that ending was set in stone.
Only I knew how those stocks would end up.
Honestly, Top□ Media—I mean Top□—seemed plenty promising. It was a big-league company from the start. Total safe bet.
Meta□craft—or No□pia—blowing past my expectations after breaking free from Top□'s wing was the real monster.
Glad I invested in that promising company. Paid off doing every odd job from middle school to enlistment.
Convenience stores, construction sites, restaurants, gallery security, you name it.
"This is the true isekai life."
Over ten years later, I still remember it vividly. The moment Novelpia went public and I dumped my life savings in.
Couldn't afford clothes for a while, barely scraped by on meals. Felt pathetic back then.
Didn't stop buying, though. Kept at it through that shitty life.
To others, pure insanity. Hell, when I posted my brokerage screenshot online, I got roasted endlessly.
Even the so-called stock kings tore me apart on video.
But.
They were just normies who didn't buy No□pia before it exploded.
"Stocks are too damn easy."
Anyway, future plans are simple.
Sell a sliver of No□pia stock, buy two buildings.
I know it too.
No□pia's got more room to grow.
But even the majority shareholder needs to eat. Unavoidable expense.
Can't sell on Sunday, but dreaming of that bright future was bliss enough.
"Huh?"
Suddenly, an unfamiliar hand yanks my wrist roughly.
And.
Before the click of thin but sturdy metal cuffs, anyway.
I turned to the intruder.
"Who..."
A cop.
"...are you?"
His eyes held a mix of emotions.
The sticky fatigue all civil servants carry.
The sharp contempt for something repulsive.
And.
The faint thrill of finally nabbing their man.
"What the hell?"
"Kim Siyul, correct?"
Ignoring my question, the officer droned on flatly.
"No, what the fuck is this?"
Honestly, I felt wronged.
I hadn't lived squeaky clean, but my evil deeds were strictly otherworld. And only because I'd die otherwise.
In reality? No crimes, not even the means to commit any.
So why?
"Asking again. Kim Siyul, correct?"
"Yes, but why?"
Politeness was out the window now.
I'd never thought much of cops, but this tanked it completely.
"Hey, uncuff me. While I'm asking nice."
You're getting complaints filed. Twice a day. No, three times.
You're done for. For real.
"Kim Siyul, you'll have to come with us."
But he didn't budge.
"While we're asking nice."
Hell, not only didn't he back off—he cuffed my other wrist too.
Like it was the obvious thing to do.
"Fuck."
Didn't matter if he was a cop anymore. I just wanted to deck the bastard.
"What the fuck, you prick!"
I actually moved to do it.
Obstructing official duties? Who cares if it worsens the charges. I'm getting hauled off anyway.
But it failed.
More cops appeared out of nowhere, pinning me down. One per limb.
So many of you fucks.
Overkill for one guy.
"What the fuck is this, you pigs!!!"
All I could do was kneel and vent my rage.
"Why me! What did I do!"
This is too much. Cops blinded by quotas, treating an innocent guy like a criminal—
"You're the Magical deserter, aren't you?"
"Pardon?"
Brain freeze.
Me, a deserter? What bullshit.
I definitely got honorably discharged.
Sure, I pulled some 'minor' stunts in the military. Won't deny that.
But I'm A-rank, not trash-tier.
Never deserted, obviously. Just yelled a few times in front of the division commander, gun in hand, about wanting to kill everyone and desert.
That's it.
So why call me a deserter?
And what the hell is 'Magical'?
"No, deserter's deserter. What's this 'Magical deserter' crap?"
But the cop ignored my question.
Kim Siyul. Attempted and succeeded in Magical desertion the day after assignment to Magical unit. Fled Magical dragnet for 12 years thereafter.
He just listed facts in a dry tone, peppering in 'Magical' every time.
And then, the cop announced.
"Magical capture successful as of now."
A death sentence if I'd ever heard one.
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