Chapter 02 ….
Lee Jin‑woo regained consciousness.
No—rather than “regained,” something felt different.
His body was heavy, each breath made his chest feel tight, and an oddly intense chill spread through him.
The rough texture of the bedding also felt unfamiliar.
His eyelids weighed a ton, but when he forced them open, an unfamiliar scene filled his vision.
A blurred wooden ceiling built from old timber.
The air was thick with the strange scent of herbs, stale dust, and the faint smell of burning wood.
The room was utterly still, as if even the air refused to move.
Jin‑woo slowly turned his head toward the window.
Pale morning sunlight leaked through narrow gaps, casting long shadows on the wooden floor.
Along the walls stood tall bookshelves, filled with ancient‑looking volumes that belonged in a medieval drama.
Where… am I?
His head felt foggy.
The alarms blaring in the lab right before the explosion still echoed faintly in his ears.
He tried lifting his arm—but his body wouldn’t respond well.
When he finally managed to raise his hand and looked at it, shock hit him.
A small, frail hand.
The hand of a boy who clearly hadn’t finished growing.
“Young master, you’re awake?”
Jin‑woo lifted his head.
Before him stood an elderly man—around sixty, hair completely white, wearing an old‑fashioned gray robe like something out of a historical drama. He held a bowl of herbal medicine and looked worried.
“Oh, thank heavens!! You suddenly collapsed—I’ve been worried sick.”
Strangely, the language the old man spoke was neither Korean nor Chinese, yet Jin‑woo understood it perfectly.
Jin‑woo asked cautiously.
“Um… where am I?”
The old man looked puzzled.
“What do you mean? This is your home—the Ouyang Family Estate.”
Jin‑woo’s confusion deepened.
Ouyang Family Estate?
He had never heard such a name.
With a worried look, the old man continued.
“I fear you injured your head when you collapsed… Do you not remember who I am either?”
“And you are…?”
The old man’s face went pale.
“Oh heavens…! I am Huang Jingon—Old Huang, who has served you since you were crawling as a babe.”
Worried the old man might faint next, Jin‑woo quickly spoke.
“Old Huang, I’m just a little dizzy. My memory feels fuzzy, that’s all. Don’t worry too much.”
“Whew… what a relief.”
“I’m tired. I’d like to rest a little…”
“The family head asked to see you… but first, please drink this medicine. I’ll tell the family head that your condition is too poor to come right away.”
“My father wants to see me?”
Old Huang blanched.
“You’ve even forgotten that today is your seventeenth birthday?”
“Oh! It’s my birthday today?”
“Yes, young master.”
“Alright, give me the medicine. Maybe if I rest after drinking it, my memory will come back.”
“I pray it will…”
With a deep sigh, Old Huang handed him the bowl.
A thick, bitter herbal smell stabbed into Jin‑woo’s nose.
He hesitated, then swallowed the entire bowl in one gulp.
The bitterness spread down his throat and through his body.
He handed the bowl back.
“Thank you.”
Seeing him drink without a single complaint—something unlike his usual behavior—brought visible relief to Old Huang’s face.
“Then I shall go inform the family head.”
“Yes, please do.”
Once Old Huang left the room, Jin‑woo tried to sit up.
But his body was sluggish and weak, so he lay back down.
When he drew a deep breath, a cold sensation stirred in his chest.
Like ice flowing through his veins.
So my body didn’t just get younger… I’m seriously sick.
At that moment, a calm, familiar voice sounded in his mind.
[Doctor, you are awake.]
Jin‑woo jolted and looked around.
“Who’s there?”
His voice was hoarse—yet strangely clear and pleasant, like a young boy’s.
[It’s Akasha. When your consciousness and the nanobot system transferred to this world, I transferred as well.]
“…Ah.”
He exhaled weakly.
The explosion in the lab.
The intruders.
The final brainwave synchronization.
The sensation of slipping through a dimensional rift like a dream…
Everything returned in fragments.
Akasha.
[Yes, Doctor.]
Good. Looks like we can speak mentally.
[Correct.]
That was a relief.
If anyone saw him talking to empty air, explaining it would be impossible.
What exactly happened?
[Insufficient data to determine. To analyze fully, I need more information. For now, the most likely explanation is that a quantum anomaly triggered by the explosion transported us to another world.]
If we transferred… does that mean I didn’t die?
[That part is unclear. Your original body was completely destroyed. Only your consciousness—stored within the synchronized nanobot system—was transferred and settled into this boy’s body.]
Do we know who this body belonged to?
[Yes. Name: Ouyang Cheongang. Age: seventeen.]
Jin‑woo’s voice hardened.
I didn’t… take his body from him, did I? I didn’t push out his soul?
[No need to worry. When you arrived, the boy had just taken his last breath. A fatal illness.]
Jin‑woo quietly surveyed the room again.
Antique furniture.
Shelves of ancient books.
Birdsong drifting through the window.
Unreal—yet vividly real.
So this isn’t a hallucination or dream. It’s real?
[Yes.]
What have you found out about this world?
[Some things. I recovered about 10% of the boy’s memories right before brain death.]
Akasha continued calmly.
[Fragmented though they are, the memories suggest this is a world similar to ancient East Asia on Earth.]
Ancient East Asia?
[Correct. Most of the continent is ruled by the Great Hwan Empire. Outside its borders are several foreign tribes and kingdoms. And there is one unusual detail.]
What detail?
[There exists a separate world alongside the empire—called the Murim.]
Jin‑woo’s eyes widened.
Murim? Like in martial arts novels? Inner energy, energy blasts, wandering swordsmen, beggars in rags helping the weak, and demonic cults plotting world domination?
[Exactly.]
Martial arts are real?
[Yes.]
No way. Seriously?
[Seriously.]
Got proof?
[The boy whose body we are in is proof.]
Him?
[Yes. He is a descendant of the Ouyang family—once one of the Ten Great Martial Clans, though now fallen.]
Then he must’ve learned martial arts?
[No.]
Why not? He’s from a famous clan.
[He suffered from a rare condition—yin energy accumulating in nine major meridian points. That prevented him from learning martial arts.]
Jin‑woo frowned.
[The illness resembles the “Nine Yin Meridians” disorder found in martial arts fiction. But the boy’s memory is incomplete, so we don’t have a precise name.]
Jin‑woo knew nothing about martial arts beyond a few movies.
Naturally, “Nine Yin Meridians” meant nothing to him.
So… this body is basically on a ticking clock, right?
[Correct. According to the memories, if he is not cured before age twenty, all meridians will freeze, resulting in death.]
Wow. Calling this ‘being alive’ is generous. Can’t you fix it?
[Right now, I’m barely running off the bioelectricity generated by your new body. I can converse, but I don’t have the energy to rebuild your physical structure.]
And if you were fully activated?
[Then it would be easy. Nanobots can theoretically repair or enhance the human body nearly infinitely. But we need a massive energy source to run at full capacity.]
Jin‑woo had developed 100,000 nanobots.
The bots themselves required very little energy—human glucose was enough to keep them alive.
But Akasha was different.
She was a quantum‑based super‑intelligence.
Her full operation required enormous power—around 100 kJ per second.
If she ran at 100%, his body’s glucose would be depleted in four seconds.
He’d die instantly.
So finding a power source to activate you is our top priority.
[I’m searching. But until we gather more data on this world, I have no leads.]
Jin‑woo didn’t dwell on unsolved problems. Instead, he shifted the topic.
You said you recovered some memories from this body?
*[Yes. Shall I show you Ouyang Cheongang’s memories?]
Please do.
At that moment, memories surged into his mind like waves.
Though the sudden influx could have overloaded his brain, Akasha controlled the flow perfectly.
After a short while…
