Chapter 04
I need to find something to eat.
Now that I’m trapped in Ian’s body, this is the most urgent problem.
It’s not just that Lee Jin-su from South Korea will starve to death.
To survive, I have to grow stronger, and to grow stronger, I need proper nutrition.
Even if the harvest improves, the financial state of the Impera family is abysmal.
Being able to mix even a few chunks of meat into thin grain porridge would be a luxury—
and if I lose the upcoming trial-by-combat, even that will be out of the question.
“Phew…”
I thought I might finally live a little more comfortably, and yet here I am, struggling to find a single decent meal.
First stop: the tavern in the county seat.
It was more like an inn that also sold alcohol and offered lodging, rather than a true tavern.
Still, since they served drinks, “tavern” fit well enough. In this poverty-stricken domain, I couldn’t expect anything grand.
What can you even hope for in a beggar’s earldom like this?
Thanks to Ian’s memories, I knew the way without trouble.
My body even seemed to remember, and my steps toward the tavern felt strangely light.
But no drinking today.
Not that I have money anyway.
Going to a tavern without drinking sounds crazy, but I had another goal: information.
Even with all of Ian’s memories, I had barely any useful intel.
He spent his time drinking and gambling, nothing more.
“That should do.”
I pulled a plain cloak over my shoulders and went inside.
“Welcome!”
The owner greeted me brightly.
Because of the shabby cloak, he didn’t recognize me right away.
Normally Ian would show up in flashy clothes to flaunt his noble status and soothe his bruised ego from being ignored by other nobles.
“What will you have… oh!”
Seeing me dressed so simply, the innkeeper didn’t realize who I was at first—
until recognition finally hit.
“…Gasp! Young master?”
“Shh.”
He flinched, startled. I put a finger to my lips and gave him a look.
“I came to stay quiet today.”
“…Quiet?”
His eyes practically said, This troublemaker, quiet? Yeah right.
Fair enough. Every time Ian visited, there was some kind of incident:
picking fights with random guests, demanding expensive liquor.
Just a few days ago he’d beaten someone senseless—a retainer of Count Bener, no less.
The innkeeper clearly smelled trouble, but he had no choice.
Mouth shut, eyes uneasy.
“Fine.”
“Um… can I bring you anything?”
“No. I’ll just sit quietly.”
“Y-yes… then at least a glass of water, perhaps?”
I considered ordering a side dish, but after seeing what other tables were served, I changed my mind.
This was the beggarly county of a so-called count, where even the lord lived on gruel.
Naturally, the food wasn’t any better: stir-fried vegetables or vegetables mixed with odd grains.
Better to eat the porridge Ilen makes back at home.
In one corner, a man chewed away at the vegetable stir-fry as if it were a delicacy.
His bulky coat and bowed head made him look out of place.
Is that even tasty?
I took a seat in a quiet corner and began to watch the room.
The customers drank a pale liquid that looked more like watered-down beer.
Their hands were rough, their clothes worn—no one looked comfortable.
Still, they seemed better off than the Count’s household.
“Puhaha! This is the life!”
“Business going well? I see you here often.”
“Good? Hardly! I work two days just to afford one day’s meal!”
I listened, as expected, to the familiar complaints: endless poverty no matter how hard they worked.
Their anger, of course, aimed at the ruling count.
“It’s all that damn Count’s fault!”
“More like his brat of a son! Heard he was drunk and passed out again the other day?”
“Then it’s the father’s fault for not reining him in!”
“Well, at least he hasn’t raised the tax rate. I hear the Count’s behind on royal taxes and struggling.”
Ian’s infamous antics were well known among the common folk.
Seventeen years old and already a first-class disgrace.
It seemed the watery gruel was largely his doing.
“Hey! Watch your mouth!”
“What, did I say anything wrong? Damn it!”
They clearly never imagined I was sitting right behind them, and curses flew freely.
The innkeeper broke into a cold sweat trying to calm them, but to no avail.
They were so poor every coin mattered, while the Count’s son drank and lazed his life away.
Just hearing their insults was almost enough to fill me up.
“How much tax do they even expect us to pay? We give everything to the nobles and now even the bandits demand tribute!”
“Nobles, bandits—same thing!”
“Quiet, man! Someone will hear!”
“What does it matter? It’s not like that damn noble is here!”
The innkeeper shot me a nervous glance. I simply raised a finger to my lips again.
He looked ready to explode, but I didn’t care.
As expected, the territory’s a total mess.
A place this poor couldn’t possibly maintain order.
Now even bandits extorted “protection fees.”
“You’re lucky in your village! Know what’s in the mountain behind mine? Horned boars that eat people!
Five strong men went to hunt one and barely escaped alive!”
“Did you petition for a subjugation squad?”
“Of course! Been a month already, damn it!”
Good.
Just sitting here a while, I’d gathered plenty of useful information.
I quietly lowered my head and mentally organized a list.
Seeing me take notes, the innkeeper went pale—
probably thinking I was writing a hit list.
Honestly, I felt more like giving rewards.
Thanks to these folks, I’d learned things I never could have at home.
Horned boars, huh…
I’d never seen one, but as the name suggested, it was a monster resembling a pig.
Supposedly edible if you avoided the innards.
The novel’s protagonist even once survived by eating one after being stranded.
They said it tasted a lot like pork.
When you’re thirsty, you dig a well.
If there’s no food, you hunt.
Back in my world, even such simple proverbs no longer applied.
Poisoned rivers, rotten land—no game, no plants.
Compared to that, this place was paradise.
Food practically everywhere.
“Slurp…”
I realized I was drooling.
Creaaak!
Just as I indulged in thoughts of roasted boar, the old door squealed open.
The noise barely registered in the tavern’s general din.
“….”
The newcomer didn’t look like a customer.
Draped in filthy rags, he seemed a beggar seeking alms.
But the innkeeper’s eyes widened, more than surprised—
as though he’d seen something that should never appear.
“P-please spare a coin… I haven’t eaten in days…”
“Huh? What’s with this begg—gah!”
The drinkers immediately sucked in a sharp breath, their eyes fixed on the beggar’s outstretched arm.
His left arm ended in a blunt stump.
My heart twinged, but the others reacted with hostility.
“Blank!”
“That unlucky wretch—what’s he doing here!”
A drunken man kicked him viciously, hard enough to make me flinch.
Thud!
“Ugh!”
The beggar collapsed instantly, too weak to resist after days without food.
Even the innkeeper, who’d seemed decent enough, sided with the kicker.
“Get out! Don’t touch anything with those filthy hands!”
“Ugh…”
It was absurd to me, but not to Ian.
In this world, those abandoned by the gods were called Blanks.
People believed their very presence brought misfortune.
Some “special” Blanks were even said to cause real calamities,
so the reaction wasn’t surprising.
The others worried more for the kicker than the beggar.
“You okay, man?”
“Damn it, meeting a Blank ruins my luck!”
“Get out while you can still walk!”
“Please… have mercy…”
That’s harsh.
Whatever made him a Blank, he’d once been just another person.
But even commoners treated Blanks like filth—
worse than livestock.
Even if this Blank had been a noble like Aemon, it wouldn’t matter.
“Tsk.”
I couldn’t watch anymore.
At least don’t beat him.
“Get up.”
“Hmm?”
Before I could intervene, someone else stepped in:
the man who’d been quietly eating vegetables in the corner.
He tossed the beggar a piece of half-eaten bread.
Thunk!
It sounded like a stone, that bread was so hard.
“Go. Don’t cause more trouble.”
“Th-thank you, my lord! I’ll never forget this kindness!”
“….”
The beggar prostrated himself despite his missing arm,
then quickly snatched the bread and ran,
fearing the man might change his mind.
“You gave bread to a Blank…”
“Got a problem with that?”
“N-no… not at all…”
The would-be troublemaker wilted under a single sharp glare.
Without another word, the dark-haired man left the tavern.
Well, thanks to him I didn’t need to step in myself.
Having gathered enough intel, I rose and nodded to the innkeeper.
“I’ll be going as well.”
“Y-yes, my lord! Take care!”
“My lord?”
“…Gasp!”
The drunkards, mid-insult a moment ago, finally recognized my face and went pale.
“Y-Young master!”
“Since when were you—?”
I paused, turned, and approached the loudest one.
His flushed face turned paper-white.
“Hey.”
“Y-yes, sir!”
“What’s your name? Where do you live?”
“M-my name is Ram, from Erabel, sir!”
“Ram, from Erabel. What kind of place is that?”
“It’s… a village that gathers fruit, sir!”
“Fruit, huh.”
“Y-yes…”
“Ram of Erabel. I’ll remember you.”
I lightly patted his shoulder.
“Hrk…”
“Keep up the hard work.”
The moment I turned, Ram collapsed into his seat.
Not surprising—he’d just been cursing a noble who now promised to remember his name.
“S-since when was he here…?”
“He was here the whole time! I told you to keep it down…”
“Ugh…”
“Why didn’t he say anything?”
“Does that matter? We’re alive, aren’t we?
Or maybe he plans to punish us later…”
“I’m doomed…”
