The roof was made of straw.The bed was made of straw.And if Han Jiho had to guess, the diaper he was wearing was probably made of straw too. Or maybe something worse.
He was reborn. Again.But instead of glowing swords and dragon butlers, he'd been given a cradle that creaked every time he blinked too hard and a view of a cracked ceiling that looked like it was losing a fight with gravity.
This was it. The start of his new life.He was no longer Kim Shin, the underpaid office grunt with a caffeine addiction and unresolved trauma.He was Han Jiho now.
His parents had named him just yesterday—"Jiho," they said, meaning wise as a sage, calm as the deep ocean.
"Sounds nice," he thought, watching a mosquito land on his blanket like it paid rent."Though right now I'm wise as a turnip and calm as a constipated goose."
Still, he couldn't lie. The name felt good.It was the first name someone had ever given him with love.
His mother, Han Soeun, had eyes full of exhaustion and hands rough from daily work, but her smile was something he could feel even when she wasn't holding him.
His father, Han Daesik, limped when he walked but still carried bundles of herbs down the mountain every morning. A herbalist with nothing but a basket and an iron will. And yet, every night before bed, he checked on Jiho's blanket, kissed his forehead, and whispered, "Grow strong, my boy."
They were poor.Not in the "we can't afford dessert" kind of way.More like "we have one bowl and two spoons, so someone's licking the ladle tonight."
But they were happy.
"In my last life, love was measured in report cards and beatings. Here… it's in silence, warmth, and burnt rice. I'll take that trade."
He looked at the hut. Mud walls. No floor. One tiny window that didn't open.
And yet… he felt at peace.
The memory of his death still made him twitch.
He had dodged Truck-kun like a pro. One clean leap to the side. Should've been the end of it.
"I live, btch!"* he'd thought back then.
But of course, Truck-kun wasn't working alone.
"I should've known. It was too quiet. Truck-kun never misses. That bastard probably radioed in backup like, 'Yo, Bus-san, target escaped. You're up.'"
And Bus-sama came in hot.No brakes. No hesitation.Just vibes. And physics.
"At least let me die with some dignity, not painted across a bus grille like a squished Pokémon card."
He remembered hitting the ground.Then darkness. Then the voice. Then the offer.
And instead of asking for godlike strength, an immortal bloodline, or something flashy like "Heaven Piercing Celestial Fist of Eternal Flame," he had asked for one thing.
Time.
A Hyperbolic Time Chamber.
His own private realm where one day outside equals one year inside, with no aging, no injuries, just pure, uninterrupted training.
The voice had been surprised.Apparently, no one ever asked for that.
Most people begged for power.Han Jiho wanted the time to earn it.
The only catch?
It wouldn't activate until he turned three.
"So I'm stuck like this for a while. Great."
He tried to raise his hand. It wobbled like wet tofu, flopped sideways, and smacked him in the face.
"Ugh. Even mosquitoes are stronger than me right now."
The village was called Shinwol, somewhere in the Guseong Province. A forgotten speck in the Murim world. No major sects, no martial clans. Barely any spiritual energy in the air.
Perfect.
No one would expect anything from him.And when no one expects anything, you're free to do everything.
"I'll train in silence. Grind while the world sleeps. Then one day… when they look my way, they won't even know what hit them."
He turned his head to the side, staring at the flickering candle his mother had just lit. Its flame danced weakly, like it too was tired from surviving.
"Three years, huh… Just three years of drooling, pretending to be dumb, and occasionally peeing on my dad's lap by accident."
He smirked inwardly.
"I've done worse."
His old life was over.Kim Shin had died bitter, alone, and unsatisfied.
But Han Jiho?
Han Jiho was just getting started.
And somewhere, deep within his soul…
the countdown had already begun.
[End of Chapter 2]