Cardboard Houses Do Not Tear

1 – About reminding myself that cafe mocha and newspaper made my life worse*

In the second wagon I rode in my life, it rattled badly.

He handed me a piece of paper. It was a slave contract.

The lantern on the wagon swayed here and there, but it was enough for me to read the text of the contract.

-Reminder that whoever bought this slave also has the right to free the slave.

After reading the last line, I looked up.

“What is your name?”

He asked.

“Kim Pyeong-joo.”

“It is difficult. Anyway, have you read the contract?”

As he nodded, the mercenary leader, who told him to call himself Hwaran, shook the contract.

“It’s a ritual, but I’ll tell you. Five years.”

“Yes?”

“What is it? Don’t you know how slave mercenaries work?”

Hwaran looked at me with strange eyes.

“Ah, I don’t know because he’s from the East. Then I will explain.”

I quickly shook my head.

Right to free slaves, ceremonial provisions, 5 years, how to roll slave mercenaries.

‘The effective carrot when hiring graduate students is free. Then, which carrot is valid for a slave mercenary?’

That’s also sad, but free. All slaves are like that.

“I understood that if I survived the five years, they would release me. However…”

“I’m not stupid at all. However?”

“Isn’t that the only one you chose because you wanted to get a slave to use for 5 years, not a slave to use it once?”

“Hmm.”

Hearing that, Hwar An only touched the tip of his chin, but he didn’t say anything.

It was as if he was watching what he was talking about.

That’s why I made fun of him as he came to mind.

“When I looked around objectively, I was the tallest among them. Maybe if I hadn’t been fooling around, it would have been sold for a higher price.”

Now, in this situation, I had to raise my value, and the right way to raise my value is to become a recruit with the correct answer rather than an idiot who misunderstood.

“Among the slaves displayed with me, there were other ordinary friends besides me, but I was the only one in the wagon. If Hwar’an-“

“Just say Hwaran. What a nickname rudely.”

“…If Huar’an had pursued quantity rather than quality, this wagon would have been full of friends who had accepted the day they were going to die, but since I’m the only one there, I’m sure he needs a slave to work for a few years, maybe close to five years.”

“Why did you think that way, and why did you say it so confidently?”

“Isn’t the result of wanting one grain rather than ten chaff right in front of you?”

“Huh, then you were sold for 3 silver because of the quality?”

“Hwaran’s eyes must have the discernment to distinguish between idiots selling good goods at trash prices. In the first place, if I had been a chaff that could be sold for 3 silver, wouldn’t you have even bought it?”

“That sounds interesting.”

“Think of it as a small wit.”

It’s very strange to say that you think of me as a commodity, but now it’s time to get to the point in order to treat you better.

“That’s why I dare to ask. What will Hwaran make me do to keep me occupied for five years?”

I don’t know if I’m the elite of the minority, but it’s true that I’m a minority’s slave, and even though I’m a recruit, I’m an idiot.

Won’t you at least teach me something to pamper me?

Hwaran made a funny face.

sh*t, sh*t.

Then, she answered while tying the sports cut with her clumsy hands.

“I will answer the question first. Completing my earning survival training course is the first thing you should do when you go. Of course, after a certain period of time, you can also play on the battlefield.”

Is there a training center in Nonsan in the Middle Ages?

“A training course?”

“It must be really f*cking hard, but since I’m teaching myself, I’ll at least lower the chances of you getting f*cked. How much?”

Hwar An, who spread his fingers about an inch, said with a smile.

“I am teaching you myself, so please accept it with gratitude.”

“…Good. Thank you.”

“It is not good, but it has to be good unconditionally.”

The mercenary leader teaches directly.

Still, I thought that I would be treated as a slave for the rest of my life and oxidized with arrow shaft extra 1, but I also thought that there would be a hole through which the sky would explode.

“By the way, there has never been a case where I became a free man after 5 years in my mercenary corps while eating kalbap for over 30 years.”

Until I heard the TMI spit out by Huaruan as a bonus.

“Yes?”

“In fact, even under such conditions, there are many bastards who were dragged into slavery and killed themselves in despair at the thought of dying after only cutting their swords for the rest of their lives, or they died while splashing, so the guild level just hung up.”

Hwaran laughed and slapped me hard on the shoulder.

“But don’t worry. After 5 years, I will definitely return you as a free person. I’ll promise you that in my name.”

I think it means to do well, but no matter how much I think about it, it seems to mean that I’m going to screw up. f*ck.

“Okay then.”

Putting his back on his seat, he roared loudly.

“Come on! You became a slave mercenary from now on!! And you are not human until you become a free person 5 years later!! Got it?”

The fact that I’m not a person wasn’t a big shock because I’d already gotten used to it during the two years of my master’s course, but it wasn’t a bit much to endure for five years doing something that is highly likely to be followed.

“Yes…”

Hearing my creeping voice, his expression turned bloody like that of a tiger.

“Baby…”

With an expression that looked like it was going to be kicked at any moment, I reflexively gave an answer.

“Evil!!!”

“That’s right.”

Only then, as if satisfied, Hwaran relaxed his expression and opened his mouth again.

“You are naturally big, but you are all water, so you have no muscles. I can still say yes.”

I heard a strange name.

“However, if you endure this Hwaruan training course, you will be reborn as a decent northern mercenary.”

“How are you?”

“Okay? You said it was a less assembled one.”

No, why is the pronunciation like that?

Hwaran repeated himself as if chewing on it several times.

“Ahhhhh… , ah-sse-i…. That’s a catchy name. It sounds like a recruit’s name or something. Now I’ll call you ass. It’s hard to say your name.”

I was forced to change my name because it was difficult to call someone by name.

That also has a strange name.

“Okay? Keep your answers short and bold.”

“Evil!!”

***

It was one day in the first year, not long after he was sold to the Hwaruan Mercenary Corps.

“Uguk. Waist.”

As usual in my few days in the Hebrides, I woke up early in the morning and went out to clean the front yard, pounding my back.

“A newspaper~”

Took.

“What? Did I see something wrong? A newspaper?”

I rubbed my eyes at the delivery man’s misplaced Hebrides, and as I unfolded it, I knew I was f*cked.

This wasn’t medieval England on Earth. It was this world

First of all, in the Middle Ages on Earth, there was no newspaper, more precisely a ‘regular printed newspaper’.

Since the printed daily is a product that reveals the historicity of the modern industrial revolution era, it did not exist before that era. I don’t know if it’s a form that people transcribe individually.

So I came to the conclusion that this is not the Middle Ages I know.

Dr. Who God, I thought I was traveling through time until now.

That’s also the case, the short-tongued slave who first told me the name of this land kept saying ‘Brity, Brity’, so I thought he said Britain wrong, and I thought Silver meant silver coins.

Who the hell woke up and suddenly got stuck in a place lined with only medieval costumes, and the first thing they would think was a different world.

Not only this. Another prime example to support my hypothesis is the headline on the front page of the Hebrides Daily.

[Lady of the Hebrides of the Year is the wife of the lord, guardian of our property, and she likes Café Mocha from a cafe in Colchen down south!]

From noble mtl dot com

Oh my God. Look at the words in the title of the article.

Like lord, an ancient word used in the Middle Ages, meaning ‘a person who protects one’s bread or property,’ the etymology of ‘lady, a person who kneads bread,’ was used without changing a single word.

Of course the words lord and lady can be anywhere.

However, it is a different matter that it is used with the same meaning in another world.

Historicity is not only contained in objects and institutions, but also in language.

But, strangely enough, it is used as a synonym for the existing meaning in this world? In a completely different world?

Well, it can be done with a hundred concessions. Maybe I overreacted too much.

Perhaps even in the Middle Ages, newspapers such as the Daily might have existed, so you might think you’ve found a paper to write on when you go back.

However, the element that causes the greatest confusion is ‘cafe mocha’.

Damn’s Café Mocha. A warm one costs 4,500 won and a cool one costs 5,000 won.

To the extent that when I see that word, I read it again and think, ‘Why is this here?’.

However, other beverages with the same name simply by coincidence, the description of Cafe Mocha in the newspaper is exactly the same as the one seen on Earth.

By the way, the most important fact. First of all, that is Variation Coffee.

It means that I have to have an espresso shot that I f*cking made while working at a cafe for over 5 years, and that I have to have an espresso machine that will maintain high temperature and high pressure.

And that machine didn’t come out until the 20th century.

Now, when I say that something is being made in a place completely different from the world I used to live in.

What if it had exactly the same definition, description, and usage as everything I knew?

“Pakuri, or copy paste.”

Of course, I muttered to myself as there was no one to answer me.

And so there is a sad conjecture, as indicated by the foregoing.

The world I am in is a world created by inserting only settings and elements that are outrageous on Earth.

In other words, this ‘other world’ does not follow the history of the earth as it is. It means that the time axis is twisted.

This is because the genre of this goddamn world is not a substitute, so it is difficult to find the probability of anything that pops up in the future.

At the same time, since words have similar meanings and clothes are the same as Earth, my knowledge could be useful somewhere in this world.

As a bonus, you don’t have to be a bird who humbly walks the path of the 26th Lion Heart King Richard I and drinks pagan blood.

However, with my guesses about where I am now, a glimmer of hope has arisen.

I wonder if there is some kind of connection with the earth, and if so, won’t there be some unreasonable way to accept it? A small hope.

But I sat down on the spot.

Just because I guess my worldview doesn’t mean I don’t have to sweep the broom right now,

It’s not like the nightmares I have every night are going away.

Because the thesis to be submitted back to Earth will not be submitted as a revised version on its own.

In the end, only the metaphysical chews who send a graduate student to this world and roll to the world, so what I can do is to escape this world.

So I only wish for one thing. No, one is too few, so only two.

First of all, I just hope that the creator, who is so expedient as to include Cafe Mocha, has implemented a convenient way to escape from this world.

The second…

“Please don’t put Cthulhu sh*t like that.”

It’s not just three damn nice letters.

Never.