IOC - 2

"Did someone put contacts in my eyes while I was sleeping...?"

I couldn't bring myself to poke my eye, so I just ran my fingers through my hair. My hand kept getting caught in the curls, and I could barely pull it through.

"Ow, that hurts!"

Eventually, I forced my hand out, and the pain of pulling out a few strands of hair brought tears to my eyes. I let my hands drop, eyes still brimming with tears.

I sniffled at the persistent, unfamiliar scent and glanced around. Instead of artificial light, faint sunlight filtered through the windows, coloring the room. It looked less like a restaurant and more like an ancient inn. I couldn't see a cauldron or any modern kitchen equipment. And somehow... it felt very medieval.

I hesitated before finally taking a step. The floorboards groaned irritably, but I tried to ignore the sound as I carefully made my way to the door and pushed it open.

Clack, thud!

The moment the ungreased door opened, a landscape I had never seen before unfolded before my eyes.

"…Huh?"

Lush greenery, grass swaying in the wind, a peaceful pastoral view. It was as radiant as a painting.

But when I turned my head slightly, an entirely different scene came into view. A desolate sandy plain and parched earth stretched endlessly, with a gloomy aura creeping over it. It looked as if two worlds had been unnaturally sewn together.

Strangely, this sight, which should have been terrifying, looked dazzlingly beautiful.

I stood there dazed, lost in the scenery. Seeing two extreme landscapes in one frame made my sense of reality vanish.

For a moment, my heart throbbed quietly. I was lightheaded with a mix of awe, ecstasy, and unexplainable emotions. But as that moment passed, an ominous premonition crawled coldly down my spine.

"…Wait."

It was strange, yet eerily familiar. It was a sight I’d seen somewhere before. Or rather, words that had been buried in my mind suddenly surfaced.

> [Amidst the chaos of monsters and humans, the Primordial Dragon awakened. He and his companions split the world in two and drew a line, and that land came to be known as the 'Border.' And at the heart of that Border, the empire built upon it was named Chevalier.]

The bizarre spectacle before me was explained by that single passage.

Unable to believe this reality, I hurriedly looked around before turning my gaze back to my face in the mirror.

Curly hair covering the eyes, and an apron stained with grease.

Come to think of it, this appearance...

"Wait, isn't this that innkeeper from the novel?"

The "Mob" innkeeper who appeared for exactly one line, only to exit after the protagonist's party finished a meal.

> [Amelia took a sip of the broth and said with satisfaction, "As expected, the soup dishes at this inn are superb." 

> Shion, the innkeeper whose bangs covered his face down to his nose, gave a faint smile at her words.]

I remembered that scene vividly despite him only appearing a handful of times.

Why? Because he had the exact same name as me.

During a weekend transcription job, I had picked up a novel out of sheer boredom. The title was The Saintess Wants a Peaceful Life. It was a fantasy novel with a touch of romance. Normally, I wouldn't have spared such a book a glance, but I reached for it for one reason.

The title, wanting to live in peace. Because there had never been a single moment of peace in my own life.

Of course, the story didn't subvert expectations. The content was typical, and the romance was predictable. However, the world-building was somewhat interesting.

A world where the war between monsters and humans continued endlessly, and the setting where the Primordial Dragon and his party drew a Border to separate the two worlds. But as time passed, the war began to repeat itself.

The novel begins on the eve of a potential war, with frequent disputes occurring on the Border. Amidst that chaos, the story follows the Saintess and the protagonist's party as they bring the war to an end.

Yes. It was an extremely common fantasy trope.

At least, that was how I remembered it.

"…Ha."

When I read "on the Border," I imagined a landscape of desolate ash and a land of death, but the view before me was a magnificent spectacle that split the world.

My legs gave out, and I flopped down onto a nearby chair. The old chair creaked ominously and wobbled.

"…Is this a dream?"

Slap!

"Damn, that actually hurts!"

The stinging pain registered clearly as soon as I slapped my cheek. I gritted my teeth, clutching my slowly swelling cheek. My skin had always been sensitive, and it seemed things were no different here.

The pain and the landscape before me were both real. If so, there was only one conclusion.

"Then, have I really transmigrated?"

As the owner of an inn right in the middle of the Border?

No wonder my vision was clear even though my bangs covered my eyes. I guess this is "literary license." The unspoken rule that characters with long bangs never have their vision obstructed.

…No, that’s not the problem here.

Fleeing from reality made my thoughts wander down strange paths.

Anyway. At this moment, only one conclusion remained.

I have transmigrated into a novel.

But usually, isn't there a cliché like getting hit by a truck or characters from a game I played popping up in reality?

But me? I woke up as a "Mob" innkeeper who disappears after serving a few bowls of rice.

My mind went blank for a second before becoming empty as if in total denial. I leaned back into the chair, exhausted, and the rotting wood creaked unpleasantly like a misaligned bone.

I ignored it and buried my face in my hands.

How am I supposed to get out of here? If the inn in the middle of the Border is this quiet, it must be the eve of the war. Besides, if it's right on the Border, wouldn't it be burned to the ground overnight?

No, more than that, a war?

I haven't even been to the military. I was exempted because I was an orphan, and since leaving the orphanage, I've just been living paycheck to paycheck as a part-timer. Even if I lived in a divided country, there was no reason to experience a battlefield firsthand in the peaceful world of the 21st century.

But now I’m in the middle of a war zone?

I covered my face with both hands. My vision was pitch black, and that darkness felt like my future.

"…I want to go back."

But as soon as those words scattered into the air, only a hopeless emptiness remained.

Right. I knew that I had no idea how to go back.

Maybe it's a very vivid dream or a hallucination? I hesitated to slap my cheek again, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. The previous pain was too vivid. The stinging ache was still persistently reminding me that this place was "real."

In the end, I sat there for a long time with my head bowed. Somewhere deep inside, a struggle to deny reality wriggled.

"No, this must be a bad dream. When I open my eyes, I'll be in my studio apartment, and I'll have to get ready for my part-time job..."

But no matter how much I denied it, the smell of dust and mold and the creaking of the chair did not disappear.

In the moment I was being swallowed by depression, a thought suddenly flashed through my mind.

"Wait a minute... what was my original life like? What was Baek Shion like?"

A total orphan. Not just two, but three part-time jobs just to survive.

I left the facility when I became an adult, but I couldn't even dream of going to college, let alone finding a decent job. I barely held on until twenty-four by working multiple jobs, and I sent a significant portion of the money I earned back to the orphanage. There was no real reason. I just didn't want them to find out I was living a pathetic life without a proper job.

But now?

I was the owner of this old building.

"A building owner... inn revenue..."

My throat felt parched, and I gulped. I scanned the kitchen with eyes mixed with anxiety and desire.

"Maybe... if I run this inn well, I can make a living?"

But before that sweet thought could even ripen, anxiety grabbed me roughly by the scruff of the neck.

What if the war breaks out before that? What if I lose all my customers? It’s in the middle of the Border, what if monsters swarm in?

I was just a commoner who had only drifted through part-time jobs. I had no experience running a business. Working for a paycheck and obsessing over hourly wages was an entirely different beast from being responsible for the books and managing a shop.

But still, maybe here I won't be chased by notices for overdue insurance or gas bills. If the war breaks out a year after the start of the original story, and if this is currently the beginning... then could I just earn a lot of money in one year and then evacuate to a safe place?

Fear and calculation clashed fiercely in my head. And finally, what came out of my mouth was...

"…Being a building owner might not be so bad?"

Calculation won.

After finishing my thoughts, I immediately headed to the kitchen. I never even considered resting. Laziness was a luxury, and there was no such thing as "leisure" in my life.

The moment I entered the kitchen and opened an old cupboard, shriveled garlic tumbled out, followed by half-rotten onions.

Thud, tumble, thud.

"…Is this it?"

Swallowing a bewildered groan, I searched the other shelves thoroughly, but the results were the same. The grain sacks were empty, and the meat was half-rotten just like the onions. I looked deep into the cupboard with a lingering sliver of hope, but eventually gave up and let my head hang low.