I realized I was living a second life in another world on a summer day when I was ten years old.
Having been reincarnated with memories up to the age of twenty from my original world, I was a bit more mature than my peers. Naturally, as I grew older, I carried around a vague sense in the back of my mind that the sensibilities of this world differed somewhat from those of my original one. But it took that long for me to truly grasp that this world was different from the one I'd once known.
It wasn't so much that I was slow on the uptake; the world itself was just built that way, making it take time to notice. Excluding the footage on TV or the personalities of ordinary people, surprisingly many aspects were nearly identical to my original world.
A modern society developed to a level much like the one I'd left behind. There weren't overt fantasy elements like goblins or orcs mingling openly with humans, and the occasional otherworldly races shown on TV seemed no different from "humans in costumes," blending seamlessly with everyday folk. So, it was easy to miss.
Of course, the element that impacted my daily life far more intimately than any fantasy tropes was the stark difference in this world's attitudes toward chastity compared to what I knew.
When a female singer on a variety show ripped her T-shirt to reveal her abs and breasts, my first thought was, She went and caused a live broadcast mishap after all. But that singer continued her TV career nonstop for over a decade afterward.
I later learned it wasn't even live. In fact, the official YouTube channel uploaded it as an old variety show clip. That's when I realized it hadn't been an accident at all—just part of the performance.
Hearing news stories about a woman secretly filming in a men's bathhouse left me thinking there were some real weirdos among female sex offenders. And when kindergarten girls pulled down boys' pants, yelling "Ice ghost!" as a prank, I chalked it up to the local girls being unusually precocious about sex compared to the boys. Even seeing the targeted boy clutch his knees and burst into tears, I figured it was just because he was still a sensitive kid.
Having lived twenty years in old Korea before reincarnating, it was harder than I'd expected to overhaul the deep-seated values ingrained in my brain after less than a decade in this second life.
Above all, the most alien and unbelievable difference—the one that stood out the most—was the existence of this profession called "Hunter," including all the backstory of why it existed and how it came to be.
"The South Korean government today held a ceremony honoring the retirement of Hunter Kang Eun-young from Silver and Jade Corporation, who slew 500 high-ranking monsters. At the event, Ms. Kang declared she would pass her position to her juniors and thereafter devote herself solely to child-rearing..."
When TV news brazenly aired something like that, I half-wondered if I was the star of some Truman Show.
I could dismiss girls being a tad more mature and boys more bashful as regional quirks, cheer on the resilient singer who'd bared her chest as a tough cookie still thriving on airwaves, or blame YouTube's algorithm for shoving half-naked guys flaunting their collarbones into my feed as some perverse corner of the internet. But accepting entirely new concepts like hunters, monsters, and dungeons—ones that shattered my old common sense—took a solid decade.
...To be precise, it wasn't time alone that made me believe; the world forced me into situations where I had no choice but to accept them.
Right up until summer vacation before I turned ten, I still harbored doubts about hunters and such. That all changed with the tragedy that upended my life.
"Kyaaah! Monster! A monster's escaped!!"
"Help! Mommy!!"
"Call the Hunter Guild—now!"
2065. May 5th.
My tenth birthday, strolling with my parents in a children's park in Chuncheon.
"Mom! Dad!"
"Tae-kyung! Run—now!"
"Mooom!! Daad!!"
Some massive thing—neither lizard nor iguana—swallowed my parents whole. I, at ten years old, witnessed it from start to finish, frozen in place.
A nearby retired hunter eventually appeared and dealt with the monster somehow, but by then, my mother and father in this world would never smile at me again.
Back when I was three, I'd needed my whole hand to grasp a few of my father's fingers, the size difference so vast.
...But the few finger segments I recovered amid the chaos no longer felt large at all.
2065. May 5th.
Thus, Sung Tae-kyung, age ten, became an orphan.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Like all victims of monster incidents, I took my parents' sudden death with numb detachment.
More accurately, I had to.
No matter how different this Korea was from my old common sense, a ten-year-old left alone in the world was surely just as vulnerable here.
In a cutthroat place like Seoul, losing focus could mean falling prey to some scheme under the guise of taking in a parentless orphan.
Even in my previous life, I'd heard countless tales of relatives swindling estates and starving the kids left behind, or insurance companies shoving shady clauses at child beneficiaries to claw back cash. Slightly more worldly than my peers, I had a decent grasp on surviving this world.
At the very least, in an internet-driven society, becoming the subject of news articles was an absolute no-go.
Luckily, though my body was ten, my mind might as well have lived twenty years. Factoring in past-life memories minus the trivial ones from early childhood put me roughly there. My knowledge was still just that of a green social newbie, but finding real help in that crisis wasn't too hard.
First off, I flat-out rejected relatives who'd gone quiet until hearing of my parents' death, then came crawling with offers. Even some distant uncle's cousin-by-marriage reached out to "help"—reeking of ulterior motives.
Then there were "monster victim relief" citizen groups offering protection, orphanages declaring they'd take me in, and even a gang of runaway teens who'd somehow heard and tried breaking into my now adult-less home.
Thankfully, this world's police force was one of its best-organized institutions. Most folks eyeing me weirdly got restraining orders, tidying up my social circle. In this world, a ten-year-old boy was treated like a ten-year-old girl back home, so cops handled my protection with extra care.
Once my safety was secured, after frantic research and trudging between the community center and district office, I—despite being just a kid—managed to keep the two-story house and savings my parents left intact.
No greater feat had I achieved in this world up to then, but that was the limit of what I could handle alone. What came next required trustworthy adult intervention.
With the inheritance fully in my name, no one would target it by posing as a guardian anymore. Those who'd aimed for it were already cut off.
Now I needed someone willing to help for free. An interim guardian to handle grown-up tasks.
Someone with ties to me and my parents, with recent steady contact.
Someone who saw me not as a mark, but like family.
Bonus if they were seasoned in monster-victim aftermaths. Among my acquaintances, one person fit every criterion perfectly.
Ding-dong.
Thinking of her, I headed next door to formally request aid. As I rang the bell and entered, instead of my childhood friend Kang Hye-eun, a slightly younger auntie greeted me alone.
"Hello, Hye-eun's Mother."
The retired S-Rank Hunter, Kang Eun-young.
Post-retirement, she'd grown close with our family next door, and with kids the same age, our households got along well.
She'd also supported me materially and emotionally at my parents' funeral, with no suitable guardian around. ...Heck, I might not even be alive without her help.
"T-Tae-kyung...?"
"Long time no see, Hye-eun's Mother."
Her face, meeting mine after so long, brimmed with genuine pity—unlike the shady relatives. It was clear she truly felt for me.
...Confirming that, I knew I'd come to the right person.
"So, how have you been? Eating properly? School...?"
"Getting by. Phones rang off the hook for a while from all over, but it's all sorted now. Should head back to school soon. Sorry for not reaching out sooner."
"No need to apologize—you couldn't have. Still, glad you're okay. You've always been so sensible, even as a kid. You'll pull through strong..."
"Gotta, for Mom and Dad."
"Sniff... So grown-up already at your age..."
My stoic demeanor must've struck Hye-eun's mom as heartbreaking; she grabbed me, wailing how pitiful I was.
...It wasn't that I felt no grief, but I deliberately kept emotions in check. Mourning now wouldn't bring them back anyway.
"Hye-eun's Mother, I actually came with something to ask."
"Yes, yes. What do you need? Hungry? I could whip up food—or pack meals and sides for days. Or living expenses?"
"I'm fine. Not here for that."
"Alright... But say the word if you need anything."
Having lost family to a monster herself, she empathized deeply with my loss, eager to help.
It stirred some guilt, like manipulating her feelings, but a ten-year-old surviving meant leveraging every resource.
"Hye-eun's Mother, could I ask one favor?"
"Ask as many as you like."
"Turns out Mom and Dad had insurance in my name. Went to claim it, but they demanded a guardian—not me. You're the only one I trust. Sorry to trouble you, but could you help?"
"..."
Her face darkened intensely at those words—a secret only I know to this day.