episode_0001

1. The Daily Life of an Engineering Nerd

Fifteen years had passed since I was reincarnated into another world.

From what I gathered, the civilization here was roughly medieval level—crude log houses, hunting, and farming.

And since there weren’t even newspapers, this rural village had no idea what was happening elsewhere.

*Sniff… Just a bit more…*

I pressed my eye against the long rod I had crafted.

It was a contraption made from a discarded cylindrical iron pipe from the blacksmith and a carved wooden base.

The wood, meticulously polished by my own hands, measured about 75 cm.

I designed it to be braced between my chest and shoulder to absorb recoil.

Meanwhile, with the blacksmith’s help, evenly spaced holes were drilled into the iron pipe—vent holes to prevent overheating or explosion.

At this point, can you guess what I’ve made?

*Hmm…!*

Fifteen years in this world.

Yet, I still remembered the marksmanship I had learned in the military—inhaling deeply, holding my breath, aiming down the crude barrel at the target.

And the moment the fuse fully ignited, a thunderous explosion roared.

**—BOOM—!!**

The iron bullet soared with the loud gunshot.

Propelled by the ignited gunpowder, the projectile struck the scarecrow dead center.

The sheer force obliterated part of the solid wooden scarecrow’s head with a sickening *crack—!*

“Good heavens, son…!”

“Mmm…”

My father’s eyes widened in shock at the primitive matchlock I had built before pulling me into a crushing hug.

“Dad, your beard…!!”

“You little rascal! How on earth did a genius like you come from a blockhead like me?!”

His towering 190 cm frame squeezed me tightly.

His robust muscles, still youthful beneath his clothes, and his bristly, vibrant beard tickled annoyingly.

And while I appreciated the praise…

“This thing won’t do.”

“That bad?”

I delivered my verdict on my first firearm—the **Yoo Min-jae Mk·1**.

First issue: The crude sights made it less accurate than a bow for any skilled user.

Second: Being a matchlock-style weapon where you jammed gunpowder down the barrel and dropped in a bullet, you had to rely on instinct for when it would fire.

Resting the **Yoo Min-jae Mk·1** on my shoulder, I sighed.

“Still, for a first attempt… Not a bad start.”

“Oh, you…!”

Dad ruffled my hair with his massive, calloused hands like they were pot lids.

“I remember when you first said you’d help with hunting.”

“Ugh… It was harder than I thought.”

“Well, our mana’s weak, after all.”

For context, this world was medieval-level but straight out of fantasy—where mana existed alongside monsters.

Because of that, unlike typical medieval times, meritocracy thrived regardless of gender.

Not that I minded seeing pretty ladies around often.

And yeah, I *had* hoped my reincarnation came with some OP mana-boosted trait…

But nope. I inherited Dad’s pathetically weak mana pool instead.

Fighting monsters? Out of the question.

To make things worse, I had zero talent for bows or traditional weapons.

So when I tried hunting with Dad, expecting bows to be easy?

Yeah, I didn’t catch a single thing.

“I thought you’d give up or keep practicing, but who knew you’d make another weapon entirely?”

“I suffered a ton. Maybe I should’ve just practiced archery.”

“Heh, but your bows are damn useful too.”

No matter how much I trained, mastering archery was a nightmare.

So I visited the blacksmith, hoping to craft an easier-to-use bow.

Little did I know it’d awaken my cheat-like reincarnation perk.

*‘Sir, what’s this?’*

*‘Hmm? Just impurities from digging gypsum. Why?’*

White powder, almost like sugar.

The moment I saw it, a status window popped into view.

**[Potassium Nitrate 70% // Gypsum 12% // Impurities 18%]**

Not exactly a full-blown cheat skill—more like **Appraisal** or **Insight**—but still better than being utterly ordinary.

With potassium nitrate in hand, I mixed it with charcoal and sulfur borrowed from the blacksmith to complete **gunpowder**.

My hunting failure?

Aiming issues.

So how to fix accuracy?

**Increase firepower.**

Overwhelm accuracy problems with sheer splash damage.

*‘Dad, I’m bringing down a deer today!’*

And so, I proudly debuted my first weapon: **explosive arrows.**

After countless misfires and failures, I completed them.

Each arrowhead carried a cylindrical gunpowder charge with a trailing fuse that could be lit from the bowstring.

Then, fire.

Admittedly, I *missed* the deer.

But the explosion still ensured a successful hunt.

*‘Hah… Can’t even eat the meat now.’*

*‘Ugh…’*

The deer got blown to smithereens—a painful lesson.

Still, since monsters occasionally appeared, Dad kept a few as emergency weapons.

Even once, when orcs invaded…

Dad—a near-mythical sniper with a bow—used an explosive arrow to **solo kill an orc**.

A giant **B-rank monster**, impervious to normal weapons without mana.

But when Dad’s emergency arrow exploded in its thigh?

The sight of flesh and muscle flying off was unforgettable.

Of course, Dad fully supported my hobby after that.

(But let’s keep that between us.)

“Anyway, keep it from Mom, yeah?”

“Obviously…”

She’d flip out and slap me silly for making dangerous crap again.

Like after seeing the orc riddled with exploding arrows…

*‘You mean my baby was TOYING AROUND with that?!’*

What can I say? Parents will be parents.

I get it. Really, I do.

“But, Cain.”

“Yeah?”

While secretly stashing the gun in a haystack near the house, Dad spoke up.

“Are you really okay with this? Just farming and hunting in some backwater village?”

His usual suggestion.

With my modern knowledge and appraisal-like skill, my weapons held serious potential.

Dad insisted I could carve a place for myself in the imperial capital.

After all, even *he*—with barely any mana—killed an orc using my tech.

He swore my talent could shake the damn world.

But my answer never changed.

“Hell no.”

“You little…”

What was my past life like?

Neither genius nor mediocrity—just stuck in the awkward middle.

I never wowed the world like some prodigy.

Got exploited by professors like a fool.

No political savvy, no talent for crafting profitable gadgets.

**Lesson learned:** Flaunting half-assed talents only invites trouble.

“I’ll just farm and tinker as a hobby.”

I swore never to show off again.

Better to stay a jack-of-all-trades in this village forever.

Or so I thought…

“Sorry for the late visit.”

“Honey, you’re back?”

Three unfamiliar women—excluding Mom—stood inside our house.

Upon seeing Dad and me, the leader bowed politely.

Her snowy-white hair and crimson eyes radiated mystique.

Dressed not in a dress but in a thin leather breastplate and tattered cloak—like an adventurer.

Around my age, too.

“White hair… red eyes… Your Majesty…?!”

In a panic, Dad dropped to one knee, pressing his forehead to the ground.

The flustered woman quickly lifted him up.

“Ah—I-I’m not the Empress! Just a distant relative! A normal imperial citizen!”

*Pfft…!* *“Big sis, you’re hopeless.”*

*“Watch your mouth, Wents.”*

The other two women muttered as if familiar with this routine.

Pink and green-haired, both stood about 175 cm—tall for women—carrying massive weapons.

Mom giggled, ruffling Dad’s hair affectionately.

“They’re adventurers asking to stay the night.”

“You…! You did this on purpose!”

“Did I~?”

Cute couple.

Adventurers meant no ties to the empire or politics, right?

Relieved, I plopped onto a nearby chair—

Unaware the white-haired, red-eyed girl was studying me intently.