episode_0003

3. Five Years Later

Five years had passed since Liriana left.

Now I was a proper 20-year-old, living a modest life tending crops, unlike my hunter father.

Of course, it was just a small plot—barely more than a garden—but I found it fun and fulfilling.

It wasn’t exactly a money-making farm.

I’d started it to grow lettuce, potatoes, and the like just for my family to eat.

And yet, I was somehow considered the wealthiest person in this rural village.

“Hey, Cain.”

“Uncle? Did something break again?”

A man approached me with a cheerful greeting as I worked the fields.

He was the blacksmith who used to sell me potassium nitrate, other ores… or materials for research.

A bald head that gleamed under the sun and a massive frame—the blacksmith uncle.

I, too, had grown tall, nearly reaching 190 cm, just like my father.

Our eyes met at the same height as we talked.

Leaning against the fence, the blacksmith uncle finally spoke.

“Remember those heat bulbs you made last time? They’re sold out.”

“…Ugh.”

I scowled and looked at him.

Heat bulbs.

My invention.

Red wyvern scales that emitted intense heat when infused with mana.

They were supposed to be used for weapon crafting, but I experimented with them instead—

I stretched the scales thin and long, like filaments inside a bulb.

Of course, the glass kept exploding at first…

But I didn’t give up. I reshaped heat-resistant steel into bulb shells, poking holes to let the heat escape.

The result? Success.

Though the wyvern-scale filament nearly caused a disaster when it turned out too thick.

After repeated experiments, I finally found the right size and perfected it.

A bulb-shaped heater that would run for hours on a bit of mana.

*‘Why not sell this?’*

Even with a fireplace, the winters were unbearably cold.

If the fire died overnight, you might freeze to death by morning.

So when the blacksmith uncle saw my heat bulb, he made a suggestion.

He supplied the materials and shaped the steel casings.

I only agreed thinking it’d be pocket money, but…

*‘Where did all this money even come from?!’*

*‘Good grief…’*

I thought it’d just stay local, but he took them to nearby cities.

Thanks to that, my parents and I became the richest family in the village, and my mother finally approved of my research.

Now, back to the present—with the blacksmith uncle staring at me, vexed.

He shrugged helplessly before speaking.

“What can I do? Even the capital doesn’t have anything this revolutionary. But hey, thanks to you, no one’s freezing to death.”

“Sigh… I was thinking about making the opposite version. Guess I won’t have time now.”

“Opposite? You mean a cooling bulb?”

“Yeah, summers here are scorching and humid.”

He rubbed his shaved head, calculating potential profits against the current heat bulb earnings.

Then he grabbed my dirt-covered hands—

“Three! Just make three, that’s enough!”

“That’s *it*?”

“Eh, winter’s almost over anyway! So… what materials do you need for your new project?”

Just as planned.

The uncle grinned, already scheming the next venture.

I envied how sharp his mind was.

As we wrapped up, he suddenly mentioned—

“Oh, heard the news?”

“What news?”

“Big war broke out recently.”

Had something to do with those Oyeongje bastards…

The uncle shared rumors from the city.

“The old emperor died, and a kid took the throne. But when they tried to use him as a puppet, loyalists and heroes revolted—triggered a civil war.”

“But we’re far from the capital. Isn’t this old news?”

“Hah… probably a year old by now. But hey, no chaos means it’s handled, right?”

Shrugging, the uncle left, eyes sparkling with dreams of his next bestseller.

*“No greed in that man…”*

He wasn’t greedy.

A lifelong bachelor who’d inherited the smithy, he loved selling and growing his trade like it was a game.

Profits were split 80-20 in my favor, too.

(Though material costs came out of his cut.)

*“Mmm… should I head in?”*

Work waited, and as the family provider, I stretched and headed to the barn.

My father, still spry, hunted for fun now that I made steady money—

Though he always demanded first dibs on trying my new weapons.

Even my skeptical mother softened after seeing foldable chairs and heat bulbs.

Research as a hobby, farming for relaxation—

A peaceful, happy life.

I wouldn’t mind living like this forever.

*“I’m twenty now.”*

Once winter passed, I’d be an adult.

Sometimes, I wondered how Liriana was doing…

Eh, she’s probably fine.

*“Alright, back to work—!!”*

I trudged into the barn-turned-workshop, clearing my head.

Two months later.

Past snowfall, now just lingering winter chills.

Thanks to the heat bulbs, my family slept under thin blankets, in clothes too light for winter.

Peaceful sleep—

Shattered by violent knocking.

*“Ugh… Who’s here at this hour?”*

*“We shouldn’t have visitors in winter.”*

The lingering cold made it easy to mistake the season.

Only fools would wander outside in this.

(Like the blacksmith uncle, grinning as he peddled in the snow.)

Half-asleep, my family shuffled to the door.

“Who is it?”

“Apologies for the early hour.”

A deep, steady voice—unshaken by the cold.

Their politeness made me open the door…

“…Soldiers?”

“Yes. We’re here for conscription.”

Conscription? What nonsense—?

The village erupted into chaos.

Was it because this world’s mana made gender or status irrelevant?

Not just young men—women, too, were being hauled out by soldiers.

The soldier before me clenched his eyes shut, as if ashamed, before robotically announcing:

“20 years old, male, Cain. Is that you?”

“…Yes.”

“You are drafted under House Grace, to serve in the Frontier Empire’s civil war as… an honorable… soldier.”

He grimaced at the forced ‘honor,’ then jerked his chin at subordinates waiting behind him.

“Take—!!”

Just like that, I was dragged into the army under my parents’ stunned gazes.

Goddammit, I enlisted in Korea, and now I’m drafted here too?!

Goodbye, my peaceful life.

――――――――――――――――――――

A room adorned with glimmering gold and priceless art.

A stunning short-haired woman with deep blue hair lounged in an elegant chair.

Petite at 155 cm, with a cool air—and faint dark circles under her eyes.

Erica, eldest daughter and head of House Grace—

The one who’d ordered the conscription in her domain.

She intently studied the heat bulb in her hand.

*“How… did they think of this?”*

Noble ladies usually fit a certain image—

Long hair, lavish dresses, heads full of flowers.

But Erica was… different. Very different.

A political prodigy, she’d taken control of House Grace by 20.

Skilled in strategy, efficiency, and handling people—hence the practicality of short hair.

A predator born to rule.

And like one, she was obsessed with talent.

*“Why… limit wyvern scales to weapons? How did they stabilize mana-conducting filaments? The precision—not too volatile, not too weak…”*

Lately, she’d fixated on the heat bulb.

A miraculous invention from the backwoods of her territory.

Dangerous materials, yet flawlessly contained.

See? If it overheats, it cuts mana automatically.

She *burned* to meet its creator.

“Sis, got the info.”

A blue-haired woman entered—

Vivian, Erica’s sister and House Grace’s quartermaster.

She rattled off draft reports, but Erica raised a hand, cutting her off.

“Vivian. The creator—where are they?”

“Uh… with the forced conscription, some fled, records are messy…”

Vivian clutched her head—

The draft had sparked backlash, after all.

But ever-capable, she found a lead.

“Got the name, though. Rural blacksmith near Alzaha’s outskirts and…”

“And?”

“A newly drafted 20-year-old—Kane? Cain? Pronunciation’s fuzzy. Anyway, him.”

Erica’s lips curled into a smile.

Then, sweetly—yet eerily—she asked:

“Vivian… Which unit is he in?”

Like a lioness eyeing prey.