Most parents, when their children dream of the future, recommend prestigious professions like doctor or judge.
After all, such careers are universally respected.
At the very least, they’ll suggest a civil servant’s position, stable and well-regarded.
No parent wants to see their child walk a tiring, difficult path.
My case, however, was very different.
“My son, you should be a shaman.”
“What?”
That was what my mother told me, a boy who had lost his father early and was busy looking after his unreliable younger sister.
Our family wasn't destitute, but we weren't wealthy either, so I studied hard with the goal of becoming a doctor, or maybe a scientist or a developer—anything that would earn good money.
I had meticulously planned a future in the sciences. So for my mother to recommend not some liberal arts path, not even music or athletics, but something else entirely… it was on a completely different level.
What would you even call it? Theology?
“Oh, what did you say?”
“You heard me. I’ll say it again. You have to be a shaman.”
“But I don’t want to.”
My answer was firm.
I wasn’t going to be a shaman. Why would she even suggest it?
My mother’s eyebrow twitched at my defiance. Her voice grew stronger.
“You have the qualities of a shaman. All kinds of deities are watching over you. There is no other path for you.”
I was dumbfounded.
The qualities of a shaman. A special talent, she called it.
The sheer absurdity of it left me speechless.
After that, my mother started saying things no mother should say to her son—that I had a unique spiritual constitution, that I was destined to suffer if I didn't accept shamanic possession and walk this path.
What did I say back then?
“Never. I don’t want to.”
“If you don’t, you’ll face a great disaster one day. I’m only saying this because I’m worried about you.”
“If you were worried about me, you’d support the path I want to walk!”
I remember shouting that before storming off and shutting myself in my room.
Frankly, I was resentful. Upset. She couldn't offer a single word of praise for a child who had been planning his life since middle school, yet she could tell him to throw it all away and become a shaman?
Her words only fueled my defiance. I threw myself into my studies.
My mother kept pestering me, forcing religious rituals on me, even teaching me strange lore about myths, magic, and sorcery.
But I didn’t give up. The more she pushed, the angrier I got, and the more I fortified my mind with rational, scientific knowledge.
More than ten years passed. I made it to adulthood, became a working member of society… and then I died.
A car accident.
It was utterly ridiculous.
Was this the disaster my mother had warned me about?
What happened next was even more surprising.
I was alive. Or, to be precise, I had died, and then I was reborn.
I couldn’t believe the afterlife was real. I’d thought everything my mother said was nonsense, but it turned out to be true.
It’s a fool’s truth that you can’t understand something until you’ve experienced it yourself. I learned that lesson bitterly in death.
And what am I doing now?
“This will be included in the class. Everyone, open your textbooks. Continuing from last time, I’ll be teaching you how to draw a magic circle.”
I’m a professor at an academy of magic.
How did my life turn out this way?
A Magic Engineering locomotive arrived at the station, venting plumes of white steam.
Click! Choo-choo!
The hiss of compressed steam and the shriek of interlocking iron echoed refreshingly through the air.
The passengers waiting on the platform boarded one by one. Watching them, I took a deep breath before getting on the train myself.
The crisp air that filled my lungs was invigorating.
The sky was a flawless blue, without a single cloud. The lingering chill of winter’s end held a pleasant freshness.
Not much time remained before the departure of the Magic Engineering locomotive, bound for the Cheonmu Empire.
I raised a hand and brushed it lightly across my face.
Through my gloves, I felt the unfamiliar texture against my skin.
This camouflage mask really holds fast.
It was a necessary precaution. I had to hide my identity.
I boarded the train with a measured stride, careful not to arouse suspicion.
“Ticket, please,” the conductor said as I stepped aboard.
I retrieved the ticket from the pocket of my frock coat and handed it to him.
“Confirmed. Mr. Jin-woo. Have a pleasant trip.”
I gave a slight nod in response to his formal greeting.
Taking the ticket back, I saw my room number: 403.
The third cabin of the fourth compartment. The corridor was long and narrow, barely wide enough for one person, with doors set at intervals along one wall.
This wasn’t called a luxury train for nothing; all the seats were in private rooms.
Room 401.
Room 402.
Room 403.
This is it.
I checked the plaque on the door before opening it and stepping inside.
The moment I entered, I was met with the rich scent of old wood.
The cabin wasn't lavish, but it was well-appointed.
Comfortable-looking seats faced each other, with storage space for luggage overhead and a small bell to summon an attendant.
Not bad at all.
My bag was light, so I simply moved to my seat and sat down.
As befitting a luxury train, the seat was soft and plush.
Outside the window, the vast scenery of the northern mountain range unfolded. Snow capped the towering peaks, making them look like giants in pointed white hats.
Soon, the train would be threading its way through the passes between them.
Now that I’ve come this far, can I finally relax?
My name is Jin-woo.
I was once an ordinary person living in Hanguk.
Of course, that was in my past life. I died in a mysterious car accident.
The place I woke up in was this world.
A world of fantasy, where magic and science coexisted, completely different from Pureun Byeol.
And here, I was enjoying my second life.
I’m on the train to the Empire now. I should be able to rest until I arrive.
The Cheonmu Empire.
It was known as the largest and most powerful nation on the continent. The birthplace of Magic Engineering, a land where magic and machinery flourished in equal measure, home to wizards and their magic towers.
That was my destination.
Looks like the city of Areumnaru is the first major stop.
I pulled an informational pamphlet from a holder next to my seat and scanned its contents.
The train’s final destination was the Imperial capital, but there was no direct route from the border of another country. Not even for a first-class Magic Engineering train, reserved for the wealthy and influential.
Naturally, there were two transfer stations along the way.
Areumnaru was the first, a city that was, in some ways, more famous than the capital itself.
Because it was home to the Magic Academy—the dream of every aspiring wizard.
An academy? What an amazing world.
Decades into my second life, and there were still things I couldn't get used to.
The disconnect from my past life was immense.
But the Academy had nothing to do with me. No need to worry about it.
Bump.
The train gave a slight lurch, shaking me from my thoughts.
I guess we’re about to depart.
Wooooo!
As if on cue, the train’s whistle blew, announcing its departure.
In a minute at most, we would be running through the vast northern mountains.
Will I have this room to myself? That would be a comfortable way to travel.
As if my foolish thought had summoned it, the door to room 403 rattled open.
It wasn't a conductor. The man who entered was well-dressed and in his mid-twenties, tall and handsome in a brown frock coat similar to my own.
No attendant would dress like that, which meant he was the other passenger assigned to this room.
Speak of the devil.
I didn’t know there was another passenger.
So much for a relaxing, solitary trip.
As I sighed inwardly, the man looked at me and offered a greeting.
“Hello.”
Since he spoke first, I gave a slight nod to acknowledge him. I wanted to discourage conversation, so I responded in a way that suggested I wasn't much of a talker.
He didn’t seem to mind my reserved demeanor and took the seat across from me.
Wooooo!
With another long blast of its horn, the train began to move.
The locomotive rattled and shook at first, but the vibrations smoothed out as it picked up speed.
You got what you paid for; its price put it far beyond the reach of the average person, but its speed and comfort were leagues above those of an ordinary steam locomotive.
The scenery outside the clear window began to blur past.
High snowdrifts blanketed the ground, where needle-leafed trees stood stoic against the cold. The sheer white mountains behind them were beautiful enough to command my full attention.
After ten or twenty minutes, however, the novelty wore off.
I picked up the newspaper tucked in beside the pamphlet and unfolded it.
In a world without laptops or smartphones, the only diversions available were books and newspapers.
[Civil War in the Harin Kingdom Concludes]
[Princess’s Faction Victorious]
The headline dominated the front page.
The Harin Kingdom, the very nation where this station was located, had been embroiled in a civil war until recently, recruiting mercenaries from all over.
A black-and-white photograph was embedded in the black-lettered text, showing the victorious Princess’s faction.
“So the civil war in the Harin Kingdom is over.”
The voice came from across the aisle.
I lowered the newspaper just enough to see the man in the opposite seat. He had addressed me directly, so I couldn't very well ignore him.
“Yes. I was wondering when it would end. I’m glad it was quicker than I expected.”
“The Prince’s faction gathered a huge number of mercenaries and troops, yet they still lost. It’s a relief it ended early.”
“But not without its share of damage, I’m sure.”
“True enough. Oh, my apologies, I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Choi Si-woo.”
Choi Si-woo. He had a surname, so he must be a nobleman.
And yet, he showed none of the arrogance typical of the aristocracy.
“My name is Jin-woo. I have no surname.”
No surname.
In other words, I had just announced that I was a commoner.
“Oh. Please, don’t feel uncomfortable. My family is that of the fallen aristocracy.”
“I see.”
A fallen noble. That made sense. An aristocrat in name, but not in practice.
“Where are you headed, Mr. Jin-woo?”
“To Myeong-do, the Imperial capital. I have some business there.”
“Well, if a man like you has business there, it must be something important.”
I smirked at Si-woo’s lighthearted joke and shook my head.
“It’s not for work. Just sightseeing.”
“Sightseeing is a fine reason. I’ve only heard stories, but the Cheonmu Empire’s magical technology is so advanced there must be a great deal to see.”
“And you, Mr. Si-woo? Where are you traveling to?”
“I’m heading to Areumnaru.”
“Areumnaru… that’s where the Academy is. Business there, perhaps?”
“Yes. Well, it’s nothing to brag about, but I’ve been assigned a position as a professor at Cheon-gwan Academy.”
“Whoa.”
My surprise was genuine.
The Empire’s largest magic academy.
A gathering place for all the continent’s prodigies, a crucible where the future leaders of the world were forged.
The students accepted were the most talented of their generation, and the professors who taught them were selected through an equally rigorous process.
The man sitting before me was one of them.
“You seem quite young. Your skills must be outstanding.”
“No, no. The public thinks too highly of me. In truth, I only just scraped by on the exam.”
“I’ve heard of countless others who failed that exam even after ‘scraping by.’ I think you have every right to be proud.”
“Thank you for the kind words. Speaking of the civil war in the Harin Kingdom, have you heard the rumor?”
“What rumor?”
“They say there was one person, a key figure, who led the Princess’s faction to victory.”
“Hmm, a key figure.”
“But surprisingly, they say he wasn't some masterful wizard or a high-ranking knight, but a common wandering mercenary.”
A wandering mercenary who was the deciding factor in a nation’s civil war…
It wasn’t in the papers yet, but the rumor was already spreading by word of mouth?
“Yongbyeong Yeongak. That’s his name.”
“I see,” I replied, my tone carefully neutral.
“You don’t seem very surprised.”
“Haha. I just think it’s probably a false rumor.”
I feigned ignorance, but it was a lie.
I knew the name Yeongak very well.
How could I not?
Because Yeongak was…
The identity I used before Jin-woo.