Two months.
It had already been two whole months since Han Jiho had transmigrated into this world.
He was now officially a professional baby.Well-fed, comfortably swaddled, and blessed with daily kisses from a mother who treated him like a treasure and a father who smiled like life had finally done something right for once.
"Honestly, it's weird. I've never had this much love in my entire past life combined. At this rate, my trauma might start healing. Tragic."
Physically, he was growing fast.His cheeks were chubbier, his body stronger, and he was fairly sure he could now throw a mean left hook... if someone placed a mosquito on his fist and shook him.
But most importantly—he was safe.
Winter had begun to creep in.
Not the kind that blanketed the world in snow like a fairy tale, but the biting, gray kind that made old wounds ache and firewood a luxury.
His father, Han Daesik, had started returning home later every day. The herb trade was already difficult, but during the winter months, the mountains grew stingier.
Still, he never let it show on his face.
He entered each evening with a smile, carrying either a small bundle of herbs or, sometimes, nothing at all. But he never came home empty—because every night, he brought laughter.
That evening, Han Jiho lay bundled in warm cloth while the fire crackled gently in their small hearth.
"Daesik," his mother said as she stirred a pot of soup with one hand and rocked Jiho's cradle with the other, "you didn't bring much again today. Are the roots hiding from you now?"
His father laughed, unwrapping a tiny bundle with only two ginseng roots and a few frost-hardened leaves.
"They must've heard I was coming and ran deeper into the snow," he said, dusting off his boots. "Cowards."
"You should take a break tomorrow. You're limping again."
"I'll rest when our boy can walk. Until then, these legs still have work left in them."
"Dad's legs may be injured, but his pride is unbreakable. I'll fix both someday."
Han Jiho looked up at his father, eyes wide.
His mother followed his gaze and smiled. "See? He's already watching you like you're his hero."
Daesik crouched beside the cradle and ruffled his tiny tuft of hair with a calloused finger. "Well, I gotta live up to the role, don't I?"
"Too late, old man. You already won Best Dad award. First in my two lives."
The market visits continued, though they were more frequent than Han Jiho cared for.
Apparently, socializing was a sacred ritual for the village women.
And his mother?
A high priestess of gossip.
Today's mission was the same. Grocery run. Baby parade. Mandatory tea-time with her lifelong friends: Kang Bora and Shin Gaeul.
But instead of being amazed at his cuteness like normal, the women were busy… talking about sects.
"My cousin's husband said the Iron Crane Sect's young master was injured in a duel last week," Kang Bora said, clutching her scarf. "Can you believe it? They're already fighting among themselves."
Shin Gaeul snorted. "Of course they are. Those high clans only care about power. If they're not fighting demons, they're fighting each other. And we're the ones who suffer when things spill into small places like ours."
Han Jiho narrowed his eyes from his mother's arms.
"Iron Crane Sect? High clans? Sounds like the usual suspect list from every wuxia novel I've ever read. Let me guess… they hoard resources, fight over ancient relics, and treat civilians like dirt."
Bora leaned closer. "There's rumors that a major sect heir is going around looking for 'hidden talents' in rural villages. What if they come here?"
Han Soeun raised an eyebrow. "Hidden talents in our village? Unless they want to recruit stubborn goats or Jiho's stare of judgment, I doubt they'll find anything."
"Hey. My stare is god-tier. I'm analyzing your weaknesses right now, woman."
On their way home, the streets had quieted. Snowflakes drifted from the sky like lazy feathers, settling over the muddy roads.
Han Soeun pulled her shawl tighter and kissed Jiho's forehead through the wrap.
"You like the snow, baby?" she whispered softly. "This world may be cold sometimes… but I'll keep you warm. Always."
Jiho blinked.
"This woman. How is she not the main character?"
That night, after dinner and before sleep, Jiho lay in his cradle, bundled like a winter dumpling. His parents sat nearby, eating quietly.
"Daesik," Soeun asked suddenly, "do you ever think about leaving the village?"
He paused, spoon halfway to his mouth. "What do you mean?"
"I mean… it's peaceful here, but there's nothing. No future for Jiho. No school, no teacher, no path. What if one day, he wants to leave?"
Daesik looked at the fire. "Then I'll let him."
Soeun stared at him.
"I didn't leave this village. My father didn't. But if Jiho wants to? I'll carry him on my back to the gates of whatever city he chooses."
"Tears. Actual baby tears. Is this what being loved feels like?"
Soeun smiled and leaned her head against his shoulder.
"I hope he grows strong… not just in body. But in heart. This world is too cruel for weak-hearted people."
Daesik nodded. "Then we'll make sure he's both. Strong enough to survive… soft enough to love."
"You two… you really don't deserve me. You deserve better. So I swear… I'll be better."
That night, while snow piled outside and silence filled the small hut, Han Jiho stared at the roof as he always did.
He had long since stopped believing in heaven.
But tonight, he sent a quiet message there anyway.
"You gave me another shot. I won't waste it. But you better not pull any tragic plot twists later, you hear me? Let them live."
And somewhere deep inside him, that familiar pulse returned.
The countdown.
Two years and ten months remained before the Hyperbolic Time Chamber would open.
But he was already preparing. Already sharpening his mind.Already dreaming of sweat and effort and pain.
Because when the door to that timeless world finally opened…
Han Jiho would walk in weak—And come out unstoppable.
[End of Chapter 4]