Prologue: A Shocking Conclusion
If bad luck were a currency, I would have been the richest man on Earth.
My name was Khun. My life was a comedy of errors written by a sadistic screenwriter. I stepped in puddles that turned out to be sinkholes. I bought stocks the day before market crashes. I once got food poisoning from a health food store.
At age 32, I lived in a rented flat that smelled like damp cardboard and despair. I was single, broke, and tired.
"Just... one percent," I muttered, staring at my phone screen. The battery icon was blinking red, mocking me.
I reached for my charger. It was a cheap, knock-off cable I'd bought from a street vendor because my official one had been chewed through by a stray dog that broke into my apartment specifically to destroy my electronics.
I plugged it into the wall.
ZZZRRRRRT!
A blue arc of electricity, far brighter and angrier than 220 volts had any right to be, shot up my arm. My heart did a weird little tap-dance, then stopped. My vision went white.
Well, I thought, as my consciousness faded into the void. At least I don't have to pay rent tomorrow.
The first thing I noticed was the smell. It didn't smell like damp cardboard anymore. It smelled like lavender, expensive potpourri, and… milk?
I tried to open my eyes. It felt like lifting gym weights with my eyelids. When I finally managed it, the world was blurry and impossibly bright.
"Oh, look, dear! He's awake!"
The voice was booming, like thunder wrapped in velvet. A giant face loomed over me. A woman. She was beautiful, with golden ringlets and eyes like sapphires, but she was terrifyingly large.
"He looks quiet," a male voice rumbled from the other side. "Is he healthy?"
I tried to speak. I wanted to ask, Where am I? Is this the hospital? Did the electric company sue me for dying on their grid?
"Waaaah! Buuu!"
The sound that came out of my mouth was not English. It wasn't even words. It was the pathetic gurgle of an infant.
I froze. I tried to lift my hand to my face. A chubby, pink, marshmallow-like appendage floated into view. It had tiny fingers and no calluses.
No way, I panicked. No. Freaking. Way.
I had read enough web novels in my lonely nights to know what this was. Reincarnation. I had been reset.
Suddenly, a chime rang out. It wasn't a sound from the room; it rang inside my skull.
[Ding!]
A translucent blue window, exactly like an RPG interface, popped into existence, hovering in the air right above my crib. The giant parents didn't seem to notice it.
[Welcome, User.]
[Calculations complete. Converting Past Life Karma...]
I squinted at the text.
[Name: Curious Von Virgo]
[Race: Human]
[Status: Third Son of Duke Virgo]
Duke? I blinked. Noble?
A wave of relief washed over me. I wasn't a peasant. I wasn't a goblin. I was a Duke's son. And not just any son—the third son.
My gamer brain, honed by years of escapism, immediately analyzed the situation. In noble hierarchies, the first son is the heir—too much pressure. The second son is the backup—still too much pressure. The third son? The third son is irrelevant. The third son is the spare of the spare. I could disappear into the background.
[Karma Calculation Complete.]
[Total Good Deed Points (GDP): 100]
100? I mentally scoffed. That's it? Then again, I spent most of my life trying not to die from freak accidents; I didn't exactly have time to save orphans from burning buildings.
[Please allocate your stats to begin your life.]
The screen changed. Five bars appeared, currently empty.
* STR (Strength)
* STA (Stamina)
* MANA (Magic Power)
* INT (Intelligence)
* LUCK (Fate/Fortune)
I stared at the options.
Strength? No. High strength means people expect you to swing swords. Swords imply war. War implies dying. Pass.
Mana? Absolutely not. Mages get thrown into academies and forced to fight demon lords. I want a nap, not a duel.
Intelligence? Being a genius in a medieval setting usually leads to being accused of heresy or being overworked as a prime minister. Overrated.
My eyes drifted to the bottom of the list. LUCK.
My past life flashed before my eyes. The flat tires. The bird droppings that defied physics to hit my forehead. The vending machines that ate my money. The cheap phone charger.
I trembled. I didn't want power. I didn't want glory. I just wanted to walk down the street without a piano falling on my head.
I looked at the LUCK stat.
System, I thought intensely. Pour it in.
I watched the number climb. 10... 20... 30...
Usually, in games like Arcana—which this world suspiciously resembled—a Luck stat of 50 was considered "Blessed by the Gods." It was the cap for legendary heroes, the one-in-a-million chosen ones.
I didn't stop at 50.
I pushed it to 80.
[Warning: Stat imbalance detected. High Luck may result in altered causality.]
Shut up, System. I'm buying insurance.
I had 20 points left. I looked at the remaining stats.
I knew what I wanted to do. At age 15, third sons are usually kicked out or sent to the knighthood. I wasn't going to the knighthood. I was going to the countryside. I wanted to buy a small plot of land, grow vegetables, and sleep until noon. Farming is hard work, though.
I put the remaining 20 points into STA (Stamina).
[Final Build:]
STR: 0
MANA: 0
INT: 0
STA: 20
LUCK: 80
[Confirm?]
Confirm, I thought, visualizing a stamp hitting a document.
[Stats Applied. Welcome to Arcana, Curious Von Virgo.]
The screen vanished.
I let out a sigh of relief, which sounded like a wet burp. Perfect.
Just then, the door to the nursery burst open. A maid rushed in, carrying a tray of boiling hot water and towels.
"Madam! The water for the young master!"
She tripped.
It happened in slow motion. Her foot caught the edge of the rug. The tray flew into the air. The basin of scalding water began its arc, destined to splash directly into my crib.
Here we go again, I thought. Dead at 5 minutes old.
But then, a draft from the open window slammed the heavy oak shutters shut with a bang.
Thump.
The vibration from the shutter slamming caused a heavy portrait of my grandfather on the wall to tilt. The portrait swung down at the exact moment the basin of water flew past it.
Clang!
The heavy wooden frame of the painting swatted the basin out of the air like a baseball bat hitting a home run. The water splashed harmlessly into the fireplace, extinguishing the fire with a hiss, while the metal basin spun across the room and landed perfectly upright on a table.
The maid hit the floor, unharmed. The crib was dry.
My mother gasped. "Oh my goodness! Are you alright?"
I stared at the painting of my grandfather swinging above me.
80 Luck, I thought, a gummy smile spreading across my face. I love this life already.
Being a baby with 80 Luck was a strange experience. I didn't learn to walk; I learned to fall effectively.
At ten months old, I tried to stand up. My legs, having 0 Strength, immediately gave out. I pitched forward, face-first toward the sharp corner of the coffee table.
Goodbye, cruel world, I thought.
Creak.
One of the table legs suddenly snapped from dry rot. The table collapsed into a flat ramp just as my face hit it. I slid down the mahogany surface like a surfer, glided across the polished floor, and came to a gentle stop right in front of a maid holding a bottle of warm milk.
"Oh! The Young Master walked to me!" she squealed.
No, Brenda. I failed gravitationally, and physics apologized.
Five years had passed since I became Curious Virgo.
Being a toddler with the mind of a 32-year-old cynic was boring, but manageable. I quickly learned the rules of House Virgo.
My father, the Duke, was a stern military man.
My eldest brother, Alastor (age 10), was a prodigy swordsman.
My second brother, Lucifer (age 8), was a budding mage genius.
My brothers were intense.
Alastor would practice in the courtyard for hours. "Hah! Hup! HYAH!"
One day, he tried to teach me. "Here, Curious! Hold this wooden dagger!"
I held it. It was too heavy. I dropped it. The dagger hit the ground, bounced off a pebble, flipped into the air, and severed the rope holding up a training dummy. The heavy log dummy crashed down on top of Alastor.
"Amazing!" Alastor wheezed from under the log. "You saw the structural weakness of the rope and struck with precision! As expected of my brother!"
I just wanted to go eat cheese.
Lucifer was no better. "Brother! Feel the mana in the air!"
"I feel gas," I said. "I think the beans were bad."
Lucifer ignored me. "Watch!" He cast a fireball. It roared toward a target.
I sneezed. Achoo!
My head jerked forward. My forehead hit a bucket of water sitting on the bench. The bucket tipped over, splashing onto a loose floorboard, which acted like a seesaw, launching a wet mop into the air. The mop intercepted the fireball, extinguishing it instantly.
Lucifer gasped. "Water manipulation without chanting? You countered my spell with a cleaning implement? Genius!"
I hate this family.
And then there was me. The potato of the family.
Because I had put zero points into Intelligence, I wasn't a child genius. I learned to talk and walk at a completely average speed. Because I had zero Strength, I couldn't lift a wooden sword. Because I had zero Mana, I couldn't light a candle with magic.
My father looked at me during the status appraisal ceremony when I turned five. The crystal ball glowed a dull, boring grey.
"Mana capacity... negligible," the Royal Appraiser said, adjusting his spectacles. "Physical potential... below average."
The Appraiser paused. "He got a skill too. Appraising skill like mine, but lower rank."
"Use it, son," my father commanded. "Appraise me."
I sighed and looked at my terrifying, stoic father.
Activate Skill.
[Ding!]
[Target: Duke Virgo]
[Status: Constipated.]
[Secret Wish: Wants to pet a fluffy cat but is too afraid it will scratch him.]
I stared at the text. I looked at my father's stern, iron face.
"Well?" Father grunted. "What do you see? My immense mana? My aura of command?"
"I see..." I hesitated. "I see that you are... burdened by heavy things inside you, Father. And that you have a soft heart."
Father's lip quivered. He placed a hand on my shoulder, mistaking my diagnosis of his bowel movements for emotional depth. "My son... you see right through me."
"Indeed," the Appraiser noted, coughing awkwardly. "He will make a... robust priest or something."
I had to bite my cheek to keep from grinning. Yes! Lower your expectations! Lower them into the ground!
"Curious," my father said, looking down at me. "It seems the path of the sword and the staff are not for you."
"That is okay, Father!" I chirped, using my best innocent-child voice. "I like dirt! I want to grow food!"
My father looked pained. A Duke's son wanting to be a farmer was embarrassing, but better than being a failed knight. "Very well. We shall see when you are older."
I walked out of the hall, trying not to skip. It was working. The path to the countryside was opening up.
I walked through the garden, enjoying the sunlight. I needed to build up my stamina, so I started doing little laps around the fountain.
Suddenly, I saw something shiny in the fertilizer bag near the rosebushes.
I crouched down and dug it out. It was a ring. Old, rusty, and covered in grime.
[Ding!]
[Item Found: Ring of the Forgotten Dark Sage]
[Rank: Legendary]
[Effect: Grants the wearer use dark magic skills without needing Mana. (Requires 0 Mana base to activate)]
I stared at the ring. Then I stared at the blue screen.
Requires 0 Mana base to activate?
That was an absurd condition. Nobody had 0 Mana. Even peasants had 1 or 2. Only someone who deliberately ignored the stat screen—or was cursed—would have zero.
Which meant this legendary artifact was useless trash to 99.9% of the world. But for me? It was a battery.
I looked around. Nobody was watching.
If I wear this, people will sense dark mana. They'll try to make me a Great Sage or either kill me for having Dark magic. They'll send me to the Academy.
I shuddered at the thought of homework and exams.
I looked at the legendary ring, capable of changing the fate of mine.
I threw it into the koi pond.
Ploop.
"Be free," I whispered. "I don't need your drama."
I resumed my jog. I had a peaceful life to secure, and accidental power-ups were just obstacles in my path.
Interlude: The Shadow over Arcana
Kevius Von Svoboda wiped the sweat from his brow, happy with his decision to discard a national treasure. He sat on a bench, dreaming of the type of fence he would build around his future farm.
He did not know the truth.
He knew this world had stats, but he had forgotten the specifics of the lore. He thought Arcana was just a generic setting.
He didn't remember the intro cinematic.
He didn't know that in exactly twenty years, the "Demon King of Rot" would awaken.
He didn't know that the Arcana game was famous for its "Bad Endings," where the villains always won and the end is World End.
Curious smiled at a butterfly, blissfully unaware that he had just doomed the world in favor of a quiet life.
But then again... with 80 Luck, maybe the Demon King would trip on a banana peel and die or maybe he alone will survive the World End. For Curious, the end of the World was a problem for later. Right now, it was nap time.