The last thing I remember is the bus.
It was loud. Way too loud. I was crossing the street while looking at my phone, thinking about nothing important. Just another boring day. Then the sound hit me. A horn. Someone shouting.
I looked up.
Too late.
There was a flash of yellow, something huge filling my vision, and then everything went black.
No pain. No spinning. No slow fade.
Just nothing.
When I opened my eyes again, the first thing I noticed was the smell.
Old wood. Dust. Something bitter, like cheap medicine or mold. My head felt heavy, like I had slept for days. I blinked slowly, trying to understand where I was.
A ceiling stared back at me.
White, but old. Cracks ran across it. The paint was peeling in places. A spiderweb hung in the corner, barely moving.
"…This isn't a hospital."
My voice sounded strange. Younger. Lighter.
That alone made my heart jump.
I tried to sit up. My body moved too easily, like it didn't weigh what it should. I felt off balance, like my center was wrong. I looked down at myself.
Thin arms.
Pale skin.
Hands that were smaller than I remembered.
"…What?"
My breathing picked up. I swung my legs off the bed and stood too fast. The room tilted, and I had to grab the bed before I fell.
The floor was wooden. Cold under my feet.
This wasn't my room.
I looked around.
It was small. One bed. One desk. One chair. A cracked window. A few old books stacked neatly on the desk. Against the wall, leaning slightly to the side, was a sword.
A real sword.
"…Okay."
That was bad.
I walked toward the mirror hanging on the wall. My steps felt light, wrong, like I was wearing someone else's body. When I reached the mirror, I froze.
The face staring back at me wasn't mine.
Black hair, long and messy, tied loosely behind the head. Sharp eyes that looked tired even though the face itself was young. Too young.
I raised my hand slowly.
The reflection did the same.
"…I died."
The words came out quiet, almost calm.
I remembered the bus. That part was clear. I remembered the sound, the size of it, the feeling that I couldn't move in time.
There was no way I survived that.
So this wasn't a dream.
I leaned against the wall and took a slow breath. My chest felt tight, but my heart was beating steady. Too steady for someone who just realized they were dead.
"I got hit by a bus…"
I let out a short laugh.
"…And now I'm here."
I'd read stories like this before. Too many of them.
Reincarnation. Isekai. Second chances. New worlds.
I used to joke about it. About truck-kun and bus-kun and dying in stupid ways. I never thought I'd be the joke.
The problem wasn't that I got reincarnated.
The problem was that I'd read too much.
Fantasy worlds. Academy stories. Murim. Dungeons. Systems. Regression. Villains reborn. Side characters dying early.
They were all mixed together in my head.
"I don't know which one this is."
That thought scared me more than dying.
In those stories, knowing the plot meant everything. It meant knowing where danger was. Who to trust. Who would stab you in the back.
Not knowing meant you were blind.
I closed my eyes.
And then the memories hit.
Not slowly.
All at once.
A childhood I didn't live. Cold nights. Hunger. A small town. An orphanage that smelled worse than this room. Kids crying. Adults ignoring them.
This body belonged to Han Seojin.
Seventeen years old.
His parents died when he was young. No one stepped in out of love. A distant relative took him in because there was money involved.
Not much money.
Just enough to make it worth it.
Seojin was weak. Always sick when he was younger. Never good at anything. He trained with a sword sometimes, not because he liked it, but because he was scared of being useless.
I opened my eyes again.
"…So I'm him."
The useless one.
I sat down on the bed and rubbed my face.
"Great."
I checked the room again, slower this time, letting the memories settle.
The desk was old but sturdy. The books were basic. History. Geography. Sword training for beginners. Nothing special.
I picked up one book and skimmed through it.
The world was called Aren.
I'd never heard of it.
That meant this wasn't a famous story I remembered. Or maybe it was, and I just forgot.
I looked at the sword again and picked it up. It was heavier than it looked. Cold in my hands. Real.
"…So this isn't modern."
No phones. No electricity. No cars outside the window.
Fantasy world confirmed.
Before I could think further, something appeared in front of my eyes.
A blue screen.
[Status Window]
I froze.
"…You've got to be kidding me."
I stared at it, waiting for it to fade.
It didn't.
Name: Han Seojin
Age: 17
Strength: 1
Agility: 1
Stamina: 1
Mana: 0
Talent: None
"…That's bad."
Everything was at one. Mana was zero. Talent didn't even say low. It said none.
I scrolled down.
Skills: None
Traits: None
Titles: None
I laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because it felt stupid.
"So I really got nothing."
In every story I'd read, even the weakest characters had something. A bad trait. Weak talent. Hidden potential.
This body had nothing.
I lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling.
"I'm not the main character."
That much was clear.
If this world followed story rules, then people like me were meant to die early. To show how dangerous the world was.
I stood up and opened the window.
Outside was a small town. Stone roads. Wooden buildings. People walking around, talking, arguing, laughing.
No cars. No lights. No wires.
Just life.
It felt real.
A knock came from the door.
I stiffened.
"Seojin. You awake?"
The voice sounded annoyed.
The memories answered for me.
My uncle.
I opened the door.
"What."
He frowned at my tone.
"You owe me rent."
"…Rent?"
"You missed last month. And the one before."
He looked me up and down like I was dirt.
"If you don't pay by the end of the week, get out."
He didn't wait for an answer. He turned and walked away.
The door closed.
I stood there for a while.
"…No money. No power."
I sat back on the bed and stared at the blue screen again.
"No help either."
There was no quest. No tutorial. No voice explaining things.
"…Figures."
I picked up the sword.
The memories said Seojin trained alone sometimes. Late at night. Early mornings. Always scared someone would see him and laugh.
I stepped into the small space beside the bed and raised the sword.
The grip felt awkward but familiar.
I swung.
The blade cut the air.
Again.
And again.
My arms started burning fast. My breathing turned rough. Sweat formed on my forehead.
"…This body really is weak."
I didn't stop right away.
I kept swinging until my hands shook. Until my arms felt numb. Then I dropped the sword and collapsed onto the bed.
My chest hurt. My whole body felt tired.
Then a sound rang out.
[Ding.]
I froze.
A new message appeared.
[Hidden Condition met.]
"…What?"
[Hidden Trait Acquired: Slow Growth]
I stared at the words.
Slow growth. Gains strength through effort. Grows slower than others.
"…That sounds awful."
Then I read the last line.
[Growth has no limit.]
I went quiet.
"…No limit."
That didn't mean I'd be strong tomorrow. Or next week. Or even next year.
It meant something else.
It meant if I didn't give up…
I wouldn't stop growing.
I looked at my shaking hands.
"Alright."
I lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling again.
"If I survive long enough…"
"I might actually make it."
The room was quiet. The town outside kept moving.
And for the first time since waking up in this body, I felt something close to calm.
Not hope.
Just a reason to keep going