EDM 3

The question didn’t linger for long. Less than a week later, news swept through Rigel Academy that Medeio of the Alchemy Department and Dexter of the Healer Department had also achieved remarkable accomplishments.

Huddled in the corner of the emergency staircase, Kafka Sonder lit a Millenka Herbs and delved into his past life’s memories.

According to the information he’d gleaned from reading comments, the original novel’s hero party consisted of five members: Soren, Maria, Medeio, Dexter, and Kafka. Of course, Kafka was an incompetent freeloader who only got into the party because of his friendship with Soren.

However, this part was adapted in the webtoon version, with Aisha, who had awakened as a Swordmaster, replacing the deleted Kafka. In short, there was a reason why Aisha was showing signs of Aura manifestation at this point, and why the other three were starting to show outstanding achievements.

‘I thought this was the world of the novel.’

Maybe it was actually the world of the webtoon.

Kafka exhaled a lungful of Millenka smoke. The white smoke spread thickly, filling his mouth with a bitter taste and aroma. At the same time, the pain that felt like his chest was being slashed with knives slowly faded away.

Rain was pouring from the sky beyond the railing. It was the rainy season, a week earlier than usual. Thanks to that, his newly found hideout had become useless. No matter how hidden it was from Daconeer’s gaze, he couldn’t light a fire and smoke Millenka Herbs in the rain. He could have used waterproof magic, but Kafka didn’t have that level of magical ability.

Everyone was cooped up inside the building due to the continuous rain, and the surroundings were very quiet. Only the faint sound of rain and the eerie sound of wind could be heard. Kafka blankly stared at the cloudy, gray sky.

The hypothesis that this place might be the world of the webtoon, not the original novel, had been established, but his mind remained utterly calm.

Of course, it wasn’t that he had no thoughts at all. He had questions about his own existence. As he said, ‘Kafka Sonder’ was a character who was deleted in the webtoon version. Yet, Aisha was showing signs of awakening, making it highly likely that this was the world of the webtoon, not the novel. Even if he was indifferent to everything, he couldn’t help but think about it at this point.

If this isn’t the world in the novel, then why am I here? Why is a character who shouldn’t exist born and living in this world?

‘A world error, or a foreign substance…’

Was that it? It was a common trope in the fantasy genre. ‘A mistaken existence.’

In such cases, the world usually breaks down due to the variable, and the wrongly born foreign substances move busily to survive, becoming covered in flesh and blood.

But Kafka didn’t want to do that. From the start, he was an incompetent in the original work and a deleted character in the webtoon. He had no ability or anything to fix the world’s distortion. Even now, he had no clear achievements, was dying from Eleanor Syndrome, and was just smoking Millenka Herbs.

And it wasn’t like he had the sociability or personality to gather competent colleagues to fight in his place…

Kafka puffed out smoke through his lips while holding the Millenka.

If a problem arose because he, who shouldn’t exist in the webtoon world, had interfered, it was strictly the world’s fault, not his. Therefore, fixing the distortion was up to God or the world. Kafka had no reason to feel guilty and run around.

‘I don’t know.’

The probability had increased, but it wasn’t yet at the stage where he could be sure that he was in the webtoon. So, there was no need to rack his brains already; he could just watch the situation as it unfolded.

If it turned out to be the novel, he would accept his impending death—and if it was the webtoon, he would just watch Soren and his party save the world and enjoy the freebies.

Kafka scraped the finished Millenka on the heel of his shoe. The butt was crushed, and the embers went out. He put the trash in the Millenka butt pouch he always carried and stretched out his legs. After the effects wore off and the pain subsided, he always felt drained like this.

‘I didn’t need to be reincarnated.’

In his past life, he had faced death thinking that he wanted everything to end as it was, without being reborn or regressing like in fantasy novels or comics.

But by some twist of fate, he had been reincarnated like this. Even with the memories of his past life intact. As if he were someone special.

If he were to become something like a hero in this state, there would be nothing more unfortunate. He just wanted to live quietly and die when the time came. He didn’t want to force himself to work hard with a sick body, and he didn’t want to struggle for anything.

Seeing the light at the end of effort was a story for a select few. It didn’t apply to extras who were just backgrounds or means.

‘Even turning dark after despair is ultimately a story for a select few.’

Most people just get hurt and slowly accept their fate.

That’s exactly what his past life was like. He, who had suffered from illness for a long time and died early, had once thought that he could write his own myth. The tearful story of a child cancer patient who studied on his own in the hospital ward and was accepted into a prestigious university. Or the miraculous story of returning to everyday life after being cured after a long battle with the disease.

But his dreams were thwarted every time in the face of illness. When he was diagnosed with a third recurrence two weeks before the college entrance exam he had prepared so hard for, he realized that he was not the main character of the world.

My life is probably an extra in some medical drama. A background occupying a corner of the ward, or a material to lead the protagonist’s awakening.

He seemed to have lived with that mindset for the last year before his death. Even while lying on the hospital bed and watching webtoons, he thought that these were all stories of other people and would never happen in his life.

But now, suddenly, reincarnation and world errors and all that.

If he were healthy and had abilities, it might be different, but Kafka was always suffering from pain due to Eleanor Syndrome and was unable to gather mana. In terms of martial arts, he could be said to have crippled internal energy. In this situation, he had no desire to live his second life differently.

‘It’s more surprising to see people burning with determination.’

Kafka felt like his strength was slowly returning, so he slowly got up from his seat. As he stretched, the hem of his robe fluttered, and the scent of Millenka Herbs brushed past him. He put his nose to his sleeve for a moment and sniffed the smell that had permeated his clothes.

A bitter and cool smell that was like dried mugwort or mint. It wasn’t as repulsive as cigarette smoke. Of course, fragrance was ultimately a matter of taste, so some people hated it, but what did he care? That was a matter of preference, but this was a matter of survival.

Haa. His shoulders drooped with a sigh. It wasn’t that he had any particular worries; it was just a habit. Now that his break was almost over, he had to prepare for the next class. The thought of facing Professor Daconeer again made him shudder and feel terrible. Pulling the doorknob to exit the emergency staircase, Kafka muttered softly.

“I should just lie down in the ward and say I’m sick…”

His words were cut short as he felt a great impact on his forehead and shoulder. With a groan, his body was pushed back, and he fell pathetically. Thanks to the railing, he didn’t fall down the emergency staircase, but he hit his head hard against the wall, and pain surged through him.

As he clutched his aching head and groaned, he suddenly felt a gaze. Barely regaining his senses, he raised his head and saw a male student standing in the doorway. He was rubbing his forehead with a frustrated expression, probably because he had bumped his forehead while colliding.

“…”

Kafka’s sky-blue eyes met the red eyes of a stranger. Silence flowed between them for a moment. One of them should have said sorry, but the two boys stubbornly kept their mouths shut and just glared at each other.

Since it was a mutual fault, he could apologize first. But he was standing firmly on his two feet, and he had fallen backward and hit his head against the wall, so shouldn’t he apologize first?

Before that, if someone fell in front of you, you should at least offer a hand. But the guy, who looked like he had no manners, was just looking down at Kafka with a frustrated look, as if he was trying to live up to his handsome face.

“Hey, I’m a little dizzy right now.”

“…”

“Don’t just stand there, can you help me up?”

Kafka was the first to speak. The eyes of the rude guy narrowed strangely.

He seemed quite uncomfortable with Kafka’s existence. So, Kafka deliberately sprawled on the floor, giving him a look that said, ‘Clean me up if you want.’ He had a stubborn desire to get help from that rude guy, but his head was really throbbing and dizzy from hitting it back and forth.

But the rude guy was terribly silent. Eventually, two minutes passed in silence.

At this point, he should have gotten up out of embarrassment. Nevertheless, he remained seated, and eventually, the guy took a step into the emergency staircase. Kafka slightly raised his sprawled body, preparing to receive the rude guy’s support.

“…”

But what was this? The rude guy blatantly stepped over Kafka’s legs and started walking down the stairs. Wondering what this was all about, he stared blankly in that direction, and the rude guy’s steps stopped at the landing.