What is life?
What is life, really?
Life is like a boiled egg. Life is a boiled egg.
What does that even mean?
It means that no matter how hard you try, it's all ultimately meaningless.
Like me—despite all my effort, I ended up dropped into a game world.
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First, let me put my hand on my heart and confess honestly.
I used an editor to manipulate my save file.
But hear me out.
I feel no shame whatsoever about using an editor in this game.
First, this game—whose name I don't even remember anymore—is a single-player game. In other words, no one was harmed by whatever I did to the save file.
Second, you might ask: "Shouldn't a true gamer enjoy the game in its purest form?"
And yes, that's a fair point.
If you truly love a game, then using an editor—which kills the sense of accomplishment—is probably something to avoid.
But let me explain. I was in my late twenties—too busy and too exhausted to enjoy my favorite hobby, gaming, the way I wanted. So, I made a compromise with reality: I would only use the editor to set up the conditions I wanted at the start.
That's right. I used the editor up until the point where I could change my class to what made me buy the game in the first place: the "Priest of Corruption."
This game—whose name I still can't remember—was marketed with the motto "Infinite Freedom," and it truly was a free world filled with countless job classes.
As always, I casually kept up with game news and stumbled upon this one class that instantly captivated me: the Priest of Corruption.
The Cult of Corruption.
Just the name makes it sound like a public enemy of the world, doesn't it?
If the Cult of Corruption had been a benevolent force, it probably would've been called the "Cult of Fermentation" or something. Ah, now I want to tear some kimchi by hand and eat it.
Anyway.
In the game, the Cult of Corruption had already been wiped out.
The player had to trace their remnants, endure grueling trials, and gather rare materials to finally become a Priest of Corruption. After that, the goal was to find 13 holy relics scattered across the world.
That's all I knew about the Priest of Corruption. I didn't read further because I didn't want spoilers.
The general opinion on playing the class was simple:
Extremely difficult to unlock. Extremely difficult to play. Terrible performance.
That one line got my heart racing.
Terrible performance? That meant most players avoided it.
I always enjoyed playing underdog classes in games.
Some might call that a pointless hipster tendency, but I can't help it—my heart races when I see a trash-tier class. I was just born this way.
So, I immediately bought the game and used a save editor I found online to give my character all the materials required for the class change. I also teleported my character to the class-change location.
That's one of the decisions I deeply regret to this day.
Why didn't I go further with the convenience?
I could've maxed out all my stats, stuffed my pockets with money, or just turned on god mode!
If I had known I'd actually fall into the game, I would've made a completely overpowered character.
With all the materials ready, I mindlessly hit enter through the class-change quest.
As each item vanished one by one, the quest progressed rapidly.
And the moment I hit "Yes" on the final class-change step—
I fell into the game.
As a "Priest of Corruption."
From the pocket on my chest, a shriveled hand twitched.
Then, one word formed in my mind and flowed in:
"Kill!"
"Kill! Kill!"
Yes, that voice shouting like a washed-up death metal singer is none other than my deity—the Mother of Corruption.
In fact, that's a major step up.
She could only start speaking to me after absorbing the divine power of the first relic.
Before I stole that first relic, she couldn't even say a word to me.
She just made that dried-up hand twitch as hard as she could to get her message across.
Of course, none of it was ever anything important.
Let me know if you'd like a more dramatic or novel-style version, or want to keep translating the rest!
Five years.
That's how long it took me to steal the first of the thirteen relics.
Five years ago, when I first woke up in this game world, all I had were the priest robes of the Cult of Corruption—and a single withered hand squirming on my chest.
This "Hand of the Mother of Corruption" was originally supposed to vanish the moment I completed my class change, as it was the final item needed for the transformation. But for some reason, it didn't disappear. Instead, it remained there on my chest, twitching, acting like a kind of radio that connected me to the "Mother of Corruption."
The overwhelming presence I felt through that hand made it surprisingly easy to accept the reality—I had really fallen into the world of the game.
And this body, that of a Corruption Priest, was almost perfectly suited for someone from the modern world trying to survive in a fantasy realm.
According to the game's lore, a Corruption Priest is a chemically-enhanced human, modified through drugs.
As a cult despised by the world, the Cult of Corruption prided itself on being a small but elite force, and most of the class-change quests involved collecting rare ingredients needed for body modification.
If I had to name just one major advantage of this body, it's this: I can't be killed by attacks that don't carry "divine" power.
That's why, even though those rangers blew my head off earlier, I'm still alive.
Enhanced physical abilities. Sharpened senses. A body that can't be killed unless touched by divinity.
It really does feel like this body was designed for someone from modern Earth to survive in a fantasy world.
But now that I'm actually living in this modified body, I've realized it comes with some serious drawbacks.
Something in my brain must've gone wrong. While my senses are sharp, my emotional responses seem… dulled.
I used to be squeamish around blood, but now? No matter how gruesome the sight, it doesn't faze me at all.
Well, that might actually be a plus.
The real problem is that I can no longer taste anything.
I've lost my sense of taste.
At first, it didn't bother me. But as time went on, it became a bigger and bigger loss.
I want to eat something delicious. Truly, desperately. I want to wrap crispy grilled pork belly in kimchi and devour it! I want to eat fried kimchi rice! I want black bean noodles and sweet-and-sour pork!
"Kill!"
The Mother of Corruption's voice pulled me out of my thoughts.
"You don't have to rush me so much, Mother of Corruption."
I trudged forward through the snow. The thick layers tried to weigh me down, but my steel-like body pushed through them with ease.
"Kill!"
"No matter how much you whine, I'm not going to look for the next relic just yet. I need to stay off the radar until this whole mess dies down. I need time to lay low, Mother."
"He who speaks with two tongues must have two fathers," or so the saying goes.
I used an editor once, and now somehow I've ended up with two moms.
Still, the "Mother of Corruption" was the only one in this world I could trust completely.
After all, I was the sole priest of a goddess hated by all.
So even though her voice whined in my ear every day, I didn't really hate it.
As the sun set, a suffocating darkness blanketed the forest.
Luckily, as an enhanced human, I could see just fine with even the faintest light. My tireless legs carried me onward.
The biting cold wind slashed at my face.
I could endure the cold, but I couldn't stop the thoughts from swirling in my head.
Maybe I should've chosen a class that ends in -er, just like the Mother always said.
Warrior. Sorcerer. Shaman. Those kinds of classes.
If I'd picked one of those, maybe I wouldn't have ended up getting my head blown off in a snowy field.
The wind howled, and snow began to whip through the air.
A blizzard.
Even for an enhanced human, there were limits. I scanned my surroundings quickly, looking for a place to take shelter until the storm passed.
In the distance, I spotted a dark cave.
I trudged toward it, pushing through snow that had piled up to my thighs.
As I stepped inside the cave, a pair of eyes glared at me.
It was a bear the size of a house.
"Kill!"
"I'm not going to fight it, Mother of Corruption."
Under the bear's wary gaze, I sat down at the mouth of the cave.
It wouldn't attack me unless provoked.
In the game, most monsters and animals were neutral toward Corruption Priests.
As long as I didn't strike first, they usually wouldn't attack.
Based on my real-life experience in this body, animals and monsters seemed to sense the foul aura I carried—something intelligent beings couldn't detect.
As a result, nearly all of them instinctively avoided me, with only a few exceptions.
Under the bear's watchful eyes, I closed mine and sank into my thoughts.
A stripped-down version of my status window slowly appeared in my mind.
Let me know if you want the status window translated too, or if you want to keep going with the story!
[Divinity: 1623]
All the other stats that should've been there were gone. The only thing left in my status window was Divinity.
For a Corruption Priest, that stat functioned kind of like skill points.
The exchange rate was simple:
Pay 10,000 Divinity, and you gain one Authority.
Like a vending machine—insert Divinity, and out pops an Authority.
It sounded ridiculous, but thanks to that vending-machine-like system, I'd recently succeeded in absorbing the full Divinity from one relic and awakening an Authority.
An Authority so dangerous that using it openly would instantly draw the wrath and pursuit of every major religious order.
As I leaned against the cold stone wall of the cave, a wave of loneliness crept in.
Why this kind of suffering, of all things? Falling into a game world like this?
"Kill!"
"I'm not sulking, Mother of Corruption. You can rest easy."
I clutched the shriveled hand tucked in my robes.
Still, it was some comfort—knowing I wasn't entirely alone. Holding that withered hand always brought me a small sense of calm.
Right. If I gathered the Divinity from all thirteen relics—no, twelve now—the Mother of Corruption promised she would grant my every wish.
Then first, I'll ask to have my sense of taste restored.
I repeated the same affirmation I always used since falling into this world:
This is just a game. A slightly more realistic virtual reality game.
So, I should enjoy the life it offers.
The uneven, rocky cave floor made my butt a bit chilly. I muttered bitterly,
"…Still feels kinda sad, though."
"Halt."
A guard blocked my path.
Their well-maintained equipment and disciplined posture made it clear they were no amateurs.
"Show your identification."
I offered my warmest, most reverent smile, speaking in a devout tone. I had already changed into priestly robes—one of only two items in my humble little inventory.
"May your life remain in unwavering harmony. I'm afraid I lost my identification while traveling—I was caught in an accident on the road."
The guard scanned me from head to toe and asked curtly,
"Which order are you a priest of?"
"I serve the Goddess of Harmony, the one who protects the rhythm of daily life."
Claiming to serve a god you don't actually follow is a grave offense.
Not a punishment dealt by any church—but by the gods themselves.
Those who impersonated priests were marked with a divine brand, visible only to followers of that particular god.
The guard gave a slight nod and bowed.
"Welcome to Gwis, Priest. But once you're inside, I'd recommend getting your ID reissued right away."
I responded with a gentle smile.
"I'll be sure to do that."
"Kill!"
Our merciful Mother of Corruption was surprisingly lenient when it came to this sort of impersonation.
Thanks to her shielding me from the consequences, I could imitate other priests without ever having to pay the price.
And so, in a snow-covered, worn-out body, falsely claiming allegiance to another god, I entered the northern city of Gwis.
Let me know if you want to keep going or need any of this adapted or polished for a different tone (like novel formatting or voice changes).