[Cough! Cough!]
"Haah…"
It had been a week since Aston realized the truth—he was a reincarnator. In this world of Creya, an unforgiving land filled with monsters and magic, his past life's memories had finally returned.
But this wasn't some cheerful adventure like in those light novels. No, this world was more like a hardcore, soul-crushing RPG set on hell difficulty. Not just any kid could pick up a rusty sword, kill goblins, and get rich. Reality hit harder here—he knew it all too well, having lost his family at a young age. If it weren't for his previous life's memories, he might've broken. Instead, he adapted. Matured. Survived.
"Today's getting cold… I want miso soup," he grumbled, dragging himself up from the crude bed. The thought of warm soup from his old world made his stomach twist with longing. But he had more important things to think about.
In the upper right corner of his vision, faint but persistent, a glowing interface hovered: [System Initialization: 99.99%]
A small smile crept onto his face. It was the only thing keeping him going right now. That system—Archive of Sin: Lust—was the cheat that could change everything. The reason he still had hope in this brutal world.
Shaking off the thoughts, he stepped outside to wash his face. The cold morning air bit at his skin, and the water was even worse. He shivered, teeth clenched, as the icy splash hit him. Still, after so many days, he was getting used to it. Somehow, the chill even woke up his senses.
Not bathing felt wrong. Even in the dead of winter, he forced himself to endure the freezing water. It had become a ritual. A mental battle.
As he scrubbed his face and arms, he paused—his body had changed. His adaptation rate was unnaturally fast. The cold no longer stung like before. His reflexes, stamina, and even muscle control had improved beyond what he'd expect from a seventeen-year-old.
"Man… If I had this body back on Earth, I could've been a super soldier." He chuckled at the thought.
Maybe this world was cruel—but at least he wasn't weak anymore.
My job in this world was simple.
At least on the surface.
I worked under Uncle Ben, a kind man who possessed the Farmer's Blessing—an occupation that allowed him to channel mana into crops, accelerating their growth and improving yield. Thanks to his skills, most of the hard labor was already taken care of. My role was mostly to inspect the fields for pests, clean up infestations, and maintain the general health of the crops.
It wasn't glorious work, but it was honest—and safe.
In a world like Creya, safety was a rare luxury.
Most kids my age had no responsibilities, just daily study in preparation for the future. But I was different. Thanks to the village lord—an old acquaintance of my late father—I was given a chance. The farmland belonged to his family, the only noble house in this humble village. He took pity on me, maybe out of respect for my father or maybe because he saw something in me.
Either way, I was grateful. Deeply.
I knew what it meant to be an orphan—twice now. In both lives, I'd felt that hollow ache of being left behind. This job was more than a way to pass time; it gave me the means to live quietly, to earn a little money, and even to save for the future.
That future being the Awakening Ceremony—the day every person who turned eighteen could unlock their innate talent.
It was a ritual that could change everything. A moment that revealed one's potential—whether they'd become a warrior, a mage, a craftsman… or nothing at all.
"This is cold..."
Aston shivered as the icy water from the bucket splashed over his bare skin. The shock made him grit his teeth, but soon his mind calmed. The cold had become a part of his routine—harsh, but cleansing.
Once finished, he rushed back inside the small cottage, drying himself by the chimney's flickering fire. The warmth soaked into his skin, chasing away the chill. After slipping into his worn but clean clothes, he tightened his boots and stepped out, the morning air still crisp.
He began running—not just to get to work, but to build heat in his body.
"Haah… After this, winter will pass and summer will come. I'll be eighteen soon… maybe I'll get a good profession and start working toward something real."
The thought brought a smile to his face. There was hope in it. Possibility.
Reaching the field, he saw it was still empty—Uncle Ben hadn't arrived yet. Moving swiftly, Aston began arranging all the tools and items the old farmer would need for the day. After that, he began his inspection, eyes sharp and focused.
Several leaves were half-eaten—signs of pests. He marked the infected section with a wooden sign tied to a low branch.
"Uncle Ben will take care of it from here."
With most of the work done, the sun was now rising higher, casting a soft golden hue across the frost-tipped crops. It had to be around 7 or 8 a.m. That surprised him.
"Took me longer than usual… Maybe I woke up later today."
Still, there was no rush now. He had time.
"Let's do some sit-ups and exercises."
It was a habit he'd formed early on. In this world, power meant everything—and while he didn't have magic yet, a fit body was something he could work on. Something he could control.
"Uncle Ben, good morning."
As Aston stepped out, he spotted the old man approaching the fields. With a polite bow, he greeted him.
Uncle Ben looked every bit the part of a weathered farmer—his back slightly hunched, his skin tanned from decades of sun, and that familiar, goofy grin stretched across his face.
"Little Bell," the old man chuckled, using the nickname he'd given Aston long ago. "Up early as always. You ought to rest now and then, boy. You'll burn yourself out at this rate."
After that, Aston had a casual chat with Uncle ben and after a time, he started to jog back again. While Uncle Ben just shook his head, watching him go.
"That kid's grown so much…" he muttered, a fondness in his tone.
Aston kept a steady pace, jogging through the quiet village as the first rays of morning sunlight bathed the rooftops. Near the riverside, a group of women were already at work, washing clothes and chatting amongst themselves.
"Aston! Good morning!" One of them called out. Aston looked at their side and sighed, looking at a group of beautiful ladies and stopped his jog.
He slowed down and offered a respectful bow. "Good morning. I hope you all have a lovely day."
They giggled and smiled in return, clearly amused by his polite charm. It was like he always talked quite differently, bringing a smile to their face. Making them sometimes feel like he was really just a 17-year-old kid inside.
As he jogged past, he couldn't help but glance back—just briefly—at how casually they were dealing with the cold water. Some of them had their hands and even feet in it like it was nothing. The thought made him shiver.
"How do they do that?" he muttered. "I can barely survive a bucket in the morning…" With a shiver running up his spine, he picked up his speed.
Still, one thing he couldn't deny—Creya had its share of beautiful women. And not the fantasy kind drawn in anime, but real beauty.
The kind that carried a natural glow—probably from healthy food, clean air, and physical labor.
No makeup, no artificial filters. Just raw, graceful charm.
"Honestly… if any of them showed up on Earth, they'd be models in no time," he thought, half amused.
There was something else about them too— as he did see a beauty that was hard to put into words. A presence that felt... extra. Not quite "divine," but as if they existed on a level beyond what 2D characters ever could. That sense of realness, yet impossibly perfect.
He had once been so taken aback by one of them, he'd actually forgotten how to speak for a moment. She was the wife of the noble family that had given him this job. As Aston's mother had worked as a maid for her, she was quite nice to him.
"Good morning, Bell…"
Aston paused mid-step.
Just as he finished his morning run and approached the modest cottage he called home, a soft, melodic voice stopped him in his tracks.
There she stood.
Leria Well—the daughter of the village's noble family and the spitting image of her mother, a woman so stunning that even nobles from nearby towns whispered about her beauty. Although her first impression was really nice, even after 3 years had passed without meeting her, Aston still remembered her grace and charm.
And Leria…
She had inherited every bit of that grace, that quiet intensity. With flowing silver-blonde hair catching the morning sun and eyes like cool spring water, she stood with a calm presence that made time seem to slow.
Aston blinked, surprised, but quickly straightened himself.
"Good morning, Lady Leria," he said with a bow, slipping into formality out of instinct, though his heart raced slightly.
She smiled—gently, almost playfully. "I told you before, just call me Leria."
Aston scratched the back of his head, chuckling lightly. "Habit, sorry."
She wasn't the type to mingle freely, and yet, every time she appeared, Aston found himself caught between awe and awkwardness. Something about her always brought back that moment—when he'd first seen her, and words had simply failed him.