MTO C2

Chapter 2

“He has breathed his last.”

A voice, low and buzzing in tone, stirred Jeong-oh’s slumber.

Forcing open heavy eyelids, he blinked until a blurry ceiling of ornate patterns gradually sharpened into focus.

“Are you certain?”

“Yes. His heart has stopped.”

The voices became clearer with each passing moment. Turning his gaze toward them, Jeong-oh noticed unfamiliar figures standing in small groups, conversing quietly.

Was there some kind of party nearby? Their attire was far from ordinary. One person wore what looked like a maid’s outfit straight out of a webtoon, while another carried a long sword strapped to his waist.

What do you even call that…?

Ah, right.

…Costume?

“For now, we’d best contact the orphanage. As for the body…”

At that moment, as Jeong-oh frowned, his eyes accidentally met those of a man. The man’s appearance was utterly surreal, as though he had stepped right out of a medieval Western fantasy game.

A breathtakingly handsome man—by far the most striking Jeong-oh had ever seen. His piercing black eyes glared with such force, it was as if they could cut through him.

A dream?

When Jeong-oh gaped open-mouthed, the man’s thick brows shifted upward at a sharp angle.

“He lives.”

“Eh?”

The portly man standing beside the handsome stranger turned toward Jeong-oh. His eyes, magnified comically through spectacles, bulged wide before his whole body began trembling violently.

“Th-th-that’s impossible! H-his heart had stopped! He… he was supposed to be dead!”

Apparently, Jeong-oh’s condition had truly been dire. Well—it was no wonder. Being hit by a massive truck, it was a miracle he lived at all.

So this must be… a hospital? But why are there only foreigners around me?

Hoping to calm the man who seemed shaken by him, Jeong-oh gave a sheepish grin. But to his surprise, the bespectacled man shrieked outright. Was it really necessary to treat someone who had just awoken like a ghost?

“Uh…”

“Eek!”

When Jeong-oh raised himself into a sitting position, the man reacted like he might faint on the spot. That stung. Realizing there was no use reasoning with him, Jeong-oh turned instead to the handsome stranger. At that instant, the man’s eyes narrowed.

“H-how in the world…?”

“Resurrection.”

The word fell from the handsome man’s lips as he barked at the quaking bespectacled figure. A sharp intake of breath echoed from everyone else in the room.

Resurrection?

Before Jeong-oh could even register the meaning, the handsome man dropped to one knee—his black cloak fanning out behind him in a dramatic sweep.

“We greet Saint Pablo.”

“W-we greet Saint Pablo.”

Following his lead, the others in the chamber hastily fell to their knees, bowing their heads as though welcoming a sovereign king.

What on earth is happening here?

Having just awakened from unconsciousness, Jeong-oh was completely bewildered. Looking about in confusion, he finally noticed there was one person who hadn’t prostrated himself.

The man sat perched awkwardly on a rather antique-looking bed. His slight, hunched frame and flustered face gave off such weakness, Jeong-oh almost pitied him. Thinking to approach him, Jeong-oh stood. Simultaneously, the man rose as well. Jeong-oh froze, and so did he. When Jeong-oh raised a hand to feel his cheek, the same hand of the other man rose to do the same. When Jeong-oh pinched the opposite cheek, the man pinched his as well.

He wasn’t facing a man at all.

It was a mirror.

“Huh?”

The face staring back at him made a dazed sound.

The voice was his own.

“Having just awoken, you must be confused. Rest now. All of you, show respect to the Saint and leave the chamber at once!”

With that command from the handsome man, everyone except Jeong-oh departed.

Staring blankly at the now-closed ornate doors, Jeong-oh suddenly jolted to his senses. He rushed to the mirror, studying his appearance more closely.

His hair was a dull ash-gray, and his eyes the color of dark violet. Where once his skin had been warmly bronzed from the sun, it was now pale as porcelain. His face was finely shaped, delicate even—like a doll sculpted for play. Yet coupled with his gaunt frame, this new body exuded an eerie presence.

It was nothing like his original self.

Think. Think.

Although he had always been more adept with fists than with thoughts, at this moment Jeong-oh knew he didn’t have the luxury of avoiding reason. He sat cross-legged before the mirror, trying to steady himself.

First, retrace the steps.

On his way home from work, he’d found a child in danger. To save them, he dashed into the road—only to be struck by a truck. Then, he awakened… inside a stranger’s body.

Everything pointed toward one possibility…

“Heaven?”

Tilting his head, Jeong-oh recalled something. The handsome man earlier had said resurrection. As the nuns taught in his childhood, when people died, they would be resurrected in heaven. And in heaven, they would receive a new body. Perhaps this flesh was his gift.

Adding evidence to suspicion, he noticed his outfit—a sweeping black robe that looked similar to a priest’s garment. Yes, it must be heaven. He died saving a child, and God had brought him here.

Then… did the child survive?

“Hm.”

With eased nerves, he looked around the chamber. His childhood imagination had always pictured heaven as a Greek temple floating atop clouds. Instead, what lay before him resembled the setting of a fantasy webtoon—complete with a blazing fireplace and medieval furniture.

Moving to the tall arched window, he shook at the sight: a frozen landscape, battered by a fierce snowstorm.

Does heaven have seasons, too? He remembered fewer details from catechism than he was learning right now.

If only this new body were stronger.

Running his hands over limbs half as sturdy as his original, he lamented. The hard-earned muscle from years of daily training was nowhere to be found.

…And what about there?

Unable to resist, Jeong-oh tugged at the hem of his robe. Just as he peeked beneath, the great doors creaked open.

“And what exactly do you think you’re doing?”

The handsome man again. Jeong-oh quickly dropped the hem and waved his hands, shaking his head furiously. He forced a grin that said it was nothing. The man frowned before shutting the door behind him.

“If you can move around, then your condition isn’t too bad. Sit—I wish to speak.”

Jeong-oh awkwardly obeyed, perching at the table. Seeing the man up close only deepened his conviction: this must be heaven.

The stranger’s presence was like a heroic angel from an old painting—strong yet elegant. His obsidian hair gleamed under the light, perfectly matching his dark cloak. His facial features, taken individually, were flawless; together, they created harmony near divine. His posture was unnervingly straight, his tall frame towering even while seated, filling the air with authority.

He really is an angel, isn’t he.

“You certainly cling stubbornly to life.”

…Or not.

Blinking, Jeong-oh caught the way the man smirked. His instincts, sharpened by a lifetime of martial practice, warned him: this man bore an unmistakable hostility toward him.

“You’re a shrewd one—you must have already worked things out. Because of you, I’m in quite the difficult position.”

Jeong-oh understood the words, yet the meaning escaped him. His sentences floated in the air, sounding oddly disconnected. Curiously, he realized—the man wasn’t speaking Korean. But somehow Jeong-oh had no trouble conversing in the tongue.

“Men from the Church will arrive soon. I intend to have you elevated as a Saint. For you, too, this is advantageous—you’ll secure far greater funds than ever before. So from this moment, you’ll cooperate with me.”

Wait… do I only think I’m following him?

The speech might as well have been in smoke and riddles; none of it settled in Jeong-oh’s comprehension.

The stranger suddenly narrowed his brows.

“Why remain silent like a mute?”

“I—I’m just… still overwhelmed by all this.”

Seizing the opening, Jeong-oh answered. Yet when he heard his own tone, he startled—gone was his rough, husky voice. Instead, a clear, delicate voice rang out, foreign words flowing effortlessly from his lips.

“This is… heaven, isn’t it?”

Of course, Jeong-oh expected affirmation. Instead, the man’s glare grew even more fearsome.

“Seems I have given you far too much credit.”

Clicking his tongue, he leaned back with such arrogant poise that it oozed disdain.

“This is the fortress of Duke Eglence. And unfortunately, you are not dead.”

His expression spelled genuine regret. But Jeong-oh was too rattled to care for attitude.

“Eh? Eglen… what?”

“Did the lightning fry your brain?”

“Lightning? Me?”

“So you recall nothing at all.”

The man clicked his tongue again, low and sharp.

“You collapsed after being struck by lightning—right after our conversation, no less. On none other than Saint Pablo’s birthday, and in my courtyard no less. Your timing has caused me no small amount of trouble. Do you recall what we spoke of?”

Lightning? No, it was a truck that hit me.

Tight-lipped, Jeong-oh remained silent. His silence deepened the man’s gravity.

“What do you remember?”

What did he remember? He remembered everything—his name, age, work, birthplace, and every moment before waking here. But clearly, the man sought another answer altogether.

“Do you at least remember your name?”

When Jeong-oh hesitated, the man growled impatiently.

“Geum Jeong-oh.”

“What?”

The man muttered the name with a grimace, enunciating delicately as though he were singing a lyric.

“And yours is…?”

“…”

Thrown off, as though struck, the man stiffened. After a pause, he answered rigidly, grinding out each syllable:

“Kaidan Eglence. Current Duke of Eglence, Lord of Valois.”

And after a beat, his voice dropped darkly, each word bitten sharp:

“And your name is Michel. Not that strange, unpronounceable name you gave me.”

Footnotes:

1. Saint Pablo (성 파블로) – A local holy figure celebrated in the Kingdom of Formené; within this world’s faith system, “Saint Pablo’s Day” marks a divine anniversary, thus heightening the mystery of Jeong-oh’s supposed “resurrection.”

2. Duke of Eglence (에글런스 공작) – A powerful noble title; “Duke (공작)” refers to one of the highest aristocratic ranks, often ruling autonomously over their region.