.｡.:✧ Chapter 0 ✧:.｡.

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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: FusionX
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After 10 years, I finally noticed it was an academy game.

No abnormalities with the traps.
No issues with the residential area.
No problems with the fences.
I also finished marking the 3,650th notch on the recording stone slab.

I started my morning exercise routine, basking in the warm sunlight in the front yard. No commands were needed. After thousands of repetitions, even a woodpecker would learn to keep the rhythm without commands. After finishing the exercises, I went straight back inside to gather my tools. There’s no time to waste. If you don’t move diligently, you’ll starve to death on this deserted island.

“What was I supposed to do today?”

Check if any fish got caught in the nets set up on the beach, harvest some coconuts, maintain my tools, send out meaningless distress signals, check if anything washed ashore.

Just the morning is this busy.

In the afternoon, I have to prepare ingredients I’ve gathered, go hunting, plan new traps to set up around the house, and take a full lap around the island.

This deserted island about the size of Ulleungdo has no people, but is overflowing with pests.

Why are there so many monsters on this tiny place with hardly anything to eat? Just thinking about those disgusting creatures makes my teeth grind.

“I really wish one person would wash up here. It would be great to have just one extra pair of hands to help. Even just someone to talk to.”

I mutter to myself, knowing no one can hear, as I walk along.

With my trusty shovel slung over my shoulder, a strip of well-dried jerky in my mouth, humming a little tune, the start of this horribly refreshing morning begins.

But as I breathe in this refreshingly crisp air, I occasionally, no frequently, find myself missing the pungent urban airs.

The nose-stinging exhaust fumes, the choking thick cigarette smoke, the sickly-sweet cosmetic smells caked on faces. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

The spicy scent of ramyun noodles I used to inhale in front of the computer, the pot barely boiled.

Those sorts of smells I could find anywhere back then.

But it’s already been 10 years since I last encountered those scents.

“I want ramyun. Ramyun, ramyun, ramyun…”

As I walked along, chewing on those nostalgic aromas, the jewel-toned transparent ocean unfurled before my eyes. A familiar sight – this beach, after all, is the very stage where the dreary drama of my life is set.

But as I stepped onto that familiar stage of life, an unusual scene caught my eye.

“Oh, a treasure ship?”

Today, a ship had washed ashore on the waves.

A shipwreck, that is.

Rarely, shipwrecks like this would drift in on the tides and reach the shore. Whether naval, merchant or fishing vessels, their variety allowed me to scavenge valuable materials from the wreckage. Like supply drops bestowed upon me by the ocean.

The minor inconvenience was occasionally having to dismember and bury the bloated water-logged corpses, lest they reanimate as zombies to bang incessantly on my wooden walls all day long.

Dismembering bodies is necessary for a good night’s sleep.

I set my basket down and inspected the debris that had washed up from the shipwreck. Judging by the lavish paintings adorning what was likely the hull, this appeared to be a passenger liner or the personal vessel of someone high-born.

Only such ships would have ornate decorative art on the exterior.

After rummaging around, I dragged back to the sandy beach a few usable planks and a hefty oak barrel that felt promisingly heavy. Unfortunately, nothing else seemed particularly useful.

“The oak barrel~the oak barrel~I wonder what’s inside?”

Hopefully it contains something usable. Even preserved foods like pickles would be nice, or jewelry that could be cut up for playthings. Clothes or oil would also work – pretty much anything has a use here.

I don’t call shipwrecks “treasure ships” for no reason. While I am self-sufficient on growing food and makeshift manufacturing on this deserted island, I’ve relied on shipwrecks for luxuries like gems or vegetables impossible to cultivate here.

Luckily getting seed crops would be ideal. Not sure if this island’s soil is ill-suited for crops or if the seeds went bad from seawater, but I’ve never seen sprouts here. Still, no harm in trying.

“Why won’t this stupid thing open?”

It must have taken on a lot of water, as the lid is incredibly slippery. After wedging my shovel blade in the gap, I manage to pry open the lid and poke my head inside to inspect the contents.

“Huh?”

A person? A woman? With pink hair – what an unusual color. The heroine of a game I used to like had pink hair too. And from her fancy attire, she seems to be some kind of noble.

“She must have hidden in the barrel to survive.”

Quite a common occurrence.

At least by floating, there’s a chance of washing up on shore like this…but most just starve to death, eternally adrift as bloated corpses or sunken to the seafloor. Though this body doesn’t seem long dead.

I pulled the pink-haired woman out of the barrel and laid her on the sand. Her wet clothes clung tightly, revealing her curvaceous figure. I don’t have a penchant for necrophilia, but it has been years since I’ve seen such an intact body. A bit…tempting.

Best to dismember and inter her in the cemetery quickly. Wouldn’t want to cross any lines, deserted island or not – I’d like to retain my humanity.

I’m not so unhinged as to start spouting disturbing lines like “still warm…” while defiling a corpse.

I raise my shovel overhead. One swing, and like the others buried in my cemetery, she’ll be reduced to an unrecognizable pulp. Better than becoming a zombie, at least.

But just as I prepared to bring the shovel down, the body’s eyes flew open. Pink and golden irises, heterochromia – I know those distinctive eyes. From a survival game I used to play.

Survival Academy.

Karina. The Saint of Kalon.

“…Please…save…me…”

With those few faint words, she lost consciousness again. Merely passed out, it seems.

“Today’s itinerary is cancelled.”

I muttered my usual aside to no one as I scooped her up in my arms.

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