"Happy birthday, Jiho!"
Soeun clapped excitedly as she lifted her son into the air and twirled him around. Jiho laughed—or at least pretended to laugh like a normal toddler. In truth, he was trying not to puke.
'Okay… this is nice and all, but how many times is she going to spin me? I'm not a chicken on a spit roast, woman!'
Today marked Han Jiho's second birthday.
Two years since he'd arrived in this world. Two years of peaceful life, loving parents, warm food, and the occasional looming threat of being eaten by monsters. But on the whole? Not bad.
This was the first time his parents were throwing an actual birthday celebration. There were no fireworks or parades—just a small meal, a simple tablecloth, and his mother's rare pork stew bubbling away in the pot like treasure in a cauldron.
To Jiho, it was better than any banquet back on Earth.
Soeun set him down carefully, brushing the dust off his little robes.
"You look so handsome in this. Just like your father when he was young," she said, glancing at Daesik, who was currently struggling with a box wrapped in cloth.
Jiho raised an eyebrow.
'What's that? Oh no. Don't tell me it's a toy drum or something. I'm too old—mentally—for this crap.'
But when Daesik knelt down and slowly unwrapped the gift, Jiho froze.
It was a sword.
Not a toy.Not carved wood.A real, genuine, short steel blade—dull at the edge, of course, but unmistakably real.
Jiho stared at it.Daesik chuckled.
"Don't look at me like that. It's not sharp. Yet."
Soeun folded her arms. "You're giving our two-year-old a sword?"
"He's my son. He can walk, talk, and has stronger legs than half the boys his age. Besides, it's more ceremonial."
Soeun rolled her eyes. "Sure. Ceremonial. Just don't come crying to me when he accidentally pokes your butt with it."
Daesik leaned forward and gently handed the weapon to Jiho.
"Jiho, this isn't just a gift. This is a promise. From me, to you."
Jiho blinked.
"You won't always be small. One day, you'll be a man. And when that time comes, I want you to have something to protect yourself. Or better yet… protect the ones you love."
Jiho was silent for a long moment. He didn't joke. Didn't roll his eyes. Didn't internally insult anyone.
He just nodded. Slowly.
"Papa."
Daesik ruffled his hair. "That's my boy."
The afternoon passed quickly.
Neighbors and villagers dropped by—not because they cared about Jiho, but because the rumors were spreading.
The Han child, they said, was special. Learned to walk too early. Speak too clearly. Hold stances too long.
Some whispered he'd grow up to be a great scholar. Others, a sword prodigy.
Jiho couldn't care less.
He greeted everyone with a polite smile, shook hands like a politician, and internally filed away who was sucking up and who wasn't.
'You? Bootlicker.You? A gossip.You? I'll remember that rice cake you didn't give me last time.'
But just as the crowd began to die down, one last visitor arrived.
A merchant. With a daughter.
Jiho's mental alarms immediately went off.
The girl had red hair, red eyes, and the arrogance of a 6-year-old who'd once been told she was cute.
The merchant bowed low. "It's an honor to meet the famed Han family. I've heard tales of young Jiho's brilliance. In fact, I thought… perhaps we might discuss a potential marriage agreement?"
Before Jiho could even react, the daughter crossed her arms and scoffed.
"Father, you can't be serious. I'm not marrying some poor peasant baby with twigs for arms. Have you seen the village chief's son? He's way more my type."
Jiho blinked once.
Then slowly turned toward the girl and said with the most mature tone he could fake,
"I appreciate your honesty. And rest assured, I wouldn't marry you either—even if I were at death's door. So let's both count our blessings and part ways in peace."
The merchant flushed. "Ah… apologies. My daughter is a bit... outspoken."
"No harm done," Jiho replied, already internally labeling her as:[Harem Flag Rejected. Potential Trouble Avoided.]
After they left, Daesik burst into laughter.
"Oh, Jiho, you handled that like a grown man!"
Soeun gave him a kiss on the forehead. "I'm proud of you."
"Thank you, Mom. I just… don't want to be sold off before I grow all my teeth."
They laughed together—genuine, warm laughter that melted the tension of the day.
Then, just as the sun dipped behind the hills, another guest arrived.
Shin Xiao, the village chief, with his 5-year-old son Shin Feng in tow.
"Happy birthday, my dear nephew!" Shin Xiao beamed. "I brought a gift for the little warrior."
He pulled out a pair of small leather boots.
"Made from mountain boar. Strong, durable, and they'll fit you for at least two years. Maybe three if you stop growing so fast!"
Jiho took them with wide eyes.
"They're amazing… thank you, Uncle Xiao!"
"You're welcome. You're going to do great things, Jiho. Just… don't forget us little people when you're famous."
After dinner—stew, rice, roasted meat, and celebratory millet cakes—everyone settled into their bedding.
The hut fell silent. Jiho lay there in the dark, staring at the ceiling, his new sword resting beside him.
'One more year… just one more.'
Because next year, when he turned three—
The Hyperbolic Time Chamber would awaken.
And then?
The grind would begin.