Namgung Se-ga, the warrior, was reincarnated in Romance

The fish we caught tasted exceptionally good.

I was quite interested in the idea of catching and consuming something from the wild. I asked the servants if I could enter the kitchen to observe and learn how to prepare fish.

The tasks of splitting the fish, removing the guts, and extracting the larger bones were straightforward, but the process of using a sharp, thin knife intrigued me.

When I asked if I could do similar work with my dagger, they replied that it was possible, though a single-edged knife would be more convenient than a double-edged one.

Since there are knives specifically for processing game, I decided to purchase one at some point in the future.

They offered me a slice of raw fish, which I accepted and tasted.

The flesh was surprisingly sweet. The head chef at the Cervel estate explained that raw fish was sometimes eaten during long voyages at sea to prevent certain diseases.

Whether this was true or not, I would find out from a book later. For now, it was just an interesting story, and I enjoyed listening to it.

That evening, a little late, the dining table was filled with a variety of fish dishes.

Some were steamed, some grilled, and there were even fish cakes made from mashed fish. There were so many different kinds that it was hard to count them on one hand.

I worried that preparing so much food might be wasteful, so I voiced my concern, but I was reassured that there was more than enough to go around for the other household members, which put my mind at ease.

In any case, withholding food and causing others to feel deprived is one of the worst things a person can do.

As my mother placed some fish cakes on her plate and drizzled a sweet sauce over them, she glanced at me with a smile.

I was still conscious of my father’s lingering displeasure, so I sat up straight, ready to accept any reproach if it came.

But instead of scolding me, my mother’s eyes sparkled as she asked in a sing-song tone,

“When did you ever learn how to fish, Mika?”

“…This was my first time. I was able to learn by watching as Father taught me so well.”

“It seems that Lord Ernhardt has quite a talent for teaching fishing. Perhaps I should learn from him, too.”

“How could it be my skill alone? It must be that Mikael has a knack for fishing.”

I knew my answer had been a bit clumsy, and the Cervel viscountess smoothed things over by praising my father. He responded with a smile, unable to maintain his sullen demeanor.

My parents knew better than I did that I hadn’t spent time by the water since being born in Sioran, so I couldn’t pretend I’d done it before.

How fortunate it was that they could take my previous life as a Sword Master who defeated demons as just a joke.

These days, I rarely spoke about my past life.

It wasn’t because I didn’t miss it.

Whenever I saw something beautiful or faced something difficult, I would recall moments with old friends and companions from the past.

I didn’t think my friends and family here in Sioran would disbelieve me either. If I spoke earnestly, they would respond sincerely and even think about it with me.

On reflection, I realized this was also my selfishness—a part of me clinging desperately to fully belong to this world, an old spirit that remained stubbornly rooted within me.

I spent a while with everyone, talking about fishing, horseback riding, and swimming.

Between the mostly inconsequential conversations, children’s voices occasionally chimed in.

Young Evan Cervel, the youngest of the Cervel family, repeatedly said how he wanted to float on the water without doing anything, as it was so much fun. His eager repetition was endearing and made me smile.

—

I lay flat on the water with Evan.

Evan Cervel was an eight-year-old boy, a year older than Mikael.

Since his siblings had gone to the academy, he had learned to play alone, and he knew many quiet games.

Evan was well-versed in how to lie on the water, dive down, count to ten, and resurface, and how to find unusual leaves among clusters of flowers.

Although I occasionally dived or swam, I only learned this time that simply lying lazily on a vast, clear body of water could also be considered play.

When I sank my head into the water as if resting on a soft cushion, my ears filled with water, muting the sounds around me.

I left my nose and mouth above the water to breathe comfortably, and my body naturally floated.

Gentle ripples brushed against my cheeks.

This was a part of the lake where clusters of smooth, round pebbles gathered. Even with energetic diving, no cloud of silt rose, allowing me a clear view.

Several knights had removed their light armor and stood nearby, observing the children playing. In the distance, faint laughter of adults enjoying their boat rides could be heard.

It felt as if I were shedding all impurities, my body cleansed by the cool, clear water.

Small sounds grew louder, while loud ones faded into the background.

As the rhythmic splashes of oars echoed in my ears, the laughter of the servants and children, far off on the water, sounded distant.

I began to wonder if it was really the water supporting my body as I floated so effortlessly.

Many people say that being submerged peacefully in calm water brings memories of being in the mother’s womb, almost like a common saying.

But I recalled the day I was reborn into this world, into Sioran.

I had been so shocked that, even now, if I close my eyes, I can still see the patterns on the ceiling from that day.

On that day, my limbs were so weak that even twitching my fingers or toes felt as challenging as lifting a heavy stone. I still vividly remember the moment I forced a tiny spark of energy to course through my body’s energy points.

Thinking back now, it was likely only possible because I was in the tiny, newly born body of an infant; I could cycle my internal energy quickly due to the short distances between the energy points.

Had I taken longer to manipulate the energy, my channels might have twisted, alerting the servants who were caring for me.

It was fortunate that my consciousness awakened at just the right time.

If I had awakened while still in my mother’s womb, I would have had to endure the pain of labor with her, and if my consciousness had come to me later, I would have had to bear the pain of opening my major channels all over again.

Thanks to regaining my consciousness right after birth, I could somehow rub my blurry eyes and make it to where I am now.

It was only recently that I learned I didn’t cry loudly as a newborn but coughed to take my first breath before falling into a deep sleep from exhaustion.

Back then, I had thought my consciousness was fully intact. While I realized I was weak, I hadn’t known that I drifted in and out of sleep repeatedly.

Had my mother not shared those memories with me in her reflections on my childhood, I might never have known it.

The story of how I would sleep almost the entire day, only to wake briefly, wiggle my fingers and toes, then fall back asleep, still amazes me no matter how many times I hear it.

Did I laugh or feel surprised at my mother’s remark about how she’d always have to feed me a bottle whenever I woke since I never cried? Or was I perhaps touched?

Plop, plop—the muffled sound of small hands and feet paddling nearby drifted to and from my ears.

I suppose my body was so young that it couldn’t keep up with my mind, which was why I slept so much.

Part of me felt a tinge of pity for my former self, thinking perhaps I had been utterly worn out.

Fine foods are best enjoyed by those who have tasted them before, and I hadn’t known how to rest in my past life, having never had a moment to relax.

Now I realize that all the things I rushed to learn—adapting to this new world, learning its language, mastering control over my limbs—had all felt like urgent tasks to me.

My body, weakened, gently swayed with the current.

I was used to observing myself.

Just as one would reach out with a hand to grab something, I had lived forty years controlling my inner strength as a means to steady my mind.

The water gently touching my relaxed fingertips felt as if it were seeping into the deepest parts of me.

“Brother.”

When I used my internal power, I typically engaged my lower dantian, a technique I learned while practicing Changgongdaeyonshin Gong.

This wasn’t unique to Namgung’s method; most martial artists trained rigorously to learn how to use the dantian properly.

Thus, the energy I wielded usually arose around my navel.

But the energy flowing in now, from beyond my body, was like the mana of Sioran.

It was gentle and soft, sometimes cool, sometimes warm, but never too cold or too hot.

Like Sioran’s cozy, cloud-like chairs and its plush bedding that cradled the body, this soft mana steadily took root in my middle dantian.

“Brother!”

Suddenly, I felt a small hand clasp my wrist.

Startled, I rose quickly, swallowing a few mouthfuls of water rather than coughing it out.

Mikael, looking distressed, was clutching my wrist tightly.

Beside him, Evan, a bit frightened, splashed around, gazing worriedly at my face.

The sun was setting.

I realized how long I must have been floating quietly on the water.

It was only natural for the children to be scared. Smiling, I reached out and hugged Mikael, feeling his little heart beating rapidly against my damp body.

Surprisingly, I no longer felt annoyed at having my moment of insight interrupted.

I had experienced this several times already at the Sioran Academy. I was thankful not to feel anger toward a child. At this moment, I silently thanked Maelo Senson as I pressed a soft kiss to the side of Mikael’s forehead.

“Don’t sleep on the water. It’s dangerous.”

“Yes, I’m sorry. It felt so peaceful and nice that I forgot to play with you. Did you swim here by yourself?”

“Evan taught me. We kept calling you, but you just kept sleeping here and snoring.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, okay? Tomorrow, I’ll play with you all day.”

“Really? What’ll we do?”

“Anything you want.”

It wasn’t until I held the warm child close that I realized how cold my own body had become.

As I swam to the shore with one arm, I locked eyes with the knights, who had been observing from a distance.

Ventus, who would have sensed my steady breathing and the flow of my aura, gave a faint smile with a knowing expression.

He must have guessed that my moment of enlightenment had been disrupted. I shook my head and laughed.

It was fine.

Really, almost startlingly, it was perfectly fine.

I didn’t set Mikael down even after reaching the shore. The bond I had formed with this new family in this new land strengthened my roots.

It was a foundation so solid that it wouldn’t harm whatever level of mastery I was bound to achieve one day.