IJSTC 1

Chapter 1

I always liked stories about regression, possession, and reincarnation.

Reality is tough. Especially for someone like me, a nurse working rotating night shifts.

Compared to the noble work of saving patients’ lives and easing their suffering, I felt like just an ordinary person.

*“Someone please heal my poor soul after being mistreated by patients.”*

Since the hospital rarely hired more staff, when the shifts were rotated, senior nurses with kids usually got the day shifts, while I was stuck with the night shifts.

Working night shifts in the ward was like living but not really alive. You never knew when a call would come. And I had to stay awake while everyone else was sleeping.

In that kind of life, I became completely hooked on web novels.

“Hey. If you’re going to obsess over something, pick a living idol instead.”

“No thanks. I’d rather exist as a reader in the blank space between the words.”

“What are you even saying?”

My friend kept asking me to go to concerts and join her idol fandom. But it was hard for me to watch idol videos while working at the hospital.

I had to listen carefully for calls from the patient rooms, so I couldn’t wear earphones. And even at night, I couldn’t play music out loud. After all, patients were sleeping.

So, I guarded the peace of the ward.

The main characters of the novels I read were busy protecting world peace, but I too was protecting peace — the safety of patients and their families.

“Suyeon, I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Night shifts came with extra pay. My sleep pattern was ruined, sure, but with the extra money, I could save faster.

And unlike day shifts, I didn’t have to constantly deal with patients’ families. As long as I did the early-morning vital checks properly, I could even quietly read a book. I actually enjoyed the calmness.

Because of that, I often got asked to cover urgent night shifts.

“Ms. Choi, I heard your child is sick. Go quickly.”

“Yeah, the fever won’t go down. Thank you so much.”

“It’s nothing.”

“I’ll treat you to a good meal later, I promise.”

…But then.

On the fifth night shift in a row, I collapsed.

Or maybe “collapsed” isn’t the right word? What exactly happened to me?

Did I… die?

The last thing I remembered was finishing blood pressure and temperature checks in a six-person room, then stepping out into the hall — when suddenly, everything went black and my body fell to the ground.

When I opened my eyes again, I had possessed a character in *\[The Hero of the Continent]*, the very novel I had been enjoying.

*\[The Hero of the Continent]* was a fantasy martial-arts story.

It was about a prince who escaped the palace after being threatened as a child, and grew into a great hero who united the continent through countless hardships and adventures.

Of course, since it was a fantasy martial-arts novel, the romance was only sprinkled in lightly.

If there’s too much romance, male readers usually leave angry comments. So, the female lead didn’t have much presence.

Honestly, the male lead was such an overpowered Swordmaster that it didn’t matter whether the female lead was there or not. And yet, she kept getting kidnapped.

She was basically a useless and trophy-like heroine.

That part disappointed me, especially since I had switched from romance-fantasy to martial-fantasy novels just because of the cool male lead covers.

Still, I enjoyed adding my own daydreams to the rare interactions between the male and female leads.

And the best thing? Martial-fantasy novels were long, so I could read them for a long time.

But the shocking part was — even after possessing someone, I didn’t realize I was in *\[The Hero of the Continent]* until I had already been living in this new world for five years.

It was just before my coming-of-age ceremony when a sudden flash of memory struck me.

*“Mermanham Kingdom? Jombinira Festival? Wow, the author really got lazy with these names.”*

*“Even I could come up with something better. Doomsday Kingdom. Zombie-ni-ra Festival?”*

The problem was, the kingdom I was living in was destined to be destroyed a few years later by a curse that would unleash zombies.

And my country was just a nameless extra in the story.

The day I realized that, I cried out:

“I just wanted to possess some ordinary villainess or side character!”

Tears streamed down my face.

Until then, I thought I had simply reincarnated with memories of my past life.

The Kingdom of Snidel was considered a safe place, and I had grown up in the temple orphanage.

The orphanage director, Paul Aynski, loved the children like a father.

He raised us with genuine care.

So, even without parents, I was grateful that I wasn’t born into an abusive or starving environment.

But to think this was a kingdom destined for destruction? It was just too much.

I cried and cried, skipping both lunch and dinner. When I finally lay down with swollen eyes, staring at the ceiling—

“Suella, drink this.”

My roommate Ann carefully handed me a bottle of milk she had hidden under her apron. The glass was covered in droplets, freshly taken from the underground water channel.

“You said this morning you wanted milk, right?”

Looking at Ann made me cry again.

We were both orphans. In Mermanham Kingdom, children without parents didn’t have family names.

Just names alone — making it obvious everywhere that we were orphans.

“Why are you crying again? Don’t cry, Suella.”

This sweet child… in a few years, she would die from the plague and turn into an undead zombie.

“Stop crying, Suella. When you cry, it makes me sad too.”

Tears streamed down Ann’s pale cheeks as well. I quickly wiped my eyes and drank the milk she gave me.

“It’s delicious.”

The orphanage raised cows, pigs, chickens, and vegetables. It was Director Paul’s idea.

He fed us nutritious meals with what he grew, and sold the surplus at the market.

Thanks to that, even in winter, we had warm clothes and shoes.

Since the temple provided us free land, this was possible.

But milk was still limited — we were only allowed one bottle each in the evening. The rest were stored in sterilized glass bottles in the underground water channels, like a natural refrigerator.

So, Ann had given me her own portion.

“Thank you, Ann.”

She gently brushed back the hair stuck to my tear-stained face.

“No need to thank me.”

Her eyes were full of worry.

“I just suddenly remembered my past,” I said.

“I see.”

Ann fell silent. Every child here had some sad story in their past — hunger, abuse, illness.

So, even though it was just an excuse, Ann looked at me with pity.

“Suella, I just want you to be happy,” she said quietly.

“You have Dad. You have me. Right?”

Looking at her made me want to cry again.