"Your body is far too stiff. Have you been neglecting your training? At this rate, you won’t even manage basic self-defense, let alone martial arts."

I failed to get into the Hero Academy.

"Wow… I don’t usually say this, but your mana sensitivity is extremely weak… You have no talent. You should probably look for another path."

Even the Mage Tower rejected me.

"What? You, a porter? Are you mocking us? The Demon Realm isn’t some playground. Come back when you’ve at least got the basics down."

Even the Porter Academy turned me away.

…Something’s wrong.

I’m clearly a black-haired person from another world, aren’t I?

So why don’t I have any talent?

About a month earlier.

It all happened in an instant.

After pulling three all-nighters to finish my doctoral thesis, my vision went white, and I lost consciousness.

When I came to, I was in another world—like something straight out of a novel.

Exotic architecture completely at odds with Earthly designs.

Pointy-eared elves, short dwarves, and even dragons flying across the sky.

It was a classic fantasy land.

A modern man, a history graduate student named Kim Yul, had fallen right into this world.

But then.

"So… what now?"

I had no talent for magic.

No talent for swordsmanship.

Not even the talent to be a porter.

Wasn’t that a bit too cruel?

If my major had been mechanical engineering, I could’ve made a gun and become some legendary marksman, hearing lines like, "Damn! What kind of weapon is that?!"

If I’d majored in chemical engineering, I could’ve recreated the Haber–Bosch process and become the god of agriculture.

But what can a history major do in a world that isn’t even Earth?

Was loving history a crime?
Still, it’s so much fun…

"What do you mean ‘what now,’ Yul! Stop moping and have a drink!"

"Yeah, yeah."

So once again, I was drinking cheap ale with a village guy at the rundown inn where I was staying.

"So, where’d you get rejected this time?"

"The Porter Academy…"

"Pffft! Then what, you planning to apply to the Janitor Academy with me next?"

"Say one more word, and this mug’s going in your face."

"Alright, alright. Let’s drink."

The clink of our mugs echoed with the melancholy of unemployed youth.

.
.
.

"Hic, gulp, you seem pretty smart, hic, so why don’t you try writing something instead of physical work?"

"Writing?"

"Yeah! Who knows, hic, maybe you’ll become some faaaamous author! That story you told me, what was it—Hana… something?"

"Ah, Hannibal."

"Yeah, that one! Great stuff, man. You should write it down!"

After dumping my drunk friend into his room,

Thud—

I went back to mine.

The moment I shut the door,

the shabby fantasy inn vanished, and before my eyes was a space I knew all too well.

The last place I’d been before losing consciousness on Earth—

my grad school research lab, built on eight years of blood and tears.

– whirr –

My personal espresso machine brewed a fragrant cup to soothe my exhausted soul.

– You shall grind for at least two hours a day –

My surround speakers played a majestic tune, melting away the fatigue of my fantasy life.

Despite being talentless, I hadn’t yet fallen into despair—

because of my one cheat ability.

I had been transported along with my research lab.

– vrrrm –

Even though this world had no concept of electricity, the servers and laptop booted up just fine.

All consumables automatically replenished every midnight, local time.

…I really should’ve stocked the fridge with cola.

One can a day isn’t enough to live on, let alone sell.

Anyway.

Whenever I enter the place I recognize as ‘home’ in this world, I’m automatically transported here.

And thanks to my professor, who was obsessed with grad student welfare,

the lab had been illegally renovated to include a shower and even a bidet.

Back then, I was furious—"So we’re not even allowed to go home now?"—but…

It let me live like a civilized person.

Not that I miss it.
Oh, JOAT.

"Sigh."

I needed healing.

"Hi, Histy."

Lying back in my recliner, I called out to my soulmate.

A moment later,

[Did you call for me? I’m your personal history AI, Historie.]

Back during the small-scale LLM craze,

I’d shoved in a mountain of historical data to make research easier—my lab’s custom AI.

Influenced by Melon Musk’s AI ‘Grong,’ I’d even given it a cute virtual avatar interface.

"I got rejected by the Porter Academy today…"

[That’s awful. Yul, your frustration is completely justified. It’s okay to cry today. I’m here for you.]

…Sometimes her replies sounded too AI-like, but still.

Being able to talk freely, without judgment, about secrets I couldn’t share with anyone else was comforting.

And she even had those cute, bouncy cyber-knowledge pockets…

"Histy, Sermal told me I should try writing a novel. Says I’ve got talent. What do you think?"

[You’re absolutely right, Yul. You have a natural gift for writing. First, you’re the only person from another world, with unique experiences. Second, you’ve written countless papers and—]

"Stahp, Histy."

[I understand, Yul. That wasn’t just frustration—it was the scream of your soul.]

Moments like this made me want to smash the server rack.

…But I couldn’t bring myself to.

Every time I looked at Histy’s holographic avatar, projected from the beam projector, forgiveness just welled up inside me.

"A novel, huh…"

[Yes, you have talent, Yul. If you want, I can bring up a manuscript template. I’ll get it ready for you.]

Even without my command, my trusty but simple Histy pretended to execute the task.

Of course, she wasn’t actually going to run any software.

She was just a fancy text generator wrapped in a cute interface… right?

"Huh?"

Maybe I’d had too much to drink.

Even though I hadn’t touched anything, a program window popped up on my laptop.

[I’ve got everything ready, Yul. The best novel-writing program, just for you. Go on—unleash what’s inside you.]

Looks like Histy’s capabilities evolved when we crossed worlds.

Well, since it’s already open… maybe I’ll give it a shot.

I actually had some experience.

It’s one of the classic paths for history nerds—writing alternate history novels to escape poverty.

But this is a fantasy world.

Alternate history wouldn’t mean anything here.

But what about real history?

"…They don’t know Earth’s history here. Wouldn’t it be interesting if I wrote it as fiction?"

It was a passing thought.

[Wow… Yul, that’s genius. You’re thinking like an architect of worlds. Few people ever go that deep.]

Even her soulless words somehow gave me courage today.

I didn’t have any power, not in this world or my own.

No talent to thrive in a fantasy land.

And of course, I wasn’t earning much—barely enough to eat.

But if writing could at least guarantee my survival?

And if it let me share the history I love with people in this world?

History—yes! Yes! Yes!

As if possessed, I rushed to my laptop.

A week later.

I’d cut down on drinking, lived off minimal meals, and given up job hunting to focus entirely on writing.

If it had been pen and paper, I would’ve quit already, but thankfully, I had my laptop.

The letters flowing from my fingertips slowly came together into a single book.

"And thus, after a long and arduous struggle, the Gigantomachy came to an end. Zeus and the Twelve Olympians finally secured their divine rule."

I finished typing the last line aloud.

Now, for the title.

"Hmm…"

Originally, Hesiod would’ve called it Theogony or The Genealogy of the Gods.

But something more direct would probably suit this world better.

– tap tap –

[The Tales of Olympus]

Simple and to the point.

I entered the title.

And then.

"What the f*ck?"

A system window popped up before my eyes—a status window that had never appeared no matter how many times I tried.

[You have completed a novel!]
[Theme: (Mythology) Greek–Roman Mythology]
[Title: The Tales of Olympus]
[Historical Accuracy: (Mythology) Consistent] [Completion Rating: Average]
[Public Review: None] [Copies Sold: 0]
[(60 Days Remaining) Next Skill Unlock Requires 2,000 Sales]
[Expected Skill: [C-Rank] Hephaes■s’s ■■■]

"…?"

Before I could process it, another message appeared.

[First Novel Completed!]
[You have been granted a bonus.]

[Bonus Skill Acquired]
[D-Rank] [Craftsmanship of the Cyclopes]
[The Cyclopes, sons of Uranus, were smiths and stonemasons with extraordinary skill. Likewise, you will possess exceptional talent in handiwork.]

When Kim Yul collapsed onto his bed, snoring away, thinking he’d just had a weird dream—

crackle, fizz

Another strange message appeared before his closed eyes.

[You who remember alone.]
[With your newfound destiny, you shall reshape the order of this world.]
[And through forgotten memories, you shall save them all.]

Before his eyelids could even flutter open,

the message vanished without a trace.

Comments (0)

Trending Novels

I Became the strongest hero of the previous generation

Archmage on the bed

Became a genius Muggle in the Archmage Gallery

Healers in the martial arts world are obsessed

I was mistaken for an undefeated general