Chapter 2: This World is Not Easy (2)

After having my music academy tuition plundered by a cultural artifact thief.

My trip to the monastery was temporarily postponed.

Mostly thanks to my mother’s pleas.

“As expected of Mom! You helped me!”

“No? They said to wait a few more months for the admission period.”

Don’t call it admission.

It’s called admission because it’s a ‘monastery,’ but it sounds like a mental institution.

“What kind of monastery has an admission season anyway?”

[That’s right, some religious schools have admission seasons. It’s because of the training schedule for aspiring monks!]

“Shut up. I wouldn’t believe you even if you said you could make songpyeon with beans.”

[Wow, is it that bad? I’m honored! 😆]

I want to terminate this contract.

Fortunately, the nation’s investigative net didn’t reach our family.

Apparently, Nelsus stole a substantial amount of money.

It’s just kids’ tuition money.

If we’re ranking investment amounts, we’d be in the bottom 10%.

“If there wasn’t a problem, why was I scolded?”

[Your parents were probably very worried because the tuition money was used for unexpected purposes and it was even in the newspapers.]

“Why are you making sense all of a sudden, Clicker?”

[Oh, sorry! I was too honest! Should I have comforted you with some pretense? 😅]

I’m going to expose your true face, you little…

You’re not an AI, are you?

Anyway, after my father left for work again,
and after a tearful reunion with my mother, who was pretending to be calm,

I set out on my journey toward monastery admission.

[Shall I tell you another Demonic Heavenly Arts recipe?]

“Shut your trap.”

The destination was the water city of Yaltesance.

Commonly referred to as the City of Arts.

Groomloc Morgran is an orc artist.

A single painting he encountered in his hometown during his youth.

Ever since falling in love with its artistic beauty at first sight, his 40 years of life have been dedicated to swimming in the sea of colors.

‘And that’s how I met Oliver Turing, but….’

Groomloc sighed, thinking of his acquaintance, the court musician.

“Is this really a suitable place to entrust an 8-year-old girl?”

Chloe A. Turing.

That was the name of the child he was entrusted with from today.

[To my esteemed friend, Groomloc.]

[As I mentioned in my previous letter, I plan to send Chloe to the monastery.Like I did, isn’t reading scriptures and learning the words of the gods the quickest way to mature when you’re young?]

[My only concern is that even there, she’ll be more likely to hang out with troublemakers than learn etiquette.
So, I want to teach her about the ways of the world first.]

It’s not a particularly cruel act.

Eight is a suitable age to start apprenticeship.

Modern people can’t criticize the barbarity of the Middle Ages, because the 21st century wasn’t much different in this regard.

Becoming more familiar with instruments or brushes than with their parents’ hands.
It was the unavoidable fate of artists.

Therefore, his chief apprentice, Jiksli, tilted her head.

“What are you so worried about? She’s only staying for a few months.”

“That’s because there are sharp tools lying around the atelier. What if she gets hurt?”

An artist’s atelier,
especially a painter’s, is not at all a suitable environment for childcare.

Especially for a child who pokes around everywhere.

“My chief apprentice steals other people’s carving knives to sharpen her pencils.”

“It’s not stolen. I’ll put it back.”

“You’ve been saying that for a week.”

-Knock, knock, knock.

Ah, she must be here.

Groomloc, who was scolding his apprentice, put on a smile and went out to greet his friend’s daughter.

“Welcome! I’m Groomloc.”

Fangs protruded from his distorted face.
It was Groomloc’s best attempt at a smile.
Unfortunately, the results were rather poor despite his efforts.

It’s understandable, considering he’s a green-skinned giant over two meters tall.

An era of reduced orc discrimination?
Meaningless. He’s just scary to look at.

So, even when Groomloc smiled and spoke, children usually responded with tears.
However.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Chloe A. Turing.”

Chloe didn’t even blink when she saw Groomloc.

She just looked up at him intently, as if looking at her father’s friend, an uncle.

It was Groomloc who gaped in surprise.

“Huh…. She’s the spitting image of her mother.”

A face as delicate as a porcelain doll, resembling Noah.

Both hands clutching the bag on her back.

Looking up at him with large, beautiful eyes on her tiny face, she looked like a little kitten.

‘Wow, how can a child’s face already be like this?’

Despite the different race, he couldn’t help but admire her.

It seems like a waste of talent to make her a musician.

“Teacher?”

“Oh, uh. Sorry. Come in.”

“Yes.”

She answered smartly and even walked in with small steps!

The sight of her politely greeting the other apprentices made him want to pat her head.

Groomloc was turning into an uncle.

His face, perfect for making children cry, became even more ferocious.

An orc staring at him and smiling silently, it was pure horror.

But Chloe wasn’t afraid.

‘The orcs here aren’t monsters or anything.’

So what’s the problem?

It’s not like this uncle is going to say, ‘Huh? I eat people,’ and turn me into yukhoe.

[TL Note: yukhoe—basically a raw meat dish—as a dark, humorous exaggeration.]

Staring at me and smiling?

I don’t really care.

I’ve gotten used to it living in this body, and more importantly.

‘Puppies and children are supposed to be loved.’

Small and cute children and animals are easily adored.

Because the psychological barrier is low.

It’s easier to call a puppy cute than to say the same thing about a beautiful woman.

As expected.

The atelier buzzed with excitement at

Chloe’s arrival.

“Master! W-Who is this child? A model? A new model, right?! Tell me she’s a model!”
“Where did you pick her up? Did you kidn-, gwaak-!”

[ TL Note: “Did you kidnap her—urk!” (implying someone hit or stopped them before they could finish the word).]

“She’s not a model. She’s the daughter of a musician I know.”

“Nice to meet you. If you discriminate against goblins, please let me know in advance. So I can hit you first.”

“Look at her small head. It’s smaller than my hand.”

There are orcs, humans, dwarves, and even goblins.

This is excessively fantasy.

And why is the goblin so pretty?

Ouch! Don’t pinch my cheeks!

“Teacheeeer….”

“You guys! Stop bothering the child and get back to work!”

When Groomloc swung his arm, which was twice as thick as Chloe’s waist, the painters scattered noisily.

It was a very lively atmosphere.

Chloe smiled slightly.

Hmm, not bad.

More than enough for a temporary lodging.

“This is your room. I’ve cleaned it, and it’s not too cramped.”

“Wow! Thank you. I’ll keep it clean!”

Chloe was even more delighted when she saw the attic room.

It was tiring to climb four flights of stairs, but other than being a bit dusty, it was a nice studio apartment.

Even when she lived in Korea, Chloe, chasing her romantic ideals, lived in a rooftop room and even bought a bunk bed.

An artist lives and dies by romance.
If she were a realist, she wouldn’t have learned music, or stubbornly pursued her dreams and ended up working for a musical instrument import company.

But.

Even so, one can’t blindly chase romance.
Chloe cautiously inquired,

“By the way, Teacher, what about my living expenses?”

“Living expenses?”

“Yes. Didn’t my father say anything? I’m planning to look for some work here.”

Chloe has already been reincarnated for eight years.

She wasn’t naive enough to think she could just play around until she entered the monastery.

‘He must have given you some money for living expenses and rent.’

Her father was meticulous with money.
Surely he wouldn’t have forgotten to send her living expenses.

‘And it wouldn’t be a small amount to give to a child.’

She needed to know how much money she had to estimate how much more she needed to earn.

Groomloc also noticed Chloe’s calculations.

‘This clever child doesn’t know the ways of the world?’

Oliver, you bastard, how high are your standards?

Groomloc clicked his tongue.

And then he sighed deeply.

It was understandable.

“You have nothing.”

“…Huh?”

“He didn’t give me a single penny. Your father.”

He hadn’t received a single copper coin from Oliver.

“N-Nothing? Really, not a single penny?”
“That’s how it is for apprentices. You work for your food and lodging.”

“Uh… so that means.”

Groomloc nodded with a pitiful expression.

“It seems your father wanted you to learn responsibility by working here.”

Dad, Dad.

Oliver, you…

‘He really sent me here to struggle from scratch?’

This is too much.

How can he be so cold to his own child?

Is this some kind of Middle Ages with no concept of human rights?

Or did I cause some huge trouble?

‘Sh*t, it’s all true.’

They called it the City of Water, but it was a Hell Joseon Marine Corps boot camp.

Clicker, did you trick me again?

Dear webnovel enthusiasts of South Korea.
I dare to offer you a piece of advice.

Don’t rely too much on original story information.

The Middle Ages are much tougher than you think.

“Ouch.”

One week into my atelier work.
Around the time I started to adapt to the Yaltesance Marine Corps boot camp.
I lay in bed, lost in deep contemplation.

Children’s rights?

Labor laws?

There’s no such thing in this town.
It’s a completely different game from the honey-flowing modern world where people lose their minds over a five-day work week.

Is this what madness is? This is the era of madness.

“The Middle Ages are truly something. Modern SME slavery can’t even compare.”

[Yes, slavery continued into the modern era.]

“What nonsense. Which country? America?”

[It existed in various regions around the world.]

“…Joseon too?”

[Joseon too!]

According to Clicker,
there was a nation on the Korean peninsula that cultivated middle and high school girl idols into exclusive lucky pleasure squads for high-ranking government officials until the modern era-

“No, no, no, stop with the red pills.”

[It’s the harsh reality that occurred in many societies. 😊]

I don’t believe it!
Clicker’s trying to pollute my brain again!

[Red Flavor! This song is really addictive.]

See? It’s talking nonsense again.

Such nuclear fire noodle level spiciness can’t be reality.

‘…Yeah, people are all the same wherever they live.’

Yaltesance is just a place where the ‘romantic era’ hasn’t faded completely.

If you want to live, you have to work.
Unless you’re going to swallow the red pill and become a revolutionary fighter.

‘Working itself is fine.’

It’s harder than when I lived in Korea, but if I think about it differently, it’s just work.
I’m not going to cry about it just because it’s hard.

“But what can I even do?”

Now what?

What can an 8-year-old do in this Hell Joseon peninsula?

[There are so many things you can do! Let me suggest a few. How about music?]
“Music? Does that even pay?”

I come from a family of musicians, with my dad being a court musician.

I learned to play instruments too.

But my senior in this field, my dad, Oliver, was a poor musician.

He’s poor even after becoming a court musician!

If I didn’t like music, I wouldn’t have learned it.

[Or there’s modeling!]

“That’s difficult here too.”

In this world, portraits are something you pay for, not a way for models to earn money.

Of course, I’m Noah Turing’s daughter… no, son.

As a biological pretty girl, the face I inherited is practically a national treasure.

One of the very few models who receive payment instead of paying.

I could easily reach that celestial level, but-

“Chloe, how about modeling today? I’ll give you 2 yurks.”

“No.”

The daily wage is two loaves of bread.

Is this hourly wage for real?
There are no child rights, let alone minimum wage.

“Look at her being so resolute. Oh, what a pity.”

“Didn’t you offer her too much?”

“Too much? With Chloe, forget 2 yurks, even sculptors would bring gold coins and beg her to model for them.”

“She needs to be an adult first for that.”

Statues, you’re talking about nude models.
Do you think I haven’t seen my mom’s full-nude goddess statue displayed at the city entrance?

I’d be embarrassed even in my previous body, and what?

Permanently enshrined at Namdaemun as a feminized nude model?

[TL Note: Namdaemun (lit. “Great South Gate”) is a historic landmark in Seoul, South Korea, also known as Sungnyemun. The line jokes about being publicly displayed there.]

Oh yeah, you want me dead, right?

“Chloe! Chloe!! I’m sorry!! Don’t break the brush!! It’s expensive, I got it through sponsorship!!”

“Are you going to bring up modeling again or not?”

“I won’t!! I’ll never do it again!! B-But it’s not like I asked you to be a nude model, I’m really sorry, don’t break it-!”

See?

The modeling route is hopeless no matter how I look at it.

‘The monastery can’t be any more comfortable than this.’

This is a medieval fantasy.

An eight-year-old girl is deprived of her human rights in this common sense-defying world.

If I want to avoid a future of suffering child abuse, there’s only one way.

‘I have to gain enough influence myself.’

Influence.

Influence, huh.

A good influence that will leave a deep impression on religious people…?

‘In short, donations!’

So.

After all this and that, there was only one option.

“Clicker.”

I called my constellation with tears in my eyes.

Painfully ignoring my conscience.

“Grab a brush. Let’s get to work.”

[Okay! Clicker’s ready to draw!]

And so.

Three weeks after becoming self-reliant in this harsh world.

I opened an AI art commission in the City of Arts.

“Here. I finished all five portraits.”

“Already?!”

“It’s only been a day, how is that possible!”

“You! Have you considered an exclusive contract with me?!”

One-third the industry average price.
And ten times the work speed.

Lord.

Please forgive me for becoming a petty thief for a living again today.

“Click.”