Episode 0: About How Commercial Movies Were Too Intense in a Medieval Fantasy World
Watching movies was far better than living a movie-like life.
Ooo
I closed my notebook, placing the final period on today’s entry.
The never-ending war.
Since the middle of the Fourth World War, I had been writing in this notebook, and now, I could finally see the end of it.
Brushing off my pants, I stood up on the rubble of a building that had collapsed due to a bombing during our occupation of this area.
“Sergeant Kim, are you still writing that diary?”
As I adjusted my gear, a soot-covered white soldier approached and spoke to me.
“Someone has to keep writing. Since that bastard Xx can’t continue his story, someone else has to.”
The pages of my notebook fluttered, pointing toward a person lying not far away, covered by a blanket.
In this chilly weather, my fallen comrade lay with his face completely covered, his eyes peacefully shut.
The white soldier who had spoken to me started to say something but then closed his mouth, as if his throat had tightened. He adjusted his helmet and muttered bitterly under his breath.
“Damn it, that black kid. How does a spotter die faster than the sniper?”
That was the last thing I ever heard from him.
*
Not wanting him to freeze to death on the cold ground, I somehow managed to carry him to the mortician.
Unlike our black friend who had gone before him, this guy had been taken out by counter-sniper fire relatively close to the city, so at least we could give him a proper funeral.
With another man gone, our Ranger company now had to continue fighting without a sniper team.
“If only… If only I had done my job as the spotter better…”
The private, who had been hastily assigned as a temporary replacement, muttered in self-reproach.
Sitting in a chair outside the morgue where the sniper brothers lay, he had taken off his helmet and was resting his forehead on his knees.
“It’s not your fault, so don’t blame yourself.”
I remembered being like that once.
I patted him on the shoulder before walking toward the company commander.
He was chewing on an unlit cigarette, then spat it onto the ground.
“Got wet?”
“Yeah. I had a bad feeling when we were crossing the river. Seems like we all got soaked.”
Despite his words, his pants were perfectly dry.
Strangely, the only thing wet was his face.
I pulled out my notebook and wrote today’s entry.
*
We were cut off.
The radio operator had been hit by a lucky mortar strike a few minutes ago—his entire body disappeared along with the radio, leaving only a single arm behind.
We had no way of knowing if the main force would come to rescue us, and in the midst of this, a Jewish private spoke up.
“Sergeant, you’re still writing in that diary?”
“■■ once said that when this war was over, he was going to turn it into a movie. Since he can’t write anymore, someone has to keep going and finish his film.”
“Oh, then does that mean I get to be the main character? The kind of hero who starts out useless but later awakens his potential?”
“Cut it out. You’re still useless.”
“Just wait and see. One day, I’ll earn the Medal of Honor and throw those words right back at you, Sergeant.”
“Please, make that happen.”
As I chatted with the Jewish private, a large mixed-race soldier approached and joined in on the banter.
“Then I don’t need to be in the movie. Just put me in the sound team.”
“You?”
“I’m actually a music school graduate.”
“Then make me the cameraman.”
The war correspondent following our company raised his hand and chimed in.
“Then I’m the lead actor, and Sergeant Kim is the director?”
“Why would I be the director? I’m the main character, and the company commander is just a supporting role.”
“What?”
“I’m the one writing the diary, so why would the commander be the protagonist?”
“You little—! Hey, grab that damn notebook!”
The company commander put me in a headlock and smacked my helmet.
The other soldiers laughed and tried to snatch my notebook, while I struggled to protect it from them.
Click.
The war correspondent captured the moment in a photograph.
*
“Abububu! (Ugh, this is so boring.)”
“Oh my, Alan. Looks like you need a diaper change.”
0.6 years into reincarnation.
I grumbled as I watched the TV my mother had turned on.
The last thing I remembered was the deafening sound of bombs exploding—then, suddenly, I found myself in an awesome medieval fantasy world.
Honestly, expecting to survive after setting up that many death flags was just wishful thinking.
Since I knew I was going to die in that hopelessly isolated situation, I went all out, recklessly throwing around flags that were normally taboo. Sure enough, less than an hour later, they all came crashing down on me.
I didn’t feel particularly bitter about it.
But that wasn’t what mattered.
What mattered was that in this life, I had a chance to chase the dream I couldn’t achieve in my previous one.
A medieval world?
That wasn’t nearly enough to shake my resolve.
“Son, what is this?”
“What do you mean? It’s action! Doesn’t this get your adrenaline pumping, Dad?”
“The counterintelligence bureau just sent us a warning letter, telling you to tone it down.”
“Eek! Censorship is tyranny! I stand for creative freedom!”
“…They said fifteen agents got injured this month just from guarding you.”
“Ah… My bad.”
I guess commercial Movies were a bit too intense for a medieval fantasy world.
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