Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Most objects in the world have one job. A single, simple task they were designed to fulfill. For example, A clock is meant to tell time, whereas a lamp is meant to provide light.

And a mirror?

A mirror simply has to reflect what stands before it, to show reality as it is.

Alas, the reflective surface before him has spectacularly failed to perform its one duty. After all…

「Who… am I?」

The face staring back at him is decidedly not his own.

What greets him in the mirror is an unfamiliar stranger. Deep brown eyes—the color of rich, fertile soil—stare at him, wide with confusion and no small amount of alarm. Opposites to this, his own eyes—gray like the moon on the winter sky—remain impassive as he observes the stranger. A mask of practiced composure he has long mastered through years of discipline.

The man in the reflection with short ebony locks reaches up, hesitant fingers start to graze his own cheek, as if the mere act of touching his face might somehow change it back to what it is supposed to be. Briefly, he shifts his gaze to how his own hand followed the stranger’s movement, brushing against silver strands—another contrast to the ebony locks on the stranger.

Then, the reflection swallows thickly and whispers, uncertainty creeping into his voice.

「What’s my name?」

A reasonable question, one any sensible person would ask under this circumstance. And he, being a man of reason himself, answers accordingly.

“Grandfell Claudi Arpheus Romeo,” he replies evenly. “Heir of the great Claudi Family.”

The reflection who shares his image—or rather, it is he, Grandfell, who shares this man’s image—does not feel assured by his answer. No, if anything, the man in the mirror recoils, expression twitching at the edges, as if caught between incredulity and sheer disbelief.

Grandfell, naturally, does not react.

Through his own life experiences, he learned that it is paramount to maintain composure, to keep his expression under control, something the other side seems to be wholly incapable of keeping. Therefore, all Grandfell gives in response to the brown-eyed man’s palpably rising distress is a generous tilt, one that can be interpreted as mild curiosity.

A moment of silence stretches between them, thick with mounting dread from the ink-haired man. Grandfell patiently waits as the reflection opens his mouth, shuts it, opens it again. And then, in a voice wobbling on the knife’s edge of hysteria, finally blurts out:

「I’m f**ked!」

Ah, well…

That certainly is one way to summarize their predicament.

𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓈒 𓂃

Lee Ho-yeol

That is the name of the spirit currently flailing with all the grace of a startled pigeon, the original owner of this body. It’s not difficult to gather the details as Lee Ho-yeol's memories are steadily trickling into Grandfell’s own, providing context that, frankly, is rather distressing had it been revealed to a lesser man.

Grandfell, however, simply decided that this is a matter best dealt with later—preferably over a cup of tea. Strange situations aside, to forgo his planned tea time is an affront to his refined sensibilities.

「No matter how you look at it, this was over a decade ago…!」

The mumbling spirit cries, pulling at his own hair. Grandfell allows the spirit to his own frantic rambling, making his way toward what appears to be a kitchen.

「Gaaahh! I wouldn’t have folded if I’d known!!」

He begins assessing the small space, adequately simple, though a thorough cleaning would do better wonders. The kitchen is filled with unfamiliar objects that Lee Ho-yeol’s memories helpfully identify, saving Grandfell time to search the cabinet.

「No, but like… it’s not like I could have afforded it back then…」

A kettle.

「But why now?! How am I supposed to go to work tomorrow?!?!」

A modest cup.

「Ugh, the embarrassment– my boss would be lucky if I didn’t throw coffee down his mug… no way I can function in society properly like this! I’m bound to get sued!!!」

A humble tea bag.

「—No, no, no, focus, Ho-yeol! Think about it, you can make a debut as a Player now!」

Grandfell exhales softly through his nose seeing there’s only one type of tea… alas, one must work with what is available.

「Hm, but isn’t this weird? I heard once you awaken as a Player, you assimilate with your game character, but there’s too much change in my case…」

While Lee Ho-yeol continues his endless muttering, Grandfell fills the kettle with water, and sets it to boil. He then glances at his ghostly company, who is currently mid-rant, hands on his hips, pacing in contemplative yet frantic circles. He appraises this host of his for a fleeting moment before returning to his tea-making.

Priorities.

Fortunately, it doesn’t take long until the kettle whistles.

Pouring the water with practiced ease, Grandfell allows the tea to steep before settling onto the floor, crossing his legs with practiced elegance.

Taking a slow sip of the green tea, Grandfell closes his eyes for a moment, relishing the simple pleasure—a touchstone of familiarity in this bewildering new reality. The tea is a cheap, store-bought tea bag, but he savors it with the same appreciation he would afford the finest blend. To not appreciate a well-made tea, regardless of its humble origin, would be uncouth.

“Ah,” he murmurs thoughtfully. “Quite delicious, indeed.”

Lee Ho-yeol pauses, his ghostly figure blinking in disbelief at the sight of Grandfell calmly enjoying tea as if this is nothing more than a leisurely afternoon break. Grandfell gives his host a slight nod in response, a gesture of acknowledgment that is answered with another strangled noise, somewhere between a groan and a scream.

「Goddamn you, old me!!」

Grandfell cannot comprehend what exactly his host finds so mortifying that he would curse at his adolescent self, but for now…

How lively…

Briefly, he entertains the idea of offering a cup of tea for his groaning host, if only as courtesy, and to calm the other’s nerves. Yet, as Grandfell sneaks another glance at his spectral host, loudly stating how low his—their level is, he decides against it.

Someday, perhaps… but not now.

Grandfell leisurely resumes his tea time.

𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓈒 𓂃

Grandfell flips through the trickling memories as he enjoys his tea. The more he learns, the clearer it becomes: if Lee Ho-yeol’s knowledge is to be trusted, then it suggests that his entire existence is nothing more than a fabricated story. A fictional avatar, conjured from the imagination of a restless youth playing a game. It should unsettles him, but Grandfell simply eases himself to the idea with a deliberate sip of his tea, pushing the rest to the back of his mind.

What does that make Lee Ho-yeol, the one who writes him to exist… who plays as him? A sort of deity?

A deity prones to panic. Well, why not? Stranger things had happened.

It likely has something to do with them sharing one body, but at the very least, Grandfell can take comfort that Ho-yeol is harmless to him, since his host is an open book whose thoughts and emotions are completely transparent to Grandfell.

In any case, he needs to arrange his information in order…

Arcana is a fictional game, at least, according to this Korean host, but it bleeds into reality. Rifts, or ruptures, appeared. Monsters spilling out, a catastrophe. To combat this cataclysmic event, humans on this world called Earth awaken as their player character, battling Arcanian creatures while also reaping benefits and glory from the remains. Players commonly assimilated into their character and merged into one, curiously, Lee Ho-yeol is an exception to this.

Grandfell retain his identity and sense of self, though his memories aren't fully there, his presence isn't any less clear whilst Ho-yeol himself is incorporeal. Grandfell doesn’t feel any intrusion on his mental defense, or signs that someone is trying to forcefully break into his memory of the time on Arcana, or times as a Claudi.

...

It’s better this way, he doubts a common man can handle the weight of his pride.

All the while, memories of Lee Ho-yeol flows to him. It was... quaint. 

"Glorious time, indeed." Grandfell whispers, only to be vocally shut down by his boisterous host. 

The concept of his entire existence being a creation of someone else’s imagination is bizarre, but it's still something Grandfell can still work with it.

He should make himself comfortable instead of wasting energy worrying, especially in regard to the so-called virtual reality game called Arcana Continent Biography. 

Besides... If life was a game, he might as well play along with style and grace—tea in hand, of course.

Everything else can be addressed to another time.

Chapter Text

If he is to navigate this world without bringing shame upon himself, firsthand exposure is necessary. He may have gained basic understanding of this Earth, and skimming through the vast troves of information within Lee Ho-yeol’s mind has been nothing short of enlightening.

However, it’s not enough.

No amount of theoretical knowledge can replace experience.

And more importantly, combat.

He has yet to properly test the capabilities of this body he possesses. It would not do to assume his former instincts as Arcana’s Demon Hunter carry over seamlessly. The smallest inconsistency in movement could lead him to either life or death. 

For the sake of efficiency, and survivability, it is only prudent that he seeks combat experience.

More so when the standard for Players of this world looms far beyond at Level 200 while he—they, are currently standing in a humble position of Level 55.

A disadvantage, perhaps.

But nothing insurmountable.

Lee Ho-yeol, in his own manner, has already secured an opportunity for advancement—a temporary party, gathered through the curious access known as the Internet.

Thus, with measured confidence, Grandfell makes his way to their meeting place.

’Let’s see what the Players of this world are capable of.’

𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓈒 𓂃

“You came right on time.” a bespectacled man extends his hand towards him. “I’m Nam Cheolmin, the party leader. Nice to meet you.”

Grandfell inspects the gesture. A handshake, a customary greeting intended to express camaraderie and mutual respect.

’How quaint.’

“Likewise.”

Rather than reciprocate, he merely acknowledges the attempt with a slow nod—his way of granting silent approval. Nam Cheolmin, to his credit, does not appear perturbed and moves on to outline their next course of action.

Grandfell listens with one ear. His attention is drawn to the rift ahead, a jagged fracture in space, unseen by the ordinary civilians who pass by without so much as a glance.

Rifts, according to his host’s knowledge, serve as doorways between this world and the dungeons of Arcana. A dangerous construct, ever on the verge of collapse, held at bay only by the intervention of Players.

「I can see the rift’s information.」

[Gnoll’s Cellar]
Recommended Level: Lv. 35~40
Collapse Progress: 19.8%

Granfell absorbs this information with a slight nod. The low collapse rate suggests that another party has entered before them, reducing the dungeon’s difficulty.

’A timely fortune.’

This rift shall serve well as warm-up.

His gaze then shifts toward the assembled party, the one his host signed to join through “Internet” job posting for Players. He met the party leader, Nam Cheolmin, who based on his gears is of Tanker Class. The other three seem to be similarly low-leveled Players who are searching for experience, and rather excitable.

A party of five, including Grandfell himself, filled with that particular brand of enthusiasm one finds in the young and hopeful.

“Alright, shall we go in then?” The party leader amicably announces, clapping his hands together.

“Okay!” a cheerful mage, the sole female in the party, beams brightly. “Let’s give it our all!”

“Let’s do this together! Fighting!” Another member energetically chimes in.

The last member remains silent but nods firmly, his quiet excitement no less apparent.

「I’m glad, they all seem friendly.」Lee Ho-yeol, lingering behind in his spectral form, beams with satisfaction. 「I better say something as a party member too!」

Ah.

So his host wishes to participate in this camaraderie of morale-boosting.

Lee Ho-yeol is technically his landlord—given that Grandfell has unceremoniously possessed this Korean man’s body—so as Ho-yeol’s accommodating tenant, it only seems appropriate that Grandfell deliver his host sentiment to lighten the mood.

“Rest assured,” Grandfell spreads his hand, pride and authority bleeding into his voice. “You lot have nothing to worry about, for I am here.”

A proclamation of unwavering protection.

And yet…

「Who’s worried about who?!?!」

Ho-yeol’s ear-splitting screech rings through their shared consciousness. Grandfell pointedly does not react, or address the burst of mortification pulsing out of his host. If he was a lesser man, his brow might have twitched.

But he is Grandfell Claudi Arpheus Romeo, and he does not twitch.

Instead, he observes, calmly.

The light atmosphere shifts, the party leader coughs into his fist avoiding eye-contact. The mage appears to have developed a sudden interest in her own staff. One of the warriors shifts uncomfortably, scratching the back of his head.

’Huh, how odd.’

Grandfell discreetly glances toward his host’s spiritual form. His host’s metaphorical form collapsed and curled up in the depths of their shared mind, burying his face in his hands.

「That way of speaking, ugh… I’m gonna die of embarrassment…」

Once again, Grandfell fails to see the issue. Is his delivery too formal? This party of five is about to enter a monster den, assuring one’s allies of their safety should be welcomed news. If anything, gratitude should be the appropriate response.

「Let’s just… stay quiet.」

Hm.

Grandfell understands, this should be his host's first time facing actual monsters, staying quiet to conserve energy is a wise decision.

With a slight nod of understanding, Grandfell turns back to the rift entrance, saying nothing further.

If his host wishes to remain silent, he shall respect it.

𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓈒 𓂃

The shift between worlds is immediate.

One moment, they are in the open air, the city bustling behind them. The next, the rift swallows them whole, and they step into a realm of dim, stagnant air.

A subway station.

The underground passage sprawls before them, once-orderly structure warped by the rift’s influence. The flickering lights above cast long, shifting shadows across the cracked tile floor. Pools of stagnant water reflect the dim glow, their surfaces rippling at unseen disturbances.

And then, the stench.

Deep, festering odor creeps in from below, curling in the air. Rot. Filth. The unmistakable scent of something long abandoned, left to fester in the dark.

A low, distant howl echoes from deep within.

Grandfell does not react outwardly. He keeps his stance poised, steel-gray eyes sweeping across the subway with quiet scrutiny.

’...…something feels off.’

Their party moves forward, their footsteps careful but not hesitant. Either they don’t sense the same wrongness, or if they do, they dismiss it.

“I don’t see any gnolls around, even though we’re at the entrance…” The mage girl muses, glancing around with curiosity. “I’m guessing there’s a party that got in first?”

“Looks like it,” the party leader answers, “But don’t worry, this is a subway station, so it’s pretty big. If we pick a good route, we’ll be able to hunt the gnolls without overlapping with the other party.”

“Ah, okay, I trust you, Hyung-nim!” The blond curly-haired warrior grins, his voice filled with easy confidence, practically bouncing in place.

Grandfell observes this exchange with mild detachment. The leader seems to be the highest level out of all of them, commanding respect and competence. Whether that competency extends to actual combat remains to be seen.

「I’m so glad I found a reliable party!」

Ho-yeol's incorporeal form sighs in relief, practically glowing with satisfaction. Grandfell doesn’t understand, considering he’s yet to see the members' skills to warrant such carefreeness. He’s not above learning, and it’s a fortunate chance to observe how other awakened Players operate as a unit.

…that being said, the lingering feeling of wrongness is still present.

It presses at the edge of his senses, pricking at his awareness, crawling beneath his skin like an itch he cannot scratch. The fact he’s yet to pinpoint the source of that unpleasant feeling is… irritating.

“Inventory.” Grandfell whispers under his breath.

A translucent blue screen flickers into existence before him, displaying the equipment he—or more like, Lee Ho-yeol previously had from a decade ago. The dagger stands out immediately, next to it a common explorer bow and five arrows.

[Nameless Blacksmith’s Masterpiece: Silver Dagger]
Rating: Rare
Limit: Lv.50
Effect: Deals additional damage to undead and demons.
Description: A masterpiece of a blacksmith with great skill but little fame.

Grandfell nods approvingly. Silver is among the finest materials for demon-slaying. A true Demon Hunter would never set foot onto a battlefield without it.

「Crap, this is a waste!」Lee Ho-yeol’s voice cuts through his thoughts, filled with instant regret.「Silver weapons have garbage durability! There’s a bow, but only five arrows. And they’re all silver!」

Grandfell stills.

…A waste?

Surely, his host jests.

Silver is an excellent choice. Costly, yes. But for a Demon Hunter, cost is irrelevant. One does not skimp on tools meant to destroy wretched creatures. What fool would ever question the necessity of—

Grandfell inadvertently pauses.

A single thought, slow and unwelcomed, slinks into his mind.

Gnolls.

Gnolls are not demons. They are beasts, dogmen. A creature of flesh, fur, and fangs.

Not the undead. Not accursed. Not creatures of the abyss that recoil from sacred silver.

The tools in his hands, so perfectly suited for slaying the damned, is… less than ideal.

Not entirely useless, of course. Silver still cuts, still kills. But it dulls quickly. Wears faster.

The bow with its five arrows, all silver, would be equally wasteful.

If they are forced into prolonged combat, relying solely on silver weaponry…

’I risk running out of weapons in the middle of battle.’

That would… undoubtedly be inconvenient.

「Aaarrggh! Lee Ho-yeol, you bastard! I know silver weapons are cool, but was it that hard to pack a practical weapon?!」

His host, having thoroughly processed their collective mishap, has resorted to cursing his adolescent self again. Grandfell, however, simply reconsiders.

The first thing Grandfell learned as the next head of the Claudi family was to be indifferent to personal matters. It’s a position where the slightest disturbance was not tolerated. It is beneath him to lose composure over something as trivial as inadequate weaponry.

“Gnolls detected, 70 meters ahead!” Nam Cheolmin announces, readying his shield. “Everyone, prepare for battle!”

Granfell exhales, slow and measured, the closest thing to a sigh one might ever catch from him.

’Very well, let us make do for now’

𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓈒 𓂃

‘What… is this mess?’

Granfell frowns in his mind, unimpressed. Similarly, Lee Ho-yeol mirrors the feeling, though it leans closer to confusion compared to Grandfell's pure, undiluted disappointment.

One tank, two melee damage dealers, and one magic damage dealer.

By all accounts, this is an ideal party composition. A formation with a clear division of roles. And yet, Nam Cheolmin has fallen out of line. Their leader charges ahead, aggravating the enemies instead of protecting his party members. Leaving the whole defense to a sub-tanker who’s mainly a damage dealer, which, of course, means that their mage—the most delicate member—has been left to fend for herself against every stray attack that comes their way.

‘Is this how they hunt monsters?’ Grandfell wonders, gaze sweeping over the battlefield with disapproving detachment. ‘Or is this merely… incompetence?’

Lee Ho-yeol scratches the back of his neck sheepishly, doubtful.

「It’s not my place to worry about it, since I’m useless right now.」

No, Grandfell cannot agree with that label. It isn’t that they are useless, Grandfel prefers to say they’re biding their time. Minimize combat, conserve their limited possessions, and wait until they procured proper weapons.

But, watching this disaster unfold in real time is… difficult to ignore.

Then—

SWISH!

An arrow shoots out of the corner of Grandfell’s eye.

“A surprise attack!” Seo Jeong-yeon shouts, dodging the incoming projectiles. “Get behind the pillars!!”

Grandfell follows the girl’s sound command with ease, his gaze already shifting towards the two gnoll archers behind the vending machine.

Their arrows.

Their blades.

Resources.

A thin, almost imperceptible smile touches his lips as his gaze narrows on them.

’How convenient.’

As the gnolls reload, Grandfell moves. His gait remains unhurried, each step deliberate. The creatures snarl in response, baring their yellowed fangs, but Grandfell strides remain, unwavering.

「Wait, wait, wait—! It’s dangerous, I don’t even have a weapon—!」

Ho-yeol’s voice rings in his head, full of alarm.

Grandfell ignores him.

CRUNCH!

His fist meets the bridge of the first gnoll’s nose with an elegance that betrays the absolute lack of urgency in his movement.

The creature reels back, momentarily stunned.

Grandfell tilts his head, assessing.

“It seems we are dealing with a pack of untrained mutts,” he says, his tone as flat as ever, as though chastising an unruly dog. “Though I would rather not dirty my hands, corporal punishment is needed at the moment.”

…crack, crack!!

Grandfell strikes once more, holding the attitude of an overbearing aristocrat while gracefully dodging the claws and teeths of angry gnolls. His movements are refined, a masterful show that almost looks like a dance.

Except, that was only on the outside.

Despite the precision of his technique, he’s aware that the gnolls aren’t suffering significant injuries.

‘This body is lacking— no, I have yet to regain the proper abilities for unarmed combat.’

Blaming the lack of damage on Lee Ho-yeol physical limitation is tactless, boorish excuses. He has the knowledge and experience gained from his time in Akshan, and the confidence to execute it, but not the skill for it to be as effective as he knows it should.

A minor problem that can be amended… eventually.

Then—

“The casting is over! Avoid it!” Seo Jeong-yeon shouts, flames rise from her wand.

Grandfell recognizes the low-level spell, Fire Arrow. It has a slow projectile speed, easy to evade. He ponders on the possibility of the magic missing its target, but…

“Y-yip!” the gnolls’ ears flatten while their tails are dropping, no more growls are heard.

And with that, the Fire Arrow strikes them, finishing the job Grandfell had so graciously started.

“As expected, discipline is inefficient for wild mutts.” Grandfell says pridefully, as though it was him who had finished off the gnolls.

「There’s a limit to being shameless…」

Now, what is that supposed to mean?

The mage’s magic may have technically been the final blow, but contribution priority is determined by overall effort, is it not? And he has contributed by softening them up first, hasn’t he?

He has every right to collect these spoils.

[Crude Arrow]
Grade: Normal
Restriction: None
Effect: None
Description: It’s a crude arrow.

Grandfell withdraws the common explorer bow out of his inventory. A quick count confirms that he now possesses thirty-two arrows from the gnolls. A reasonable number. If necessary, he can switch to his other newly acquired weapon.

[Crude Self-Defense Longsword]
Grade: Normal
Restriction: Lv. 30
Effect: When attacking, there is a low probability of status abnormality ‘Rabies.’
Description: Dulled blade makes the attack less powerful.

Grandfell smirks, flexing his finger.

Ah, it feels nice to have something to properly fight with.

𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓈒 𓂃