The faint light of dawn seeped through the narrow bars of the window.
Sirin opened her eyes on a hard wooden cot.
The moment she did, she muttered whatever words came to mind.
“Longing, corrosion, seventeen, dawn, furnace.”
Sirin smiled.
So yesterday wasn’t a dream after all.
Getting her voice back—that wasn’t a dream.
Yesterday had been the most densely packed day since she’d fallen into this other world.
She’d gotten her voice back, dragged Hans off his throne, snapped some vermin’s neck…
It almost felt too good to be real.
Her side ached with a dull, persistent throb—but she welcomed it.
If it were a dream, there’d be no pain like this.
Sirin lay there and looked around.
She was in the temporary holding cell of an Imperial Security Force outpost.
They’d slapped a grand label on her—”witness to a fatal incident”—but it was a prison in all but name, just without iron bars.
Sirin slowly pushed herself upright.
She had no particular complaints about being locked up.
Witness, they said—but honestly, Sirin had more or less seen this coming.
Someone had died right on the doorstep of a town with functioning law enforcement, not out in the middle of nowhere.
Of course this was going to happen.
If anything, her current situation was fairly satisfying.
Unlike the ramshackle hideout outside the village, this place had solid walls and a ceiling to keep out the wind and rain.
The cot being hard was a minor deduction, but still.
On top of that, she was safe from the harassment of mercenary riffraff and bratty kids.
In a way, a civilized society’s jail was the safest fortress Sirin could ask for.
She gave a satisfied nod.
‘My tax money at work.’
Sirin had never paid taxes in this world.
“Hmm…”
She shoved aside the thought threatening her self-image and slowly reviewed the system log she hadn’t finished reading yesterday.
Yesterday had taught her something.
The fight with Heres hadn’t been a simple struggle for survival in another world.
It had meant more than that.
[ DLC – Using Martial Arts in Fantasyland (Working Title) is active. ]
This wasn’t just a throwaway gag.
Martial arts—something that had no business existing in this primitive medieval fantasy world—were a concrete reality.
‘If martial arts are real…?’
Sirin desperately dredged up every scrap of wuxia knowledge she’d ever half-absorbed.
The jianghu, Inner Energy, fateful encounters… and…
Body Rebirth.
Yes.
That was it.
Transform the bones, shed the womb.
As far as Sirin could recall, this was something beyond mere strength.
A realm where the body itself was fundamentally remade.
The moment that thought clicked into place, a flash of realization blazed through her mind.
Body Rebirth—transforming the physical through martial enlightenment.
In other words: the unity of mind and body.
So if Sirin—a man’s mind in a woman’s body—achieved Body Rebirth…
‘My body would reshape itself to match my mind…!’
Sirin felt something close to absolute certainty surge through her.
She had two desperate goals.
The first was to get back to her original world, by any means necessary.
But the second goal was more urgent—perhaps even a prerequisite.
To reclaim her original body.
The gnawing sense of loss and wrongness below the waist hadn’t faded one bit with time.
Then the answer was clear.
She had to master martial arts.
She had to get stronger.
And she had to gain enlightenment—and achieve Body Rebirth.
‘I need to get martial arts.’
And the first step had already been taken.
The Sun-Piercing Sword.
[ Complete the Hou Yi Sun-Piercing Sword by obtaining its Mind Enlightenment! ]
The Hou Yi Sun-Piercing Sword was unfinished.
So Body Enlightenment alone wasn’t enough to complete a martial art.
Well, even in the wuxia novels she’d skimmed, you needed some kind of enlightenment to properly use a technique.
But how exactly was she supposed to get Mind Enlightenment?
Sirin scrolled back through the system log.
[ Your understanding of others has increased! ]
[ You have partially/substantially/fully met the activation conditions for the foundational Mind Enlightenment system! ]
Understanding others leads to Mind Enlightenment?
What, was she supposed to become a therapist?
The only time she’d gotten Mind Enlightenment was when she was messing with Heres.
Sirin let out a sigh.
‘Heres, you useless piece of garbage. This story is hosted at g.com.
If you were going to die, you could’ve at least left me something worthwhile.’
The only enlightenment Heres had left behind was the knowledge that he’d been packing something too small to get a proper grip on.
Still, it was a relief she’d at least gotten the basics of the Sun-Piercing Sword through Body Enlightenment.
She’d originally been planning to rely on punching, biting, and eye-gouging.
“…!”
A realization struck her.
‘Oh, for the love of—the Sun-Piercing Sword.
Sword is right there in the name.
So I was supposed to use a blade, not my fists?’
No wonder her wrist had snapped the one time she’d used the technique.
That was an absurd thing to do.
A disaster born of ignorance.
Though, to be fair, there hadn’t exactly been a sword lying around in that situation.
But that raised a question she couldn’t explain away.
If the Sun-Piercing Sword was a sword technique, why had she been able to use it with her fist?
‘So the sword isn’t the point?’
—Ding!
[ Congratulations! ]
[ You have obtained a partial Mind Enlightenment for the Sun-Piercing Sword! ]
[ Obtain more Mind Enlightenment to complete the Sun-Piercing Sword! ]
“…”
The system messages popped up entirely on their own schedule.
While Sirin was still reviewing the system, another message appeared out of nowhere.
—Ding!
[ You have obtained a new Title! ]
[ Title Acquired: Witch ]
[ Title Effect: Fear and Irreverence ]
[ Detailed Effects ]
[ You inspire an uncanny dread in those who believe you to be a Witch, and weaken their reverence toward sacred or authoritative figures. ]
[ Your existence spreads like a whisper in the night, planting seeds of fear in the hearts of the weak and fracturing the faith of the steadfast. ]
[ Every gaze turned upon you will carry both fear and irreverence. ]
Sirin was dumbfounded.
She’d just been sitting here thinking, and now the system was spouting nonsense at her.
“Witch my ass…”
At her murmur, the security officer keeping watch flinched.
Sirin was famous enough that even the Imperial Security Force knew her name.
But not as a beloved idol—more like a reverse idol.
Instead of drooling over her, the officer swallowed hard and averted his eyes.
The sight of her staring into empty space and muttering to herself was deeply unsettling to the young officer.
‘Is she losing it… no, she was already unhinged.
Has she gotten worse?’
Out on the imperial frontier, he’d seen his share of unnatural deaths.
Beasts, monsters, barbarians, cultists of dark gods—and mercenaries who’d killed each other over nothing.
But even with all that experience, he’d rarely seen a corpse as grotesque as Heres.
A neck twisted completely around, so only the back of the skull was visible.
He shuddered again.
The lunatic beggar woman who’d been grinning in front of that twisted, grotesque corpse.
No—he couldn’t even call her a “lunatic beggar woman” anymore.
The words didn’t fit.
He’d overheard Commander Roderick speaking in a grave tone with his adjutant.
If that woman had been under some kind of curse, and it had just been released…
‘Is she actually a Witch…?’
Meanwhile, in the Detachment Commander’s office, Roderick was rubbing his gritty eyes and nursing a headache.
On his desk lay a brief report on last night’s incident alongside the results of Heres’s body examination.
Roderick had already pieced together the general sequence of events.
He’d known Heres was going to be trouble.
The man had already assaulted Merye at the tavern, and had been stirring up one incident after another, large and small.
The physical evidence at the scene was unambiguous as well.
Heres’s bloodied sword.
The traces of a blessing he’d cast.
It was clear the unidentified woman—the beggar—had been stabbed first.
She’d probably fought back after being run through.
‘No—even that isn’t certain.’
If she’d actually been stabbed, she couldn’t possibly be in one piece.
But Sirin hadn’t allowed anyone to examine her wounds, and Roderick hadn’t been able to force the issue.
‘Combat capability: unmeasurable.
Mental state: extremely unstable… or simply unpredictable.’
Roderick set down the report and pressed his fingers against his temple.
What in the world was that woman?
An unidentified vagrant.
The only thing he knew was the name she’d given herself.
Unidentified individuals weren’t unusual in a frontier settlement.
But even among them, she was something else.
That power.
That blood.
That strange smile last night.
“Commander.”
A subordinate stepped into the office and reported carefully.
“Commander, word of last night’s incident has spread through the entire village. It’s already common knowledge that the beggar—the witness—killed a mercenary.”
Roderick’s brow furrowed.
He’d expected this.
“What’s the mood at the mercenary camp?”
“Tense, sir. It sounds like they’ll be making a move soon.”
Of course.
There was no way the mercenaries were going to let this slide.
Their pride would never accept the fact that their vice-captain had been killed by some vagrant woman.
By the book, this case was clearly under Imperial Security Force jurisdiction.
But Roderick knew the reality of this frontier town all too well.
Imperial authority barely reached this far, and the mercenary company dispatched under the pretext of monster suppression was, in practice, an uncontrollable armed faction.
Especially now—with the recent delays in suppression payments, their resentment had reached a boiling point.
In that climate, they were just going to hand over the woman who’d killed their vice-captain to the Security Force’s discretion?
Not a chance.
But could his outpost’s garrison actually hold them back?
On the other hand, if he caved to the mercenaries’ pressure and handed her over—the Security Force’s authority would collapse, and he’d be court-martialed for dereliction of duty.
And above all, there was no way that woman of unknown origin would go quietly.
If he tried to estimate the capabilities the “witness” was hiding, it was entirely possible the whole outpost would get blown sky-high.
“Damn it…”
A low curse slipped from Roderick’s lips.
Caught between a rock and a hard place.
A headache of a morning was dawning.
—Knock knock.
With a knock, his adjutant carefully opened the door and stepped in.
“Commander. A priest from the Order of the Savior is here to see you.”
#
Familiar footsteps echoed from the end of the corridor.
—Creak.
The holding cell door swung open with the groan of a rusty iron hinge.
The security officer who’d opened it glanced inside, gave a brief nod to the old man who appeared behind him, and pulled the door shut again.
It was Peter.
“A visit? You must have some pull with the Security Force, old man.”
Sirin sat perched on the edge of the cot and smirked.
She was surprised.
She hadn’t expected them to grant a visit this easily to a witness in a homicide case.
Then again, Peter had always had something about him that set him apart from ordinary people.
Peter looked at Sirin with undisguised exasperation.
“You have quite the aggressive way of enjoying a festival.”
“What are you talking about?”
“From what I hear, you didn’t even get a free drink out of it. So you crawled in here stone-cold sober. Did you trade mud baths for a new hobby?”
Sirin’s eyes went distant at that.
“…I once had a dream of becoming a civil servant.”
“What on earth are you babbling about?”
“I wanted to leech off the warm shelter of public authority. I figure it’s a good thing I got to live that dream, even like this.”
Peter clicked his tongue.
“You actually enjoy prison. I had no idea living as a vagrant was that hard.”
“Old man. The trend these days is leveraging public authority to privately enjoy a cozy, quiet space. And for the record, those mud baths were skincare.”
Sirin gave Peter a pitying look.
“It’s sad, watching you fall behind the times.”
Peter nodded with a perfectly straight face.
“I may be behind the times, but I’ll pass on the stray-dog beauty regimen. You enjoy it all you like.”
Sirin glared, but Peter only shrugged.
He reached into his coat and pulled out a bundle, holding it out to her.
“Here. Marta asked me to make absolutely sure this got to you.”
The warm smell of fresh bread prodded at Sirin’s hunger.
Peter waited until she’d finished off an entire roll before speaking.
“Anyway, I heard what happened. They say you twisted that mercenary’s neck clean around. His lot will be coming for revenge—what are you planning to do?”
“…”
Sirin thought for a moment, then answered.
“Let them come. I’ll just open a class.”
Peter stared at her, baffled.
“A class? What do you mean?”
“Neck-twisting class. Perfect for men who want to avenge a rapist.”
Sirin said it with complete indifference.
“Maybe once their heads spin all the way around, they’ll come to their senses.”
The thought that followed made her smile.
The rough outline of what she needed to do next was taking shape in her mind.
She would use this opportunity to sweep away this eyesore of a mercenary company, put the Security Force in her debt, and collect on it.
‘That’ll help me get to the capital.’
Sirin thought that, and smiled.