I never thought I'd die on the job.
Not from falling, not from electrocution, not even from the cursed cheap lunches we ate near the site. I'd always imagined it would be something dumb, like choking on a boiled egg or slipping in the shower.
But no. It was a crane.
Or more accurately, the reinforced steel beam the crane dropped straight onto my head.
One moment I was guiding some rookie on how to secure a scaffolding bolt, and the next, the world turned black. No loud screech. No dramatic scream. Just a shadow, a snap, and silence.
I didn't even get to say goodbye.
I always thought I'd cry at the end. Maybe think of my mom, curse the job, panic a little. But there was none of that.
Just... quiet.
And then—
When the light returned, it wasn't heaven. It wasn't hell, either. It was dirt. Cold, damp, and packed against my cheek.
I groaned.
My head ached like someone had stuffed it with bricks. My arms felt weak. My knees burned. And for some reason, I couldn't move my wrists. I blinked, but my vision was blurry, and the smell of mildew and rot made me gag.
Where the hell...
My voice cracked when I tried to speak. It sounded younger. Dry. Raspy.
Chains clinked when I shifted.
Chains?
"Reed?" someone whispered nearby, voice hoarse. "You're awake?"
I blinked toward the voice. The figure that loomed over me was hunched, thin, and wrapped in a servant's rags. His face was lined with age and soot. He smelled like smoke and old metal.
"You collapsed yesterday," he rasped. "We thought you were done for. Gods know how your back held through that whipping."
I tried to answer, but my throat only managed a croak. My mind raced.
Wait... I died. I know I died. What is this?
A chime rang softly in my ears.
[System Activation: Complete.]
[Assigned System: Basic Status & Task Tracker]
A semi-transparent screen flickered into view in front of my eyes.
This is real. I'm not dreaming. That's a system screen. A real one.
"You hit your head?" the old man asked, stepping closer. "You're not... confused, are you?"
I didn't answer. My attention was glued to the floating window.
A literal game-like system. A cheat code. Just like those webnovels I used to read during my breaks back on Earth. In Seoul. Before I became roadkill beneath a steel beam.
I focused on the "View Task" button mentally.
[Task Assigned: Kitchen Duty]
Objective: Peel 50 root bulbs for breakfast stew.
Reward: +1 Stamina / 10 Copper / +Favor (Cook Maela)
Peeling potatoes. Really. I died and came back for this?
"Eat," the old man murmured, pushing a crust of bread into my hand. "You'll need the strength. Overseer Bran doesn't like slackers."
I nodded slowly. The bread was hard. Tasteless. I chewed it anyway.
This body... it's not mine. The name isn't mine. But this world is alive. Cold. Sharp. I can feel it. And if this body's Reed, then I'm Jeong Dae-Hyun now wearing his skin.
The old man leaned closer. "You should count yourself lucky. Mistress Sera didn't have you whipped again."
Who the hell is Mistress Sera?
Before I could ask, footsteps echoed above us. Heavy boots on stone. The old man flinched.
"Time's up," he muttered. "They'll be calling for morning chores soon. Best you remember how to move before they think you're faking."
I stared at my wrists. Shackled. My hands were bruised. The nails were chipped. My body — Reed's body — was frail, underfed. I stood up slowly, almost falling from the dizzy tilt in my head.
The old man caught me gently. "Lean on me. No shame in it."
He didn't even ask my name.
Because he thought he already knew it.
Because to them, I was Reed.
Fine. I'll play the part. For now.
When the cell doors creaked open, the light stabbed into my eyes. I squinted and shuffled with the others. Rows of servants. Silent. Obedient. Some just children. All barefoot. All ragged.
They think this is normal. That's the worst part.
We climbed narrow stone stairs into a kitchen hallway that smelled like grease and onions. A plump woman in a stained apron barked orders.
"You! Reed! Back from the dead, are we? Tubers, now! Move like you've got blood in you."
I didn't argue. I took the dirty knife, the basket, the damp wooden stool, and sat beside the others.
Peeling began. My fingers trembled.
But my mind... it raced.
So I died. Got dropped into this body. In a corrupt noble house. A slave. Shackled. Owned. Given chores like some disposable NPC.
But I have a system. A start. That's all I need.
The system pinged again.
[Task Progress: 7/50]
[Hint: Tasks completed raise favor, reduce suspicion, and may unlock System Perks.]
I peeled faster.
The cook stopped. Watched. Then the others looked, too. My hands moved in clean, fast motions. Peeling with rhythm, precision, and speed.
"Huh," Maela muttered. "Didn't know you had hands like that, Reed."
One of the older boys whispered, "He's peeling like he's done this all his life."
I smirked.
"Never underestimate a single Korean man in his twenties. This is basically survival cooking."
They didn't get the joke.
But that was fine.
[Task Complete: 50/50 Root Bulbs Peeled]
[Reward Acquired: +1 Stamina / 10 Copper / +Favor (Cook Maela)]
[Stamina increased to 3.]
[Cook Maela's Favor: Neutral → Mild Interest]
A slight tingle ran through my arms. Subtle. Like someone had adjusted the settings on my body.
So that's how this works. Tasks build stats. Slowly... but steadily.
Later that day, while collecting water from a basin, I leaned over and caught my reflection.
The face staring back was young — maybe eighteen or nineteen — but worn. Pale skin clung to high cheekbones. His jaw was narrow, lips thin, nose straight. A scar arched just above his left eyebrow, barely visible beneath the messy fringe of thick black hair. His eyes — deep brown and sharp — held something restless. Tired. But awake.
This wasn't a hero's body. It was a survivor's.
I wasn't me anymore. Not outside.
But inside...
I was still Jeong Dae-Hyun.
And I wasn't going to stay a slave for long.