Chapter 2: The Scoundrel Fiancé of a Murim Dating Sim (1)

What would happen if I got transmigrated into one of my novels? If it were the parody novel I wrote as my first work, I’d want to become the protagonist. Sure, I would cringe so hard that I’d want to gouge my eyes out if I reread it now—those were my edgy teenage years after all—but at least I’d be happy living as a Gary Stu1 protagonist with a harem of charming female characters. I wouldn’t even mind becoming the protagonist of the erotic stories I wrote during my hormonally-charged youth. Who can say no to a world where every beauty becomes theirs just by pointing your phone at it? Fantasy, academy settings, modern-day thrillers—I wrote them all. I wouldn’t even need to be the main character in these novels to enjoy them. I poured my heart into each of them and built their settings with meticulous care. Even if I couldn’t fully explore all the hidden secrets in the stories I wrote, I knew them, and I’d be ready to live an indulgent life by taking advantage of such knowledge. As long as it was one of my novels, I was confident I could live happily if I were ever to get transmigrated. Therein lay the problem. As long as it was one of my novels. “But why am I an extra in a dating sim?” It didn’t take me long to grasp the situation after waking up in another world. I’d written and read countless regression, transmigration, and reincarnation prologues after all. After a moment of confusion, I quickly realized what had happened. It was laughable to hope that it wasn’t the game I’d just given feedback on yesterday. The traditional robes and multicolored hair were a dead giveaway. What Murim story has characters with such colorful hair? “Young Master Kang Yunho, I’ll show you to your room at the inn. You look tired, so please rest well; it’s only a few days until we reach the Moyong Clan.” One of the attendants, noticing my pale complexion, guided me to my room at the inn. “I see,” I muttered a brief reply, shut the door behind me, and sat in front of a mirror. Staring back at me was the face of a man with black hair. In this Murim Dating Sim filled with characters boasting various hair colors—no one in the Central Plains had black hair. Perhaps it was a nod to the unique element of this Korean-made dating sim—black hair symbolized a Joseon man. So, who is this Joseon man? The identity of the character I transmigrated into couldn’t possibly be worse. Kang Yunho. A member of a family of interpreters, wealthy from smuggling ginseng during trade trips between Joseon and China. Kang Yunho was the eldest son of that family. “And also the groom-to-be—soon to be killed by the heroine.” He was essentially an extra created to give Moyong Sang-ah her widow and villainess traits, while also robbing his family of its fortune in the process. That was Kang Yunho. It was almost absurd how I ended up in the body of someone with the same name as me. Or maybe the character was left blank during development, so my name naturally filled its place. In any case, Kang Yunho was en route to the Moyong Clan to marry the villainess widow, Moyong Sang-ah. Or should I say, widow-to-be? Future widow? Is that accurate? Self-made widow has a nice ring to it, no? “It’s too late to run away now.” If I had transmigrated into this body before the engagement was finalized, it might have been different. No, even if the engagement had already happened, I could have overturned it somehow and broken it off. But of course, I just had to be transmigrated when Kang Yunho was on his way to get married. If the soon-to-be groom of the Moyong Clan fled just before the wedding, it would become the laughingstock of the martial arts world. To avoid such a disgrace, the Moyong Clan would surely dispatch a pursuit team. With this body that hadn’t trained in martial arts, I would undoubtedly be caught before I could get far. To marry someone I don’t love is a fate too cruel for me to bear. That’s why I sent forged evidence of treason to frame his family in advance. At this point, Moyong Sang-ah had already sent evidence of treason to the Joseon court. Whether it was real or fabricated, the court, known for its hypersensitivity to treason, would not ignore it. Even if I managed to return to Joseon, my fate was sealed with execution. Not only was it too late to run, but the time I had left was also ticking away. When he returned to our wedding chamber in a panic, he tried to assert his rights over me, so I killed him. It felt amazing, and thanks to exposing his family’s ‘treason’, I inherited his family’s entire fortune. Moyong Sang-ah explicitly said this in the story. The Moyong estate was three days away from where I currently stood. Three days after arriving, the wedding would take place. If she sent the news of treason before the first night, I only had six days left. “I need to come up with a plan fast.” I assessed my current situation and prioritized my goals. Situation: If I returned to Joseon, my family and I were destined for execution. If I stayed with the Moyong Clan, I was fated to be killed. If I ran away before the wedding took place, it would trigger a manhunt by the Moyong Clan. Escaping after the wedding wasn’t an option either since I’d be killed on my wedding night. How can I survive this? “How can this be a game? No! This is my reality now! Ugh!” I screamed in frustration at the sheer absurdity. “Young Master! What’s wrong?” Hearing my outburst, an alarmed attendant from the next room over knocked on the door. No soundproofing? I’d better be quieter. “It’s nothing! Oh! Bring me some paper and ink.” “Yes, right away.” Once I heard the footsteps fade, I resumed my thoughts. Kang Yunho, you idiot. From the memories I had absorbed, Kang Yunho was a stereotypical spoiled, rich brat. A guy who loved to indulge in drinking and gambling and essentially lived at the gisaeng’s house. What an enviable life. Meanwhile, some of us juggle two jobs without rest to barely scrape by. Damn it. Perhaps due to it being a Murim Dating Sim, but even the gisaengs in Kang Yunho’s memories had looks akin to top-tier celebrities. He lived a life where he’d lounge with a gisaeng in each arm, being fed drinks and snacks without lifting so much as a finger. Of course, his parents wouldn’t let such a wasteful life go unchecked. — Marry the daughter of the Moyong Clan. — Father, I’m only at the age of twenty; why must I marry? — The Jurchens have become so aggressive that our ginseng smuggling trips are constantly plundered. If you marry into the Moyong Clan, the closest martial arts family to Joseon, we’ll have reliable bodyguards. — But I don’t want a Central Plains woman. They’re too fierce. — Do you even know where all your indulgences have come from? If you refuse, I’ll cut off all support and send you to a temple! — Father! That was how he ended up agreeing to the engagement, albeit begrudgingly. But, of course, his bratty nature caused trouble when meeting Moyong Sang-ah. — You’ve had a bit to drink, it seems. In the room set aside for their first meeting, Moyong Sang-ah was delayed due to a conversation with his father, but this brat couldn’t wait and got himself blackout drunk. — Huh? I haven’t seen this gisaeng before… — It seems now is not a good time. I shall take my leave for today and come back tomorrow. Moyong Sang-ah quickly assessed the situation and turned to leave. At that moment, the fool opened his mouth. — Ahaaa, my fiancée. Right, we were supposed to meet today. Sit down and pour me a drink. — …If you need someone to serve you, call for a gisaeng. Though I am your betrothed, I am not a gisaeng. This engagement is a union of families, a joining of ties— — You talk too much for a woman as worthless as a thorn kiteee. S- Shut up and pour me a drink already! Whether I buy a gisaeng, or my family buys you, it’s all the same! What? You won’t phour me a d-dring? Then prepare to cry under me in bedge. Wow. What a complete scumbag. Even recalling this memory, he’s begging to be killed. I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. Farewell. — Yeah, go on, bitchhhh. Leave! Next time we meet, I’ll make sure you’re crying under me. Haa. I understand. This level of insolence is deserving of death. I chuckled in disbelief. If someone said that to me at our first meeting, I’d probably want to kill them, too. But the problem is, it’s not the idiot heading to the Moyong Clan to be murdered—it’s me, who’s stuck in his body. “I need to win over Moyong Sang-ah.” To at least survive the first night, I needed to mend this body’s relationship with her. Sure, she might already be scheming to ruin my family and steal our fortune, but I had to get on her good side so she wouldn’t kill me. “And I can’t stay at the Moyong Clan for long.” Even though the Moyong Clan was located in China and was, therefore, outside of Joseon’s jurisdiction, staying was also a death sentence. Though I only completed the Princess Route, I knew enough of the broader story, and from what I knew, the Moyong Clan got annihilated for colluding with the Demonic Cult. Moyong Sang-ah, though cleared of accusations, disappeared from the story after that. If they were already collaborating with the cult, staying would be a fatal mistake. Fleeing quickly is the best way to survive. So, I outlined my objectives. First, I should repair my relationship with Moyong Sang-ah to a reasonable level. However, even if our relationship improves, I’ll still be implicated in the treason case, so the Moyong Clan will want to expel me. At that point, I’ll escape into the Central Plains and start a new life. Good. It’s perfect. The critical part is how to mend that relationship. “Young Master, here is the paper and ink you requested.” An attendant brought the supplies and placed them in front of me. “Thank you. You may leave.” “Understood.” After he had left, I ground the inkstone to prepare the ink. - Scritch, scratch. This is more work than I expected. Is there no elementary school supply shop around? I could use a ready-to-go ink stick to write. Back in elementary school, I used to splash ink around, sometimes getting it on the kid next to me. The boy who liked her would grab me by the collar, and we’d all end up covered in ink, ruining our clothes and getting scolded by our moms. Ah, those were the days. Wait. Elementary school? Ah! I have an idea. There was a way to save myself using what I did best. In a rush, I immediately started writing on the paper. “Right. A writer should clean up his mess with words.” Kang Yunho, you spoiled brat. I’ll thoroughly clean up your mess.