After finishing his morning training, he washed himself thoroughly.
Because he didn't want to hear anyone say he smelled of sweat.
After that, he ate again.
Taking in nutrients was just as important as exercising.
Stew.
Packed with meat, vegetables, tomato sauce, and more, it had been simmered deeply overnight.
Surprisingly, stew was one of the dishes that allowed for the certain absorption of the ingredients' nutrients.
Though only cheap ingredients were used, simmering them for a long time made them tender and easy to digest, and with commonly available herbs like basil and tomato sauce enhancing the flavor, the taste was rich and satisfying.
"Phew, that was a good meal."
Next was rest.
Ihan was the type to take his rest as thoroughly as his meals.
A short, 30-minute power nap.
Though it didn't have the same effect as deep sleep, the benefits of taking a power nap were numerous.
It showed a brief but intense effect, aiding in the recovery of physical stamina and mental fatigue.
After taking exactly a power nap, Ihan rose and stretched.
Stretching right after waking from deep sleep, followed by full-power exercise and then nutrient intake.
Washing up after swordsmanship training and taking in nutrients again.
Stretching after a power nap.
The routine responsible for the start of Ihan's day.
A routine he had maintained for about three years, without missing a single day.
It was the same even the day after being beaten like dough by the knight commander, who was like an enemy to him.
'Actually, recovering the next day after being beaten makes me feel my body improving, which is annoying in its own way.'
If one were to ask why he continued such crazy training, Ihan would answer that he did it because it was effective.
Training to the point of breaking, and then recovering the body with troll-like regeneration, made his body even better.
Though it was merely progress as slow as a crawling snail, the fact that there was "progress" was the crucial point.
Even if his strength and stamina only increased by 0.01, if that exceeded a hundred days, it meant an increase of 1 in strength and stamina.
For a thousand days, it would be an increase of 10.
After definitively experiencing this, Ihan trained consistently.
A 0.01 progress might be despair for someone else, but for him—who was not a noble, didn't even have a proper master, and had nothing but a functioning body—such a subtle method of growth was merely a beacon of hope.
Moreover, sometimes the progress was 0.05, and there were times it was 0.1.
The euphoria from progress was comparable to nothing else, and Ihan felt he was silently advancing toward self-perfection.
"...Sigh, but seriously, when will I ever win?"
However, humans were not machines, and sometimes depressed feelings would unexpectedly visit.
Today just so happened to be one of those days.
It was a day where his mood wasn't very good.
* * *
Leaving the area located on the outskirts of the city, known to be inhabited by farmers and commoners, a bustling city revealed itself the further Ihan walked.
The overwhelming majesty worthy of the capital of the Pendragon Kingdom.
As one got closer to the royal castle, bustling streets lined up, and enormous buildings and sculptures resembling works of art were not rare sights.
It wasn't originally this large. However, after transforming into a kingdom post-war, they developed the capital to match the kingdom's name.
If someone who remembered the past scenery were shown the current landscape, they probably wouldn't believe it and would experience a moment of confusion.
Before he knew it, he had entered the district where the capital's nobles lived, and the royal castle with its majestic form came into view.
A royal castle that someone would look at with yearning eyes.
That it was splendid was something Ihan also agreed with.
"...I really don't want to go."
Ihan's face crumpled extremely, making it glaringly obvious he didn't want to go.
As if waging a subtle war of nerves by himself, he stood still for a few minutes.
Saying he had no choice, he went up to the castle gates.
Then.
"Attention! I greet Knight Rihan!"
"Good morning, Knight Rihan."
"Yeah, good work everyone. ...More importantly, I told you my name is Ihan, not Rihan."
"...Aren't they the same thing?"
"......"
Ah, Grandfather.
The honorable Deoksu Lee clan is being ignored by this medieval world.
Should I beat them up?
[Stop spouting nonsense and just do your work, you bastard.]
'...Yes, sir.'
Feeling that his (past life) grandfather would probably say something like that, Ihan shook his head and held out his token.
A necklace that looked like a dog tag.
When the soldier shone a magical device on the token, it glowed blue.
A technology reminiscent of fingerprint or iris recognition.
Magic truly was amazing.
"No problems. Work hard again today, Knight Rihan."
"...I don't want to work hard."
"Haha, you're good at joking."
"......"
What is so funny to this guy?
Feeling resentful that everyone except him seemed happy, Ihan entered the castle.
He didn't know about others, but his stress had accumulated quite a bit. He felt that if someone provoked Ihan at this very moment, he would explode.
Just let one guy get caught.
Anticipating this, Ihan quickly headed to the outskirts where the knight order was located.
"It's Rihan."
"He's here."
"What's going to happen today?"
"Is the Commander here?"
The same armor as Ihan's.
A group wearing silver-white armor emblazoned with a white lion welcomed (?) him.
Of course, while subtly avoiding Ihan's gaze.
'Truly gutless bastards.'
If a commoner bastard came, shouldn't they be glaring at him, spitting out curses, and picking a fight?
They should be rushing at him with a life-or-death resolve, pushing him into traps, and even sending assassins.
Why do none of them have even that much spirit?
'The guys from before had good spirit, at least.'
The noble-born knights who used to try to pick fights with him, sent assassins, and tried to kill him.
He had a really fun time playing with them.
Because every time his stress built up, they gave Ihan a justifiable cause to beat people up.
But now it was different.
Perhaps because he had beaten so many of those types, at some point, the people who picked fights with him disappeared.
Seeing this, it truly felt like a lifetime ago.
He felt the flow of time.
'I should have left some alive.'
He should have left some tenacious chihuahuas who would still pick a fight so he could beat them up later.
Just as his brow furrowed with slight regret.
"Ihan, who are you trying to kill today to make that kind of face?"
"...Would you at least pick a fight with me?"
"No. What crazy person would pick a fight with a monster like you?"
"Coward."
"...I'm not a coward, you bastard."
Jake—one of the extremely rare guys with good enough humanity not to ignore Ihan for being a commoner despite being of noble birth, and one of Ihan's few friends in the knight order.
He was also one of the guys who called his name properly. His skills were also in the upper ranks of the knight order, so he'd be good for venting his anger—no, as a sparring partner, but...
"Don't look at me like that. If I spar with you, my bones will ache."
Jake didn't leave any opening, as if cutting off the crisis in advance.
He's a perceptive guy, anyway.
"A noble guy should have the gall to feel offended when a commoner acts arrogant and rush in to kill him, tsk tsk!"
"...I don't know about the rest, but I can tell just how narrow your image of nobles is."
Jake was in the same knight order intake as Ihan.
Because of that, he knew how much Ihan had clashed with the noble-born members in the early days of the knight order.
...And he certainly knew what became of the nobles who clashed with Ihan as a result.
'Ugh, it still gives me goosebumps.'
The shock of that day still remained a deep impression for Jake as well.
After harassing Ihan to the point where even he thought it was a bit much, they finally picked an unacceptable fight with him, and after that, Ihan literally became a beast worthy of the word "evil spirit" and beat them as if to kill them.
When he recalled how others rushed in to stop the rampaging Ihan, only for the ones who rushed in to be severely injured and require convalescence for a while, it was a result worse than not trying to stop him at all.
If the Commander hadn't stepped in that day, at least three of the guys there would have definitely died...
Afterwards, words circulated within the knight order that Ihan should be expelled or punished, but this was all ignored by the Commander.
It seemed like the Commander did it to protect Ihan in his own way, but perceptive members, including Jake, knew.
That Ihan actually wanted to be retaliated against. And that he would have gladly welcomed expulsion.
Because if it weren't for the Commander, Ihan would have quit a hundred times over.
Therefore, the Commander had actually become a shield to give Ihan a hard time, and while Jake thought the Commander was being too much, he understood how he felt.
For good reason.
'Because he's definitely strong.'
He was too solid of a talent to give up on.
The statement that he didn't want to fight him was a sincere truth stemming from the depths of Jake's heart.
* * *
The knight order's training was, frankly speaking, just average.
Not harsh, nor overly difficult.
Rather, there was no small amount of leaving it to autonomy.
'If someone saw this, they'd think it was the Major League.'
Something he heard in his past life: most of the training in the Major League had to be handled individually.
Spending their own money and dividing their personal time down to the minute, they thoroughly honed their personal capabilities to survive the infinite competition of the Major League and earn the title of Major Leaguer.
That was the life of a Major League player.
Similarly, those who maintained the title of knight were mostly disciples of some renowned knight or nobles who received the backing of their families.
Because of that, they tended to do personal training to raise their individual capabilities, and never revealed their training methods in front of others.
Because the training method itself was a secret and a property.
'Certainly, they all have their own tricks up their sleeves.'
Like recipes passed down for hundreds of years, these knight guys were like treasure goblins.
Because whenever he crossed hands with them, they would surprise him with unexpected methods.
Like right now.
Whoosh!
Clang!
Two knights facing each other with training swords with completely unsharpened blades engaged in a sparring match.
The sparks blooming every time their swords clashed were brilliant, and the feast of high-tier swordsmanship, even more splendid than those sparks, was more wondrous than a circus.
Swish!
The sword wielded by one knight whipped like a lash, pressuring his opponent.
The surprising part was that the pressured opponent shattered it without hesitation, swinging his sword to show three swings in an instant.
"Flashy, so flashy."
A feast of flashy swordsmanship that had absolutely no connection to him.
It was a precious experience that pleased the eyes and gave vicarious satisfaction just by watching.
...Of course, just because he saw the swordsmanship didn't mean he could replicate it.
'In novels, the reincarnated guys are all talented and copy geniuses, so why am I different?'
He once tried to steal a look at their swordsmanship by sparring with the knights, but far from stealing it, he only had more questions.
He couldn't understand why they moved like that, and why such destructive power came from that stance.
From what he heard, families with quite some history had a training called Toujifa (Combat Technique Method), and if one learned it, they could gain capabilities equal to ten average adult men.
There was also talk that it was a struggle to reach Aura, but whether it was a struggle or whatever, it was definitely incredible.
Like the feast of Jianji (Sword Techniques) that martial artists in the wuxia novels he read as a hobby in his past life would use.
...Envious.
"Everyone is so skilled."
"Look who's talking."
"Huh?"
"Sigh."
Why is this guy suddenly picking a fight?
Could it be a signal that he wants to fight—
"For the record, I am not sparring with you, ever."
"...Umm."
Ihan was disappointed.
It wasn't just Jake; the other guys were all avoiding sparring with him too, so for Ihan, it meant he had no chance to relieve his stress.
'Kids these days, honestly—'
"-Senior Rihan!"
"...Huh?"
"I request a sparring match!"
"......Oh."
Wait, really?
'So there is one. A useful guy.'
Ihan smiled brightly.