Urban Vagabond: Reload

After I decided to set my sword aside for a while and focus on cultivating the inside of myself—

—“Shouldn’t you at least look back at what kind of martial path you’ve walked so far? Only then can you set a proper signpost for the road you’ll take next.”

I carved my master’s advice—look around you—deep into my heart.

As I kept concentrating on meditation, sword discourse, and internal-method training, I started thinking more and more concretely about what that meant.

First, I should retrace everything that’s happened since I regressed. One by one. What fights have I taken? What have I experienced...?

I had a feeling I had to go through that process if I wanted to grow further as a martial artist.

I think the realization I need is in here.

To the me of my past life, “realization” wasn’t some vague thing that would drift down if you just sat cross-legged for a long time.

It was something that etched itself into your body bit by bit—like calluses that form from swinging a sword.

I still believed that. Without relentless training and experience to support it, no matter how profound a realization was, you couldn’t truly make it your own.

But maybe that belief is exactly why I unknowingly neglected inner cultivation.

I wanted to surpass my past-life peak and become a supreme master who represented Korea—an unparalleled expert acknowledged by the world.

And I was certain: the inner cultivation I’d lacked in my past life was a process I needed to advance to that stage.

“Whew.......”

When I finished meditating and opened my eyes, a hazy shimmer rippled off my body.

In that high-concentration state, Five Elements Divine Art had moved on its own to protect its owner.

“I still feel like I almost get it, but not quite......”

Thanks to Choi Geon’s advice, I’d decided not to rush.

So I could stand up with a refreshed expression.

KNOCK KNOCK!

“Son. You busy right now?”

From outside the underground training hall came knocking, and Kim Chanho’s voice.

I’d already sensed him a while ago, so I opened the door and stepped out.

“Not really. Need me to move something?”

Kim Chanho, dressed in comfortable sweats with beads of sweat on his face, nodded with a tired look.

“Help me move some tables and furniture. Man. Your mom keeps saying we should change the layout—over and over. I’m dying here.”

“That’s why you should’ve worked out more.”

“What am I, a martial artist? For an office worker, it’s impressive enough if you go to the gym while working.”

“You’re not even an office worker anymore, and you quit the gym after a few days anyway......”

Bickering with him, I headed up to the first floor, where the café opening prep was in full swing.

Lately, the whole family practically lived in the building the Martial Alliance had leased to us for free.

After quitting his job, Kim Chanho and Park Jiyeon picked up speed on the café launch in earnest, and I built a training hall underground and conditioned my body.

Even without holding a sword, I could train—external training, footwork, and close-quarters combat in particular.

Thanks to that, I was able to fill in the areas I’d neglected.

“Dad, you should also take a breath sometimes and look around. It’s pretty nice.”

“Is it? I’ve been too busy supporting a son who wants to become a martial artist. I haven’t had a day off my whole life.”

“Wow. Don’t guilt-trip me like that......”

“Hahaha! Still—thanks to you, I get to open the café I always dreamed of. From now on, I’m going to enjoy living!”

When I wasn’t training, I helped my parents with whatever they needed for the café.

When we reached the first floor, Park Jiyeon—also in sweats—stood with her arms crossed, scanning the interior from one end to the other while the place was mid-renovation.

“Son, you’re here?”

“What should I move first?”

“I want to try putting the tables and the dessert display case over there. Think about customer flow......”

Under Park Jiyeon’s command, I lifted furniture and moved it around with ease.

Thanks to the Martial Alliance, we could open a café in a great location without paying rent—but that was only the beginning.

Interior work, market research, buying furniture and props, menu development... it never ended.

But they look like they’re having fun.

Even while busy, both Kim Chanho and Park Jiyeon wore smiles.

It seemed like they genuinely enjoyed the process of personally building the café they’d always wanted after retirement.

While I moved tables and furniture around again and again, Park Jiyeon brought out sandwiches and desserts she’d made herself.

“Come try these.”

“......Why is there so much?”

“I’m developing signature menu items. Taste them and be honest.”

Because my parents’ experimental spirit was so intense, I had to taste all kinds of coffee, desserts, and sandwiches every day.

As requested, their son became a merciless judge.

“Wow, this is insanely sweet. One of these might blow past the recommended daily sugar all by itself.”

“For a sandwich, it feels like the protein is way too low.”

“Ugh, why is there so much chocolate?”

Most of my reviews weren’t very helpful for a café, but Park Jiyeon nodded like she loved them.

“I knew you’d say that. But our main customers aren’t men like you who only look for protein meals.”

“......Then why did you make me try them?”

“Normally you wouldn’t even touch food like this because you’re watching your diet, right? So I figured I’d take this chance to stuff my son full of sweet, delicious things.”

Park Jiyeon winked one eye like it was her master plan.

At my mom’s completely unexpected confession, I laughed in disbelief—then admitted it without resisting.

“Honestly, it was fun to watch, too...... and they were all good. Sometimes this kind of thing isn’t bad.”

Right then, a massive figure strode into the café with a booming voice.

“I’m here—!”

It was Shin Kangheon, still overflowing with energy even after Jeju Island.

The only change was that his flashy hair color had turned into neat black.

Shin Kangheon sat down across from me the moment he arrived and pointed at the dessert I’d been eating.

“That looks good. Can I eat this?”

“Muhyuk just said it’s too sweet. You sure you’ll be okay?”

“This punk’s got it too good. We should starve him for a week so he comes to his senses.”

“You freak. You pick a fight the second you walk in?”

A little later, Shin Kangheon—who’d devoured five desserts and sandwiches in an instant and still looked unsatisfied—smacked his lips and provoked me.

“Doesn’t it drive you crazy, resting so much? Wanna go down and have a round?”

“Did you already forget what I said? I’m not holding a sword at all for a while.”

“You’re really not doing it? Really?”

“I’m not.”

After cutting him off cold, I took a sip of the coffee my dad handed me and frowned.

Because Signature Candidate No. 33 from cafe Naru had a taste that absolutely should not have been there.

“......Garlic?”

“How is it? I tried putting it in to develop a drink that martial artists who take care of their bodies could actually drink.”

To my dad, who clearly wanted praise, I gave him my honest impression—as his son.

“If our café goes under, you should know it’s all your fault.”

“W-was it really that bad......?”

Ignoring my father’s face like he’d just suffered a devastating shock, I handed the garlic coffee to Shin Kangheon too.

“Sir. Even I can’t—”

“Kangheon, you too?!”

After laughing and joking with the Kim father-and-son duo for a while, Shin Kangheon spoke like it was nothing.

“Oh, did I mention it? I passed the document screening for the Martial Alliance public hiring. I’m going to go for the interview and the practical test soon.”

“Did you tell your uncle?”

Shin Kangheon pretended not to hear and deliberately changed the subject.

I clicked my tongue like he was pathetic.

“You didn’t tell him.”

“I don’t care! It’s my life—what if my uncle opposes it?”

He said that, but he still seemed worried about his uncle’s opposition, because he started chugging the remaining garlic coffee in huge gulps.

Watching him, I said quietly.

“Honestly, you kind of fit the Martial Alliance. See it through. Do it right.”

Shin Kangheon’s eyes went wide at the unexpected support, then he grinned.

“Heh. Next time I’m coming in a Martial Alliance uniform, so be ready! Sir, ma’am, I’m heading out!”

Watching his back as he left the café, I thought:

Even that freak finally found his path.

I didn’t know if the Martial Alliance was the best path for him.

But one thing was clear—he’d chosen a path that was undeniably different from his past life.

He’d be standing on the complete opposite side of the life where he became a terrorist of the Heavenly Demon Cult.

[rabbit : what are you doing?]

It didn’t seem like Shin Kangheon was the only one finding a new path.

After we got back from Jeju Island, Kim Bokja—who’d been quiet for days, probably busy—suddenly sent a message out of nowhere.

[kimoo : Helping with cafe interior. Why?]

[rabbit : I’m moving in there later, so wait around. Landlord.]

I muttered out loud without thinking.

“......What the hell are you talking about all of a sudden?”

I found out exactly what she meant a few hours later.

Kim Bokja drove a truck herself, loaded with moving boxes, and pulled up in front of the café.

“How do I look? Pretty sick, right?”

TA-DA!

Kim Bokja leaned her head out from the driver’s seat, pulled off her sunglasses, and spoke.

On her shoulder, Apricot fluttered its wings.

“......What is all this?”

“You said I could use one floor of this building. I’m just going to eat and sleep here. I already got permission from your mom and dad.”

“And you didn’t say a word to me?”

“I kept it secret because I wanted to see that spaced-out expression on your face. Ta-da—surprise!”

At that shameless tone, I burst out laughing.

I welcomed Kim Bokja’s decision—she’d been my friend since my past life.

While I helped her unload boxes, I asked quietly.

“Did you decide to come out of the underworld for good?”

“Well, I’ll get some sunlight in the open for now. If the income sucks, I might go back?”

Kim Bokja decided to use the second floor of the building leased to us by the Martial Alliance.

That very afternoon, a sign was delivered to hang in front of the café.

<☆Lucky Rabbit Spellcraft Beauty Shop☆>

It looked like she’d decided to stop using the underworld nickname Red Rabbit.

“But what’s ‘Spellcraft Beauty’?”

“Stuff like nails or tattoos. I carve them fast and easy with spellcraft. It’s not permanent, but it’s super flashy—and you can customize it like crazy.”

When Kim Bokja held up her nails, a rabbit hopped and played inside her blue polish.

She said she was also planning a business where she’d place spellcraft on everyday goods or personal-defense items, not just beauty-related services.

After listening to her plans, I scratched my jaw.

“Kids these days try to solve everything with spellcraft.”

“You sound like some old man again. Stop raining on it and move the boxes faster.”

Since I knew just how skilled Kim Bokja was, part of me wondered if this was a waste of her talent.

But another part of me thought: if she’s satisfied, that’s what matters.

And it’s a hundred times better than doing illegal procedures in the underworld while handling human organs.

Kim Bokja started decorating her shop, saying she’d open it in time with cafe Naru’s launch.

Thanks to that, I had to go back and forth between the first and second floors helping out.

“Here—and this is your gift.”

Near the end of the move, Kim Bokja held out a scabbard with a dark red sheen.

It was Phantom Dream’s dedicated scabbard.

Harder than most swords, sealed with spellcraft so no aura could leak out, layered with all kinds of auxiliary spellcraft—it was a piece of spellcraft equipment.

With an admiring expression, I studied its form.

At a glance, I could tell top-grade spellcraft materials had been used.

“......You could use this as a weapon.”

Even in my past life, I’d almost never seen spellcraft equipment at this level.

It was a treasure you couldn’t put a price on.

Maybe my reaction pleased her, because Kim Bokja grinned.

“Big sis showed off her skills a bit. The shop rent is covered with this, yeah?”

“It covers it and then some. If you need anything, just say it.”

“I don’t need anything today, so go. I have to start preparing to open right now!”

Watching my friends find what they wanted to do—each in their own way—stimulated me, too.

With my master’s advice to look around added on top of that, I started wanting [N O V E L I G H T] to do something meaningful as well.

What can I do?

Becoming The Strongest in the World and stopping the Heavenly Demon Cult were life goals that could take who knows how long.

They were the most important things, of course.

But that didn’t mean I wanted to spend every waking moment doing nothing but obsessing over martial training.

Money?

Even without using memories from my past life, with the skill I had now, there were plenty of ways to make money.

I could put on goggles and raid some shady unorthodox sect. I could teach martial arts privately under my own name.

Somehow, parents of aspiring martial artists had already been reaching out to me—more than a few.

Every time I saw the numbers they offered, my sense of money started to warp.

Money’s nice. The more the better.

But what I wanted to do right now... wasn’t really about money.

If I was desperate, I could’ve gone to Blood Tiger Gang and settled the debt directly.

“If possible, I’d like it to be something meaningful I can do as a martial artist. For example......”

After long deliberation, I reached a conclusion.

I walked around the empty third floor of the building, then murmured to myself with a meaningful expression.

“It’d be a waste to just leave this space empty.”

The thinking took a long time.

The execution was faster than anyone.

The very next day, the banner I’d ordered arrived.

I went up to the third floor and hung it out the window.

Just like my resolve, the words—written in a serious, formal script—fluttered proudly every time the wind blew.

“Th-that is... so....”

Kim Chanho and Park Jiyeon stepped outside the café, their faces twisted with pure bewilderment as they looked up at the banner flapping in the wind.

“Did our son open something like a private investigator’s office above the café?”

Their dazed muttering was swallowed up by the wind as the banner snapped and fluttered overhead.