Darkness. Then light.
Ian Park blinked.
Then blinked again.
Nope. Still white.
He wasn't in a hospital room. Nor was he in his bedroom, wrapped in his Naruto blanket after a late-night binge of *Lookism*. There was just... white. Miles and miles of whiteness. It looked like IKEA's showroom exploded.
"Huh... so this is either heaven, a dream, or I died reading manhwa."
It was the third one.
Ian was dead.
He died like a true warrior of culture: slumped over his phone, eyes wide open, mid-scroll, reading Chapter 473 of *Lookism*. The cause? A stroke. Possibly induced by the sheer tension of watching Goo Kim smirk while Gun Lee casually adjusted his tie. Or maybe it was from holding in his bathroom break too long. Who knows?
As he floated in this silent, pure-white space, a strange calm washed over him. No pain. No regret. Well, maybe a little.
"I didn't even get to see who Daniel fights next..."
Then, like the game master in an overpowered fantasy RPG, a voice echoed:
**"Welcome, Ian Park."**
Before him appeared a glowing figure.
Not angelic. Not terrifying. Just... a guy in a Hawaiian shirt, sipping coconut juice with a tiny umbrella in it.
"Sup," the being said. "Name's R.O.B."
"Rob?"
"Nah. R.O.B. Random Omnipotent Being. Call me Rob though. Makes me feel... chill."
Ian gawked. "You're the guy in charge of reincarnations?"
"Mmm. Think of me as the IT support of the multiverse. Souls like yours, Ian, don't come often. You're special. One in a billion."
Ian raised a brow. "Special how?"
"You read over 3,000 chapters of manhwa, 2,000 episodes of anime, and never once touched grass."
"I touched grass once!"
"Artificial turf doesn't count, bro."
Ian scratched his head, grinning sheepishly. "Fair."
Rob chuckled. "Anyway, because you're so... 'dedicated,' I'm giving you 6 wishes. You can reincarnate into any world you've read or watched."
Ian didn't hesitate. "*Lookism*."
Rob arched an eyebrow. "You sure? That world's full of trauma, street violence, and dudes prettier than K-pop idols."
"Exactly. Sign me up."
### The Wishes
Rob pulled out a floating clipboard. "Shoot."
"Wish one. I want the power and physique of Yujiro Hanma. But more handsome. Ten times stronger. You know, flex and the air itself gives up."
"Bold. Continue."
"Two. I want a summon system. Not some lame gacha stuff. I want to summon real biotech lifeforms—bodyguards, chefs, butlers, maids, you name it. Males are muscle tanks. Maids? Elegant and strong. But here's the twist: every summon has undergone military-grade combat training. All of them are war-hardened veterans from simulations or past battlefields in other dimensions. They're proficient in firearms, hand-to-hand combat, tactical strategies, and urban warfare. Each summon isn't just muscle—they're walking arsenals with IQs high enough to run a black ops operation. The system's smart, upgradeable, and runs on real world money. I want a store that sells everything—from ramen to race cars. Infinite stock."
Rob nodded slowly, scribbling like a DMV worker.
"Three. I want to be born into the Park Family. But stronger and Powerful. The Mysterious Park Family"
"Mysterious origins. Got it."
"Four. Perfect Learning. Not just copying. Adapting instantly. Learn math in seconds, fight like a grandmaster after watching once. Learn while fighting too."
Rob smirked. "OP. Keep going."
"Five. Second body. One and half year before canon begins, it appears. It should be more handsome and stronger than Daniel Park's. Strong as Gabryong Kim from the first generation."
"You planning to break the story's logic, huh?"
"Absolutely."
"Sixth?"
Ian grinned. "Unlimited money."
Rob clapped. "Nice. Classic."
The clipboard vanished. Rob snapped his fingers. A door appeared in the white void.
"Beyond this lies your new life. Good luck, Ian Park. And remember: with great power comes... a crap ton of expectations."
Ian stepped forward.
The void melted.
---
Somewhere in the Pacific Ocean – 60 Years Before Canon
A baby's cry echoed inside a luxurious private estate somewhere off-map—not that anyone could find it on Google anyway.
The boy's eyes opened. His irises burned with an unnatural crimson hue for a second, then turned deep black.
The midwife stepped back in shock. "H-He was just born and... he's glaring at me like I owe him money."
The man holding the newborn chuckled. His eyes were like knives.
This was Ian Park's father. A towering figure with a jawline that could slice diamonds.
"That's my boy. Born ready."
---
One Month Later
Ian was already crawling.
Not the wobbly, baby-wiggle crawl.
This was military crawl. Tactical.
At three months, he bench pressed the crib.
At six months, he roundhouse kicked a tree. It fell over.
By one year, he was fluent in Korean and English.
At two, he asked for a mirror and looked at himself with a serious nod.
"Yeah. I'd date me."
His summoned butler, Goro (a 6'8 muscle-bound man in a tuxedo who could probably choke out a bear), simply nodded. "Young Master is perfection embodied."
His maid, Anna (a graceful ex-spy-turned-nanny), sighed. "He just learned to walk and he's already flexing."
Ian, now fully aware of his powers and timeline, was preparing.
He knew he had six decades before Daniel Park's story would even begin. Long before the second generation, before the likes of Gun and Goo rose to dominance, there existed the Pre-Generation era—a time of chaos, power vacuums, and unrecorded wars.
He had to prepare.
The System had already supplied him with a luxury gym, combat instructors, a personal helicopter, a tactical simulation chamber, and a tailor-made wardrobe that would make Gucci cry.
One day, as he stared at the mirror doing bicep curls at age 4, he whispered:
"Gun Lee... Goo Kim... Johan... Eli... Just wait. Daddy's coming."
And then, he tripped over a rubber duck.
---
*To be continued...*
### Author's Note: hehe