Sacrificing My Precious for the Status Window

She'd lost her precious and gained a Status Window. 'It's... gone.' What was? 'My precious...!!' Nam Ha-neul's precious, something she'd cherished and tended her whole life, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had vanished overnight. It had been so small and dear that she'd handled it all by herself.

'Th-this can't be real.'

In its place, with not a trace left behind, was the kind of female genitalia she'd only ever seen in videos. She—no, now she was a she—wondered if she was still half-asleep and slapped her cheeks a couple times. Nothing changed.

Overwhelmed by despair and confusion, Nam Ha-neul slumped back in her chair. That's when a translucent window floated up in front of her.

The room was dim even in broad daylight, thanks to the drawn curtains. The window glimmered with a blue light—was it visible only to her eyes?

'Am I... going crazy? No, but down there, it's really... gone...!!'

The floating window twinkled as if mocking her, then vanished. Soon after, an even larger window appeared, revealing new text.

Staring at the cascade of windows, Nam Ha-neul's mouth hung open. It was like every webnovel and webtoon she'd ever read flashed through her mind. On top of the shock of becoming a woman, this new bombshell almost came as a relief.

'A g-god-tier status window!'

What was a status window? The protagonist's hallmark. A cheat key. Infinite growth. Overpowered strength. It might just flip her spiraling life on its head in one go.

But that budding hope didn't last. Pain surged from her lower abdomen, racing up her spine. Her chest tightened, and dizziness spun inside her skull.

"Ughhh...!!"

And it wasn't just that. Amid the cramps, something kept flowing from below. It felt like she'd wet her panties by accident.

Clutching her stomach in a daze, she writhed on the desk, forehead pressed down.

Through the dizzying pain, she read the emerging text. She gasped roughly with each cramp and chest pang.

'What...? Death...?'

Already reeling from the unfamiliar agony, failure meant death? Given that the status window had actually turned her into a woman, it didn't seem like a bluff.

So she had to go out. First things first.

"Ughhh...."

The discomfort was beyond imagination. Like lukewarm half-cooked oysters slipping out of her body. And the pain? It was getting tolerable with time, but her lower belly still felt like it was getting punched repeatedly. The ache spread through her nerves to her waist, making her hips and back throb overall.

She slowly rose from the chair and took a step. The floor was littered with trash, so she had to place her feet carefully.

'I really need to clean this shithole up sometime....'

Pain deep in her body, the sticky grossness, and her frayed nerves made her irritable at everything. She haphazardly threw on the long padding coat dumped near the door.

With her boiling frustration, she slowly stepped outside. The harsh midday sun beat down. The weather hadn't fully warmed yet—it was chilly—but the coat made it bearable.

'C-Convenience... Store.'

Luckily, the Convenience Store wasn't far ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠from her villa. The problem? Her place was on the third floor. Cheap one-room in a rundown building—no elevator.

She glanced at the stairs and swallowed hard. She feared that slimy oyster-flow from below might leak out of her panties mid-descent.

Gripping the railing with both hands, she descended slowly. New to a woman's body, she had no knack or experience for any of it.

'So gross...'

Each floor down, her steps grew more cautious. Cramps sometimes made her collapse for a breather.

'But... I made it down...'

Finally reaching the first floor, she headed to the Convenience Store. Just across the street.

Ding-a-ling—

"Welcome—"

She yanked her hood low to dodge the clerk's gaze. She imagined she reeked of something off. And her appearance was straight-up female now. People's stares terrified her.

She'd always had social anxiety anyway.

'Quick, quick.... What do I even buy...'

Winged, cotton, panty liners, tampons. A lifetime as a guy meant zero clue about pads. Never even had a girlfriend.

She stared blankly, then grabbed one at random. Mission or not, she just wanted out of this sticky hell.

Plus, loitering in the pad aisle felt weirdly off. Not wrong, but embarrassing from a guy's past life.

She dashed to the counter and plopped it down.

"8,900 won. Bag?"

"N-no, thanks."

"Paid."

She stuffed the pads in her pocket and hurried home. Staring up at the stairs, she swallowed her dread. Down was hard enough—now up?

Gripping the rail, she climbed step by precious step. One slip, and disaster.

Why was she suffering like this? Rage bubbled up. The mounting irritation made her want to snap the railing.

She finally staggered home and collapsed inside. Normally, straight to bed. Not now.

She ignored the mission check and ripped open the pads first.

But....

'How the hell do you use this...?'

Nam Ha-neul stared at it, stumped. Seemed like it went in the panties, but how? Where?

'Death again...? What the hell.'

Lips bitten, she eyed the new mission. Death on tap? No refusing these.

Mission aside, it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠made sense—shower first. She stripped and headed to the bathroom.

Catching her reflection, melancholy hit. Objectively ugly face, crappy body. Woman or not, only the precious was gone.

Shaking off the gloom, she showered carefully. First time washing a woman's body—everything felt scary, so she went slow.

Out of the shower, pads again. She figured searching online was best.

'Sitting hurts my back so much....'

Gritting through, she followed tutorial videos and slowly applied it. Less sticky now, but way more uncomfortable.

She eased off the chair to bed. Sitting more might snap her back.

Hunched on the bed, Nam Ha-neul eyed the status window. 300P. Fruit of two clears. Period pain, death shock, woman confusion—all somewhat faded.

Not like she'd had girls as a guy anyway. No friends either.

'...Exactly 300P for a draw and creation.'

Reading her status, irritation bubbled. 'Why are the traits such trash? Precocious Prodigy? Talent for dying young?'

Her title was the worst. 'Iron-Tier Life'—officially branding her life below her Bronze LoL tier. Depressing reality.

'...But now I have a status window too...!'

Impulsively, she went for the draw. Points burning, something to cheer her up. Who wants to stay in the gutter?

As a kid, she'd had dreams, a desired life. Still envied SNS glamour with jealousy. Time to change. Live better. Use the window as excuse to face her wishes.

'...Lame effects.'

Cheap animation like a kids' cartoon. Gaudy lights, goofy wheel spin—and the result—

Persistence. A word she'd never known in life, now etched in her status. No instant change, but vague hope for a better her ahead.

'Persistence... gotta be good, right? Okay, talent next!'

Corny effects like the trait draw, then—

"Ooh...!"

She voiced her awe at the flurry of messages. Games! She'd poured her life into them. Talent here, where hours yielded nothing? Bittersweet rush.

Her status stats section transformed. New category, three fresh stats listed.

'Hmm... so where do my stats rank now?'

"......"

Knowing the average plunged her deeper into gloom.

"B-but now I can grow..."

Ignoring her rock-bottom reality, she eyed stat creation. Traits and talents made sense; this was new.

'Write the abilities I want to grow...?'

She pondered, then shelved it. Nothing sprang to mind yet.

'Then... maybe play some games...!'

The window said she was a prodigy now. Had to be different, right?