Chapter 1 - An Unknown Face
The arm stretching out from under the blanket felt off.
In her half-asleep daze, as she reached out with her right hand to silence the alarm, her wrist looked thinner than usual. She'd never paid much attention to her own hand before, but the shape of the fingers now in her line of sight was unmistakably different. The knuckles were smooth, and the veins on the back of her hand weren't visible.
Harin flipped her hand over, eyes still half-closed.
...What the hell.
Sleep vanished in an instant.
The moment she sat up, her center of gravity shifted strangely. A cascade of silver hair brushed across one side of her vision. Long strands flowing down past her shoulders. Last night, her hair had definitely been short, just above her ears.
Harin got out of bed and stood in front of the full-length mirror.
A stranger stared back—a girl.
Nearly platinum silver hair, sharp and clear features, bright, limpid eyes. The loose cotton T-shirt had slipped off one shoulder, and the short shorts hung slack below her thighs. When Harin turned her head, the girl did too. When she opened her mouth, the girl mirrored her.
"......"
The voice that came out was high-pitched. Nothing like her usual tone.
Her blood pressure spiked wildly.
Harin dashed to the sink, turned on the cold tap, and splashed her face repeatedly. She wiped off the water and looked in the mirror. The girl was still there. She bit the pinky finger on her left hand. It hurt. This wasn't a dream.
She collapsed to the floor and stared up at the ceiling.
The body she'd lived in for twenty-four years had changed overnight. No clue what had caused it. Last night had been utterly ordinary.
Gaming, chatting with An, scarfing down a convenience store dinner, then bed. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Harin took deep breaths, forcing her mind to settle.
First things first—check.
She grabbed her phone.
The lock screen was the same as always: fan art of her favorite game character. KakaoTalk profile unchanged—nickname Haru, default image. Contacts list identical.
The only thing different was this body.
Should I go to the hospital?
What would she even say? "I was a guy until yesterday, but I woke up a girl this morning"? No clinic would take that seriously.
Internet searches would be pointless too. This stuff only happened in novels and comics—real-world results wouldn't help.
Harin stared at her phone screen.
A red notification badge on KakaoTalk. Messages from An.
An was someone she'd met three months ago in a subculture open chat room.
A short post on the intro board:
"18/M/Into subculture games. Looking for someone to chat with."
It had been up for over two days with no replies, so Harin had messaged first: "What games do you like?" That was the start.
Her nickname was Haru, taken from her name. No profile pic, no gender or age disclosed—just chatting anonymously.
She lacked the confidence to share photos. Showing her face would just disappoint people. Online, she could be free from appearances.
Instead, they bonded over conversation: game story breakdowns, character analyses. After a month, daily life crept in; by two months, they were sharing troubles. Now, they talked every night.
Harin opened the chat.
Sent at 11:42 PM last night. No lighthearted tone like usual. Those words carried weight: I have something to say.
An had suggested meeting before, casually: "Wanna meet up sometime lol?" two or three times. Harin always brushed it off: "Too busy lol."
The real reason wasn't busyness. She just hated her face.
Online Haru was fine—kind listener, perfect timing on agreements, genuine empathy when things got tough. She liked that version of herself. But slap a face on it, and everything would change.
Her phone buzzed. New message.
Harin gazed at the screen. That final "lol" rang hollow, like forced laughter.
She glanced up at the mirror.
The girl in the reflection sat on the floor, phone in hand. Silver hair spilled over her shoulders, clear eyes sparkling in the screen's glow.
...With this face.
A thought surfaced in Harin's mind.
Her body changing was abnormal, chaotic, terrifying. That was true. But right in the middle of that chaos, for the first time in twenty-four years, she could look straight at herself in the mirror. And it wasn't shameful. No need to shrink away.
With this appearance, maybe I could go outside.
She knew it was an irrational leap in this insane situation. But after three months of nightly chats, with the person who felt like the most comfortable in the world asking to meet—and her phone right there, demanding accept or decline—
An thinks I'm a guy.
She'd never said it outright, but context clues in their talks had slipped through. An probably assumed male. Showing up like this would shock her.
...But.
Harin's thumb hovered over the screen.
I want to go out.
For the first time. To meet this person face-to-face.
She hit send and exhaled.
The reply came instantly.
More exclamation marks than usual. She was thrilled.
Harin looked at the screen, lips curving up.
...She's happy.
That smile reflected in the mirror. The girl's expression was natural, soft—purely Harin's emotions shining through.
She opened the closet. All men's clothes.
Guess I'll layer up something big.
Harin rummaged through, sighing.
Tomorrow. The meetup was tomorrow at 1 PM.
Seoul, Gangnam—a high-rise apartment on the 20th floor.
In the spacious room, the phone screen was the only light. The figure display case stood dark, LEDs off. The girl sprawled face-down on the bed, her features bathed in blue glow.
Seo Ian scrolled through her chat history with Haru.
She reread the day's message.
Seventh time reading it.
Ian screenshotted it, opened her gallery, and saved it to the Haru album. It already held a dozen shots—messages from Haru that tugged at her heart.
"That's why I like talking to you every day." "At least I know who you are." "Tell me if it's tough."
Ian flipped through slowly. She knew them by heart, but seeing them on screen made it real. Proof this person had said these things to her. Unerasable proof.
She switched screens.
KakaoTalk chat list.
Besides the 1:1 with Haru, open chat rooms where Haru lurked. Ian had changed her nickname to join two of them.
No direct chats. She just checked occasionally what Haru discussed with others.
Today's log: Haru talking game builds in one room. Short exchange, casual tone. Nothing major.
...Just game talk.
Ian set her phone down. It was nothing. She just got anxious without checking.
A few days ago, similar. Haru's replies slower than usual one night. Normally 3-5 minutes; this time, 17 minutes. Ian checked her phone four times, typed and deleted three messages.
"Whatcha doing?" — Deleted. "Busy?" — Deleted. "Asleep?" — Deleted.
The reply: "Sorry, was showering lol." Seeing that line, she finally breathed.
Just a shower. Just 17 minutes.
But in those 17 minutes, her mind raced through horrors.
Was she on a call with someone else?
Chatting more fun with someone in another room?
Tired of me maybe?
Ian knew this was unhealthy.
Ian opened her notes app. Memo titled Haru.
Three months of chats, distilled into bullet points: favorite foods, dislikes, usual convenience store, wake-up/sleep times, game list, preferred character types, even that she drank black Americano.
Ian's finger added a line at the bottom.
Tomorrow's meetup. 1 PM. Cafe near the station.
She stared at the blinking cursor. Typed, deleted, repeated. Finally closed the app.
Ian set her phone by the pillow and gazed at the ceiling.
Tomorrow, she'd meet Haru in person for the first time.
It terrified her.
She had to reveal she was a girl. That open chat intro: "18/M."
A lie from the start. She'd pretended male because guys always fixated on her looks instead of talking. Sick of it.
What would Haru think?
"You tricked me," and get mad?
Possible.
"Don't contact me anymore."
That thought chilled her fingertips.
No. Can't let that happen.
Ian pulled the blanket up to her chin.
Twelve years in entertainment. Child actress days onward, cameras everywhere, crowds orbiting "Seo Ian."
But no one knew the Ian who rolled gacha at night cheering, cried over event stories, spent 30 minutes arranging figures.
Only Haru talked to the real her.
So I won't end this. No matter what Haru says, I won't let go.
Under the covers, she grabbed her phone again.
Checked Haru's Discord profile—last online 10:24 PM.
Not asleep yet.
Ian kept the screen on, waiting. 10:51—updated. 11:03—again. 11:22—stopped.
Asleep now.
Only then did she set it down.
She couldn't remember when this habit started: sleeping only after confirming Haru was out.
No reason to stop.
Tomorrow, meeting Haru... what then?
She was a public figure. Getting spotted with a guy could hurt her image.
Still, Ian decided: she'd follow her heart upon seeing Haru that day.
She arrived at the cafe 40 minutes early.
Sat in the second-floor corner, ordered an iced Americano. Back to the window, facing the entrance to spot newcomers right away.
20 minutes passed. Ice started melting.
Message from Haru.
Ian replied instantly.
30 minutes gone. Ice half-melted.
Fingernails tapped the table. Mask up, down, up. Legs jittered under the empty seat.
First-floor door opened.
Ian's eyes snapped to the stairs.
Light, uneven footsteps climbed the wooden steps.
First thing she saw: the hair.
Silver strands, translucent in the light, ascending the stairs. Then a pale face, clear eyes glancing around.
Haru was a girl.