Country Girl in Straw Hat and Sundress! ……… Dad?

A country girl just has to rock a straw hat and sundress! ………… Dad? That voice made me whip around on reflex.

Standing right in front of me was a woman in a white sundress and straw hat. She towered a full head taller than me, with limbs long enough to pass for a model. And……if I craned my neck up from below, her ample chest was big enough to block out her face.

In short, she was a stunning beauty dressed in the quintessential country girl outfit. But her expression was a little off. It looked like she was on the verge of tears, yet beaming with joy at the same time. Like……yeah. The kind of face you'd see on someone reuniting with family after decades apart. It reminded me of those contestants from old TV shows about finding lost relatives.

What the hell? Who is this woman? I instinctively took a step back.

"Wh-who are you?"

"……Yes!?"

She jumped at my question. The intense emotions that had filled her face moments ago instantly shifted to panic and embarrassment. She looked like someone jolted awake from a dream.

"I-I'm sorry! I mistook you for someone else!"

Her face flushed beet red. Without another word of explanation, she bowed her head deeply and bolted away like she was fleeing.

What was that? Doesn't seem like some new scam…… Did she really just mix me up with someone? But that desperate look in her eyes was too raw for a simple case of mistaken identity. It was like she'd seen someone risen from the dead.

"What an odd person."

……………

I shoved the bizarre encounter out of my mind. Figuring out my situation came first.

I plopped down on the empty bench at the bus stop. Closing my eyes, I took a slow, deep breath. Just like when I'd become Han Minseo, memories from this new body started seeping in gradually.

Gender: female. Name: Yeoreum. So, Summer.

Raised in an orphanage, turned twenty-one just recently and finally an adult. No memory of her parents' faces. Occupation……emoticon artist.

Emoticons, huh.

Digging deeper into the memories, it seemed her cute, consistent drawing style from her school days had done decently well on community sites. The moment Yeoreum hit adulthood, she gave making emoticons a shot as a test, and somehow it led to commercial success. Enough to scrape by, at least.

And the reason she was here in this rural village now.

A few months ago, she'd gotten a sudden call. A relative she'd never even known existed had left her an inheritance. That relative had felt a twinge of guilt for not looking after Yeoreum and had willed her a portion of their estate—a countryside house—in their last testament.

So that's why she moved to the countryside today.

For Yeoreum, who'd left the orphanage and bounced between city goshiwons, it was a godsend in a drought.

I opened my eyes. Now I fully understood the situation I was in. Probably.

Orphan, rural transplant, emoticon artist. Totally different life from Han Minseo's.

I stood up. Checking an online map app for reference, I started walking toward the house. The village was smaller than I'd expected. Just ten minutes from the bus stop, rice paddies appeared, followed by gentle hills. Houses dotted the midway point up one of those hills.

Peaceful…… but isolated.

To me—who'd only known city life—or even from Yeoreum's memories, this kind of countryside felt alien.

Climbing the hill path, I reached my destination. Red tiled roof, white walls, rusty iron gate. A house steeped in the marks of time.

This the place?

I double-checked the address. No doubt about it.

Opening the gate revealed a small yard overgrown with weeds, rusty farm tools piled uselessly in one corner.

Stepping inside, I found a living room doubling as a kitchen, two rooms, one bathroom. Classic rural house layout.

Eh, better than I thought.

It was worn, but not on the verge of collapse. Windows intact, roof didn't look like it'd leak.

I set ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠down my bag and opened the windows first. Fresh air flowed in, easing the stuffiness. Water ran fine. Electricity worked. Basic living setup was good to go.

"Guess I should start with cleaning."

I rummaged through the house for a broom and mop. Wiped down the dust, swept the floors. Moving around helped sort out my jumbled thoughts bit by bit.

How am I gonna live from here?

Emoticon income was about a million won a month. Enough to get by frugally in the countryside, but no luxuries. No future security. I'd have to take any freelance gigs that came my way, no questions asked. Personal commissions, obviously.

But more importantly……

The condition set by the Love Goddess.

"Hmm……."

A normal romance with someone like Choi Seori……honestly, impossible.

But thinking back, the goddesses had said my reincarnations were completely random. Who I became, who fell for me, all of it.

So……it doesn't matter who I end up with.

Then couldn't I just meet some normal person instead of a psycho like Choi Seori?

"That's it!"

I shouted without realizing. It felt like a lightbulb flicking on in my head.

Think about Greek myths. Trials like these can't be beaten head-on. How did Heracles kill the lion immune to arrows, swords, and clubs? He strangled it.

Conclusion: Use wisdom to pass.

"Just find a normal person, live a normal happy life."

I'm in the countryside now, so hook up with some pure-hearted village girl and have a sweet little romance.

……I told myself, trying to stay confident.

Cases like Choi Seori are rare. Pick the right partner, and I can breeze through this trial.

……………

Anyway, trial talk aside for now. As I kept cleaning, my eyes landed on a table shoved in the corner of the room. Looked like wood reinforced with steel. Nice otherwise, but bad spot. Moving it would make the room feel way bigger.

No sweat.

I gripped the table's edge with both hands and heaved. But it didn't budge like I'd expected. I figured I could lift it easy, but nope.

I put more muscle into it. Every ounce of strength I had.

"Nngh……!"

After heroic effort, I barely—barely—got it a few centimeters off the floor. One step, two, three. By the fifth, I hit my limit.

My heart went haywire. Not just pounding—it felt like it'd burst out of my chest.

"Kehk, hek……."

Thud.

The second I dropped the table, my legs gave out. Heart racing madly. Breath ragged like I'd sprinted full-tilt.

"Haa, haa."

Leaving the table, I staggered to the wall. Leaning back as I slid down, my chest burned like it was tearing apart.

No way……did she never exercise her whole life? What's wrong with this body?

Han Minseo wasn't some powerhouse either. Below average, really. But Yeoreum's body was on another level. Dying just from shifting a table?

That's when it hit me—a memory from Yeoreum I'd deliberately ignored.

Ah……right.

It was a memory Yeoreum had consciously tried to bury. An orphanage kid didn't want to accept having a weak body too.

Not fatal. But exercise or manual labor? Practically impossible. So she'd drawn pictures, and unintentionally became an emoticon artist.

Damn……never saw this coming.

Honestly, worse starting point than Han Minseo. He was overshadowed by Choi Seori and Core Systems' geniuses, but he was a college grad from a top school ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠working at a unicorn IT firm. Fresh in his career, so not rich, but no physical issues.

Yeoreum? No college. Her high school emoticons sold okay, scraping by—that's a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠plus. But unstable. Income could tank anytime.

And that's without the massive heart condition penalty.

"Sigh, gotta hustle for freelance gigs and make bank."

Once my breathing steadied, I staggered to my feet. Dust-covered full-length mirror in the corner. Wiped it roughly, and my reflection appeared hazily.

Yeoreum's appearance in the mirror—

"……Wow."

Han Minseo was slim-lined. But Yeoreum? Shoulders narrow, wrists thinner than a girl's. Skin pale and flawless, eyes big and vivid.

Pure shoujo manga's frail underage pretty boy protagonist vibe.

Beauty privilege? Call it that.

Finish cleaning first, think later.

I tore my eyes from the mirror and grabbed the broom again. That's when—

Thud thud.

Someone knocking on the rusty iron gate. Clock said four p.m. Not even two hours since moving in.

I set down the broom, crossed the yard to the gate. Probably the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠village head welcoming the new resident.

I slid the bolt and opened it.

And my guess was spectacularly wrong.

There stood the woman from the bus stop. White sundress, straw hat. The beauty who'd called me "Dad" then fled in a panic.

In her hands, a white plate steaming faintly. Freshly steamed rice cakes, looked like.

"Hello!"