Reborn as Han Areum
I'd been reborn. I'd been reborn. Not as the middle-aged camper Hangeol, but as the beautiful girl healing camping expert, Han Areum.
With steely resolve, I got out of bed, and dirt cascaded off my body in clumps. Dust piled up visibly on the floor. Ah, this is disgusting. Shower. I need a shower right now. Without another thought, I headed to the bathroom.
"Oh right, clothes..."
I stopped on my way. Memories of the drab outdoor gear and stretched-out tees hanging in my closet flashed in my mind. Wear those on this body? Just imagining it was horrifying. On a whim, I went back to the bedroom and flung open the closet door. Inside, filled to the brim with clothes I'd never seen before, I stood speechless for a moment. Flowy dresses, skin-tight skinny jeans, pastel-toned knits. Every single piece had been perfectly replaced with women's clothing.
"Fuck, this sucks... sucks so bad, but thank god..."
I rummaged through the drawers for fresh underwear and comfy clothes. Tossed the filthy ones into the laundry basket and stepped into the bathroom, standing before the mirror. Reflected there was a stunning girl with a perfect figure. I wasn't some pubescent middle-schooler seeing a girl's body for the first time—no shock or embarrassment hit me, but...
"Damn, I'm really pretty..."
Everything was in the right place, perfectly proportioned. Slim waist contrasting with full breasts, hips curving flawlessly from that narrow waist. It was like every male fantasy mashed together into an unreal body. The complicated realization that I'd have to live as this woman from now on washed over me again, but what could I do? It had happened. Time to empty my mind and twist the shower handle.
Warm water hit my skin, melting away tension and bringing a lazy drowsiness. The streams running down my body felt familiar yet utterly alien at the same time. Something ticklish...
"Ah, no...!"
I shook my head vigorously, forcing the thoughts away. I showered as fast as possible, then sat on a chair to dry my wet hair. The weird feel of women's underwear was still awkward and uncomfortable, but oh well. I roughly toweled off the moisture and grabbed the hairdryer. After more than ten minutes of blow-drying, I faced a new hardship.
"Ugh, when the hell is this gonna dry? Should I just chop it all off?"
Grumbling at the mirror, my hand paused unconsciously. Whoa... Long straight hair cascading in waves, side bangs framing my jawline. So this is the hime cut everyone's talking about. Honestly, it suited me perfectly. On this face, it was almost cheating.
Well... what wouldn't suit this face?
I sighed. The idea of cutting it was already gone. Guess I'd be stuck with this tedious hair-drying routine forever. Back on the bed, I grabbed my smartphone to scout the next camping spot.
Hmm, this looks good.
The place that caught my eye was a campground on the outskirts of Gyeonggi Province. Famous for spring cherry blossom camping, but in late autumn when the leaves were falling, it should be pretty empty.
Sweet, it'd be paradise in spring. Nah... autumn means no crowds.
With a proper start in mind, I had to tackle my biggest issue: video editing. I opened YouTube and searched for trendy vlog editing tutorials. Dozens popped up. I dove into the one with the most views, studying intently. Cut transitions, subtitle fonts and designs, background music choices—everything.
After finishing, I tested it on some old footage I'd shot before.
Was the video always this good?
Same raw footage, but the edited version oozed trendy flair and sophistication. This wasn't my old skill level. No matter how I thought about it, something was off. Probably, becoming a woman had sharpened my editing instincts too. Looking at the revamped video, my previous uploads were straight garbage. Without hesitation, I logged into channel management and deleted them all.
Yeah. New wine needs new wineskins.
Alright. From the next camp, film properly and upload.
But after the day's chaos, my body and mind were wrecked.
Just sleep it off... I'm beat.
I set the phone down and closed my eyes. What a long-ass day.
The next morning.
Ugh... so bright.
Sunlight pierced my eyelids. Guess I forgot the curtains last night. Staring blankly at the ceiling, my stomach growled loudly. Grrrooowl.
"Maybe whip up some simple pasta."
A man's pasta is al olio, obviously.
I chopped garlic and prepped olive oil like always. Just add peperoncino for the kick...
...Damn.
The spice jar was empty.
"Ugh, too lazy to go out..."
No choice. I threw on a hoodie and training pants and headed out. At the mart, as the automatic doors slid open, chills ran down my spine. I could feel it. Sticky gazes from all directions latching onto me. Sneaky glances. Exactly like at the rest stop yesterday.
Shit. Should've just boiled ramen.
Damn, just here for peperoncino and I feel like a zoo monkey. I pulled my hood lower and hustled to the spice aisle—not running, but fast. Even then, the heavy stares! I'd braced for attention with this looks, but not this much. Grabbed the jar and bolted to the register, paying in a frenzy.
So freaking burdensome. These stares hit harder than I thought.
Stick to empty campsites from now on... Back home, I resumed cooking and dumped in a fistful of peperoncino.
Has to be this much for that spicy goodness.
Sizzle—garlic and chili infused the oil, filling the kitchen with nutty, spicy aroma. Tossed in perfectly al dente pasta, stir-fried quick, and piled it on a white plate. Perfect. I wound a huge forkful and shoved it in without waiting.
Slurp—zap—slurp—zap.
Hungrier than I thought; the plate vanished in seconds. I patted my full belly contentedly. About to let out a hearty belch...
But I clamped my mouth shut.
Right, I'm a girl now.
Weird, though. One bowl and I'm stuffed? Back as a guy, I'd have brushed my teeth and gone for dessert. ...This mileage is insane.
Guess I'll have to watch portions. Exhausting in every way.
Tired is tired, but shit to do.
Sat at the desk, booted the computer. Pulled up the campground site from yesterday, booking the most remote, emptiest spot—remembering the mart nightmare.
Reservation done. Time to pack gear? Sorted essentials by weight into boxes.
"Fuuuuck... why is this so heavy...!"
Pathetic stamina had me grunting to move them.
"Whew, finally done."
Once sorted, I flopped on the bed and browsed other camping YouTubers' videos. To study their intros and lines.
"Hello! I'm Camping Goddess Juju~"
"Your camping mate, FieldCamper here! Today..."
I tried mimicking intros out loud.
"Hello! I'm Camping Goddess Areumie~"
...Urk! My own voice made me gag. Nope, not my style. The inner uncle was rebelling hard. Then I remembered the edited video from yesterday—no narration, just silent camping, yet it felt sleek. Changed my mind.
Yeah. No need to force commentary.
Next morning. Staring at the mountain of gear by the door, I sighed deeply.
"Fuck..."
Grunted as I hoisted the heaviest box. Felt like my back would snap.
"Fuck! Should've loaded the car yesterday!"
Regretful yell echoed in the parking lot. This new start was rougher than expected.
In the car, I fired up my usual punk rock playlist. Bouncy drums and crisp guitar riffs filled the space. Humming along to the upbeat rhythm...
...Huh?
My singing paused. Did I just nail that? High notes that used to crack as a guy flowed smoothly now. Clear, crystalline tone—like a pro vocalist.
Oh, this is pretty good.
Cranked the volume. Tapped the wheel, riding the beat. Autumn scenery blurring by, rock blasting my ears. Yeah, this is driving, this is camping.
Hit the highway, sun glaring. Oof, eye bleach. Slipped on sunglasses naturally. Checked the rearview—a beauty grooving to punk rock.
Ahem... sunglasses on this face? Total celeb vibes.
The unreal beauty was growing on me. Sunglasses block stares too—better than I thought.
Pulled into the mart parking lot near the site for ingredients. Stares still there, but sunglasses were my shield. Walked in confidently, no shrinking like yesterday.
Grabbed a cart, straight to the butcher section. Scanned the pre-packaged meats.
Tsk tsk, thin cuts like these? Soup fodder. Camping's soul is charcoal steak.
Passed packaged and hit the counter where the owner sliced fresh.
"Hello, sir."
My clear voice made the gruff middle-aged butcher look up from his knife work. He blinked at my sunglassed face, then hit me with his sales pitch.
"Yes, welcome. Looking for something?"
"That sirloin strip over there—nice marbling, slice one about 3cm thick, please."
His knife paused. He eyed me again.
"Lady knows her meat. Most ask for thin slices."
"Haha, grilling over charcoal. Gotta be thick to lock in juices."
A faint smile cracked his face.
"Sir, if you don't mind—over there, the tighter marbling spot?"
He stared, impressed now.
"Whoa, pro level. Got it—best cut for you."
Grinning happily, he sliced meticulously, weighed it. Perfect thickness, artistic marbling. Gulp... Salt, pepper, whole garlic roast? Heaven.
Smiling satisfied, I took the meat.
"Gonna eat it right. Enjoy."
"Thanks. Sell lots."
3cm sirloin in the cart felt like commanding an army. A splurge, but first camp of the new life... worth it.
Next, veggies—no brainer: bell peppers, asparagus, garlic bulbs. Checked out, back in the car. Punk rock again. Humming, floored it to the final stop.
My new life's first campground lay ahead.