Episode 1: Priest Han Saje (3)

"...I survived."

By the time I clocked out, my stamina bar was scraping empty.

It was weird. All I'd done today was my convenience store shift at most—scanning items, cleaning up, grabbing cigarettes, and silently cursing the occasional rude customer. An utterly ordinary day.

Except apparently, my existence in that ordinary routine wasn't so ordinary anymore.

I glanced down at my ridiculously dainty hands.

'Still not used to this...'

Maybe because my body felt so light now, even trivial tasks were a hassle. I could really feel how much pure muscle mass I'd lost every time I shifted a box, and the cigarette display felt needlessly high. Worst of all, customers were chattier than before.

—Your hair color is so pretty.

—Where'd you get it dyed?

—Are you a student?

I knew there was no malice, but it was still annoying.

Every comment felt like a debuff ticking down. I wasn't shy by nature, but all this attention was shredding my nerves. Was this how life as a woman named Han Saje was supposed to be—so exhausting? I genuinely wondered.

I fiddled with my bangs as I thought it over.

'This is the real issue, huh?'

Cherry-blossom pink hair cascading to my waist.

I'd rushed out the door that morning with it in a sloppy ponytail, but now I realized even that stood out. Honestly, if I saw a girl with pink-dyed hair walking by, I'd sneak a glance out of curiosity too.

'Maybe I should buy a hat...'

That was the moment another annoying problem landed in my lap.

—Grrrrrowl!

My stomach suddenly growled.

Come to think of it, I hadn't eaten properly today. Breakfast was a blur of body-swapping panic and awakening nonsense. Lunch was just one triangle kimbap from the store. This smaller body had decent fuel efficiency—it held off hunger pretty well—but even that had its limits now.

'Food first.'

It was 4 p.m.

On my way home, I scanned nearby eateries.

I was too wiped out to cook at home. Boiling ramen, washing the pot, grabbing chopsticks—it all felt like too much work.

No matter how much the lingering effects of Word of Encouragement boosted me, it apparently didn't spark the will to do dishes. Skill level still at 1, maybe?

'Oh yeah, haven't spent my skill point or chip yet. Where should I put them...?'

That's when I spotted a rundown snack bar tucked in an alley.

Foggy glass door. Faded sign. Steam wafting from inside. Normally, I'd walk right past, but hardly any customers? Perfect.

I pushed the door open without a second thought.

Ding-a-ling—!

"Welcome... come on in."

The snack bar owner's words trailed off oddly.

It wasn't just him. The guy at the wall table slurping pork jjimdak rice, the two elementary kids munching tteokbokki—they all turned to stare. I'd figured the off-hours meant no crowd, but nope. Instinctively, I hunched my shoulders.

"Um... table for one."

"Ah, sure. Sit anywhere."

I slipped into the dim corner seat, trying to minimize my presence. But in this gloomy snack bar, my vibrant hair just popped more. My face heated up; I pretended to be cool and scanned the menu.

"Hmm."

Ramen. Kimbap. Tteokbokki. Sundae. Fried stuff.

Familiar words. Seeing the usual menu through unfamiliar eyes was oddly reassuring. Decision made, I called the owner.

"One ramen and one kimbap roll, please."

"Ramen spicy okay?"

"Yes."

The answer slipped out on habit. Moments later, I regretted it.

"Kuh, kuhack...!"

One chopstick of ramen in, and I was coughing.

'...Spicy!'

It was spicy. Way too spicy.

Not just spicy—my tongue burned. My throat felt scorched. Tears welled up. Was this place secretly laced with capsaicin for a hidden camera prank?

I snatched the water glass desperately. One cup, two—finally, I could breathe. I glared at the ramen bowl like it betrayed me.

'Do snack bars make ramen this hot these days?'

But no, it looked totally normal. Egg, green onions, familiar broth color. So the problem wasn't the ramen... it was my tongue.

"Stu, student? Too spicy!?"

The owner asked cautiously. Some girl tearing up over ramen had clearly shocked him. I shook my head reflexively.

"N-no... it's fine."

My words said fine, but it wasn't. My chopsticks had already fled to the kimbap. Thankfully, that was okay. The fire in my mouth eased a bit.

'Taste buds changed too, huh.'

It made sense. Height changed, voice changed, even my resident registration number's last digit flipped—why would taste buds stay the same? Only my brain was unchanged in this shrunken body. I soothed my mouth with cold water, thinking inwardly.

'What a frail little body...'

That's when the TV on the wall blared the anchor's voice.

I glanced up at the TV absentmindedly.

"......"

Normally, I'd just think that's unfortunate and move on. The world was full of incidents; worrying about each one changed nothing.

But things were different now.

I might actually be able to do something.

'Bit overstepping, but...'

If—just if—my worthless efforts could save a life, there was no reason not to try.

'Status window.'

I quickly checked my skills.

I needed to use them carefully this time. The mana overuse from dawn still lingered. I scanned the list, deep in thought.

'For a shipwreck survivor, which skill's best?'

Word of Encouragement seemed effective at first glance, but my experience said otherwise. As a kid at the beach, I'd panicked in deep water despite willpower—panic clouds judgment.

That made Word of Peace more fitting here. To boost efficiency, I decided to invest my skill point.

'Good.'

My mind cleared as I turned back to the TV.

The sea on screen was still raging.

Helicopters circled, rescuers struggled to approach. Subtitles hammered rescue hampered.

I clasped my hands under the table.

I didn't know his face. His name. Exactly where he was.

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But that didn't matter anymore. I'd reached the other side of the planet; the East Sea was nothing. I closed my eyes slowly, focusing inward.

'Please help.'

Vague words—no who or how. But it was enough. The system read my intent and found the closest match.

Seemed distance penalties kicked in per 1,000 km. So no penalty within Korea, at least.

"...!"

Something drained from my body in a rush. Not enough to collapse like morning, but my vision blurred faintly.

I gripped the water glass, catching my breath.

But the TV showed no change. Sea still wild, chopper circling, subtitles unchanged.

Of course. I hadn't calmed the waves or teleported him. Just soothed his panic a bit.

'Did it even help?'

Doubt flickered, but I couldn't do more. Another cast, and I'd make local news. No thanks. Absolutely not.

'...Just wanna rest today.'

I chewed the remaining kimbap slowly.

Couldn't taste it. Ramen barely touched. Wasteful, but impossible now. I set down my chopsticks and stood.

"How much?"

"Uh, 9,000 won."

Ramen and kimbap this pricey now?

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Feeling the steep prices anew, I handed over my card. The owner glanced at my face, worry creasing his.

"Um, student..."

"Yes?"

"Was our food that bad?"

"Huh...? Oh..."

It didn't take long to get it.

Barely touched ramen, half-eaten kimbap with a sigh, both left mostly full, up and leaving early. Total disappointed customer vibe.

I waved it off—misunderstanding.

"No, it's not that..."

As I stammered excuses, it hit me. One more person who needed Word of Peace.

Korean Standard Time, 5:22 p.m.

Out on the East Sea, the last survivor was rescued.

For holding out nearly an hour in that storm, he was weirdly calm. No thrashing in terror, no desperate swimming.

Just clung to wreckage till rescuers arrived.

"Lucky guy."

A veteran rescuer muttered it.

He was lucky. Everyone safe in that weather? A miracle.

Meanwhile, the last survivor on the stretcher hadn't regained consciousness, just mumbling at his lips.

"...Thank... you..."

"What?"

"...Thank... you..."

A rescuer tilted his head at the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠faint voice.

"Family name or something?"

"Hypothermia makes 'em babble. Move him."

They brushed it off. Survivors repeating phrases post-extreme ordeal? Common.

He was swiftly stretchered away.

But his lips kept moving.

"...Thank... you... Healer..."

A tiny mumble, drowned by waves.

With that, he fully lost consciousness.