Not Evangelizing
A bowl brimming with noodles was set down in front of Arin as she kept wiping away her tears nonstop.
Sniffling, she looked up and met the eyes of the woman who had first spoken to her when she arrived.
Arin nodded in thanks to the woman, who silently pushed the plate toward her without a word of concern.
She didn't stop, wielding her chopsticks relentlessly until the second bowl was scraped clean too.
"Feeling a bit better?"
"Ah, thank you."
The woman approached again as Arin stared blankly at the empty bowl, handing her a paper cup filled with coffee.
"I don't usually ask this sort of thing. But... did you run away from home?"
"...No, I didn't run. I just can't go back."
"Oh my..."
Arin cut the conversation short—she had no desire to say more, and even if she did, the best she could hope for was misunderstanding. Worst case, the woman might report her as a monster.
As the woman moved off to tend to other tasks, Arin savored the sweet, thick instant coffee's bite on her tongue, letting it calm her mind.
In the meantime, volunteers behind her huddled, whispering about her.
Words like "runaway" and "family violence" drifted over faintly, but Arin ignored them, gathering her bowls and standing.
"Can I leave these here?"
Eyes filled with pity.
But also laced with prejudice, assuming a runaway girl like her must have her own issues.
Now that her hungry stomach was full, those gazes stood out, making Arin frown despite herself.
Forcing a tired smile, she slipped out like she was fleeing.
She walked slowly.
"What now... I can't use my resident registration number, so no part-time jobs for me."
Before, there had been danger but at least a destination, a plan.
Now, it was safe—but that was it.
Gender swap alone might've been manageable, but with her age regressed too, even day labor would likely get shot down.
That yellow door bastard is such a fucking hack the more I think about it. Can't even send one person back properly?
Arin sat on a bus stop bench, watching an emergency anomaly response video on a nearby screen.
This must be the world the other three had mentioned—the one they'd briefly shared before parting.
She idly wondered if she'd bump into them walking down the street.
What if she screamed they'd killed her once and charged, demanding they take responsibility?
Or rushed up calling them "Dad" or "Mom"Mom" in front of others—what would they do?
Lost in silly fantasies, Arin chuckled to herself when someone sat beside her.
A face that looked young for a mother, but it was the woman from before—the one who'd brought noodles and coffee alone while others gossiped.
Arin figured their bus stops overlapped and thought nothing of it.
But the woman spoke first.
"Student, if you have nowhere to go, want to stay at my place for a few days?"
"Pardon?"
"Oh, it's not proselytizing, so no need to worry!"
"No, that's not..."
The woman pulled a small pack of hardtack biscuits from her handbag, stuck with a church sticker, and handed it handed it over.
"Young kids like you rarely come to church alone. If you'd come with family, maybe, but... you must've been so exhausted and hungry to make it here."
"I see... but why me?"
"You remind me of my own kid? Mine's in high school, so maybe that's why I keep worrying about you."
"But you don't even know who I am."
"Kim Arin, right? Saw it on your name tag. Now you're a kid I know, so it's fine, yeah?"
"Haha... isn't that a bit forced...?"
No real reason, just "you remind me of my kid"—Arin wasn't sure if it was genuine.
But she had no intention of accepting.
She'd been betrayed twice in a row by seemingly nice people less than a day ago.
And more than that, her pride as an adult man inside a schoolgirl's shell wouldn't allow it.
"Here we are—my place. Make yourself at home!"
And the pride of an adult man meant nothing after all.
"Th-thank you for having me..."
The small apartment's door lock clicked open.
Aside from the cross greeting at the entrance and shelves crammed with religious trinkets, it felt like any normal home.
True to a world riddled with anomalies, there were gas masks and "3-Day Survival Kit" bags in plain sight.
"Just me and my daughter, so one's empty. Use that. It's cramped—been a storage room."
"Ah, yes. Thank you."
I'm fucked!
Arin flushed with self-loathing, guilt, and embarrassment at living as a "girl" in an all-women household.
The woman mistook it for a shy student nervous in a stranger's home, patted her back reassuringly, and headed to the master bedroom to change.
"Anyway... got a place to crash now."
Arin set down her bag, sorting the bank loot, then pulled out the iron pipe blatantly stuck there.
"Wait, no one thought this was weird? Mistook it for a tennis racket or something?"
Muttering about how rough the world must be to not bat an eye, she sorted empty bottles and wrappers, dumping them in the kitchen trash she'd glimpsed passing.
She bumped into the woman, freshly changed.
"Oh dear, look at me. Forgot to introduce myself. I'm Seoyeong. Go Seoyeong. My daughter's Lee Gaeun."
"Got it. Seo... yeong..."
"Call me Aunt Seoyeong."
"Yes, Aunt Seoyeong. Just call me... Arin."
As they exchanged names, the door lock beeped open.
A girl entered.
"Mom, I'm home~"
"Gaeun, early today?"
"Ugh, too lazy to hang with the kids..."
The high schooler with long brown-dyed hair kicked off her sneakers carelessly, then froze spotting Arin.
"Hmm~ Another church kid Mom's forcing on me as a 'friend'?"
"No, just letting her stay a bit."
"Mom, that's embarrass—huh?"
Moments later, Arin sat alone on the sofa, sipping canned cola.
From the closed master bedroom, Seoyeong and Gaeun talked.
Soundproofing was poor—small voices carried clearly.
'Mom, this is too much! World's a shitshow out there—can't just bring home strangers!'
Arin nodded as if it weren't about her—it made sense.
She sipped her dwindling cola sparingly.
'But we can't just abandon a kid in need.'
'Who knows what she is? Runaway teen—most of 'em are fucking assholes...'
'Gaeun!'
'...Scammers, backstabbers. Not all, sure, but we know zilch about her except a name. Shouldn't we call the cops first?'
Arin nodded again at Gaeun's words filtering through the door.
'How can you trust cops? You know what happened—that kid who fled abuse, church folks reported it, cops just sent her back and...'
So that's why the woman took her in without questions.
Conversation winding down, Arin crumpled her empty can, tossed it, and turned back.
The two emerged right on cue.
"So..."
"What's your name?"
Gaeun cut in, stepping forward, discomfort plain.
"Kim... Arin."
"What school? Not ours or local—uniforms here's all spinach green and stripes. Easy to spot."
"Uh..."
Arin couldn't answer.
This uniform was what she'd woken up in—not her old school's.
And with different worlds, no guarantee that school even existed here.
Under Gaeun's insistent stare, she stayed silent.
"So why'd you leave home?"
"Didn't leave. Can't go back."
"Why not?"
"Well..."
She couldn't say: Used to be a grown man, office worker. Woke up a girl in uniform, wandered a monster world, died a dozen times escaping—landed here.
Mute again, Arin watched Gaeun sigh in frustration, whirling on Seoyeong.
"See? Super suspicious!"
"She's just tired. Right? Rest tonight, talk tomorrow."
"Mom, seriously!"
They ate dinner in awkward silence.
Despite Gaeun's protests, Arin borrowed her clothes and burrowed into a cotton blanket.
Should I tell them? Nah, they'd lock me up.
Grateful for a safe, worry-free night thanks to the kind woman, Arin closed her eyes.
Suddenly, she stood alone on a roadside.
Under gray skies, she scanned the empty street.
Another drop? Heart pounding, she checked for hidden monsters—and hiding spots—dashing to the nearest building.
Grabbing the metal door handle of a storefront, everything around her vanished.
Replaced by a barren black sand desert.
A vast black sand desert stretched out.
At its heart, a lone white building.
She walked unconsciously toward it.
Not stacked bricks—molded into bizarre shapes.
Before she touched, the door opened silently in welcome.
Something stepped out.
It approached, joints creaking, bowing at the waist.
"Welcoming me? Why?"
Clown outfit like Piero, clanking metal with every move.
Oddest: ear heard clicks, mind understood words naturally.
"Not really in the mood to—"
Scenery shifted; shifted, shifted. Now indoors.
Arin grimaced, reluctant.
Death meant nothing anymore—no fear, she told herself.
But inexplicable situations bred unavoidable dread.
"Chair?"
Hiding her trembling heart, she followed Piero.
In the vast hall upheld by countless pillars sat a wooden chair, utterly out of place.
Crude, like sticks nailed together. Empty.
Unconsciously, she approached.
It was for her—only she deserved to sit.
No time to question, hand extended amid Piero's applause.
"Fuck!"
She didn't sit.
Arin huddled, drenched in cold sweat, peering out the window.
The sky outside was pale navy—dawn breaking.