Clueless Newbies and the Shattered Mirror

Screams, shock, blackout.

When I opened my eyes again, I faced the world's cruelest question hurled at me.

My torso felt impossibly light, and something utterly alien pressed down on my chest. Alien sensations crashed over me like a storm.

Slender white fingers—not the rough, callused paws I'd known, but literal jade-like hands. My trembling fingers traced a face contour that was ridiculously small. That tiny hand cupped my entire face. Long hair tickled my nape.

And... decisively. No matter how much I groped between my legs, it wasn't there.

Yes. Today, my world crumbled.

I'm still thinking as Lee Jinsu, no doubt. But the male existence of Lee Jinsu didn't carry over.

The Lee Jinsu with 28 years of memories awoke inside some girl's body.

A complete split between mind and flesh. My mind and body, who'd gotten along fine, suddenly cut ties, declaring we'd never meet again. An extreme proof of mind-body dualism—and a horrific punishment.

Who am I? The mind's owner, Lee Jinsu? Or the body's owner, this woman?

What are these 28 years of memories filling my head? A delusion of a man who never existed? Proof I'm going insane right now?

'Mental illness...?'

I'm a walking contradiction. Mind and body from different worlds tangled up. A fractured existence that shouldn't be in this world.

"But... I already exist."

I can't just let my mind crumble like this. Existence precedes essence. Humans are thrown into the world without any essence and must create their own through choices and actions.

What I'm facing now is this bizarre reality: living and breathing in a woman's body with Lee Jinsu's memories intact.

So... I have to choose.

Deny this body, hole up in Jinsu's memories, endure the dissonance until I slowly go mad?

Or erase Jinsu's memories and live as this total stranger woman?

'...Neither's possible.'

I couldn't abandon the past or ignore the present.

So. Only one path left.

Make this contradictory existence my new essence.

Yeah, Sartre bro was right. Existence precedes essence. I'm a being suddenly TS'd without purpose, forging my essence through free choice and responsibility.

Because I'm a human who actively creates life.

Male ego and female flesh. 28 years and an unknown present age.

Embrace all that chaos, declare it 'me'—that's gotta be the answer.

I faced the woman in the mirror.

No—the me trapped in this woman's body—straight on.

Her vacant eyes gradually filled with anger, defiance, and a weird spark of life.

Yeah, if the world tossed this shitty philosophical dilemma at me, I'd ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠prove my philosophy in the shittiest way.

'No dick anymore, but I'll live dickishly anyway.'

Separate from my resolute vow, the mirror showed only a fragile, heartrending beauty that stirred protective instincts.

"...Ha, this is ridiculous."

The voice from my mouth wasn't the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠alpha-male mid-low cave rumble anymore. A clear, bell-like soprano, like jade beads rolling.

Breath from nose to lungs to vocal cords to mouth to ears—but the output was so foreign.

I flopped onto the bed. The bed and ceiling looked the same.

Just these heavy lumps on my chest felt alien. Stomach-sleeping's off the table forever. Or hey, built-in body pillows—could be a perk.

Gurgle—

Not thunderous. A pathetic, frail friction sound. This small weak body even had a tiny stomach, so the hunger growl was faint too.

But that little noise mocked all my lofty philosophy and resolve in an instant. Pure primal biological instinct.

Survival trumps philosophy. Any day.

Philosophy? Existentialism? Essence? Soul? Inquiry? Bullshit in the face of hunger.

Just a hungry beast beelining for the fridge.

Fridge door opens—empty chill caresses my cheek.

"...The hell?"

Wilted green onion leaking mystery fluid, clearly dead. Eggs that'd spew green goo if cracked. Old kimchi oil rotting to join diesel and gasoline as new lube.

'Where's my chicken breast and protein shakes?'

I shut the door limply. That shit cost money, fuck....

...Money?

The most crucial thing hit me.

Back to bed, grab smartphone. My Galaxy's gone; an iPhone sits alone.

"...!"

3-year plan with add-ons and shit jacked the latest model to 100k won a month! Cheaper than tires! Bought it like a total sucker paying more than retail—what happened to my flagship Galaxy 26?

Whatever, I don't even know how to use this.

First time touching an iPhone. Fingers tremble launching the bank app.

'...Why's the house the same? Coulda upgraded.'

If the place is unchanged, is my savings even there?

Trembling, I open the app.

Available balance: 430,024 won.

Fucked.

I wasn't gonna be rich, but for an orphanage-raised 28-year-old, that was success!

Two zeros vanished. 40 million down to 400k. How?

World wasn't satisfied stealing my Johnson & Johnson Baby 2nd Gen Big Dick Commander. Vaporized another 38 million-ish.

"What the hell do I live on now...."

But what can I do now?

Run gombang with this frail body? Loading/unloading? Impossible.

Can't even carry cement bags—might get crushed, roll around till bag rips, mix with water and get public-dicked. Try loading and end up loaded into a coffin, life unloaded.

One path left.

Born for the first time, I applied not for loading/unloading but sorting.

So, tasks: find ID, comfy clothes and shoes.

'...Gotta find underwear too.'

Snapping to, first thing: rummage the house like a burglar.