I Became a High School Girl with Military Service Done
“If the Grim Reaper were this pretty, I would've looked forward to it sooner.”
Maybe it was because I'd already come to terms with everything, but even with death staring me in the face, a joke slipped out.
Terminal pancreatic cancer. The doctors said three months would be tough, but I'd held on for five. A few days ago, breathing had started feeling labored, and it only got worse as time dragged on.
This really is the end.
“I'm not the Grim Reaper, but thanks for the compliment.”
The woman standing by my bedside responded with a faint smile. In the dim hospital room, her hair still shimmered with light, her eyes sparkled like they were embedded with stars, and her elegant nose bridge curved gracefully down to her moist lips.
A goddess?
She'd come through the door, so she obviously wasn't human, and she'd said herself she wasn't the Grim Reaper.
“The Grim Reaper will come for you this afternoon. I'm sorry to bring this up on the day you die, but I have my own circumstances.”
“You won't tell me what those are, will you?”
“No. It's not something you need to know right now, Suho.”
She emphasized right now. Did that mean I'd find out later? Come to think of it, how did she know my name?
A guy who's dying today—what's the point?
“Time's short, so let's get to the point. Don't you want to live?”
I coughed involuntarily. She's not even offering to save me.
“What, are you saying you'll cure me? Pancreatic cancer?”
“Your fate is to die of pancreatic cancer, so I can't heal the disease. But I can transfer your soul to a healthy body.”
I stared at her in silence. My brain couldn't keep up with her words.
After a long pause, still unable to grasp her intentions, I finally spoke.
“Why go that far? Did I save the country in a past life or something?”
If it was enough merit for a new life, how many countries would I have had to save?
“It's not that grand. I accidentally lost a soul... no, there was a little trouble, and I need your soul because it matches well.”
Something odd slipped out, but she caught herself in a fluster. Her expression said not to ask, so I stayed quiet.
“Your smoking, drinking, and binge-eating from stress were habits that practically begged for cancer. In your new body, you can live comfortably without any of that. People around you will treat you like royalty, so no more stress. Um... like a sweet deal for sucking the honey out of life?”
Her words grew longer, and anxiety crept into her face. The composure she'd had when she first entered the room was gone.
A different body, but she'd save me and promise a stress-free life. For a guy with less than a day left, could there be a better offer?
“Time's running out. You need to decide now.”
Her smooth forehead creased slightly, veins starting to show. She looked ready to force the soul transfer if I refused.
Hey, I'm dying anyway—what was there to hesitate about?
“I want to live comfortably. Keep your promise.”
Her anxious face bloomed into a full smile. Whatever mistake she'd made, it must've been a big one to make her this desperate. As long as she saved me, I didn't care.
Suddenly, the surroundings went dark. The joyful woman beside me faded to a silhouette.
“Suho... no, you're Sujin now. Go live well. The gift I gave you...”
“Sujin? Wait a sec. What do you—”
I couldn't finish. I was sucked somewhere and lost consciousness.
That same afternoon, in the same hospital room—the Grim Reaper, clad in a black robe and hat, passed through the door. The hem of his robe undulated like a living creature.
“Choi Suho. Your time is up. Come with m—huh?”
Red eyes flashed beneath the black hat. He approached closely and examined the departed Choi Suho.
“Wh-what the... Where the hell did his soul gooo?!”
Choi Suho, deputy manager of the marketing team at a middling small company, died at 36 from pancreatic cancer.
*****
“Gasp!”
The hospital ceiling loomed above me. At first, I thought that woman had just knocked me out briefly.
But when two strangers—an uncle and aunt I didn't recognize—hugged me and sobbed, I realized I wasn't Choi Suho anymore. The body felt far too light for an uncle worn down by months battling illness.
“Waaah, Sujiiiinaaa... Mommy's heeeere...”
Hearing the name Sujin triggered a flood of unfamiliar memories. They wedged between Choi Suho's recollections, settling in like they were mine all along. It hurt like undergoing dozens of chemo sessions at once—pure agony.
I screamed and passed out, waking the next day. By then, Choi Sujin's memories had mostly taken root.
“......”
The two clung to me, sobbing even louder than before, but I couldn't play along.
A 36-year-old man had become a 17-year-old high school girl.
Choi Sujin, incoming freshman in the acting department at Seorim Arts High School. Why "incoming"? Because she'd collapsed unconscious a week before enrollment and only woke after five weeks. She hadn't even seen the classroom, let alone attended the entrance ceremony.
Military reserve duty's done, and now a high school girl? Is this the legendary 'conscript high school girl' you only hear about? But why was she unconscious for five weeks?
The woman who'd transferred my soul hadn't explained Sujin's condition. She'd mentioned losing something, but at the time, it felt wrong to press, so I'd shut up.
Still, I'd never imagined the body I'd get would be a high school girl's.
Heavy. Are high school girls supposed to be this stacked? And why's the bottom so empty?
Seo Hye-young freaked when her coma-stricken daughter woke, propped up her chest, and sighed—but I was just as shocked by the gender swap. I'd screamed every trip to the bathroom until discharge.
*
It didn't take long to figure out what the woman meant by her final "gift."
She's ridiculously pretty. For real.
Even as a guy, I'd checked mirrors often. Meeting a client with a crooked tie and patchy shave? That's an instant no-go.
I was used to mirrors, but the full-length one now reflected an otherworldly beauty that made me question if this was allowed.
Stroking my flowing long black hair sent shivers down my spine at the silky touch. Thick lashes framed starry eyes; a sharp, refined nose led perfectly to plump red lips.
So the gift was her looks.
I turned my deer-like legs, replaying her words.
...I'll let you live comfortably. People around you will idolize you, so no more stress...
I wasn't sure about the comfort, but this beauty was worth worshiping. Hell, if a girl like this talked to me, I'd melt into a puddle.
Ah. That's me.
At least I could stay objective about myself.
*
“What about school?”
Dad asked with a worried face. Unlike my past life, Sujin's memories overflowed with parental love.
“I'll start next week. I'm fine now.”
The cause of her collapse, the coma, the sudden awakening—all unknown. I'd gone through weird machines before discharge, but nothing showed up.
“Sujin, we still don't know why. Isn't school too soon? What if you collapse again?”
Seo Hye-young was already teary-eyed. I could imagine the five weeks of torment.
“I'm really okay, that's why I want to go. And... it's the school I've always dreamed of.”
In my memories, Sujin fell for acting in middle school and aimed for arts high. Her academy recognized her talent; she aced the entry to competitive Seorim Arts High acting department.
This memory's fuzzy.
Why acting? It was hazy. A few others too—the harder I tried, the worse the headache.
I gave up on those. The two memory sets hadn't fully meshed yet.
Still, I decided on school to recover lost bits. Meeting family outsiders, the place of her acting dreams, might jog more.
Besides recovery, one more thing to check: with this face, she'd have been child actor bait since preschool. Elementary upper grades and middle school, even more so.
Yet no casting or audition memories. Unless broadcasters were blind, they'd have pounced.
Conclusion: Choi Sujin's looks dramatically upgraded at possession.
Parents' reactions stayed consistent: "Aigoo, our pretty girl." Parental blinders couldn't judge changes.
Luckily, Seorim had academy friends. Meeting them might clarify fuzzy memories or beauty shift.
*
Seorim Arts High School, 1st-year acting classroom—
“Class rep. Why's that window seat always empty?”
“Asked the teacher—says she'll be back next week. No details.”
“What's her deal, missing a whole month? Geez.”