Is She Even Human?
Was that really a person? When that woman offered to transfer my soul, nothing had tempted me as much as the promise of an easy life. Life as a man had been too damn grueling. I'd endured over ten years at a shitty little company, sacrificing way too much. Weekdays blurred into weekends of overtime, half the month on business trips, insane clients who acted like they'd given up on being human, a boomer boss, and an executive who only remembered us when he needed something. Performance pressure, salary negotiations where the company's "circumstances" suddenly got dire every time. That stress drove me to booze and smokes, piling on fatigue until promotions and results just wrecked my body more. Even without cancer, I'd probably have keeled over from overwork in a few years.
In that hospital room, I'd even prayed to a god I didn't believe in. Since this life was done for, if there was a next one, let me be reborn as the youngest son of a chaebol family—no worries about making a living, just lazing around guilt-free.
Half the wish came true, I guess. Instead of money, she gave me power. Looks as power, that is. If beauty is power, then I was absolute authority. A face worthy of being worshipped at the top of the looks ecosystem. If I'd still been a guy, I'd have been dying to shoot my shot with a single word from her.
Ah... right. I was a guy.
It was my first outing after discharge. Destination: Choi Suho's house. Ten days since his death, so the funeral must be over. I hesitated to dredge up painful memories, but I wanted to track down the cremation site for one last goodbye. I headed out with a heavy heart, but the walk there wasn't heavy at all.
"Hey, did you just see that?"
"Gorgeous..."
"She's a celebrity, right? I've seen her on TV."
Not wearing a mask was the problem. I'd praised my looks in the mirror but hadn't thought to cover up. Of course I'd draw eyes. Hot stares followed me like CCTV footage. It was my first taste of this kind of attention—disorienting, but not bad.
What do I do... turns out I'm an attention whore. Words Choi Suho would never say slipped out. Ahh, so this was adaptation.
"Um, excuse me!"
"Yes?"
He was handsome enough to get compliments. Mid-20s, maybe?
"I, uh... I don't usually do this, but..."
He fidgeted but pushed forward aggressively. Probably after my number. First time dealing with this, I panicked—but quickly reined it in. The sales team manager spot wasn't handed to me.
"I'm underage."
"Ah, Mi-ja. Pretty name, haha."
"No, I mean high school freshman."
"Right, high school fresh—what?"
His eyes bulged like he'd spotted a polar bear in the Sahara.
"H-h-h-high school fresh—!!"
"You're still young and bright—can't get tangled with a minor. Take care."
I bowed politely to the frozen guy and hurried off. Old sales habits die hard. Sometimes girl talk slipped out, sometimes old-man moves—no consistency.
As I thought that, someone else grabbed me. Rejected him like before, but it didn't end. He shoved a business card, claiming some agency. No good—I ducked into a convenience store for a mask.
"Welcome... uwaaack!"
The startled clerk backed up, knocking cigarette packs everywhere. Not like I was robbing the place.
I learned later that day, SNS and communities blew up with sightings of the "black-haired elf."
"N-no way."
The house was gone. The luxury apartment I'd scraped my soul for—now strangers lived there.
"What are you talking about? We've lived here over five years."
The middle-aged couple freaked at my face, then got mad about the house talk and slammed the door.
Hands shaking, I pulled out my phone. Called Dad—number not in service. Mom too. Cousins I texted occasionally? No clue on numbers. Everything was saved; memorizing was impossible. Remembering parents' numbers was miracle enough.
Straight to the hospital. But no record of a cancer patient named Choi Suho. After all that time there, erased in ten days? I stared at the nurse in disbelief.
She blushed and looked away. Other nurses too. This face worked on women too. But fresh off existence denial, no joy.
Head down, I went home. No trace of Choi Suho anywhere in the world. That night, I skipped dinner, burrowed under covers, and stewed in bewilderment.
"Sigh..."
Slept it off, felt better. No idea why Choi Suho's life vanished or who did it. Probably that woman, but can't ask. Hadn't appeared since waking. No way to meet.
Gotta live first. Promised her. She kept her end. Not sure about easy life or people fawning yet, but weapons aplenty. With looks like this, anything would work.
But what to do?
Luckily freshman year now. Avoid dumb shit, school's guaranteed three years. Plenty time to figure it out. Gotta stick to school somehow.
Seorim Arts High School Acting Department Classroom — A month in, initial awkwardness gone. Groups formed, chats bloomed on various topics. Midway by the window sat a picture-perfect beauty with a sculpted smile. Yeo Eun-seo, who'd conquered the acting department in one month since enrollment.
Her upturned eyes gave a haughty cat vibe, but her smile curved round like a friendly puppy—max affinity. Cat-dog charm mixed perfectly, captivating all with her striking features. Child actor genius, acting beyond her teen years, next-gen Chungmuro queen—titles proved her elite path. To enter Seorim Arts High, acting experience was a given, but Yeo Eun-seo's journey stood alone.
"Must take after Mom—acting, looks, flawless."
"Does zero ads to avoid image overuse."
"Her family's loaded—no need."
"Family?"
"Dad's Yeo Hyun-su."
"Yeo Hyun-su? HS Entertainment CEO?"
"Not all. Gold Young Group chairman's youngest son."
"Whoa, so Eun-seo's third-gen chaebol."
Dad: chaebol second-gen eyeing Big 4 entertainment CEO. Mom: top active actress. Yeo Eun-seo: born gold spoon + celeb spoon.
Amid the buzz, a voice cut in.
"Class rep. Didn't she say she'd come today?"
A girl pointed to the window-end seat.
"Yeah. Teacher's due soon."
Front door opened—teacher entered. At the podium, about to speak—back door slid.
Creak.
All eyes to the back. There stood a girl masked up, scarf wrapped tight.
Ah, shit.
Didn't know the acting classroom was this tucked away. Should've scouted school first. Timed it right but got lost—finally found it. Saw teacher enter from afar, sprinted, but too late. Now all class eyes on me.
"Sujin?"
"Yes, teacher."
"Try not to be later than me."
"Got lost finding the classroom. Won't happen again. Sorry."
Too formal—kids' faces went weird. Late to client meetings, this apology was nothing.
"First day—greet the class. Everyone's introduced."
"Yes."
Walked to podium. Stares stung. No looks reaction yet—disguise worked.
"Why so bundled up?"
"Caught a cold."
"Take it off for greetings. Gotta show your face."
Expected response. Late enrollee looking like bank robber—fair call. Disguise just to enter unseen anyway. Slowly unwound scarf, removed mask. Fixed hair, looked up—time froze.
Or felt like it—no one moved. Stared holes through my face, forgetting to breathe. Eyeballs rolling, hearts pounding left-right ventricles, lungs screaming—eerie silence filled the room.
Silence could've lasted forever, but humans need air.
"C-can't... breathe..."
"Insane. For real. Human?"
"Never seen a face like that."
"Black-haired elf, right?"
"Elf?"
"Sillt forums exploded two days ago."
Standing longer = zoo exhibit. Mumbled middle school origins, "please take care," and bowed. Turned to still-frozen teacher—met eyes, she backed up steps. Happens with everyone but parents.
"May I sit?"
"Y-yeah. End seat there."
Politely bowed, headed to seat. Sales greeting habits saved me. Early semester, good teacher impression smooths everything.
Sat—someone turned back to stare.
Yeo Eun-seo. No need for Choi Sujin's memories. Famous enough for drama-haters to know. Expression hid emotions, but I'd read countless faces in sales, gauging moods. Those sparkling eyes hid thirst. Half-mingled desire.