Appearance Might Not Be the Gift

"You're asking something weird. I get to watch a rough gem turn into a masterpiece right next to me—what could be better than that? If you let me cheer you on from the sidelines, I'd give you anything."

I had no idea just how much she could give, but Eun-seo's power and wealth were beyond my imagination. Since she'd taken a real liking to me, she'd be a huge help, no doubt. As long as I kept pursuing the acting that Choi Sujin had dreamed of.

"Confused? Because I suddenly want to be friends?"

"Be honest. I'm grateful you think well of me, but... masterpiece? That's a bit much."

"You still don't know your own value. Whatever. The whole world will find out soon enough, and I'll make sure of it."

She leaned in so close our faces almost touched. Even her breaths were pretty. "I don't want anything from you. You don't have to do a thing for me. I just want to spend time near you. Whether you want it or not, that time's going to be ridiculously glamorous."

She pulled back with a grin. A smile that was cute yet seductive.

"You'll be my friend, right? Even if you say no, I'll keep following you, so pick between friend and stalker."

She blocked my escape. She was acting casual, but my salesman-honed instincts saw right through her—the slight tremble at the corners of her eyes, her quickening breath, the way she bit her lip without realizing. She was tense, scared of rejection.

Two weeks into being a high school girl, and I'd already made an acting genius chaebol heiress nervous. That woman's gift of a face must be something else.

She wasn't after me like that, and as for help, how much could a high school girl really need anyway? No reason to turn down having a girl this pretty by my side. I didn't have any other friends to hang out with.

"Alright. Friends it is."

A faint blush bloomed across her face like a flower bursting open. Her wide smile and crinkled eyes were already a massive bouquet of joy. Before her excited cheer could even reach my ears, she pulled me into a tight hug.

A pleasant weight spread through my body, and a sweet scent tickled my nose.

"Haa, this is the best. Let's get along great from now on."

I got so lost in the fluffy softness of her embrace that I missed my chance to respond. Women's bodies were just... so soft.

"Mind switching seats? Cool?"

At Eun-seo's soft request, the girl next to me stood up without a word. Just like that, she claimed the spot by my side.

"Look at that."

"The elf and the goddess are sitting together."

"Who's the elf and who's the goddess?"

"Who cares? The point is they're stuck together."

"Kya, it's so purifying."

The kids were thrilled, eyes feasting. Even some from the next class came to gawk.

"This is fun. They say the goddess and elf came to see us."

"More importantly, can you just swap seats like that? What does the teacher say?"

"She won't say a thing. She wants to keep coming to this school too."

She said it with a laugh, but it sent a chill down my spine. Untouchable for real.

"What're you doing this Saturday? I finally have some time off."

I couldn't figure out why she looked so excited about her own break.

"Just chilling at home."

I planned to sleep in and mess around in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the canyon later.

"Perfect. Come over to my place."

"Your house?"

"Yeah. I'll pick you up, so give me your address."

She said she'd come get me ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠around lunchtime after I slept in. A guest at a chaebol's house... Something I'd never dreamed of as a salesman. Making a chaebol friend opened up experiences like this.

I should bring something.

Back home, I asked Mom for help. It was my first friend as a high schooler—I couldn't show up empty-handed.

"Our Sujin's really changed since becoming a high schooler. Such a thoughtful kid now."

Back in my salesman days, I'd tracked clients' weddings, funerals, even their wives' birthdays. I knew their tastes inside out. But gifts for chaebol houses? Not on my list. So I sent up an SOS to Mom.

Reviewing Sujin's memories, I remembered Mom's homemade cookies were killer.

Handmade cookies should do it...

Sincerity couldn't be bought. No pricey gift would impress their crowd anyway, so we decided to bake.

"But Sujin, wouldn't it be better if you baked ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠them to take to your friend's? You could brag about it, and it'd mean more."

Mom had a point. Problem was, Sujin's cooking skills were iffy. In middle school, she'd tried baking with Mom a few times—always charred black or raw dough.

How could I bring that to Eun-seo's?

"Just try again. You've done it a few times; you might've improved. If it doesn't work, I'll bake some Friday night."

"Okay."

She insisted, so why not give it a shot.

I went for a basic cookie recipe—simple enough.

What if Eun-seo hates it...

My first friend as a girl. A genius actress and chaebol third-gen with sky-high pride, and she'd reached out first. She really liked me that much. I didn't want to disappoint her. I clenched my fist in front of the counter.

I pulled up a cookie tutorial on Mutube and checked the ingredients. Grabbed the unsalted butter, put it in the bowl, picked up the whisk—and something flickered in front of my eyes.

What the...?

N, no way.

It was a message. Floating in the air like in a game. It said it was searching, and weird characters scrolled by.

That wasn't all.

Time stopped.

I couldn't move. Nothing but staring at the message and wondering why it appeared.

After a while, the scrolling stopped dead.

Not just a plain alert—it was a full-on dialogue window like in novels or webtoons. The kind where some mysterious entity aids the protagonist.

Since reviving as a woman, weird stuff wasn't surprising anymore. But an actual status window? Didn't see that coming.

I can bake delicious cookies, huh.

I mentally selected the "high school girl with master baker potential" it suggested. I needed it anyway, and it seemed like the only way to get time ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠moving again.

Got it.

My frozen body obeyed. Time flowed once more.

I picked up the bowl and whisked—the motions felt insanely natural. My head panicked at the sticking butter, but my hands scraped the bowl like pros. Adding sugar midway? Effortless.

"Oh my, look at you. How are you this good?"

I didn't know either. My hands moved on their own before I could think.

Perfectly whisked without clumps, the gooey butter turned to mayo texture. But it didn't stop there—egg wash mixed in, sifted cake flour and baking powder, spatula-folded, chilled 30 minutes, portioned into molds, oven at the right temp. Mom's jaw dropped watching me nail it like a pro baker.

Out came the cookies after 13 minutes at 170°C preheat. I had no clue about temps or times—my body just knew they were perfect.

The whole process was so seamless, even I was shocked.

"Sujin... Mom's stunned. Look at this color."

"Can't vouch for the taste. Try it."

She grabbed an edge piece and bit in. The crisp crunch looked delicious. Her eyes went wide—unbelievably so. She popped the rest in her mouth, chewed, then grabbed my shoulders in disbelief.

"It's good—so, so good! Mom's got nothing on this. How'd you make it this perfect? Did they teach you at school?"

"No way."

I took a bite. Soft butter and sweet sugar tap-danced on my tongue. The dough's texture amplified every chew. In 36 + 17 = 53 years, I'd never tasted cookies this good.

Th-this... I made this?

Excited, Mom hauled out more ingredients, rattling off recipes for other kinds. Every time she named one and I grabbed stuff, the method popped into my head—how to mix, what to add, bake time. My body handled the timing flawlessly.

Like the control center was somewhere other than my brain.

That night—Dad came home from work to a mountain of cookies.

"What's all this?"

"Sujin baked them. They're amazing—don't leave a crumb."

"Eat all this?"

"Just try one!"

Dad's reaction matched Mom's. Watching him tear up over cookies, I reflected on the day.

Becoming a high school girl and insanely pretty... that wasn't the end of it.

For the first time, I thought that mysterious woman's gift might not be just my looks.