I Can't Hold Back Anymore
I can't hold back. I'm diving right into this shit.
That was something Namgoong Juhee—back when she was a "he"—would often mutter to himself.
It was a statement that didn't make much sense at first glance. Murim meant medieval China, spiced up just a bit with martial arts. And even now, China was infamous as "Chink-land" for its barbaric people. Four hundred years ago? If anything, it would've been worse.
Luckily for him—no, for her—those words came true.
One day, she lay down in bed, closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, there she was: in barbaric medieval China. Right smack in the middle-ish of Anhui Province's Cheonju Mountain.
The first thing she saw upon opening her eyes was a rice bowl. Or, as they'd call it in advanced South Korea, a tit.
She was a pretty normal guy in her past life—no priors. And common sense said you didn't turn down freebies.
So she shoved the rice bowl straight into her mouth and started sucking. As she savored the sweet, sticky flavor, a voice drifted down from above.
"My little Juhee, were you that hungry? Oh dear... why on earth are you rolling your tongue like that?"
Juhee thought it was bullshit. "Juhee" was a girl's name. It didn't suit a guy at all. Especially not one who'd done his military service.
She wanted to argue right away. My name isn't Juhee. But funny thing— she couldn't remember her original name. They'd said a person's own name was what they heard most often. What the hell was this?
Eh, must be a dream.
That was Juhee's take. The texture on her tongue felt weirdly real, but that was it. Memories fuzzy, body all soft and wobbly—just like in a dream.
So Juhee decided to enjoy the moment. That'd been her mindset as a guy, and it still was as a girl. And with a rare massive rack right in front of her? Perfect entertainment.
She slowly savored the sensation on her tongue... and drifted off to sleep. That was Namgoong Juhee's first memory.
...
Namgoong Juhee, age ten. The wrinkly newborn had grown into a cute little girl.
"Cute" was subjective, of course. Beauty standards varied from person to person. But Namgoong Juhee was convinced her cuteness was objective.
Her wavy red hair. Intellectual yet gentle eyes. A sharp little nose and dainty lips.
If she'd been born in the modern world, she'd have been a child actress. She vouched for it herself—she'd seen plenty of modern beauties.
If you're good-looking, life is easy. Same went for being pretty.
Her father, the Family Head, was what you'd call a doting dad. He gave her everything she wanted and treated her like fragile jade, terrified she'd get even a scratch. Her mother worried about him. What if Juhee turned into a spoiled brat? The classic villainess route.
But Namgoong Juhee already had the mind of an adult. Playing the good daughter was a piece of cake. Her mother soon stopped fretting.
She got along great with her siblings too. It was obvious the head of a poor clan house would be after poison. No reason to fight if you weren't gunning for the seat. Schmoozing kids was child's play for her.
So Namgoong Juhee's life was easy. And it was gonna stay that way.
But.
She wasn't satisfied. Hell, it made her wanna puke.
A harmonious murim family was boring. Playing the good daughter was easy, sure. But that was all it was—acting. She was basically walking around in a mask 24/7.
Then one day, she had a dream.
In it was her old male self. And a computer right in front of him.
Back when Namgoong Juhee was a "he."
Like any MZ kid, his hobby was gaming. RTS, RPG, MOBA, FPS—he'd tried every hot game back then.
Single-player stuff too. A mortal with a dragon's soul. A cyberpunk street rat. A climber scaling towers on cards. A farmer in a peaceful village. He'd lived all sorts of lives.
But his playstyle was always consistent. In PvP games, he was an extreme in-fighter.
Lots of enemies? Kill 'em. They're stronger? Win anyway. Too risky? Just enjoy it.
High risk, high reward. Teammates called him insane. But what could you do—it was fun.
Even in chill single-player RPGs, same deal. Just with extra curiosity thrown in.
Huh? What's in that vase? Smash it. This wall breakable? Smash it. That guy's head? Smash it.
You paid for the game—gotta chew it up, taste it, enjoy every bit. That's how you hit 90% achievement rates.
So, to sum up his style in one line:
"I can't hold back. I'm diving right into this shit."
Flick.
Namgoong Juhee muttered that as she woke from the dream. And a thought flashed through her mind.
"Hm... what if I'm actually jacked into a VR game or something?"
It was a convincing idea. Explained the sudden drop into murim, the gender swap, the lost memories, even her unreal cuteness. She'd always obsessed over character creation, after all.
Thinking that way lifted the weight squeezing her chest. Yeah, it's a game—what's the point of pretending to be good?
Not just that. Face, duty, laws, even her life—none of it mattered. If it went south, just reset and reroll.
So she decided to live however the fuck she wanted. Above all, fun.
Games were made to be fun, right? Do every damn thing that looked entertaining. First up: learn some martial arts. With that in mind, she headed to her father the Family Head's room. And BAM!—she flung the door open like she was gonna break it.
"J-Juhee? What in the world? You'll snap the door!"
Her usually obedient precious daughter acting out of nowhere—he looked shocked. Seeing her dad's flustered face, Namgoong Juhee grinned and tossed out a line.
"Nah, it's fine. Stuff like this fixes on relog."
"...?"
Puberty already? But a Family Head had to stay cool. He forced down his surprise and replied.
"Game? What are you talking about?"
"Eh, it's a thing. Anyway, isn't it about time I learned some martial arts?"
"Martial arts? So suddenly?"
"Ten's basically grown-up. Feels late, even."
"What..."
"These days in wuxia, Peak realm is the minimum cut-off. Figure I'll hit that before anything else."
The Family Head blinked at the girl in front of him. Definitely Namgoong Juhee.
She'd learned to speak and read fast, perfect manners too. His irreplaceable treasure of a daughter.
But what was with that vulgar speech? Games? Relog? Minimum cut-off? Fine, treating Peak like a joke—but the tone was so bizarre.
"Ahem."
He cleared his throat, feigning calm. Even his favorite daughter needed correcting. He thought that, opened his mouth... but it was pointless.
"Juhee, mind your decorum before the Family Head."
"Family Head ever heard the word 'boomer'?"
"...Yes, I've heard it."
"What you're doing right now? Us MZ call that 'boomer' behavior. Endorsed by the Recognition Association and all."
Boomer. The word the Family Head hated most. Especially from his adorable daughter.
"Even so, calling your father a boomer..."
"Guess I'm just bad with words."
"..."
Bad with words? At this level? No, clumsy speech meant stuttering or poor vocab. She was fluent as hell.
But the Family Head's brain was already rocked by "boomer." Brains skip hard stuff when overwhelmed. So he half-assed it: Yeah, she's just bad with words. My girl's too good for that.
"R-Right, Juhee. You want to learn martial arts?"
"Yeah. Been saying that."
"Urgh..."
He pinched the bridge of his nose.
The Namgoong's domineering sword style didn't suit a girl. And he didn't want his precious daughter in the succession war. Being head of a poor clan had no perks.
Then a thought struck him. They'd recently swapped martial arts with Huashan's branch family.
"Would something other than the Namgoong sword be acceptable?"
"Pfft, I don't care about that."
"Hm... If that's your wish, I'll teach you the Luk Hap Sword."
Branch sects were founded by descended disciples—weaker than the main school's arts. But as Huashan stuff, it'd pack some punch.
Just enough for self-defense. Unless she was a once-in-a-generation prodigy, no wandering the jianghu.
That was what the Namgoong Family Head thought. And he'd realize how wrong he was five years later.