Chapter 1
Chapter 1
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 1
Chapter Title: Found the Culprit
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It all started with some idle chit-chat with my buddy.
"Come on, just read it once, will ya? This one's the real deal."
"No thanks, dude. Don't you remember last time you fed me that radioactive waste after hyping it up the same way?"
Sales pitch. Proselytizing. Whatever you call it.
Recommending a story you enjoyed to someone else was something both he and I did all the time, but his last pick had been a total disaster.
He'd tricked me by calling it a wholesome slice-of-life healing story, only for all the heroine candidates introduced in episode 1 to end up as memorial portraits by episode 5. What kind of insane plot twist was that?
The protagonist, swearing to revive his dead comrades, suddenly turns into a total simp for a new heroine who pops up out of nowhere in episode 6, handing over the rare material needed for the resurrection like it's nothing.
If he hadn't quickly offered up a sacrificial chuneunim to appease me, I might've smashed his blasphemous head—the one mocking the slice-of-life genre—with a hardcover edition.
"Nah, that was just me thinking you couldn't suffer alone. This one's legit, I swear."
...Had I been too lenient forgiving him with just one chuneunim? Should've demanded two.
A surge of anger bubbled up inside, but it felt petty to bring it up again after letting it slide once.
I channeled maximum apathy with my whole body as I told him,
"Fine. Summarize it then."
"Huh?"
"Give me the gist. Like a teaser, demo, short clip, that vibe."
"Dude, what's the fun in knowing the plot beforehand?"
"Did you erase 'trailer' from the dictionary? A bit of spoiler in the right dose actually builds hype."
"Tch. I'm no good at this stuff."
He mulled it over for a moment, then dove into the pitch.
"The setting's a future where VR games are everywhere, but every game's got super strict player limits. Multiplayer tops out at like four people max. Then some genius devs a massive game all by himself—one with thousands, tens of thousands of players joining in together."
One guy... developed a game? In a field no one's touched? That's pure fart-talk.
No, calm down. It's fiction. Could be some monstrous genius beyond common sense. With endless money and time, sure. Tech level's different anyway, so judging by real-world standards is unfair.
"At first, public opinion's skeptical about the game, but after a few tests prove it's no bluff, everyone's hyped and logs in. Protagonist's one of them. But get this—the game's got a massive trap. The psycho dev made it so you can't log out without clearing it, and dying in-game means real death."
Hold up—a game with thousands or tens of thousands logging in? No way one person runs that solo. Servers, support, QA, hardware management—you'd need a ton of staff. Fooling all them to pull off that trap? And for brain-interface games, safety regs would be insane.
"So the protagonist and his crew fight to beat the mad dev's scheme and clear the game... that's the gist."
Seeing my face sour, he must've sensed the pitch flopping. He started glancing sideways, then blurted it out, context be damned.
"And one of the heroines is super spicy!!"
My interest, plummeting past zero into the negatives, flipped positive.
"Keep talking."
"With the dev causing that much chaos, the outside world's in an uproar. One backlash hits his family. His parents, abroad, cut ties quick to minimize damage. But his little sister back home gets witch-hunted. Even though she cut contact with her bro and family early, lives independently—just being related gets her trashed online."
"Talk about rotten luck."
"Yeah. She can't take it anymore, figures clearing the game herself will save everyone and fix things, so she logs in."
"Isn't that escapism? Better odds fleeing overseas like her parents."
"Spot on. The story calls it a dumb choice in desperate times. Anyway, that backstory leaves her grinding the game under massive stress, duty, fear of her identity leaking—playing like she's hunted. That mix of breakdown and allure? Top-tier heroine vibes. Her growing dependence and obsession on the protagonist—who doesn't change after learning who she is? Chef's kiss..."
"......"
"Something to say?"
"Tch. Hand over volume 1 for now."
He beamed with satisfaction, handing it over. I took it casually.
He was pushing so hard, a quick skim couldn't hurt.
Definitely not because I was curious about that spicy heroine.
I got home itching to crack it open, but an emergency work call forced me to leave the book behind and head out again.
Screeeech! Thud!
That was it.
Dizzying impact. Floating sensation. Blurring vision.
A death so futile, yet happening somewhere every day.
And just like that, my story ended pointlessly.
"It's a healthy baby girl!"
Ridiculously, my second round kicked off in a flash.
...No, fuck. At least let me finish the book first, humanely.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Humans are creatures of adaptation.
At first, I couldn't wrap my head around the sudden reincarnation. Learning even my gender flipped? I wanted to claw my tiny baby head with my stubby arms. But after a dozen or so years, I managed some compromise and acceptance.
Yeah, snagging a second life—something everyone dreams of—for the low price of a gender swap? Bargain.
Plus, the looks are killer. Still growing, but already past 'cute' into 'pretty' territory, with killer proportions too.
Beauty is a weapon in itself.
If I'd landed in some fantasy medieval or murim world by bad luck, it could've backfired—dragged off against my will by some potbellied noble. But this place? Modern society, like my old life, just with tweaks. Beauty's more asset than poison here.
With past-life cheats, grades are ace, athletic talent's top-notch.
If you quantified life's luck stats, mine's stacked in talent at least.
Family luck, though? Can't even politely call it good.
"Ye-rin-ah... Mom's so tired... Why's everyone out to get me... Joo Ho-jun, that bastard, son of a bitch, sniff, sob."
Overwhelming booze stench. Sniffling sobs laced with tears.
This woman dumping drunken woes on her recovered daughter? Kang Min-jeong, my mom this life.
Oh, and Joo Ho-jun catching all the curses? My bio dad this round.
Why the hate? Knocked her up in school, shirked responsibility, ghosted after moving.
She was from a solid family once, but got half-booted after. Raised me solo, evolved into prime single mom + lush.
Short sigh. I scooped up Kang lady and dumped her in bed.
Pathetic how I feel my physical specs most here.
Obviously, raising a kid solo ain't easy.
Pre-cutoff family funds kept finances afloat, but kids ain't just about money.
Finger-pointing neighbors. Whispers. Head-of-household pressure.
Mom's stress was immense; drowning it in booze or venting? Rationally gettable.
But that's 'cause I'm a second-lifer with adult experience.
A normal middle-school girl here? She'd crack too.
Arguments, hurt feelings, blowup. Ugh, nightmare.
Wanna help before she breaks more, but as a student? Chores, scholarships easing tuition, listening and comforting—that's it.
If it matched my old world exactly, I'd flip stocks or crypto into chaebol riches. But subtle diffs nix that cheat.
Classic TS reincarnation path: researched vtuber debuts for that reason.
Money doesn't solve everything, but it solves a lot.
Popular concepts: villainess noble lady types.
Hot genres: songs, games—VR streams especially.
"Virtual reality."
This play culture? Didn't exist before, or not at this level. Couldn't help the unease.
Blame the book I held dying—its plot screamed cliché.
In reincarnation subculture, protagonists often land in the game/book world they just played/read. Trope city.
I'd only heard the summary from my buddy, hadn't cracked page one—but unease is unease.
Rented games with friends for convo fodder sometimes—solo-focused ones, no massive online. Wouldn't touch MMOs.
Detailed knowledge? Exploit plot points, dodge flags. No such luck—play smart, eyes open.
No need to step on obvious landmines.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "Ye-rin-ah! Got cake! Let's eat!"
"...Not my birthday. What's with the cake?"
"Ho ho ho. Silly girl. Cake only for birthdays? Sometimes I crave it as a snack."
Our Kang Min-jeong hummed, setting slice cake and bitter black tea.
I eyed her suspiciously.
She's not always drunk-ranting.
Work wins or my good report cards? She perks up like this—vibrant, normal-ish.
But emotions swing wild; good moods cap at three days. Lately? Over a week of happy aura. Hard to miss.
Sure enough, after school chit-chat and boy-probing, she dropped the bomb.
"Ye-rin-ah. If Mom remarries... you okay with that?"
"One question first. Not that Joo Ho-jun you curse daily, right?"
"Of course not! Thinking of him still boils my blood!!"
She bristled, then cleared her throat awkwardly.
"He's wonderful. Kind, family-oriented, capable. Clicks with me perfectly. With him, all worries melt away?"
I just nodded.
Normal kid? Might freak. But to me, she's less 'mom,' more high-maintenance acquaintance. No negativity.
Worried she'd picked another dud, though.
"If you're cool, Mom wants to join lives with him."
"Fine by me. But trial cohabitation first? Living together reveals mismatches."
True worry: her picker sucks. But straight talk? Devastating. So, plausible excuse.
"That... hm, makes sense. Fair point."
She nearly snapped back, then reined in, agreeing.
Seeing that, gut punch.
Ah, she's head over heels.
Won't hear me out now.
"He raises a son alone. Five years older than you. He'd move in too. Okay?"
"No issue."
Shared bunks with dudes before. Same roof now? Pfft.
Guy cohabitation vs. this body? Different. But TS blessings: specs are elite.
Wrong moves? Snap wrists, staple mouths. Heroine scenes from past faves? Fun.
She probed approval multiple times. My chill OKs got her grinning, phone out.
Seeing her glow? Hope this guy's solid.
She gets partner for burdens and joy. I skip risky early money grabs, plan life steady. Win-win.
Uncle thrilled, suggested adjustment time before merging homes—mindful of single-mom household. Good first impression.
"Hi, you must be Ye-rin. Heard lots."
"Yes. Nice to meet you."
Over three months, occasional visits, chats. No red flags from him.
Extra nice to me? Maybe. But calling it fake? Overkill.
One niggle, though.
"Uncle, where's your son? Never comes with."
"Ah, that. He's shy, awkward with people. Won't join meetups. Ha, sorry."
"No biggie. Common type."
Brushed off then, but caught his tone, eyes—hidden unease.
Rejection. Distrust.
Not casual dad-talk vibes.
Might be misread, but repeated checks? Same reactions.
Now curiosity peaked. But he hated son-talk—no intel.
Finally met the guy day before move-in.
"Min-jeong met last time, so just Ye-rin now? This is my son, In-seo. Speak up, don't just stand there."
Thwack. Hard back-pat jolted the youth called In-seo forward.
"...Ryu In-seo."
"Kang Ye-rin."
Judging by looks? Rude, but first impression sucked.
Deep dark circles. Listless tone, vibe. Avoids eye contact, gaze down.
"We'll be family. Nice to meet you."
"......"
Silence. After my stare, barest nod.
Uncle—prospective stepdad—frowned, then forced cheer, noting my look.
"As I said, painfully shy. Probably tensed 'cause you're so pretty. Bear with him."
Doubt it. I know guy stares from this body—not that shy type.
More like worldly detachment.
Then Mom, hanging back, piped up brightly to shift mood.
"Can we see our rooms?"
"Ah, yes! This way."
"......"
Awkwardness. Discomfort. Forced cheer overlay. Thus, two families under one roof began.