The Nun's Secret Craving

I guess it was only natural that I started believing in God after she confessed she wanted to try drinking.

Of course, not some anthropomorphic deity—just "God," as in... a transcendent being that toys with the laws of physics and causality?

If it weren't for some entity beyond our world's rules intervening, there's no way I'd still be alive right now.

One day, out of nowhere, memories from my past life—or maybe a parallel world—slammed into my head like a lightning bolt.

In that world, and in this one, my name was the same.

Lee Han.

An utterly ordinary, unremarkable life.

But the end was spectacularly dramatic.

A dump truck barreling through the crosswalk.

I shoved a frozen kid out of the way and collided head-on with the bumper, dying on the spot.

I wonder if that little brat survived?

Hmm... I can't even remember the kid's face anymore.

Anyway, the point is, I've been thrust into a situation where I have to believe in some kind of divine existence.

51.3 billion.

I smacked my lips and alternated between checking my crypto wallet and stock app balances on my smartphone screen.

This surreal number still didn't feel real every morning when I woke up.

The moment those past-life memories—or fragments of the future—flooded back, what I did was simple.

Open a brokerage account and crypto wallet. Then invest.

Back when the COVID pandemic was choking the world.

The freak day when oil prices went negative for the first time in history because there weren't enough storage tanks for all the crude being pumped.

While investors worldwide panicked and headed for the Han River bridges, I went all-in with 10x leverage.

The result? Beyond imagination. A massive win.

And that was just the start.

The GameStop frenzy that turned Wall Street upside down.

The whirlwind where retail ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠traders worldwide spat blood to take on arrogant hedge funds.

I rode that storm, scalping lows and highs like a pro.

Still feels like a missed opportunity.

If I'd started with more seed money, I could've been a trillion-won chaebol heir by now.

No regrets, though.

Yeah. Be grateful for what you have. A total of 51.3 billion.

At just over twenty, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I had more than most corporate chairmen.

Of course, I never let it show. Tap. Tap. Tap.

My shoes echoed lightly on the chapel's marble floor.

I wasn't some blindly devout type.

The real reason I came here? This was where I grew up.

The church-run orphanage had been my cradle.

I believed in paying back every ounce of grace I'd received.

Especially in this economy, where even the corporate donations had dried up.

So today, like always, I'd come to make a donation.

The priest's gentle sermon echoed from the podium.

I sat quietly in the back, eyes closed, waiting for mass to end.

Finally, the congregation ebbed away like the tide.

"Hana."

A soft, warm voice from behind made me turn slowly.

Filling my vision: radiant golden blonde hair.

And eyes as clear and deep blue as the ocean itself.

Still can't get used to it.

She was the nun who'd taken me in and raised me.

Baptismal name: Helena.

But what always drew the eye was the impossible voluptuousness that no nun's habit could hide.

Even after all these years, the way her habit strained with every step—those massive breasts—never failed to stun me.

Madame...

I caught myself in that insane thought, felt a pang of self-loathing, and dropped my gaze.

"I've come to donate again today, Sister Helena."

Her blue eyes wavered at my words.

"You don't have to... You're still young. Focus on your own future first...."

Worried tone, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠as expected. To her, I was just some greenhorn fresh out of the nest.

"Think of it as repaying a debt of gratitude, Mother."

"... "

Mother. Her red lips twitched faintly at the word.

Complex emotions flickered in her eyes.

"I know I shouldn't call you that, but take it as a sign of how much I rely on you."

She hesitated, then her eyes crinkled in a warm smile.

"All right...."

After a brief exchange of pleasantries, I slipped a million won in cash into the collection box.

Then I pondered how much to wire to the orphanage's account (a trustworthy operation with full transparency).

I tapped '1' followed by eight zeros.

Ding.

This should cover heating and meals for the orphanage kids all winter.

I turned and left the church without a backward glance.

The afternoon dragged on with warehouse sorting and grounds cleanup.

I sweated buckets alongside the other churchgoers, hauling heavy food crates.

Honestly, I wasn't thrilled about the manual labor.

But hey, good deeds are good deeds. That's what I told myself.

Plus, sweating it out kept stray thoughts at bay.

"Hoo...."

I wiped sweat from my forehead and neck with the back of my hand, then collapsed onto a bench.

Catching my breath, I pulled out my phone absentmindedly and unlocked it.

"...Huh?"

My breath caught. I blinked in disbelief.

Tucked in the corner of my home screen: a pitch-black textured icon I'd never seen before, all by its lonesome.

[Desire]

A mysterious app with just those two words in stark font.

Hacked?!

No way I'd clicked some phishing link or smishing scam.

My phone had triple encryption to begin with.

A creepy red alert at the bottom of the screen. Cold sweat trickled down my back.

Damn! My crypto wallets and stock accounts were linked to this thing—what if—

I yanked out my burner phone and fired up Binance and Upbit.

Transferred everything to my scattered offline hardware wallets and overseas anonymous accounts.

My fingers trembled faintly.

I held my breath through the double OTP verifications, terrified of interception mid-transfer.

"Brother?"

A clear voice right beside me made my shoulders jolt as I looked up.

It was Sister Grace.

The nun with that faint lavender scent.

Her purple hair swayed in the breeze over her neckline, black eyes gazing at me with concern.

She pulled a white cotton handkerchief from her habit pocket and reached for my forehead.

Swipe. The soft fabric mopped up my cold sweat.

"Why so pale? Are you sick?"

Her face was too close. I leaned back slightly and shook my head.

"It's nothing. Just dizzy from the sweat."

I fumbled an excuse, powered off my phone completely, and shoved it in my pocket.

"Thanks for today. I'll head out now."

As I moved to bolt, Grace grabbed my sleeve.

"No way! You look like you're about to collapse. Let me walk you home."

"Really, I'm fine."

"I'm not fine! What if you faint on the street? I can't ignore one of God's children suffering!"

How did such a petite frame pack that grip strength...?

I couldn't beat her stubbornness and that weird pressure. Deep sigh.

"Fine."

Somehow, I ended up back at my studio with Sister Grace in tow.

"Whoa... why's it so big?"

She gawked around, eyes wide. Fair enough—it was oversized for one person.

"I've got some money. Mind waiting a sec? On the sofa? Help yourself from the fridge if you want anything."

"O-okay!"

I ducked into my room and booted my rigged PC.

Plugged in the dead phone with a dedicated cable, then ran debugging tools and reverse-engineering software in tandem.

Tap tap, clatter!

In my past life, I'd been a programmer with a name in Silicon Valley.

Dissecting OS vulnerabilities blindfolded was easier than eating.

But...

"...This can't be real."

I stared blankly at the log dump on my monitor.

Couldn't even access the app's package file physically.

No—it wasn't about security levels.

The code syntax pouring onto the screen wasn't from Earth.

No backdoor. No ransomware. Just one conclusion.

This creepy black app wasn't some genius hacker's prank.

It was supernatural. Like the freak event that crushed me under a truck and unlocked past-life memories.

I was out of my depth.

With a sigh, I stood, phone still in hand with that mystery [Desire] app.

Click.

Stepping into the living room, I spotted Grace ramrod straight on the sofa.

"... "

She glared at me, arms crossed, face full of displeasure.

My eyes flicked involuntarily to her emphasized chest, but I yanked them up.

Meeting her gaze was no easier.

That shimmering purple hair glowing under the fluorescents.

Jet-black eyes.

Her beauty was so unreal, I didn't know where to look.

"Why the glare?"

To break the awkwardness, I asked. Grace pouted and nodded at the table.

A chilled can of beer sat there, beaded with condensation.

"You can't drink this stuff, Brother!"

"It's my place. Adults can have one now and then."

"No! It's bad for you! Satan's poison! Alcohol eats away at the soul!"

"Come on, we're grown-ups."

She huffed in frustration. Ignoring her, I glanced at my phone screen.

There must be a reason I got this app...

Curiosity overrode reason.

I thumbed the pitch-black [Desire] icon hard.

Flash!

No mechanical chime—just a silent, translucent blue holographic panel unfolding in midair.

And right before my eyes, crystal clear: Grace's status window...?

I read the text, then flicked my eyes to Grace's face.

Her gaze lingered oddly on the droplets trickling down the beer can.

Time to test this....

"Sister Grace."

"Hmph. What excuse now? No excuses! Your health's at stake, Brother Han!"

"How about we share one? Split the sin in half?"

I watched her eyes waver.