The Sickly-Looking Beauty

The moment I looked my situation in the face, my thoughts went cold. What I had left came to roughly two hundred million won.

"If I pinch every penny, I could probably stretch it a few years. Living out the rest of my life on two hundred million, though? Flat impossible."

And if some accident I hadn't planned for came crashing in, even that thin margin would shrink. So the first order of business was figuring out how to make money.

What options did I even have? Internet streaming? I had no sense for it. I lacked the slick talent to bat viewers' vicious chat back like some old fox, and I didn't have the gift of gab to keep people entertained, either. Success was a long shot.

"What good are a stunning face and a great body if the second I turn the cam on, they drag me straight to a hospital?"

Worse, the moment I went live, a real problem would start. Nine times out of ten, people would be calling emergency services before the stream had even warmed up. Just from yesterday and today, I could count on one hand the passersby who'd stared at me with concern and hadn't already pulled out a phone.

"So streaming's out. Realistically, that leaves part-time work, or stocks."

A part-time job was hopeless. The odds were high I'd be ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠serving customers one minute and getting reported the next. Either way, the ending was a hospital bed.

Stocks... I knew nothing about this world, so those were out too. Crossing things off one by one like that left me with a single idea.

"A concept café...?"

Of everything I'd considered, only the worst option remained.

"Don't be ridiculous. I'd rather die than coo at some guy and call him oppa."

"There has to be a way. Let me think a little longer."

No matter how much a person loves money, there are lines you don't cross. If I truly had to do that, I'd be better off biting my tongue clean through and dying neatly.

"That's not something you do twice. It takes too long."

In my original world I might at least have tried. The technology was similar, and this ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠place resembled the world I'd lived in, but it was still a different world. I had no way of knowing where the differences lay, not a single one.

"...I'll stew on it for a few more days."

My body had been screaming extreme fatigue for a while now, so I decided to sleep on it and think again after.

"At last we meet again."

"What?"

I was certain I'd fallen asleep, so why was God sitting there drinking coffee? Lost, I looked down at myself and found my past life's body.

"Don't tell me I died again?"

"No. Not that."

God set down the cup he'd been drinking from.

"There are a few things I need to tell you about living in that body, so I forced an opening in my schedule. This is going to run long. Why don't you come sit?"

I dragged a chair up to the table, sat, and started listening.

"I imagine you have a great many questions, but I carved this time out by force, and there isn't much of it left. So I'll keep the explanation as short as I can."

As he spoke, he drew out two sheets of paper and held them up for me to see.

"First. As I told you when I sent you here, this world does resemble the one you lived in. But this place forms no exchange with other dimensions."

"Exchange?"

"You know the sort of thing. Isekai. Reincarnation. Or possession into a book. All of that is exchange."

If there was no exchange, then wasn't it only natural that I shouldn't have been able to come here at all? The question rose, but God was faster.

"To put it cleanly, you're a special case. There isn't time to go into why you came here, so let's start with what's urgent."

He chose one of the two sheets and held it out.

"There are several conditions attached to your life in this world. Read them slowly."

"And if I don't sign this, what happens?"

"You'd be at a disadvantage. I brought that contract to offset, to some degree, the disadvantages this dimension would impose."

I started checking the terms one by one, carefully.

Every condition concerned my past life. In a world with no exchange, a world that was merely similar, speaking of a past life might well become a serious problem.

"There isn't some clause you've hidden, or written absurdly small, is there?"

"No. I'm not a demon. Why would I do that?"

"From what I saw last time, your character could go toe to toe with one."

"Ahem. There are a few more things to discuss after you sign, so sign first."

He cleared his throat to change the subject. I didn't see any obvious trick, so I signed without agonizing over it. The instant the signature was done, the contract dissolved into particles of light.

"There's truly almost no time left. I'll explain briefly, so listen well."

And God began rattling off the important points at speed.

"The laws, rules, and morals here will be faster for you to learn by living them, so I'll skip those. First, why you became a woman."

"Starting with the thing I wanted to know most. How generous."

"To be precise, you're no different from someone who possessed a body. From the start, I crammed you into an empty shell."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"Even a god cannot interfere with a soul bound to a living body. That is taboo, even for a god. Placing a soul into an empty Shell, however, is permissible. That is the state you're in now."

Wait. Then he could have put me in a man's body?

"So... you could have put me in a man's body instead of a woman's?"

"That's right. But I'll say it again. I have no intention of changing you."

God smiled, bright and circling, and turned the conversation aside.

"Anyway, that isn't what matters right now. That body certainly has a family."

"Are you telling me to go find them?"

"Whether you look is up to you. But they'll probably come looking on their own."

With that, he glanced at his wristwatch, announced that time was up, and offered a farewell.

"Time's up. I'll look forward to the next time we meet."

"And when is next?"

I wanted an answer, but the moment the goodbye left him he scattered into light and vanished, and I never heard it. My eyes opened.

"...A dream?"

It couldn't have been. Impossible things had already happened more than once. Disadvantages, though. What disadvantages had I been living under all this time?

"Now that I think about it, the whole mess feels like a disadvantage. Ugh, I'm hungry."

Grrrrrrgle.

I'd starved through nearly an entire day, so of course I was hungry. The emptiness sharpened my nerves all over again, and I made a quick decision.

"If I eat something too heavy on an empty stomach, I'll regret it. I'll get by on a sandwich or something, and have a proper meal at lunch."

I opened the delivery app on my phone, ordered a sandwich, and while I waited decided to look into the penalty God had mentioned.

The trigger was clear enough: I could not say anything concerning my past life.

"I—! In my past life, I was a ma—"

That was when it hit.

"Kkh— hhk— ghhk..."

A sting crept through my chest. Something caught in my throat, and when I coughed, a small smear of blood came away on my hand.

"...I have to find out what the penalty actually is, don't I?"

I wiped, roughly, at the blood on the floor and the blood at my mouth, then put the question to him.

"If I break what's in the contract and take the penalty, doesn't my body just keep getting worse?"

...What?

"That makes me worry more, actually."

He had a point.

I was still turning over this and that with God when the doorbell rang. The delivery must have arrived.

Ding-dong.

"Yes, coming!"

The instant I opened the door, the sandwich courier took one look at me and went rigid with shock.

"Wh... what???"

"Ah."

I'd forgotten the mask. I didn't have one to begin with. When I saw him reach for his phone, I lunged and caught his arm.

"Hey, I'm fine, so you don't have to call emergency services, all right? I'm really not sick. You get that?"

His face hardened. He leaned in and whispered at my ear.

"If something bad is happening to you at home, please blink."

What the hell kind of nonsense was this?

I didn't understand a word of it, so I blinked at him, staring. The courier looked as if he'd come to some enormous decision. He pressed the sandwich into my hands, swung onto his motorcycle, and said:

"I... I will help you. I swear it."

"No, you have to actually tell me what you're planning to help me with."

I grabbed for him, but he was already gone, and all I could do was stand there dumbstruck, watching him leave.

"Come on. No way anything actually comes of that."

Nothing would. I wasn't even sick. Help me with what? I shoved the courier out of my head, pulled the sandwich from the plastic bag, and said, cheerful:

"Hehe. This looks good."

I'd meant to take it slow, one small bite at a time, and really taste it. My body refused to cooperate. I bit off a huge mouthful.

Nom.

"It's good!"

The first proper meal I'd had in nearly three days brought me a huge, simple happiness. It didn't last.

"Police! Open the door!!!"

"...?"

What the hell is this now?