This Otherworld Must Be a Game, It Absolutely Must

I groaned, shivering in the bone-chilling cold. “Ugh… it’s freezing… blanket…”

In the eerie draft, I reached out, groping for the covers. No matter how far I stretched, I couldn’t feel any fabric, so I forced my heavy eyelids open. The first thing that slammed into my waking mind was the sour stench smothering my face and the revolting sticky sensation that came with it.

Even with my eyes open, everything stayed pitch black, blocked by something plastered across my face. A stiff, paper-like sheet clung from my forehead all the way down to the tip of my nose.

“Ugh… what the hell is this sour smell…? Ew, it’s so sticky…”

The fishy, nauseating odor stabbed straight into my nostrils. The lukewarm, slimy mucus clung thickly to my skin, half-dried and tacky. Without any idea what was going on, I reached up to peel the foreign substance off my face.

My fingertips met a sticky, stretchy, utterly gross texture that pulled like taffy. That was when my brain finally caught up.

It was spit. Someone had hocked a thick load of saliva all over my face and used it like glue to paste this scrap of paper on me.

“What the fuck… who the hell spat on my face?! Blech!”

I gagged and frantically swiped at the paper, twisting my whole body in disgust. A wet squelch sounded from below.

“Huh?”

The moment I bent my knees and tried to push myself up, I felt a cold, sticky mess in my groin. Why…? Ah…!

Memories of what had just happened flashed through my head. The back-alley women grabbing me, the rough leather boots, the damp socks, the ass that crushed the breath out of me, and the heels mercilessly grinding down on my crotch.

“Hic… haa… I must be losing my mind!! Did I actually cum…? In my pants…?”

My face was caked in a woman’s spit and my crotch was ruined by the evidence of forced ejaculation. At twenty-one years old, in the most pathetic way imaginable, I had just experienced my first orgasm in another world—trampled under the feet of complete strangers in a filthy back alley.

Tears ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of humiliation stung my eyes. With shaking hands I ripped the paper off my face. A sticky ripping sound tore through the air, and the gloomy scenery of the back alley finally came into view.

“What the hell is…”

My brow furrowed the instant I looked at the photograph. In it was an impossibly beautiful boy with completely unfocused eyes, his face a mess of tears and saliva, vivid red marks stamped across his cheeks and forehead. Sweat-soaked black hair clung to his brow, a sharp, delicate jawline that looked like it could slice paper, long lashes heavy with tears, and beneath them, eyes that somehow radiated a strange sensuality. His half-parted crimson lips glistened with drool.

“…Who the hell is this decadent pretty boy? Ugh, what a sorry sight. Still… he’s insanely handsome. If I were a girl, I probably would’ve fallen for him.”

The location was correct, but that face definitely wasn’t mine. I had been born with an utterly average face—like a genetic glitch between my parents’ otherwise excellent genes. Yet the boy in the photo, despite his wrecked state, possessed skin as pale and luminous as moonlight, an aura of nobility, and features so finely chiseled they looked almost lethally beautiful.

Then my eyes dropped to the clothes the boy was wearing, to the woman’s leather boots and hot pants looming over him. It was unmistakably the same scene from earlier…

“Wait… wait, this is me?!”

Shocked, I flipped the photo over. The crooked, aggressive handwriting delivered a death sentence straight to my heart.

“AAAAAAAAAAHH!!”

I clutched my hair and screamed. Three days? Only three days?! If I didn’t show, this nightmare of a photo would be nailed up in the middle of town for everyone to see?! The moment I arrived in this world I’d been trampled by back-alley thugs and come like a pervert. Now I was going to be permanently memorialized as exactly that.

And with this ridiculously handsome face, there was no way it wouldn’t catch every single eye.

“Haa… haa… calm down. This is a tutorial, right?! It’s a game…! If it’s a game, then the status window… Yeah, let’s open the status window first. There has to be some way to fix this. Please… no one’s watching, right?”

I glanced around nervously and whispered into empty air, grasping at straws.

“Status window.”

Ding.

Thankfully, a cheerful chime rang out and a translucent blue holographic window unfolded before my eyes.

While I read the window, sparks of rage finally flew from my eyes. My level had gone up, yet not a single basic stat like strength or magic power had increased by even one point. The peculiarity was still “Small Penis,” and the cursed new stat called Sensitivity sitting right under Magic Power made my sanity snap.

“Choi Na-ri!! You crazy bitch!!! Are you fucking kidding me?! Get the hell out here right now?!”

I glared daggers at the floating status window and screamed at the top of my lungs. The system window hovering in the air recognized my voice, smoothly changed shape, and flashed with golden light.

“You’re Na-ri, aren’t you?! Be honest—this is Choi Na-ri, right?!”

The sheer audacity of the text and emoticon left me speechless. The sheer nerve of it actually convinced me one hundred percent. That crazy girl was either hiding behind the system and toying with me, or she had programmed an AI with her exact rotten personality.

Yelling would only hurt me. I swallowed my anger and asked the most urgent question first.

“Haa… damn it, fine! I’m sorry! Let’s start with this. What the hell happened to my face?! Who is this ridiculously pretty boy?! I was supposed to be average!”

An artifact? So my plain face all this time had been fake?! The shock lasted only a second before an even more horrifying possibility hit me.

“Then if my face was originally this handsome… what about my… my precious size?! If the artifact was removed, it shouldn’t still be 5cm, right?!”

“UUUUUAAAAAAGH!!”

My face was idol-tier but my lower half was trash-tier! I collapsed into a squat, wiping furious tears while glaring at the status window.

“Inventory…”

Ding.

A translucent inventory window opened beside the status screen. At the bottom, ten silver coins labeled as beginner support funds jingled cheerfully. Looked like a standard fantasy economy with copper, silver, and gold coins. At least I could buy new pants and find somewhere to wash and rest. I let out a sigh of relief—until my eyes locked onto the first slot.

A filthy gray sock icon sat there like a curse. A terrible premonition washed over me. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠With a trembling finger I tapped it.

“Urgh…!”

The moment I read the description, the sour, musty smell and the thick texture in my mouth came rushing back. Stomach acid surged up my throat. I dry-heaved, body shuddering violently.

I roughly adjusted my soiled pants, used the damp wall for support, and stood. My field of vision felt strangely lower than usual, but I had no time to worry about minor details like that.

Three days. In that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠time I had to find some way to survive this insane world and protect what little dignity I had left.

“This is the hyper-realistic VR game that crazy bitch Choi Na-ri created. Yeah, exactly like the ones in anime and games! Pain synchronization? Olfactory engine? Haptic feedback? I don’t know, fuck it! She clearly poured every ounce of her tech into hijacking my brain! Hey, System! Give me the logout button right now!!”

I glared at the floating inventory window and shouted.