The First Taste
When I regained consciousness, I was lying face-down on the floor. It wasn’t the rough texture of asphalt blocks but the cold, smooth touch of expensive marble against my cheek.
“Cough—haah…!”
The sound that tore from my throat the moment I opened my mouth wasn’t the nicotine-roughened rasp of a man who had lived thirty-five bitter years. It was a clear, crystalline moan—like jade beads rolling across a silver tray—yet drenched in raw terror. A woman’s voice.
“…Ugh.”
I reflexively tried to push myself up, but my center of gravity was all wrong. The heavy weight on my chest pitched forward and dragged me back down to the floor.
“What… the hell is this?”
Staggering, I made my way to the full-length mirror standing in the corner of the living room. The moment I saw my reflection, the strength left my legs. I collapsed without even the energy to scream.
The woman in the mirror was staring back at me. Or perhaps I was the one staring at her. With a trembling hand I reached up and brushed my cheek. The skin beneath my fingertips was exactly as I had set it in that white space—impossibly smooth, almost obscenely soft. A translucent ivory tone that would flush red at the slightest pressure.
“This… is me right now?”
Every time my lips moved, the beauty in the mirror parted and closed her own crimson lips in perfect sync. The soul of Baek Gangho—the man who had just hurled himself off an apartment building to end his miserable life—was now sealed inside this breathtaking female body.
They say your heart changes between entering the bathroom and leaving it. Only minutes earlier I had been cursing my wife, the one who betrayed me and pushed me into the abyss, feeling nothing but disgust for every woman on earth. Yet now, standing before the very incarnation of my desires, dopamine flooded my brain until reason simply shut down.
I stumbled toward the desk. Beside an expensive designer bag lay what appeared to be this body’s resident registration card.
Cha Seolah / 930512-2XXXXXX
“Born in ’93…?”
By 2026 that would make her thirty-four. But no matter how I looked at the face in the mirror, it belonged to a fresh-faced college freshman who had just turned twenty. The question answered itself when my eyes fell on the sleek desktop calendar beside the ID.
February 28, 2012
My heart plummeted. 2012. The year I had just scraped through my retake exams and entered university—the year before every tragedy in my life took root. I had regressed fourteen years before my death.
The instant that realization hit, a splitting headache tore through my skull and an avalanche of unfamiliar memories crashed over me.
Aaaaaagh…!
I writhed on the floor, groaning. The life of a girl named Cha Seolah was being forcibly hammered into my brain. An only child. Both parents from families without a single relative—lonely bloodlines. Her self-made parents, determined to fulfill their calling as doctors, had left for overseas medical volunteer work the moment their daughter was accepted to university.
Seolah, we’re going to live our own lives now, so you live yours too. We’ll send plenty of money.
With that chillingly casual farewell, they had left her alone in this enormous apartment in Seongsu-dong and a massive monthly allowance. Cha Seolah had been waiting here by herself for her university entrance ceremony.
Once the pain subsided, a strange silence filled the room. But something hotter than silence began to creep up from deep in my lower abdomen.
“Haah… ngh…”
I still might not have fully processed the situation. The woman in the mirror was the exact face I had dreamed of my entire life—elegant and cat-like, with eyes that turned tragically beautiful when she smiled. The only thing covering her was a single thin silk slip. Every time I moved, the delicate fabric brushed across my nipples, sending goosebumps racing down my spine.
For a fleeting moment, my ex-wife Heejin’s face flashed through my mind. The expression she’d worn while panting beneath another man. I had ground my teeth until the moment of my death, disgusted by her. Yet here I was, growing feverishly aroused by the body I had personally designed.
You disgusting piece of shit, Baek Gangho.
I tried to hold back. I really did. But the instincts that had sustained me for more than half of my thirty-five years rose up with ferocious hunger before this perfectly crafted flesh.
The cock that had once stood so proudly was gone. In its place was an insane network of hypersensitive nerves spread across my entire body—dozens of times more destructive.
I clenched my teeth and sat down on the edge of the bed. My hand moved on its own, sliding the slip’s delicate strap off one shoulder. The fabric whispered down, revealing the most beautiful breasts I had ever sculpted. The pink nipples were already slightly swollen, standing pert as if mocking me.
I cupped one carefully in my palm. Soft. Warm. Flesh that overflowed between my fingers. The feedback was on another level from touching someone else’s body; it struck my brain like a hammer.
“Ah… haa…”
The sound that slipped from my lips didn’t belong to me. Not the hoarse voice of a man in his thirties, but the clear, melodic moan of a woman. The mere sound of it sent shame flooding up my throat.
I hated the very idea of women because of that bitch Heejin… and now I’m doing this inside the body I created myself.
I brushed the tip of my finger across a nipple, barely touching the peak. The sensitivity setting I had chosen in the white space had not been an exaggeration. A single light graze sent an electric current racing up my spine, and the space between my legs twitched violently.
Still, I bit down hard. This wasn’t simple pleasure. This was the process of proving just how pathetic I truly was.
That’s right. Touch it. You made this body. Now you’re the one defiling the form you craved so desperately.
My shaking hand moved lower, completely discarding the slip. The beautiful girl in the mirror had flushed scarlet and couldn’t look away, trapped in shame. Instinctively I licked my lips, coating my fingers with saliva. It felt bizarre to do to my own body what I had only done to others, but the burning heat in my lower belly had already outrun rational thought.
The moment my fingertips brushed the soft folds, a hot, slick sensation coated them. According to the memories that had flooded in, Cha Seolah had never touched herself this way—she was a virgin. But I was different. Although my experience with Heejin had been embarrassingly limited, I at least possessed the memories of a husband who had touched her. And far beyond that, I had absorbed countless “techniques” from years of watching videos.
The instincts of a pathetic shut-in who only knew theory now writhed before the unfamiliar opening that had become mine.
“Ngh… hah…!”
I pushed a saliva-drenched finger inside, accompanied by a wet, obscene sound. The tight, scorching pressure of the inner walls against my fingertip was incomparably more vivid and intense than anything I had felt with Heejin.
So this… is what a woman’s body feels like.
“Mmm…”
A small moan escaped. My hips trembled. Gritting my teeth, I slid the finger a little deeper. When I curled it upward and stroked gently, another wave of electricity coursed through me. Yet I didn’t move violently. I felt I had neither the courage nor the right.
“Ah… ngh, haa…!”
Even so, my back arched like a bow. Even though it was my own hand tormenting me, my body collapsed helplessly. The pink nipples I had designed stood stiff and demanding. Between my legs, a steady stream of clear fluid flowed out, soaking the sheets.
Climax was approaching. It was nothing like a man’s ejaculation—an enormous tidal wave that threatened to melt my entire body and stick me to the ground like chewed gum on asphalt.
“No—don’t—aaaahhh!”
My whole body shuddered. It felt as if my insides were clenching tight. But unlike a man’s explosive release, it was a soft, deep pleasure, like being enveloped in warm waves.
“Haah… Heejin always said she felt nothing and got annoyed… so why does it feel like I’m losing my mind?”
My vision blurred slightly. In the mirror, the woman’s lips were parted, eyes glazed. I slowly withdrew my finger. The sight of the transparent fluid coating it brought another rush of shame.
This is the worst. Betrayed by my wife, cursing the very existence of women, and now doing this inside the body I created.
Before the first wave had even fully receded, another heat stirred quietly from deep inside my abdomen. Even while the afterglow still lingered, my body was already craving more. I clenched my teeth, added a second finger, and moved with agonizing slowness.
This climax lasted longer and ran deeper than the first. My waist curved, small convulsions racing through every limb. Inside the spacious room, a woman’s lewd cries echoed again and again.
“Hah… hah…”
Completely spent, I collapsed onto the bed. My chest heaved violently, and a faint heat still pulsed between my legs. But I no longer felt like moving my hand.
In the mirror, Cha Seolah—hair plastered to her sweat-slicked face—stared back at me with an utterly shameful expression. Looking at that face, I let out a low laugh. A self-mocking, miserable laugh.
Baek Gangho… you really are something else.
At the same time, I realized one thing. This body was perfect, exactly as I had designed it. And yet I still hadn’t completely conquered it. Or, more accurately, I still hadn’t fully accepted it as my own.
Before the violent afterglow of pleasure could even fade, a sudden chill gripped my chest.
What about the real Cha Seolah?
Where had the owner of this perfect body gone? A fear I hadn’t felt until now made me tremble. Had I pushed her soul out and taken over? Or was this merely a virtual doll created by those blue letters in the white space, and I had simply possessed it?
Whatever the truth, this situation was real.
Staggering to my feet, I checked the calendar again.
February 28, 2012
Tomorrow was the entrance ceremony. My mind spun.
What the hell do I do now?
I wiped my sweat-drenched face with a trembling hand. If I had truly returned to 2012, then somewhere on campus right now, the twenty-one-year-old Baek Gangho should be packing his bag with nervous excitement.
What happens if we meet? Do we both disappear like doppelgangers?
It didn’t matter. I had been planning to die anyway. I needed to see with my own eyes that naïve idiot who was still smiling, completely unaware that he stood at the starting point of every tragedy in his life.
It was time to find out whether I could truly begin again as Baek Gangho, or whether I would have to live on as the perfect doll I had created—Cha Seolah.
Shame, disgust, self-loathing, and a small heat that still refused to die swirled together as the first day of my new life began.