Soul Possession (1)
Unlike my usual mornings waking to my smartphone alarm, my naturally closed eyes snapped open to a stabbing headache poking at me relentlessly.
Still groggy from sleep, I blinked my blurry eyes like always, but each time a stinging pain surged in. Even so, my pathetic efforts seemed to pay off—the hazy world before me gradually sharpened into focus.
After that grueling struggle, the first thing I saw wasn't the familiar wallpapered ceiling I knew so well, but a strange beamed wooden roof supported by thick timbers, with warm morning sunlight pouring down on my face.
These were sensations utterly foreign to my routine of rising at dawn for work prep. It wasn't the unpleasant freshness of sleeping in either—this was a vivid, cozy comfort.
Where the hell am I? Where did I wake up this time? Yesterday, I'd dealt with some customer complaining over the weirdest reason before clocking out.
The moment I realized I'd woken in an unfamiliar place, I tried to sit up from where I lay and look around.
“He— *cough*, *cough*…!”
It hurt!
A jolt like cramps seizing my entire body—not only did I fail to sit up, I couldn't even shove off the blanket covering me before collapsing back down.
And even swallowing hurt, triggering endless coughs. My throat felt parched beyond dryness, cracked like something out of a movie with a terminal patient who just wouldn't stop hacking.
Plus, the coughs sounded completely unfamiliar—something I'd never heard from myself before!
“*Cough*…! Why does it *cough*! Hurt so mu— *cough*….”
Each cough hurt so bad I wanted to stop, but the pain made me cough more—a ridiculous vicious cycle. At this rate, I'd cough myself to death.
Covering my mouth with my hand only muffled it a bit, but blocking it made my body heave even harder, amplifying the agony.
This wouldn't do—I'd be in real trouble. Gritting through the pain, I twisted my body this way and that, desperately seeking a position that eased the coughing.
My head felt heavier than usual. And every movement tangled my hair, yanking painfully!
Wait... tangled?
By the time tears welled up enough to clear the crust from my eyes, the coughing finally subsided. As the pain ebbed, my mind cooled sharply.
Tangled hair...? My work-cropped short hair doesn't tangle.
My pain-addled brain suddenly cleared, and my heart began pounding rapidly, filling my ears.
Come to think of it, my voice had been off too. Hoarse and raspy, but... high-pitched? Like a girl's?
I slowly pulled my hand from my mouth to check.
Even through tear-blurred vision, I saw a pale, delicate white hand. The calluses and scars from work cuts and burns were gone, replaced by slender, flawless fingers.
Thump. Thump.
My heart thundered in my skull.
Like a fool fixating on wounds, actually seeing this hand that wasn't mine brought a rush of alien bodily sensations crawling up my spine.
The hand trembled pitifully before my eyes. Blood drained from it, turning already pale skin ghostly white.
Scary. I don't want to check. As long as I don't look, it might not be real.
But I had to.
Trembling, I slowly lowered my hand under the blanket. My eyes squeezed shut.
I already felt it, but confirming terrified me—like an ostrich burying its head, hoping the fear would vanish on its own.
But against my wishes, something soft and ample filled my grasp. Overflowing breasts. Mine.
I whipped my confused mind, trying to recall what happened, but memories blurred out after dozing on the commute home yesterday.
A dream? Waking as a woman in a strange room?
But the relentless pain, the warmth and texture under my palm—they felt too real, turning my stomach.
Don't guys feel better groping boobs? Why did it just make me feel sick?
Calm down. Lying here changes nothing.
I could puzzle out the "why" later. First, get out of this room, figure out where I was. Start by hauling this aching body up.
“Huuuuh!”
A deep breath, then straining with all my might—I barely shoved the soft, thick blanket aside.
“Heek… haaa… stupid… blanket…”
Just that left me gasping to my throat's limit; I had to catch my breath for ages. Any heavier and it'd been cough hell again.
And this body struggling with a mere blanket naturally...
“Hngh… can't even stand properly…”
Couldn't stand straight. Legs quivered like aspen leaves; even leaning on the wall felt impossible.
Pathetically slumped against the wall, I eyed the door on the opposite side. So far away. Crossing the room felt like staring down a mountain—could I even make it?
Crawl? No, I'd collapse midway and be stranded in the middle.
Check the sunlit window instead? Closer than the door. Yeah. Absolutely not because crawling would hurt my shoulders from these boobs.
Shaking off the lame rationalization, I lunged toward the window—
-Thud crash!
Regretted it instantly.
“Eek! It huuuurts! *Cough*! *Cough*!”
Hurts, should've crawled...
Of course slamming into the frame hurt. What was I thinking with my sore shoulders?
And peering out yielded nothing—no familiar buildings huddled together, just manicured trees, stone paths, a lake. A vast, meticulously tended garden greeted me.
“Haa. What is this place?”
Did I get isekai'd into some weird novel? If so, couldn't there be a "Hi, I'm a goddess" intro explaining things?
Why was I a sickly woman in white silk baekjeom-like garb in some unknown spot? And so thin it vaguely outlined my curves like a negligee.
Like a sacrifice lewdly wrapped for offering.
“Sigh... Guess someone's coming with a bloody scythe next.”
Chills. If it was real, I'd have caused a scene already.
The door behind might open any second, someone entering...
-Slide
...Right on cue, the door slid open behind me.
What now? Do I look like I'm desperately trying to escape?
No, maybe not an actual sacrifice—just a kind host who dressed me after a bad sleep.
Forcing down anxiety, I slowly turned toward the sound, checking the door.
Two women stared at me.
Rushed, breathing hard, shocked expressions. Animal ears atop their heads, black hanbok-style maid outfits with blood-soaked aprons.
The left one held a headless bird-like thing in one hand; the right gripped a dripping bloody kitchen knife, staring at me.
Kitchen knife? Blood? Huh?
Eerie silence, their fox ears twitching perkily.
“I-I'll go get help!”
The bird-holder broke the silence, bolting out—probably fetching someone.
The other snapped to.
“D-Dangerous! Let me help—come down slowly, please.”
The remaining fox woman approached slowly, hands raised like a trainer calming a feral animal, voice gentle.
She seemed genuinely worried—minus the bloody knife and apron. I'd have listened and climbed down.
But blood everywhere, knife in hand. And not human—fox ears and tail.
Not normal.
Neither am I. Nor is she.
If she grabbed this frail body, could I escape?
No.
So... run.
“Kyaaah! ...Ma'am!”
I hurled myself out the window.
Not high, but awkwardly tumbling out, my torso slammed the ground, screaming in protest.
Hurts. Hurts so bad I want to curl up and whine. But can't stop—they're right behind.
Fear fueled me. Legs that couldn't even stand straight bolted upright, sprinting forward like a lie.
Breathless in steps, joints creaking. Body flailing from the start, legs ready to buckle.
Out of breath.
Vision sparkling.
How far did I run? Did I even?
Heart begging for oxygen, body hacking without air—until I slammed into something and stopped.
Leaning on it, gasping desperately. What was it? Soft, fluffy...
No fox woman chasing?
I... I...
As ragged breaths settled and oxygen revived my brain, I finally saw what I leaned on.
A massive white-furred lump stared down with glowing yellow eyes.
A fox.
Unlike their human forms, a pure animal—a gigantic white fox.
The white fox loomed over me.
Its eyes alone head-sized, peering down.
Breathing audible.
Drool scent.
From the fox.
“You?”
It spoke.
“Ah... aaaah.”
I flailed backward pathetically to flee.
But a paw blocked me effortlessly.
The massive head approached.
Muzzle parted slowly.
Drool drip.
Warm liquid trickled between quaking legs.
Eaten? Am I the sacrifice? Dying?
Eaten. Eaten. EATEN EATEN EATEN...
One month ago, just days before the wedding.
After work, I returned to the mansion—no sign of Sua.
She loved tending her garden, even more since we'd decided on the wedding there, so I wasn't too worried.
She lay collapsed in the garden, bleeding.
Her blood, but it felt like mine draining away.
Thankfully, the Mouse Doctor said no threat to life; she'd wake soon.
Without that, I wouldn't have waited patiently—I'd have grabbed anyone, demanded answers, rampaged.
How mad would she have been? She smiled sweetly usually, but furious enough to make even her mother tremble.
Wedding might've been canceled. Horrid thought.
The expert's quick check saved her. I'd repay him later.
Lounging comfortably in her garden, basking in sun, I dozed—
Then something bumped me.
“Ke… *cough*…”
A cracked, flat voice—Sua's.
How long since I heard it? Rushing to me first thing?
Seeing her awake after a month, that doctor must be divine. I'd hire him as her personal physician.
But her state was off—shaking like a mouse before a snake.
She always beamed and hugged me on eye contact, so I watched.
“Ah. Aaaah.”
Seeing me, she peed herself like a child and fainted.