The Floor's Echo
While I was grinding toward Challenger, why did they send me back with that kind of throw?
Even if they were trolling, they should've kept pushing in such a disadvantageous situation to create variables instead of sitting back and letting the snowball roll endlessly while handing me the objects?
"People with those 'live-action' bodies still trying to act so proud just because they're Challenger... lol, their arrogance is disgusting haha."
"Challengergrinding": "Sigh, those sutgarak don't even know how to watch games, tsk tsk. If they're going to act like that, why don't they just go play top lane instead?"
"This game is complete garbage": "Real lol, I knew from the moment the cannon got missed."
"Trolling but still trying hard": "Missing the cannon wasn't because I was behind you or anything, it was because you were the ADC? How am I supposed to fight the lane when all you're doing is feeding me experience from the back?"
"Challengergrinding": "Haha, if you're missing CS anyway, why even play ADC? You're a fake live-action, right?"
"Trolling but still trying hard": "Look at those jungle support duo putting up shields lol."
They'd been talking nonsense the entire time without doing a single thing right.
I just stared at their IDs in silence and clicked every red exclamation mark floating next to them one by one.
It wasn't out of some righteous sense that I had to punish people for being that rude in chat.
It wasn't even because I was feeling bad for them.
Well, since they had insulted me, it was only fair that they deserved punishment.
I didn't have zero intention of saying, "Try getting chat banned like me." But compared to before, that thought had become faint.
Instead, it just felt like something I was doing on autopilot.
I deliberately sent them all to the point of sending the message about how they had deliberately killed the enemy and how they were happily playing games next to their mother's grave.
Once that was done, I automatically queued for the next match.
During the match queue countdown, I just stared blankly as time ticked away.
Looking for game. 10 seconds. 20 seconds.
The way time passed gradually tightened around my throat like an invisible noose.
Today was passing and tomorrow was coming.
If I kept saying I couldn't stand to starve, I'd be boiling ramen again.
And after a week, after a month—
Through some tax nonsense, money would be automatically withdrawn from my account.
Once that ran out, I really wouldn't have anything left to do.
I could just die.
Well, I didn't know exactly how much money was in the account.
It was all the money my late father had earned before he died.
But how to withdraw it? My mother who had inherited it would have to handle it herself.
Except my mother was now in prison.
It was all my fault.
Because I had turned into this kind of ghost-like girl.
If I had had my mother's face, maybe my father would have accepted me.
He would have said, "It's that woman's old face who gave birth to you after following and seducing her."
But with my silver hair and those red eyes that looked eerie the moment they met someone's gaze—
Even though I was small, it probably stirred up unpleasant feelings in anyone who saw me.
That's why I got hit for looking up at my father unnecessarily.
I hadn't wanted to become this kind of girl.
I just wanted to study like my parents told me, go to a decent university, manage my grades properly, and land a decent job.
If I had continued that path, becoming a girl like this must have been a huge stain to my father.
Whether it was illness or some supernatural phenomenon, who knows.
The fact that I could no longer show him the trophy he had raised mattered more.
Naturally, their arguments grew more heated.
In the end, the mother who had killed the person she once loved—how much regret must she have felt in that moment for me?
I remembered the empty eyes of my father as he stabbed me in the back while I was being beaten by him.
I still didn't understand why my mother had surrendered to the police so easily.
She could have blackmailed me to stay quiet or even killed me along with him, since I had ruined their lives anyway.
Well, anyway.
The only person with property rights in our house was now in prison, and various taxes were automatically deducted from there.
I didn't know how much was left.
Just that utilities hadn't been cut off and I was receiving normal bills.
It roughly meant that there was still some money left.
That's why the only money I could currently use was the earnings from tutoring while I attended university.
Since I didn't have anywhere to spend it anyway, some had accumulated.
Even during university, I couldn't even go on a single date, so I figured that when I got a good job, a good girlfriend would come naturally.
The only thing I could do was sneak out with some not-very-close classmates to a PC cafe for gaming.
The only escape I had left was gaming, which had now become the only thing I could do to pass time.
I couldn't even go to classes, and I couldn't meet anyone with this body.
The only thing left was to lock myself in the house and game.
Was it because my body had weakened, or was I just naturally talented?
Or maybe I was just pouring time into it.
Naturally, my gaming skill had risen, and I was playing in the upper elite ranks.
But it was all meaningless anyway.
I wasn't going to become a pro gamer with it.
On the contrary, it only fed my pride in my own skill, making me encounter more and more of those guys who detailed everyone else's flaws while ignoring their own.
Even the opponents I'd meet after waiting over five minutes for the next match were probably the same type.
I crouched down and waited for them anyway.
Then suddenly my head spun.
When I came back to my senses, I was slumped in the chair.
The backrest had tipped back.
Probably because my body had become lighter after turning into a girl.
I didn't push hard enough on purpose, so I didn't fall all the way back.
Anyway, that spinning feeling in my head meant it was almost time to eat.
"Annoying..."
I staggered to my feet.
While I was unconscious, the match I hadn't accepted was canceled, so I queued again.
I leaned against the wall and hopped on one leg toward the kitchen.
Because of my long silver hair swaying with every movement, balance was even harder.
Since I froze at the sight of scissors, I couldn't even brush my hair with my own hand.
How pitiful.
I was already dead, yet I was scared of a knife for blackmailing.
Now I was scared of scissors too?
When I came out of my room into the living room, the house looked like the aftermath of a storm.
Well, the police had taken the body and cleaned up the bloodstains.
But the reporters who had come in after that had trashed the place.
No one was going to complain about that anyway.
I only ever went in and out of my room, kitchen, and bathroom anyway.
I didn't care about the rest of the space.
So I left it as is.
After all, it wasn't like bugs were crawling in or a bad smell was coming out.
Passing through the living room where only the area I walked on was free of dust, I reached the kitchen.
I filled the coffee pot with water and turned on the stove.
I was going to boil cup ramen.
Instant ramen was even cheaper, but waiting while boiling it was more annoying.
After all, if money ran out, I'd starve to death anyway.
Whether I ate instant or cup ramen, the timing would be the same.
But I sometimes thought, "If that's the case, why not burn all the money and eat chicken or pizza?"
No, sometimes I even thought, "If I'm going to die, why not just die right now?"
I did want to die someday, but I wasn't ready to die right now.
I was a coward.
Even though I had wished I had just fainted and died when my father beat me, I lacked the courage to stab my own stomach or jump off the roof.
So, like a habit, whenever money ran out, I muttered that I'd die and ate the cheapest possible food—ramen.
Coffee Brewing
While waiting for the water to boil, a heavy sound came from the computer still running in my room.
"Hah, what is that doing here now..."
Something was off, but it was still an annoying sound.
I had queued after leaving the match, yet it was showing that the match had started now.
When I sat and waited, it could take five or ten minutes for a match to start.
But this one instantly matched the second I left the room.
Without thinking, I leaned on the wall and hopped back to the room.
I didn't know the dust on the floor would make it slippery.
I just slipped and fell flat.
"Ouch, aaah..."
Because of my rolling sound, a dull thud came from below.
Ah, that would be the ceiling for them.
Anyway.
"I didn't fall because I wanted to fall.
If you're annoyed, move to a building with proper soundproofing.
Architects eat up the construction fees and build shoddy houses without soundproofing, then complain about the noise?"
I had not accepted the match twice, so I was punished with the cooldown.
I vented the annoyance on the floor below.
But I couldn't yell at them face-to-face anyway.
I couldn't pound on the floor either.
I knew that hopping on one leg made more noise than just walking normally.
I felt a little guilty inside.
But was that really my fault?
Then should I just lie in bed without making any noise and wait for my death?
Yeah, it was all my fault.
Because I had fallen, making noise downstairs, and the match had failed.
Because of the sudden surge of emotion, I clenched my teeth and fists.
But I was a coward.
If I hit the floor like that, they'd probably come up from downstairs to confront me.
In games, I could make them experience the pain of losing their mother through chat or kill the characters they played with.
In reality, I was just a girl missing one eye and with no strength in my limbs.
So instead of hitting the floor with my hand, I squeezed my throat.
It hurt, I couldn't breathe, and I kept squeezing until I couldn't even utter a curse.
"Uck, cuh..."
Of course, I wasn't trying to kill myself.
After all, squeezing my throat like this would make me faint before blood could reach my brain, and my hands would go limp and I wouldn't die anyway.
It was just frustration relief.
The maximum relief a brainless idiot like me who didn't even have the courage to slash my wrist with a cutter knife could muster.
And after pouring out all that strength, this low-tier body would have no energy left to get angry.
Thanks to that, I calmed down.
Staggering to my feet, I managed to lift the coffee pot that had been boiling for a while and poured it into the cup ramen.
For a moment, while carrying it toward my room, a calm woman's voice came from the entrance.
"Noel.
Again eating cup ramen?
You're going to get malnourished."