The Taxi That Changes Fate - 1

"Ha… seriously."

I had prayed that everything from yesterday was a dream.

But after sleeping and waking, I was still in a woman's body.

White hair, blue eyes, an enormous chest, and hips built for easy childbirth.

Looking was fine, honestly. I'd even daydreamed about what it might be like to become a beautiful girl.

And the futanari anomalies… honestly, if they looked like the Stalker, meeting one once or twice for free didn't seem like a bad deal.

But being cut off without being able to say a single word to my family and friends — that was the most painful part.

At most, I'd ever imagined my body changing. Falling into a brand-new world, completely severed from everything I knew, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had never even crossed my mind.

"That's just conscienceless of them, seriously…"

They'd dumped me in a random back alley, thrown me into a brawl with a top-tier Great Anomaly, and I'd only barely clawed my way out by exploiting rules I barely understood, using the status window and whatever else I could get my hands on.

And when I finally made it back, I'd landed in a parallel world where my friends and family weren't the people I knew — and I'd crossed over without even a chance to say goodbye.

For all I knew, my original body, left behind in that parallel world, could be anywhere by now.

"System. Can you tell me how the original me — the man — is doing?"

[…]

At this point, I almost hoped I was just a copy of that timeline's personality.

Then I could live well here without a single worry…

It's not bad… it's not bad, but…

I was even flush with lifespan, the currency of the Anomaly World.

Probably because I'd slept for half a day — I still had around 99 years, 364 days, and 6 hours left.

In my old reality I'd pulled in about 550 a month — not rich-rich, but comfortable.

A gender-bent beauty with money in the bank and plenty of resources from another world besides.

Thanks to some invitation or other, I even had a fairly elevated social standing now.

And yet something felt lodged in my chest.

My brain understood that I had more than enough. It just wouldn't sink in.

Because not a single one of the circumstances I found myself in had been my own choice.

Haaaaah…

I closed my eyes and counted the seconds, steadying myself.

However angry I got, however impatient — blowing up now would only hurt me. Only wound my own heart.

So I would bank this feeling, hold it down, and one day return it — honed and sharpened to a point — to whatever had shoved me into this situation against my will.

If they have a reason I can accept, I'll forgive them. If not…

That was how I steeled myself.

At least for now, in these early days, I needed to be out gathering information — wandering aimlessly was not an option.

"First… let's find a temple nearby."

I asked Kkamangi.

What kinds of jobs did humans in the Anomaly World usually hold?

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

I'd heard that shamans, priests, and monks were the classic examples, and that everyone else held ordinary, everyday occupations that never made them famous.

Get too famous and anomalies might come looking for you — so there were hardly any celebrities, and supposedly almost no politicians, financiers, or legal professionals either, since those fields bred grudges by the truckload.

"Oh, right…! The old shaman granny!"

She felt less like a profession and more like family, so she hadn't come to mind right away.

Granny the shaman — the benefactor who had once helped my mother.

Back when my father and mother married, and my mother became pregnant with me,

she supposedly came down with a possession illness.

So my parents went from shaman to shaman, only hearing that it couldn't be cured — until one of them told them to seek out a great master, and the woman waiting there turned out to be the shaman granny.

Through a nureum-gut — a pressing ritual to negotiate with the spirit — she convinced the possessing spirit that my mother had already entered society, that she was already married, that it was too late. The spirit relented, the illness was broken,

and as a result, I was born.

"At the very least, the shaman granny has to know about the Anomaly World."

In the original world, such things might never have existed.

But my world now had anomalies in it — the Anomaly World was undeniably real.

And according to Kkamangi, souls definitively existed, and so did a collective entity called the Group Spirit.

So surely the shaman granny would know the ins and outs of the Anomaly World too…?

Since coming of age, I'd only ever sent her gifts through my mother, so we were on awkward terms — but right now she was the one adult I could trust enough to open up to. I had to find her, no matter what.

"First… I'll send her a KakaoTalk message."

Worried that things might have branched differently even here, I dug through my residual memories and scoured my contacts.

Fortunately, no such divergence existed. The conclusion: this world matched my original one exactly.

If anything, the relationship was a little closer here.

"So then… what do I take to get there?"

The shaman granny lived in Seoul — same city as me.

If I were still a man, I'd just drive myself. But the me of this world, true homebody that she was, didn't own a car.

Subway? Bus? Taxi?

I tried imagining what it would be like if the subway turned into an anomaly-infested space the moment I boarded.

The standard scenario would be a molester groping and violating my body — but in the worst case, where the subway itself transformed… I doubted negotiation would work after a defeat.

So the subway was out.

Buses, too…

Same story. If the bus itself changed, there'd be no answer for that either.

Bus: out.

Then, a taxi.

I called one through KakaoT.

On the map, a short walk would get me to the main road, but private taxis could turn out to be anomalies — the company taxis were more trustworthy.

Arriving in 10 minutes. Clothes… whatever, something casual.

The shaman granny despised people who dolled themselves up for no reason.

She hated how high-and-mighty people spritzed on perfume and wore thick coats or suits ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠just to curry favor with her, showering her with gifts every single day.

So I decided on jeans and a plain white T-shirt.

Vrooom.

Right on time.

Just in case — to ward off ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠even the remotest possibility of a dirty trick — I kept my eyes glued to the app.

Staring at it like that, I confirmed the driver had arrived at my location, and right before boarding I made sure to verify whether the driver was a man or a woman.

"Do you know Cheonhon-daesin Shrine? Please take me there."

(I've been around that area a few times, but I'm not exactly sure where it is, so let me punch it into the GPS.)

"Okay."

Sniff… haaah.

The driver's hand, moving toward the navigation, suddenly dropped below — and he came up holding something, perfume or air freshener or who knew what, and inhaled deeply.

"What's that?"

(Oh, this? An air freshener my daughter gave me. It smells lovely. Want to take a whiff?)

"No, I'm fine."

(Haha… it just popped into my head. Sorry about that. Let me set the GPS right away.)

After that remark, I watched the driver rapidly tapping in the route,

then meticulously scanned the taxi for anything strange — anything at all.

Apart from the suspicious abundance of car dolls clustered near the driver, I found nothing wrong, and let myself relax.

No way something's off after I checked this thoroughly, right?

Having combed over the interior with that much care, I glanced back on a hunch —

Uh…?

I realized there was another taxi behind us — one bearing the exact same license plate as the car I'd seen in the app.

♩♪~♪♪♩

"Did you call a KakaoT? Ah~ I'm right ahead of you now. How long will you be?"

"Excuse me? Hello?"

"Is this not the right number?"

Click.

Faced with a reality I could barely believe, wondering what on earth that was, and driven by the faintest, tiniest hope, I answered the ringing phone. A middle-aged man's voice came through — and the call was cut almost immediately.

Don't tell me… don't tell me the taxi I just got into…

If that car was the real one,

then what was the taxi I was riding in right now…?

(Caught you.)

The taxi began to change.

The seat I was sitting in grew plusher, transforming into something expensive. The interior — once an ordinary Korean taxi with the front and back seats joined in one open cabin — reformed itself, sprouting a partition wall dividing front from rear, the kind you'd only see in an American limousine.

And the driver's appearance shifted from a middle-aged man into a naked futanari woman.

And then… from above the back seat came a sharp hiss, and something sickly sweet billowed out.

(There's a rulebook in the back seat pocket.)

My heart pounding, I bowed my head.

I never dreamed I'd get duped even after inspecting everything this meticulously.

Baiting a person over a difference of mere seconds — I couldn't have imagined such a thing was possible.

(Passenger?)

"Ah, yes. Sorry. That was just… very sudden."

Trembling, I pulled the rulebook from the back seat pocket.

Anomaly encounters were trials, and I'd been told that deliberately skipping the rulebook would let their restrictions gradually loosen.

No matter how much of a mess I was inside, I had to read the rules.

Status window. Pull up the rulebook for me.

As I drew out the book and opened it,

I called up the status window and asked it to display the rules too.

There was a chance the debuff-cleansing only worked on the version shown by the status window, after all.

(Welcome aboard my taxi, passenger.)

(I am a Grade 2 anomaly under Company contract. Your taxi driver.)

(My ability is Driving — the power to switch one's fate. Lose to me, and your fate will be switched: you'll become one of the taxi's fixtures.)

(And as for you, customer… you're going to be so much fun.)