Chapter 2
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 2
Chapter Title: Don't Eat Dirt, Your Constitution Changes
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How much time had passed?
Since I was conscious, it seemed I hadn't died after all—thank goodness.
Supporting my heavy head—probably a lingering aftereffect from yesterday—I pushed myself up.
Drip...
The sensation of blood rushing back into my cheek as it peeled away from the hard floor.
And then, something damp felt from the hand propping against the floor.
'Eww.'
The bathroom floor was covered in some unidentified black muck.
Where the hell had this come from?
Sewer backup or something?
Last year during the rainy season, the pipes had clogged, and the drain had backed up.
Seemed like one of the neighbors had been too lazy to go outside and dumped something down the toilet drain.
It had been pure hell back then.
Hot and humid, the smell wouldn't dissipate, and with days of nonstop rain, we couldn't even open the windows.
Wondering if this was the same deal, I glanced at the drain. No signs of backup. If anything, the filth was slowly draining away.
Starting from around my body.
Wait... did this come from me?
And my body felt off too.
What I'd mistaken for a blanket in my half-asleep daze was actually the T-shirt I was wearing.
The fingers propping me up were short and pudgy.
Tilting my head diagonally, I saw equally adorable toes and snowy-white calves peeking out from under the T-shirt. They looked just like a little kid's.
Just to check, I flexed my toes. The cute little things wiggled, curled, then spread out again.
'...?'
I raised my hand up to eye level.
Even caked in muck, it couldn't hide that distinct chubbiness.
I brought up the other hand, flipping both front and back. No doubt about it—this was a child's hand. A very young one at that.
“Huh...? Ack, cough cough!”
I tried to let out a disbelieving laugh, but a stranger's voice startled me into holding my breath.
Unthinkingly bringing my hand near my mouth and nose, I caught a whiff of the horrendous stench and hacked away nonstop.
The voice could pass for one rasped raw from puking up stomach acid, whistling like a leaky pipe.
Finally stopping the coughing fit, I looked up—and locked eyes with a pair of light-green irises staring back.
The owner was someone reflected in the metal cover of the toilet paper holder.
I grabbed it in a panic to check my face. Through the hazy surface gleamed a figure with green eyes and long light-green hair.
“Ugh, a mirror!”
Trembling legs somehow found strength.
After a few failed attempts that sent me sprawling on my butt, I finally managed to stand.
Grabbing the sink for support, I peered into the mirror. There stared back a little girl in light green, her face just barely poking above the rim.
In my disbelief, I grabbed my cheeks with both hands, squeezed, scowled, then let go.
The smell!
No time for anything else with that stench from the muck on my hands.
The whole bathroom—no, the entire apartment—reeked like rotting pork.
“First things first, let's clean this up.”
Kim Su-hyeon, the 23-year-old on leave from university, decided to sort out the bathroom before puzzling over this sudden mess.
Tiny footprints dotted the tiles in her wake.
A delivery guy in a motorcycle helmet trudged up the stairs.
“Hoo, who the hell orders chicken in the middle of the day?”
A rundown building in the student one-room district where guys like him crammed together.
Some folks were out hustling early shifts, and here someone was lounging at home with fried chicken.
Not that he was truly pissed—just griping to push through the grind.
Hell, he'd order delivery himself on days off.
And honestly, ordering to a walk-up with no elevator? Deserved all the complaints.
“Phew!”
If he'd awakened, he'd be working that gig instead.
Carcass cleanup was dirty and brutal, but the daily pay was killer.
Not bad for grinding hard and cashing out, even if others shied away.
Kinda like the old days when young guys pledged their stamina and youth to loading docks.
Awakener-exclusive heavy lifting, basically.
“Let's see, 501... fifth floor.”
Catching his breath, he set the chicken bag by the door.
Then, as he sent the delivery complete notice and turned to head down—
Thud thud thud—click.
The delivery guy whipped around at the sound of the door cracking open and froze.
'A kid?'
Peeking out was a little girl who didn't even look old enough for elementary school.
A child opening the door in a one-room? Shock enough.
But odds of her having such an exotic hair color, rare even abroad?
Her locks were a pale green verging on yellow—like the cotyledons of bean sprouts he'd grown for elementary school observation journals.
'Huh? Pfft.'
The girl rolled her big eyes, spotted the chicken box, and toddled over eagerly.
The unexpected double dose of cuteness nearly made him burst out laughing.
As the tiny thing—in an oversized white T-shirt like a dress and sloppy slippers—rustled the plastic bag...
The half-open front door slowly swung shut.
Too heavy for a kid's strength to hold wide open, naturally.
Startled by the thunk, she spun around to check the door.
She reached up desperately for the handle at eye level—but it was already locked with a beep bleep.
Realizing it, she stretched for the deadbolt.
Installed high up, not exactly kid-friendly.
Plus, the keypad cover was a slider, forcing her tiny fingers to pry it up with grunts.
Clunk, clunk.
Just a smidge short—the cover slid up, failed to latch, and dropped back, over and over.
“Ah...”
Standing by the chicken bag, she stared blankly at the door.
Adorable skit. Laughter bubbled up.
“Hey, want Uncle to help?”
Who could just walk away from that?
Anyone who could was probably a psychopath or an emotional void.
The helmet hiding his grin was a godsend.
Otherwise, she'd catch him smirking like an idiot.
The dark-helmeted delivery guy spoke up suddenly, startling her. She blushed, nodded shyly.
“Alright, Uncle's got you. Up you go—wheee!”
With exaggerated flair, he hoisted her under the arms to the lock.
She glanced back warily, then shielded the keypad with her twiggy fingers and punched in the code.
'Smart cookie.'
Might irk a helper, but to him, she was just clever and cute.
Personal info mattered, especially in a one-room ripe for thieves.
Finally, the door clicked open. She snatched the chicken and scampered inside.
Just before it shut fully, she paused...
“...Thank you.”
Slam.
A tiny voice murmured thanks, then the door sealed.
'Heh heh, look at her get all shy. Too cute.'
Replaying the scene in his head fueled him through the day.
The weirdness of a lone kid in a one-room taking delivery hit him only after his shift ended.
“What was with that speech pattern?”
At first, locking eyes with that helmeted stare from the stairs had nearly made her collapse in shock.
Too mesmerized by the chicken to notice the delivery guy hadn't left and was watching.
But after starving three—no, four days including the blackout—who wouldn't lunge at that smell?
Not devouring it on the spot was saintly restraint.
Embarrassment aside, the guy felt overwhelming—like chomping a whole stick of butter—but she had no choice right then.
Looking back, pretty risky.
She'd shielded the code late, but who knew if the helmet blocked his view?
He might gripe about her attitude after helping, but she'd never relied on strangers before.
Kindness from nowhere was alien to Su-hyeon.
Good came from good—she got help, chicken before it cooled. Win-win.
Even if burglarized, nothing worth stealing anyway.
She left future headaches to future her and chased present joy (chicken).
Su-hyeon sprawled starfished on the gleaming clean floor.
Freshly donned oversized tee post-deep clean.
Sleeves barely let hands poke out—like a T-shirt with limbs attached, from above.
On the living box doubling as a table, most of the chicken sat untouched.
Shrunk body, shrunk appetite.
Three pieces.
Her limit.
“Urgh—”
Hunger sated, time for shelved worries.
'What now?'
Why the change mattered, but more urgent: how to move forward, starting now.
Semester started soon.
Couldn't attend like this.
She looked every bit the fresh-faced elementary kid.
Struggled with the front door solo; sink needed tiptoes.
Claiming to be 23-year-old adult male Kim Su-hyeon? Zero believers.
Leave of absence extension, probably.
No—withdraw outright. Yeah, no choice.
Didn't sound like excuse-hunting, but it was.