The Stunning Korean Transfer Student
"Hey, you hear? We got a transfer student coming to our school today!"
"For real? Boy or girl?"
"Girl, obviously! Kenji got called to the staff room earlier and caught a glimpse. He said she's insanely pretty. No joke!"
"Ooooh! A cute girl transfer student! Where's she from? Tokyo?"
"Dunno. But I heard rumors she's a foreigner?"
"Nah, that's too much. A foreigner coming to a backwater school like ours? Kinda hard to buy."
The classroom was rowdy as a marketplace from the morning. The cause? Just one word: transfer student. A single pebble tossed into the pond of our mundane, boring high school life. There's always something magically exciting about a new face that gets everyone buzzing with anticipation. The whole room thrummed with it.
"Ueda, you not interested?"
Suzuki, sitting in the front seat, leaned his chair back to ask. Shun pulled his gaze from the window, chin still propped on his hand.
"Oh, Suzuki."
"What’s with that soulless reply? Anyway, wanna sneak down to the staff room with me now and check her out? We could time it just right."
"Come on, seriously…."
Shun shook his head, wiping the wry smile from his face.
"The bell’s about to ring anyway, and we don’t even know if she’s in our grade."
"That’s exactly why we gotta go see! If she’s in another grade, when else you gonna get a look?"
"Pass. By the time we go down to the staff room on the first floor and back? Too much hassle. I’m already old and decrepit. Second year of high school, man."
"You asshole, you don’t get the romance of youth! A cutie! A cutie!"
"Not even confirmed. I’m a little curious, sure, but Kenji’s word? Kinda lowers the credibility."
So no way was he trudging up and down those stairs. Just as Suzuki was about to foam at the mouth with his rant—
Ding-dong-dang-dong—
Perfect timing: the pre-bell chimed. And right after, slide—!
"Alright, everyone quiet down! The bell rang ages ago, and you’re still yapping?"
The homeroom teacher strode in through the front door, attendance book in hand. Normally, the class would ebb back to their seats like the tide, but today the chatter lingered stubbornly.
"Teacher! The transfer student thing real?"
"Our grade? Our class?!"
She smirked annoyingly at the barrage of questions, tapping the lectern.
"You lot… Drag your feet on studying, but rumors spread like wildfire. Curious, huh?"
"Yes!!"
"Then see for yourselves."
See for ourselves? No way—in our grade? Our class?
"Let’s see… Transfer student. Come on in."
At the teacher’s call, slide— the front door opened again.
And in that instant.
"……."
"……."
Like magic, every sound in Class 2-2 evaporated.
Whoa.
Shun’s hand slipped from his chin, dropping to the desk unnoticed. Pure white. And blue. That was his first thought.
Her hair gleamed like polished ebony under the spring sunlight, neatly trimmed in a hime-cut framing her cheeks. Her skin was translucently pale, like a noble lady who’d never seen the sun. Cherry lips that seemed ready to bleed color, and mysterious eyes tinged with blue.
…Is that really the same species as me?
It was a different league altogether. Maybe this was what a top idol looked like in real life. No—more like a fairy-tale princess, raised in a tower, brought to life.
Even the school’s outdated uniform looked like bespoke luxury on her slender frame. Standing at the blackboard, she trembled slightly under the dozens of stares pinning her down. Hands clasped demurely in front, eyes cast modestly downward—it stirred an inexplicable urge to protect.
"…Ah."
Her small red lips parted.
A soft, cautious voice echoed through the room.
"Pleased… to meet you all…."
Whatever that idiom about jade beads rolling on a silver tray—it had to be for moments like this. Her Japanese was halting, accented with awkward tension, but that only made it harder to look away.
"I’m… Raon… from Korea…."
Ah, so she is Korean. Raon clutched the collar of her uniform skirt nervously, then bowed gracefully.
"My Japanese… isn’t great yet… and I don’t know much…."
A faint flush crept over her ears, peeking through the cascade of black hair.
"But I’ll do my best… please take care of me."
As she bowed lightly, a subtle shampoo scent seemed to waft all the way to the back row—my seat.
"Whoa, no way. A real foreigner?"
"So cute… I wanna protect her…."
"Korean… like, knows K-pop idols or something?"
The room finally exhaled, now buzzing for a whole new reason. The teacher tapped the lectern with the edge of her book to refocus.
"Ahem! You all heard. Raon transferred from Korea, just like she said. Her everyday Japanese is fine, but she’s in a new country, so go easy on her. Now, your seat…."
Her gaze swept the room.
"Ah, empty spot back there? By the window."
Her finger pointed straight to the last row, window side.
Where Shun sat—the guy who’d just been whining about being too old and tired for anything.
"Ueda. Help her adjust to school life, alright?"
"…Huh?"
Shun blinked dumbly.
So the teacher’s finger was pointing at….
"…N-next to me?"
A deflated wheeze escaped his gaping mouth.
"Yes, next to you. You’re class rep, Ueda, so keep an eye out. Raon, last row back there."
"Ah, yes… Thank you, teacher."
I bowed demurely at her words.
Feeling dozens of prickly stares on my skin, I gripped my skirt hem lightly and walked to the back of the room.
Pat, pat.
On the surface: the epitome of a shy, exotic transfer student, frozen in unfamiliar surroundings.
But beneath my modestly downcast eyes, a volcano of emotions churned.
Ugh. This guy's total lunch meat.
To explain this absurdity, some backstory’s needed.
One: I have memories of my past life.
Two: Back then, I lived as an ordinary guy in South Korea.
Three: For some reason, I reincarnated in this world as a pretty girl named Raon.
Gender swap—or TS, as they call it these days. That’s me.
But I didn’t just wake up to it yesterday. I’ve been a girl for a full 17 years since birth, fully aware the whole time. My old male self-consciousness has faded pretty thin. At this point, it’s basically like I was a girl from the start. Those biological guy sensations? Barely even a hazy memory now.
Bras feel natural. I even fuss a bit with makeup. Mindset and habits? Probably close to any average high school girl’s. (Just a guess, since my past life was male, but I doubt it’s much different.)
So the issue isn’t the TS—it’s the world I reincarnated into.
At first, I thought it was some parallel universe. Tech and timeline matched up fine. Samsung, Apple, Instagram—all the same. Even my favorite game, Uma Musume, existed untouched.
So when family business sent us to Japan for my high school exchange, I shrugged it off: High school’s gonna be a wild ride, huh?
But then.
「Uminozaki? Where’s that? Some town in Shizuoka?」
「Yeah. Dad’s new client’s nearby.」
「Uminozaki… Never heard of it.」
「What? You know it?」
「Nah, just feels familiar. Déjà vu, probably.」
That conversation while packing in Korea. I chalked the familiarity up to a common brain glitch. Not a big city like Tokyo or Osaka. A rusty single-car local train rattling along the coast, salty sea breeze, Mt. Fuji hazy in the distance—an outdated coastal charm.
Uminozaki, the "virtual town" on the edge of Shizuoka Prefecture.
Yeah. Virtual.
And this morning, I confirmed it: the high school’s name, the uniform design, and crucially—that guy in the last row by the window, staring at me with a half-dazed look.
It’s confirmed. This is….
He wasn’t some gloomy otaku protag. That old-school lucky perv setup doesn’t fly with self-aware otaku anymore. Instead: slightly messy hair, sharp features. Looks lazy but built like an athlete. All the flaws of classic romcom leads updated away—a prime specimen of the "real-chad" male lead.
His name tag read: Ueda Shun.
If I was gonna reincarnate, why not as a stud like that instead of this dainty girl bod?
Heaven, why?!
No use hiding it now. This world was the romcom manga I binged to kill time in my past life!
More or less.
- #1 in This Manga is Amazing!
- Millions in sales.
- Anime adaptation by some Electra whatever imprint….
Flashy stuff like that. Spring in Shizuoka is with You—or Shizuharu for short. Gotta hand it to the Japanese; they package mediocrity into something cool-sounding.
Anyway, as you can tell from my SSS-grade idol looks, Raon the Korean exchange student is one of Shizuharu’s main heroines.
Me, fated to get tangled with a real-chad like him? Even after 17 years cultivating a pure maiden heart, that’s a lot.
Is this the pull of a romcom world?
Out of every seat, I get plopped next to the protag like it’s destiny.
I reached the back of the room and paused at the empty desk.
Before pulling out the chair, I slowly turned to Ueda Shun.
Showtime. Donning my 17 years of perfected pure, elegant, pitiful heroine face, I spoke softly.
"Um, so…."
Act super nervous. Eyes slightly down.
"Ueda Shun-kun… Is that how I call you?"
Pretend the Japanese is clumsy with pauses. (It kinda is, still.)
At my call, Shun—who’d been gaping up at me—jerked like he’d been shocked.
"Huh? Uh, y-yeah. That’s right."
"Ah… Good."
I let out a small, relieved breath.
Man, that flustered look. Cool and collected in the manga, looking out for everyone. But up close in real life? Just your average high school boy losing it over a pretty girl.
I snorted inwardly, flashing a sunny smile outwardly.
"I’m Raon. Please… take care of me, Ueda-kun."
"Ah, yeah! Same here, uh, Raon…-san?"
Classic Japanese. Surname "I," first name "Raon"—not used to it. He asked cautiously.
I shook my head lightly.
"Feel free to just call me… Raon."
I tilted my head with a slight eye smile.
"…!!"
His ear tips flushed beet red, like bursting cherry tomatoes. And behind me, the jealous glares from the guys around us could’ve shattered desks.
Heh.
I barely suppressed a smirk.
In the original, I’m just one heroine who pines for this guy and suffers. But not anymore.
I won’t fall for him. Let him try his hardest.
I’ll drain every sweet drop and toss him like a used rag.