My Name Is Han Seoyun

My name is Han Seoyun.

The building collapses.

Debris pours down, and death descends upon me.

I had entered this condemned structure for a routine inspection — one of the few jobs a Non-Awakened could get: visual safety checks on condemned facilities. Awakened people never bother with work like this. They don't need to.

The slab of concrete finally came down right in front of me, but by then it was far too late for my body to react. A Non-Awakened body simply couldn't move that fast, and my right leg ended up pinned beneath it.

I heard something crack in my chest, but somehow I was still breathing. Even as I screamed, I clawed at my pocket because I wanted, somehow, to live — but my phone wasn't there. A memory surfaced of it slipping from my hand somewhere, before I fell.

If only I'd had the System.

Awakened people can open their System windows as a matter of course. Through the System, they can connect to the Awakened Gallery. One location share there, and a rescue request goes out — simple as that.

But I had been a Non-Awakened. No System, no Gallery, no way to call for help. And no one in the world knew I was lying here buried under rubble.

…Ah.

In the darkness, I looked up at what was left of the ceiling. Through the cracked wreckage, all I could see was dust.

"This is… so fucked…."

Oh Seunghyun. Twenty-seven years old. Non-Awakened.

Non-Awakened made up barely three percent of the population. Belonging to that three percent meant being invisible to society. Employment? Good luck — who would hire a person whose detailed information didn't even display? Insurance? There was a special Non-Awakened-only policy, with premiums four times what Awakened paid.

In a world where ninety-seven percent of humanity was connected to the System, I was dying.

A creeping sensation settled over me, as if something were slowly draining out of my body.

Really? Just like this?

Truly like this — in a place like this, without a single person knowing?

My vision began to narrow, closing in from top and bottom, and the feeling in my fingertips faded to nothing.

"Seriously…."

Through eyes I forced open with agonizing effort, I saw a soft, hazy light.

What…?

My body wouldn't move the way I wanted it to. An injury, maybe. If I had to put it precisely, my will to move went unanswered by my body — it took every ounce of strength I had just to twitch a finger.

Through the blur, a large shape leaned over me, peering down.

"Oh my god, our Seoyunie opened her eyes!!!"

A woman's voice.

Seoyun? Who? Me?

"Honey, honey! Yuni opened her eyes!"

Then came thudding footsteps, and another large shape appeared in my field of view.

"Oh, my precious daughter…!"

Daughter?

What on earth were they talking about? Unable to understand any of it, I opened my mouth — and what came out of it was…

"Whee… eh…."

The voice of a newborn infant.

Even the densest, most oblivious person alive could figure this one out in a heartbeat. I had died, and been born again — with a biological change into a female body, no less.

Han Seoyun.

That was my new name. It didn't take me long to come to terms with it.

The two people calling me Seoyun were my parents. I had been born as a newborn baby. And this world was the same one I had lived in before. Unfortunately, this wasn't a regression — just a genuine reincarnation.

When I turned six months old, my father carried me over to stand in front of a mirror. Round eyes, delicate little lashes. My cheeks were so soft and squishy that even I wanted to reach out and pinch them.

It's real.

I had known, but seeing it for myself made everything feel that much more complicated.

My father beamed down at me. "Our Yuni is such a pretty girl, isn't she? Hmm? Must be because she takes after me."

My mother's voice drifted in from somewhere. "Takes after you? She takes after me."

"Look at those eyes. They're my eyes, exactly."

"And the nose?"

"My nose too."

"Then what part of her looks like me?"

"…Her ears?"

Then came a sighing laugh, and easy, warm conversation. These people were always telling me I was the most beautiful baby in the world. That I was so adorable, so precious.

My first birthday party was absolute chaos. My father paraded my photos around like he was handing out business cards — ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠pictures taken from the same angle, the same expression, the only difference being the clothes.

"This one's from the morning, this one's after lunch, and this one's right after she woke up from her nap."

"Bro… they're all the same picture."

"No, they're not! Look closely. See the drool stain on her cheek? That's the detail."

And when my aunt scooped me up into her arms, I smiled at her, purely as a courtesy. She promptly burst into tears.

"Unnie, what do I do? She's so beautiful I'm crying…!"

Why, though?

I wanted to object, but since I couldn't actually speak, I just smiled again. Which made my aunt cry even harder.

That was what my infancy was like.

At three, the world started coming into focus.

The System. Just as I'd suspected, this was the world I'd lived in all along, and nearly everyone was granted the System. You could open a stat window. Levels existed. And at age nineteen — the age of legal adulthood — came the Awakening.

Awakening. The moment your class was bestowed upon you. Swordsman, Mage, Healer, and countless other classes were out there. In my past life, I'd been ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a Non-Awakened — and this time, I prayed desperately for a different outcome.

It has to be different.

At the very least, this life had to be a different one.

At five, I started kindergarten. Among the children, I stood out like a sore thumb.

"Seoyunie talks just like a grown-up, doesn't she?"

The teacher would say that to me with a smile — that I didn't talk like a kid. Not that I could exactly answer, "It's because I have memories of a past life."

"Yep."

I brushed it off with a single word. In the end, I made a conscious effort to change how I spoke. Like a child. Like a little girl. Slow and clumsy. Sometimes I'd even force the wrong word in on purpose.

Adapt.

That single word was the whole of my childhood.

Thirteen. My body was starting to change.

"…Mm."

Standing in front of the mirror, I could see the golden-brown straight hair falling past my shoulders. My face was slowly losing its round childhood contours, sharpening into something more slender. My gaze traveled down to my chest.

Not yet.

Even at thirteen, growth at this pace meant that by adulthood, adjusting shouldn't be too much of a problem. Or maybe my memories of my past life were still too vivid. Going through puberty in a girl's body was scarier than I'd expected.

I could feel my hormones shifting. My hair smelled different. My skin was different. Most of all, my emotions felt nothing like they had in my past life.

When tears welled up out of nowhere during a movie, I'd think, Was that scene really that sad? — wiping at my eyes over and over, and still finding them wet.

…It really is sad.

And when my first period arrived, the pain was genuine enough that I spent an entire day lying flat in bed.

Reincarnation, whatever — it hurts, it hurts, it hurts so goddamn much. So bad. It really hurts.

It truly, truly hurt. Then my door opened, and my mother spoke to me gently.

"Seoyun-ah, are you okay, sweetie…?"

"…No."

"Want some chocolate?"

"Yeah."

She came over to my bed as I answered and held out the chocolate. I popped it into my mouth and chewed.

Sweet. It's good.

Chocolate had always been tasty, hadn't it? So why did it taste even better now?

Adapt. My life was still nothing but that one word.

Eighteen. One year until my Awakening.

I finished my shower and stopped in front of the bathroom mirror. My hands, which had been drying my hair with a towel, went still as I stared at my reflection. Hair that reached my waist clung to my body, still damp. Narrow shoulders, a slender waist.

And my chest…

…When did those get that big?

Contrary to all my expectations, I'd grown far more than anticipated — which meant I was now two months into ignoring my mother's nagging that I needed to get my cup size measured again. But seriously, why keep remeasuring something that just kept growing?

They were big. I'll say it plainly.

They're huge. Big enough that when ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I looked down, I couldn't see my feet.

"Adapt, adapt. What else can I do."

With that thought, I looked back at the mirror.

My face…

Long, elegant eye contours, a thin and high nose bridge. A jawline that drew a perfectly slender line. In my past life, the kindest thing you could say about my face was that it was ordinary — just unremarkably, completely average. But the face looking back at me from the mirror now…

If you're going to get a face anyway, a pretty one is better.

Only, this one was pretty to an almost excessive degree. Even thinking about it as coldly and objectively as possible, that was the only conclusion I could reach.

Considering it from the perspective of the man I used to be: if a woman with this body, this face, suddenly turned around and stared at you, you'd forget how to breathe. And that woman is me. My face. My body.

…Well. Fine.

I wasn't happy about it. I wasn't sad about it, either. I just felt… off. Like it was my body, but not my body all at once.

Everywhere I went, eyes followed me. The boys at school watched me while pretending not to look; the girls stared openly.

"Seoyun! Have you ever thought about becoming a celebrity?"

When a classmate asked me that from time to time, I answered flatly: "Nope."

Because I genuinely had no intention of doing so.

"With that face? You'd get in instantly. Such a waste…!"

"You think so?"

"Yes, seriously!"

Adapt.

For eighteen years, I'd been whispering the same word to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠myself. Adapt.

Nineteen. The day of my Awakening had finally arrived.

The thing I'd been denied in my past life — the criterion that decided a human being's worth. Awakening. I'd been wound tight since that morning. I dropped my toothbrush mid-brushing, and when I looked in the mirror, my face was drained and pale.

Honestly, if there really is a god, it has to give me something this time.

Awakening happened automatically at the stroke of midnight on your nineteenth birthday. The System window appeared, and your class was born. From that moment on, the direction of your entire life was decided.

11:58 p.m. I sat on my bed, watching the clock. My heart was pounding — I could feel it. 11:59 p.m.

Please.

My hands were trembling so hard that I clenched the blanket tight.

Anything is fine. Just please, this time…!

And then — midnight.

Ring.

…

…I'm sorry, what?

Blacksmith. Not a swordsman, not a mage, not a healer. A blacksmith.

"A blacksmith?"

I stared at the System window again.

I closed the window and opened it again.

I shut it once more and looked up at the ceiling. A blacksmith. In this day and age, a blacksmith. This was an era of machines stamping out equipment by the thousands — and I was supposed to hammer things out by hand?

"Haha…."

A bitter laugh leaked out of me, unstoppable. I was dumbfounded. Hollowed out. So utterly speechless that not even tears would come.

I flopped back onto the blanket and thought, Well, at least I did Awaken. My life would be better than a Non-Awakened's — that much was certain. Nobody on earth knew better than I did what kind of life a Non-Awakened lived. The memory of dying under a collapsed building without being able to send a single distress call was still painfully fresh.

Even a blacksmith was an Awakened. An Awakened was an Awakened.

I pulled the blanket up over myself. I'll just sleep for now. And I closed my eyes — never noticing the small notification blinking in the corner of the System window.

In the darkened room, that notification alone glowed faintly on.