Chapter 42: Stories of the past, Part 2

Let’s retrace my steps, one by one.

Where was I born?

The Republic of Korea.

Which city did I grow up in?

I remembered it was a city, but the name eluded me.

What was my name?

I couldn’t recall.

Then what were my parents’ names? Surely, I could remember at least their surnames.

But even that was lost to me.

Was my name masculine or feminine?

Was it composed of Hanja characters, or pure Korean?

Every attempt to remember brought on a throbbing headache, blurring the memories further.

“Ugh…”

Who… who was I?

I’m… Kayleen…

No, that wasn’t right.

I wouldn’t have had such a foreign-sounding name. I was Korean, at least that much I remembered.

It was a name from a game, a character’s name.

But the name Kayleen felt… familiar.

As if I’d been called that before.

A strange familiarity, yet also a sense of dissonance. It didn’t feel… right.

Who… who was I?

It felt like my memories were evaporating.

Hold on to what you remember.

I am… I am…

As I clutched my head, a notebook fell from the small bag at my waist.

A plain black cover, empty white pages.

I had to write down my memories before they vanished completely. I had to remember… me.

But I had no pen, no pencil.

My memories were slipping away.

I couldn’t… I couldn’t let that happen.

I bit my finger, drawing blood.

It hurt, but I had to endure it.

That was the only thought in my mind.

Using my blood as ink, I began to write.

[Republic of Korea, 20XX]

Name? Lee Seo-hyun…

I couldn’t remember my birthday.

I wrote down everything I could recall.

Age, birthplace, education.

Hobbies, online usernames…

With every word, I felt the gaps in my memory widening.

Remembering something important meant forgetting something trivial. Remembering something trivial meant forgetting something important.

Amidst the fragmented memories, only Amadeus remained clear.

As if it were the most important thing.

But even that was useless.

I didn’t know where I was.

The surroundings suggested a developed city, but the only cities I recognized were from the game.

I didn’t know where I was in the story’s timeline.

Before the tutorial, or perhaps in the middle of the main storyline?

Other transmigrators used their knowledge of the original work to their advantage.

I’d always thought I would do the same, if I ever transmigrated.

But now…

That knowledge was meaningless.

I’d been thrust into the body of a nameless NPC, a merchant with no resources, in an unknown location.

A woman’s body, my memories fading.

I continued writing, filling the pages with fragments of my past.

The blood flow from my fingertip weakened.

I pressed harder, but it was only a temporary solution.

A pen. I needed a pen.

As I thought this, the notebook glowed.

A faint light traced a pattern on the page.

[Quill Pen – 1 Copper Coin]

“What…?”

The sudden text flickered and vanished, leaving me even more confused.

[Commercial Guild]

The Commercial Guild bustled with merchants.

I pushed open the ornate doors and entered, finding myself surrounded by more merchants.

Some wore hats, others carried swords.

Their commonality was the small badge pinned to their chests, a symbol of a coin purse.

I’d seen the badge before, in the game. Kayleen had worn one too.

The sudden appearance of a newcomer drew their attention.

Their gazes, initially directed at my face, shifted to my chest, searching for the badge.

Some lingered on my face, perhaps drawn to Kayleen’s… unique appearance.

Others, even after noting the absence of a badge, continued to stare at my… chest.

I felt their eyes on me, their gazes lingering, assessing.

I cringed, not from disgust, but from the unsettling confirmation that this… this body… wasn’t mine.

The familiar unease returned. I pulled out my notebook and reread the fragments of my memories, anchoring myself to my fading identity.

Thankfully, nothing else had vanished.

I clutched the notebook, my eyes scanning the pages, drawing more derisive stares.

They likely mistook me for a shy newcomer, overwhelmed by the attention.

Kayleen, the character, would have simply smiled serenely in this situation.

She had other expressions, mostly when observing her clients, so she wasn’t entirely emotionless.

But I couldn’t smile.

Seeing Kayleen’s smiling face in the mirror… it felt… wrong.

The realization that that face, the face from the game, was now my face… it was too much.

I was still clinging to denial, desperately trying to ignore reality.

“Can I help you?”

“Um… are there any… vacant shops available…?”

I was here to find a place to set up shop.

I had no money, so I had to start earning.

“Kayleen” had prepaid for a few days at the inn, but that wouldn’t last.

While I couldn’t tell if this was a game or reality, I felt hunger, I felt the need to sleep.

If I didn’t eat, I would die.

Perhaps there was a resurrection mechanic like in the game, but if not…

But I had no other skills, no other way to earn money. I wasn’t particularly talented, even in the game. I’d barely reached the mid-game.

I could try becoming an adventurer like the protagonist, or seek out opportunities like other transmigrators.

But this body was weaker than my original one. Adventuring was out of the question.

And finding hidden opportunities in a world without a proper map seemed impossible.

The only option was… trading. Kayleen was a merchant, so perhaps…

It was a way to acknowledge this reality, a reality I had no choice but to accept.

Starve to death, or accept reality. A cruel choice.

I chose the latter.

I didn’t notice someone smiling as they followed me.

The Commercial Guild employee led me to a dilapidated building in a secluded alley.

The building was rundown, the alley dark and gloomy.

A terrible location for a shop, but I was grateful even for this.

I couldn’t afford the Commercial Guild’s membership fees.

The interior, however, was surprisingly clean.

A few shelves were broken, but most were usable.

The problem was… I had no merchandise.

My impulsive decision, driven by panic, hadn’t considered the practicalities of running a shop.

Should I sell this notebook as a last resort?

I gripped the notebook tighter, my fingers tracing the bloodstains, the words that anchored me to my fading identity. The very words that prevented me from accepting this reality.

Perhaps I should return to the inn.

Dwelling on these thoughts would only worsen my anxiety. I reached for the doorknob.

And then—BAM!

“Ugh…”

The door exploded inwards, sending me sprawling.

I lay on the floor, groaning in pain.

Someone grabbed my hair and yanked me up.

My scalp burned, and I winced, looking up into the face of a scowling man.

His eyes raked over my body, his gaze predatory.

The pain was too intense to register disgust.

Another man stepped over the broken door frame.

“Hmm… as expected.”

“So? Isn’t she a beauty?”

Their words felt… scripted.

But I couldn’t move, couldn’t fight back.

I could only feebly attempt to push away the hand gripping my hair.

But this body was too weak.

“So feisty…!”

He punched me in the stomach.

“Gah…”

The air rushed out of my lungs, the pain making it difficult to breathe.

I coughed, blood trickling down my chin.

My notebook fell to the floor, landing before my eyes.

“Hey, hey. Don’t hit her so hard. You might kill her.”

“So what? She’s not worth anything dead. We’re just going to use her and discard her, right?”

“Sigh. You’re so ignorant.”

The two men argued, their attention momentarily diverted.

I was confused.

Why…? Why was this happening…?

Sell me…? Use me and discard me…? But I… I was a man…?

A glass bottle on the floor caught my eye.

A red potion.

My reflection stared back at me.

Brown hair, red eyes.

A woman’s face, contorted in pain and confusion.

Kayleen.

Me.

The truth I’d been desperately trying to ignore.

I knew, deep down, that this was me.

Just as being transported to a game-like world was absurd, so was this body swap. But both were real.

I’d been denying it because accepting it meant… the complete annihilation of my former self.

“No…!”

“So…!”

Even with death looming, I was still lost in confusion.

Just as I couldn’t comprehend why I’d become their target, I couldn’t understand why they were hurting me.

But one thing became clear:

If I continued to dwell on these questions, I would remain their victim.

I would be sold, used, discarded.

I might even die from my injuries.

These thoughts weren’t helpful.

I didn’t want to die.

Losing my sense of self, losing me… that was also a kind of death.

But what good were such philosophical musings in the face of actual death?

I had to survive. To even contemplate such things, I had to survive.

Whether I was in a man’s body or a woman’s.

Whether I was me or not.

Survival.

That was the only thought that remained, all other concerns fading away.

Pushed to the brink, I’d finally reached a conclusion.

A crude, desperate conclusion, a postponement of the inevitable, perhaps.

But perhaps I’d only been able to afford such contemplation because my situation hadn’t been truly dire until now.

“Gasp…”

I struggled to breathe as I slowly pushed myself up.

Slowly, carefully, so they wouldn’t notice.

I needed a weapon.

My former self might have been able to handle this unarmed, but this body was weak, injured.

I picked up the potion bottle.

Would this be enough?

No.

I needed a dagger, at least.

My fingertips brushed against the slightly opened notebook.

It began to glow.

The same light from this morning, tracing a pattern on the page.

[Dagger – Copper…]

“What are you—!”

One of the men lunged at me, interrupting my reading.

At the same time, I felt something fall from the bag at my waist.

I grabbed it and swung.

Thud.

“Gah…”

A sleek dagger protruded from the man’s throat.

It had struck a vital point, and he coughed up blood, the warm liquid splattering my face.

“You… b*tch…!”

Something… clicked.

As the other man lunged at me, I saw a black mist emanating from his body.

That… wasn’t in the game.

Was it mana? A buff?

No. It was something else.

My instincts, or rather, Kayleen’s instincts, screamed at me.

And then… I understood.

The mist… it was a visual representation of his sins.

A mark of his wickedness.

Knowing this, I no longer hesitated.

The rest was a blur.

I vaguely remembered standing there, covered in wounds, the two men lying unconscious at my feet.

As the fight ended, the notebook glowed again, pulling me back to reality.

It lay on the blood-soaked floor, pristine and dry. The word “Clean” shimmered on the page.

I didn’t know the full extent of the notebook’s power, but I knew it could manifest its written contents.

Judging by my now-empty coin purse, it came at a price.

I touched the word “Clean,” and the room began to transform.

The broken shelves, the dusty displays…

The unconscious men, the pools of blood…

Everything vanished.

My legs gave way, and I collapsed.

My hands trembled slightly.

I’d killed someone.

But I felt… strangely calm.

Was it because it was self-defense?

Or because they were “evil,” deserving of their fate?

These weren’t questions for now.

I didn’t know what the future held.

Even as a mere shop NPC, not a member of the protagonist’s party, I would inevitably be drawn into the escalating conflict of Part 5.

I would bury these questions, these doubts.

There was no point in dwelling on them.

The thought brought a strange sense of peace.

And for the first time… I could smile.

Smile. Just smile.

Someone had told me that once.

Someone I’d both loathed and cherished.

I couldn’t remember who.

But I smiled.